Storiesonline.net ------- Horse Country by Morgan Copyright© 2005, 2008 by Morgan. All Rights Reserved ------- Description: This is #12 in the Ali Clifford Saga. It follows the adventures of two Russian girls who are adopted and brought to America. Codes: MF mf FF ff rom cons bi het enem creampie ------- ------- Part 11 of the series "The Volunteer" is not posted yet ------- Prologue Tanya Harding was in Saint Petersburg on one of her regular trips to Russia on behalf of Bill Corcoran. Because of the sensitivity of this communication, she was delighted to have a satellite phone with her. To ensure privacy, she went to a park with a bubbling fountain at its center to place her call. From her training at the KGB's Sparrow School she knew it was an ideal location. First, she was in the open so it was impossible for anyone to get close enough to hear her without her knowledge. Second, the white noise from the bubbling fountain would ruin any potential effort to monitor her conversation from a distance using a shotgun mike. She activated her unit and hit a speed-dial number. Moments later, it was answered. "Hi, Tanya. What's new?" Bill Corcoran asked. Before getting to the reason for her call, Tanya asked, "How's Caitie? And how's baby Andy?" "They're both great, but somehow I don't think that's the reason for the call. And remember, sweetie, it may be about ten in the morning over there, but — dammit! — it's only three in the morning here. So... ?" Tanya just giggled, "Sorry about that." Then her voice changed and she sounded serious. "Boss, I know I'm looking for young women in their late teens or early twenties to bring over to the States, but could you consider a couple of younger girls?" "I could consider anything, and you know it. But how much younger, and why?" "About 14," she replied and then paused. Seeming to change the subject, she continued, "You know that for years going way back in the old regime, the state operated training schools for — among others — ballet dancers and gymnasts?" "Yeah, I guess I knew that. So... ?" "So that was then and this is now. For the most part the schools are still in place, but the funding isn't. So the schools have had to revert to ... rather unorthodox means to raise money..." "Like... ?" Bill prompted. "Like the situation I'm facing right now," Tanya blurted. "These two kids are untouched virgins — and I mean untouched! They're both going to be sold into slavery after their cherries are auctioned off." At this point the beautiful woman was close to tears as she continued, "Bill, I can identify with it. It's very close to what happened to me." Thousands of miles away, Bill Corcoran's eyes widened. An outsider would have heard nothing of significance in what she had said, but he had. That had been the first time that Tanya had ever called him Bill. When they were alone, he was always Master; when others were present, it was Boss or something similar. Moreover, he knew Tanya well enough to be able to hear both the personal concern and the tension in her voice. "Tell me about it," he said. "In gymnastics and ballet, the situations are similar. What they both want are girls about five feet tall or less with boyish figures to say the very least. As in flat-chested, and I mean flat!" Then she giggled and added, "Aside from their age, they're both very much what you're looking for. It's strange, really. They're not sisters — I don't think — but they're close enough in appearance to pass for identical twins. They're blue-eyed, golden-haired blondes about five feet nine or a bit more. "I'm not certain, but I think they've been in the state program since they were only about three years old. If their parents are living, no one knows now who they are or where they might be. The girls certainly do not. At any rate, five-nine is much too tall, and they have tits, although they're still developing. The fact of the matter is they remind me of young Caities. They're both built very much on her streamlined model. "And they're athletic as all hell. The school where they've been raised is a bit odd. Normally the schools are specialized, and this one is too. But in this case, the school has two specialties: gymnastics and ballet. For some reason, the powers that be could never make up their minds with these two, so they've gone both ways right up to the present. "And they're drop-dead gorgeous, if you haven't figured that one out yet." Tanya's voice finally did crack and Bill Corcoran could hear her tears as she pleaded, "We've got to save them! Please?" "Names?" "Tatiana and Natasha," she giggled, partially from the question but also from relief. "Do you think you could stand another Tanya?" "Look at the bright side," Bill teased. "She has to be better than the Tatiana we already know." Then his voice became serious and he asked, "What about the girls? Would they be interested?" His response was greeted with sardonic laughter. "Get serious, Boss! Any girl over here would give her right arm to get to the States. So you want me to get them?" "Do it!" Then he paused for a moment, thinking. "Tanya, things are a bit hectic here with baby Andy. How do you think the girls would like it at our horse farm in Lexington, Kentucky? Do they ride, by any chance?" Tanya considered his question. Then she replied, "I heard that the Queen made a comment to her daughter, Anne, regarding Anna and Maria. The first time they ever got on the back of a horse they looked like they had been riding from birth. As I've heard the story, the Queen said something to the effect that European nobility had been on horseback for hundreds of years, so maybe it got into the genes. And, Heaven knows, Anna and Maria are noble! "Well, the fact of the matter is I get the same sort of feeling with Tanya and Tasha. Like they're Russian nobility from way, way back. Is that strange, or what? But in answer to your question, I would bet my last dime that they're both able to ride." "Okay. That settles that," Bill Corcoran responded. "I wonder..." he mused. "Wonder what?" "Well, we've now got King of Bluegrass, Satan's son from Satana. And, like Satan, he appears to be a one-rider horse. But we haven't found that one rider yet. So I was just wondering... ?" "I sure can't make any promises, but you know that Caitie and her grandmother, the Duchess, are like twins. And Tanya and Tasha could easily pass as Caitie's younger sisters, so ... I mean ... Duchess Marion is the only one who can ride Satan—" "Not so!" Bill interrupted. "Caitie and Queen Karla were both welcomed on his back by Satan ... Not to the extent of his mistress, Marion, of course, but still..." "And they're all golden-haired blondes, too," Tanya added. "So maybe..." Bill cut it off. "There will be a G-550 standing by with two flight crews. They'll be ready to go whenever you are, and will take the girls straight to Lexington, Kentucky ... That's real horse country!" Tatiana ended the call and returned to her hotel. There she had the finest suite in the finest hotel in Russia's former capital city. It took only a few minutes to make two phone calls, one to the school and another to Security Services. Then she snapped her fingers and placed a third call to Land's End. A few days later she was at the lobby entrance where a Mercedes was waiting for her. The car's driver was behind the wheel, while another burly man was holding the door open for her. When she got in, the man got into the car beside the driver and off they went. A glance through the rear window revealed another similar car with four armed men trailing. For a very wealthy woman Saint Petersburg was not the safest city in the world. And Tanya Harding just reeked of great wealth. As the two-car caravan neared the school the trailing car passed and took the lead. It was all she could do to control a smile when she saw the four guards with their weapons now drawn standing in a ring around the position where her car would stop. Her car had not completely stopped rolling when the guard in the front seat was out of the car and holding the door open for her. The arrangements were unfolding perfectly for her mission. The armed guards reinforced the impression that she was a senior representative of the Russian Mafia. It was exactly the intended impression. By this time her car's driver had raced up the steps and was holding the main door open for her. He and his companion were leap-frogging one another. Now it was the second who led the way to the school director's office. I wonder if we're overdoing it, bigtime? she wondered. Answering her own question, Naah. It's impossible to overdo it when dealing with petty bureaucrats. Utterly ignoring the secretary whose eyes were as big as saucers as she watched the armed office invasion unfold, the driver barged into the director's private office without even bothering to knock. "Miss Tatiana is here to see you," he declared. "Are the little whores ready?" Tanya had been in position to see the director from the moment his door had banged open. A kaleidoscope of emotions ran across is face, starting with shock and indignation and ending with bug-eyed fear. "Y ... yes!" he stammered and then shouted out to his secretary to have Tatiana and Natasha brought to his office immediately. Moments later, the two very frightened girls appeared. Tanya looked at them coldly and ordered, "Strip! Everything! Now!" The two young girls were shaking, but did as she ordered. About a minute later, the two were standing naked in the office in the presence of one woman and three men. Tanya's heart went out to the terrified girls, but she had a rôle she had to play. Carefully she examined both girls and found that they were as advertised: both were blue-eyed, golden-haired beauties. They were tall and very slender although very muscular from both ballet and gymnastics. After ordering the girls to spread their legs wide, she had them grip their hands behind their heads and then proceeded to slide a finger up their vaginas. Incredibly, in spite of their years of gymnastics, both hymens were still intact. "As agreed," she commented to no one in particular. Then to the director she said, "Ten thousand, American? That was the price for each?" The director was frightened out of his skull. All he was capable of doing was what he did do: He just rapidly nodded his head. Tanya Harding nodded to one of her companions who produced an attaché case that he placed on the director's desk, casually dumping a stack of papers on the floor in the process. She unlocked the case and deposited two stacks of 100 hundred-dollar bills on the desk. "Do you wish to count them?" she demanded haughtily. "N ... no," the director stammered. "Good!" Tanya declared. Then to the two girls she uttered a single word: "Out!" One of them waved toward their clothes on the floor and gave Tanya a pleading look. "Out!" Tanya commanded. The two girls, still naked, followed the first of the guards out of the office. Tanya followed the two girls, and the second guard brought up the rear. Reaching the car, another guard motioned the girls into the back seat of the Mercedes. Tanya followed them but climbed over one to be able to sit between them. She snapped her fingers at the driver who passed back two brand-new raincoats. Giving one to each of the girls, Tanya said softly, "Even though this car is heated, it's still cold. Please put these on." Puzzled, the two girls did as she asked. Then with a small grin she turned back and forth between the two girls. "Now which is which? One of you is Natasha and the other is Tatiana, but who is who? Oh, yeah..." she added with a grin, "I'm Tanya, too." "I'm Tanya, ma'am," the girl on her right said, "and Natasha, who is my very best friend in the whole world, is on your left." To this point everything spoken had been in Russian. Tanya took one of the girls' hands in each of hers and announced in English, "From now on, I don't want to hear a word of Russian spoken. Not a syllable! Understand?" "Y ... yes, ma'am," the younger Tanya stammered. "But why?" "Because in a few days both of you will have Green Cards. Have you ever heard of them?" Both girls leaned forward so they could see each other across Tanya's head. Both pairs of eyes widened and then Natasha said softly, "You mean ... Entry... ? Into the United States of America... ? To stay... ?" "That's what they are, and that's where you're going." Giving the two hands she still held a little squeeze, she asked, "I know you thought you were being sold into a life of prostitution, but could you make do with a life in the United States instead?" Neither girl said a word. Instead, the two sank back into the seat and Tanya heard the same gentle "whoosh" coming from both of their mouths. Then Tanya Harding apologized for the way the girls had just been treated. After kissing them both she said, "For some weird reason, it's easier to buy a girl into prostitution than to buy her freedom. So anyway, that's the reason for the little drama we just played out." "We're almost there," the driver announced on the intercom. Tanya made sure that both girls' coats were securely closed as the limousine pulled up in front of her hotel. Young Tanya alighted and stood waiting. Tanya led the way as the girls followed her into the hotel barefoot. The staff in the lobby studiously ignored the barefooted girls following in the wake of the impeccably groomed and coifed Tanya. Imperiously, she led the way to a waiting elevator car that immediately whisked them up to her penthouse suite. Entering, the two girls just looked around in awe. Never had they been in such magnificent surroundings. Tanya wasted no time. She told them that they would be spending the next few days intensively practicing their English. "I want you to sound as much like native American girls as possible before you get on that plane." Then she followed that with an astounding fashion show as the two girls tried on the myriad items of clothing that had been flown in the day before from Land's End. That evening, after a magnificent meal served in the suite, it was time for bed. "I hope you girls don't mind," Tanya said, "but I want the three of us to sleep together. And it really is a big bed." Indeed, the girls realized that the width of the bed was about equal to four of the cots they were used to, side by side. The two quickly shed the robes they had been wearing and moved toward the bed. "Not so fast," Tanya told them. Then she took them by the hand into the bathroom off the bedroom. The two girls gasped. While they had used the facilities, until that moment they had used a powder room off the sitting room. The bath was about twice as big as the bedroom they had shared at the school. "Fortunately," Tanya informed them, "this hotel has just been completely renovated, and someone knew what deluxe Western bathrooms are like." The room had a giant walk-in shower easily large enough for all three, and a similarly-sized sunken bathtub with a Jacuzzi facility. In addition it had two lavatory sinks, a toilet and a bidet. While the two girls were gawking Tanya had been swiftly shedding her own clothes. By the time they had finished gaping at their surroundings, Tanya was naked, too. Tasha was the first to notice Tanya's bare body, tanned all over. "You ... you're exquisite!" the girl exclaimed. "But ... but what happened?" Tanya giggled as she realized the girl was focused on her bare pussy. "It's been lasered," she said softly. "There's no hair there and there never will be any. And I guess we'll need to do something about you two, too." In spite of being blondes, the two had very full pubic bushes, although they had been shaved at the legs to avoid pubic hair showing from under their tights. Moreover, both girls had hair under their arms, too. Like a great many European women, they didn't shave there, either. The three showered together. Then Tanya shaved their underarms and pubic hair, followed it with a soak in the giant tub with the Jacuzzi running, and finished by giving the two girls massages. By the time she finished, both were nearly asleep. Giggling softly to herself, she put one of each girl's arms over her shoulder and walked them into the bedroom and then helped them into bed. The next morning Tanya awakened to find that she was on her back. The two young girls were both close beside her and each had an arm over her with a hand on one of her breasts. Gently, she kissed one full on the lips, then turned and repeated it with the other. "Can't we just stay like this forever?" Tasha murmured. At the same time she wriggled her body trying to get even closer to the older woman. Tanya just ruffled both of the girls' hair and told them to get moving. Over the next several days, they did exactly what Tanya had said they would do. Using tapes they spent countless hours listening to spoken American English and practicing their speech. They ate and they exercised. And they saw the sights of Saint Petersburg. Sightseeing turned out to be very funny. The girls marveled at the art in the Hermitage. They learned from Tanya, who proved to be a storehouse of knowledge, that the Czar in the late 19th century on visits to Paris used to buy French Impressionists almost literally in carload quantities. As a result, the museum contains the world's finest collection of French Impressionists. Then there was the magnificence of the Winter Palace. But the funny part was the way they were seen by other Russian visitors. Taking Tanya's admonition seriously, they spoke English exclusively. Dressed as they were in American clothing, and showing Tanya's U.S. passport, they were accepted unquestioningly as Americans. Afterward, Tanya complimented them on maintaining impassive faces as they stood just a few feet away from Russians who were talking about the Americans who they knew couldn't understand a word of Russian. On their last night in Russia Tanya commented, "You kids have been just great! And you know what? You have been accepted — here in Russia, at least — as what you, in fact, are: two very rich American girls." Young Tanya's eyes widened. "Rich? Us? What controlled substance have you been smoking?" Tanya laughed and tousled the girl's hair. "That's great, sweetie! You're even picking up the idioms." Then her voice changed and she continued, "I guess it's time for me to tell you what's going on. The fact is that you are now Tatiana and Natasha Corcoran. You're the adopted daughters of a couple who might be the richest in the world, Bill and Caitlin Corcoran. And, as such, you're both very rich in your own rights right now." The girls were stunned speechless. The next day, they went out to the airport and were ushered aboard a Gulfstream G-550 and were soon taking off for a nonstop flight to Chicago, a nearly 5,000-mile flight requiring almost nine hours and two full flight crews. As the plane rolled into position for takeoff, Tanya was sitting between the two girls so she could hold hands with both. She almost yelped as both girls gripped her hands with all their might, and, Tanya painfully learned, both were very strong. As they approached cruising altitude, the grip on her hands lessened and she softly breathed a sigh of relief. A flight attendant served drinks, and then a beautiful meal with the steaks broiled on board. The girls were then enraptured watching an American chick flick taken off a satellite. Then, with their seats reclined to the horizontal, they slept. On final approach into O'Hare, again they gripped Tanya's hands, but not nearly as tightly as before. Once on the ground in Chicago, the girls marveled at how swiftly they went through Customs & Immigration. What they didn't know was that their flight had been timed to arrive just ahead of the day's inbound flights from Europe, but just after the full crew of officials had come on duty. Again, although they didn't know it, the Corcoran influence had been at work. The girls were greeted by the chief inspector himself. After looking over their papers, he looked over the two young girls carefully. It was all he could do to keep from whistling appreciatively but instead said, "Welcome to the United States! I see you're here on immigration visas, and I understand you're about to be adopted by an American family. All I can say is that it's America's gain and Russia's loss. I can't tell you how happy we are that you're here." The girls all giggled as they heard a Custom's Inspector comment that every item of clothing they had was from Land's End. "Should we levy a duty on its re-importation, do you suppose?" he asked with a grin. Then he just gave them a friendly wink. As they went back out to their waiting aircraft, Tasha was shaking her head in amazement. In all of her previous dealing with government officials she had found them overbearing and officious. Never had she heard of one being so accommodating, let alone one cracking a joke. "He said it all, sweetie," Tanya replied. "Welcome to the United States of America!" From Chicago to Lexington, it was only about 350 miles. Landing at Blue Grass Airport, they again were met by a limousine and whisked off to their new home at Bluegrass Farm. ------- Chapter 1 Tanya and Tasha Corcoran eased out of their bed. Although each had a suite of her own, they spent almost all of their time in Tanya's suite. It was a few steps closer to the stairway. And even though their new home was spacious to say the very least, they still slept each night cuddled up with one another. Although it was only six-thirty and there had been no alarm, the two pairs of eyes opened together. Damn! Tanya thought. Although we're not related — I don't think — Tasha and I might as well be identical twins. And she was right. Although they had been in the States for only a few months, they were the same height, same weight, with the same hair and eyes. But beyond that, they thought alike and often one would start a sentence and the other would finish it. Without exchanging a word, the two girls got out of bed, went to the bathroom, relieved themselves, brushed their teeth and stumbled down the backstairs to the workout room. There they began their regular workouts and then went through the sliding doors and dove into the 50-meter pool to do their laps. This is better than a shower, Tasha thought. This water is cleaner than any shower. And, thank God, there's no chlorine! Although it never occurred to either girl, their times were routinely close to records. Finishing their laps — they did ten, or 1,000 meters — they dried off casually and went up the backstairs to the kitchen. Although it wasn't yet eight o'clock, the mid-August day was already hot and promising to become much hotter. "Good morning, Mrs. Johnson!" Tanya chirped in her most cheerful voice. The mocha-colored woman just glared at her with a raised eyebrow. Like the girls, she was five feet nine, weighed 125 pounds, and was a beauty. And, like the girls, she was naked except for an apron that didn't reach to her bare pudenda. "Oh, dear! I forgot again!" said Tanya, pretending to be contrite. Then with a big grin she said, "Good morning, Jessie!" "And good morning to you, too, squirt!" Jessie Johnson said, pretending to be irritated. This was a game the two had been playing for weeks. The two girls were no sooner seated than Jessie put their big breakfasts in front of them. The kitchen was on the home's first floor and offered a view of the swimming pool. It had taken little time for Jessie to be able to predict to the minute when the girls would appear just from timing their laps. "And what are you going to do today?" she asked. What she really meant — and the way the girls heard the question — was what were they going to do after working with their horses. ------- It had started after Tatiana and Natasha had been at the Farm for only a couple of days. They had been out walking around Bluegrass Farm and had learned it was enormous: 10,000 acres or nearly 16 square miles. The fact was that the farm was actually a town in itself and bordered Lafayette County. Because it was a town, arrangements had been made with the city of Lexington to educate any children living on the farm on a tuition basis. And there were more than a few children to be educated. However, the way it worked was there was actually a private school on the farm that ran through the eighth grade. Students only went to the Lexington schools for high school, and the school was Memorial High School, the closest to the farm. [Author's note: Don't look for Memorial High School in Lexington, Kentucky; it doesn't exist.] The two girls had gone only a short distance from the house in a direction parallel to the training track and the horse barns. They both stopped short when they topped a rise and found themselves looking down into a pasture surrounded by tall white board fences that were almost a hallmark of the Kentucky horse country. The pasture was several acres in area and it appeared to be heaven on earth for horses. It was covered with lush green Kentucky bluegrass. There were a number of very large shade trees on the south side to provide cooling shade in the heat of the summer along with a spring that rose in wood-lined barrel-like pool. The overflow became a tiny creek that flowed away from a corner of the pasture. As large as the pasture was, it was home to only two horses. But they were the most beautiful pair the girls had ever seen. Both were coal black, so black their coats almost appeared to be blue-tinted. Seeing them, the girls immediately knew that these were King and Blackie. Technically, they were King of Bluegrass Farm and Black Silk. Both were two years old but had not been trained, and only Blackie had ever even been ridden. They learned that, like his sire, Satan, King would allow no one on his back. But as they drew closer to the fence, something strange happened. The two horses trotted over to the fence, seeming to welcome the girls. When Tanya came close, King stretched his long neck out and nuzzled her. At the same time, Blackie shyly went to Tasha and did the same to her. "He likes me!" Tanya exclaimed. "And she likes me," Tasha replied. "Let's go find some stable hands!" Tanya suggested. "Maybe they could let them out of the pasture for us." As they turned to head to the stables, the two horses moved back a few feet from the fence and then King effortlessly jumped it and trotted after the girls. Blackie was only a few feet behind. "I guess we don't need any help to free them from the pasture," Tanya giggled. Then she pretended to glare at King and demanded, "Aren't you a thoroughbred? Thoroughbreds aren't supposed to be able to jump." Along with everything else, King proved to be a ham. He pretended to hang his head in shame while quietly pawing the ground with one of his fore hooves. The girls howled with laughter. As they headed toward the stables, they were joined by Andy and Rachel, or more properly, Andrew and Rachel Jackson, a pair of Bengal tigers. The tigers greeted the girls and then licked the necks of the two horses. Obviously, the four animals were the best of friends. Reaching the stables, it took only a few minutes to have hackamores put on the two horses — the girls decided there would be no bits for them — followed by saddles. Although neither girl had ever ridden a horse, they had seen enough in films to figure out how to get on their backs. The two horses stood motionless as the girls mounted. With King leading the way, they went to an exercise ring and began just walking around to accustom the girls to riding. As the girls quickly became comfortable, the two horses just added more and more moves to their repertoire. When King felt Tanya was comfortable, he cantered off to the mile-long practice track with the two tigers trailing behind. When they were out on the track, the rail was lined with stable hands and the entire training staff including John Andrews, the chief trainer. They watched as the two horses took positions in the middle of the track at a starting line. The two tigers, Andy and Rachel, took positions flanking them. Tanya and Tasha exchanged looks as they sat on their mounts, waiting. The two slowly shook their heads and shrugged. Neither knew what to do next. Then King turned his head and seemed to look back at Tanya. She figured the ball was in her court, so she shouted, "Go!" All four animals were off with the tigers jumping out in front. The girls leaned forward over their mounts' necks, and the colt and filly both accelerated. Andrews wore an electronic stopwatch around his neck at all times. It was almost his badge of office. When he heard Tanya shout, he instinctively pressed the Start button. Around the track they went, with the tigers maintaining their lead. The fact is that while a racehorse can run at about 35 miles per hour for the length of a race, a tiger can maintain approximately that speed all day, and can hit 50 in spurts. In other words, there was no way the horses could catch the two tigers. While everyone was focused on King, Blackie was maintaining position beside him trailing by a head. As the horses came out of the last turn, they pounded toward the finish line. Only then did Andrews realize that the starting position the horses had taken put the finish line at a mile and a half, coincidentally the distance of The Belmont Stakes, the last and longest of the Triple Crown races. He had positioned himself at the finish line and clicked his watch as King thundered across. The girls had had the ride of their lives. Of course it had to have been since it was the first time either had ever been on horseback. Both girls had been stretched out over the necks of their mounts until they crossed the line. Then both sat up as the horses eased down, then turned and cantered back toward the finish. Remarkably, neither horse seemed to be at all tired. Only then did John Andrews look at his stopwatch. When he did, his eyes bugged. Slowly shaking his head he said to himself, but loud enough to be heard by the others around him, "My God! King's time tied the record for the Belmont Stakes! I had him at 2:24!" "But they're only two years old!" his chief assistant exclaimed. "And — good heavens! — the weight! They must be carrying at least 10 more pounds than they would at The Belmont!" a stableman murmured. "At least that," Andrews responded. "I don't know how much those girls weigh, but I would bet it's at least 120 pounds. Furthermore, those are training saddles not racing ones. I'm sure they're at least five pounds heavier, maybe more." Jeff Spencer, Andrew's chief assistant, had been mentally reviewing the race. He let out a soft whistle and then asked, "Did any of you notice Black Silk?" Andrews then did what Spencer had just done: He mentally reviewed the race. Then he, too, let out a soft whistle and said quietly, "Yeah, I did. She was matching him stride for stride the whole damned race! He won by a head, but her position relative to him didn't change by an inch over the full course!" To the utter amazement of the bystanders, the two horses calmly leaped the railing and went to a show ring. There the two horses practiced saddle-horse gaits. But Andrews and his people paid no attention. They were still reflecting on the incredible race. "King of Bluegrass and Black Silk are both nominated for the three Triple Crown races, aren't they?" Hearing an affirmative response from Spencer, he slowly shook his head. "Guys, I think we have some real winners here. Can you imagine? Only two years old and carrying more weight, they tie the Belmont record!" Then his eyes flared. "Oh, shit! Who's going to ride them?" "Remember, boss, the girls' ... great-grandmother... ? the Duchess of Northumbria, rode King's sire, Satan, to wins in both the Grand National steeplechase and The Derby." He paused to think and then added, "I've seen the films of both races a number of times, and it was like today: Satan broke out in front and just ran away from the field." Again Spencer paused, thinking back to that day's race. "Damn! Did you notice the start? If you think about it, those horses wanted to break like quarterhorses, but were afraid to do so for fear the girls would get dumped off the hind end." Again he paused, then grinned and added, "It's not unknown in quarterhorse racing for experienced riders to be dumped off that way." "So we train the girls in quarterhorse starts and let them run away with it..." Andrews mused. "Okay, guys, here's what we're going to do: The first start for those horses is going to be the Kentucky Derby! No prelims! Oh, boy!" he exclaimed, thinking aloud. "What a payday that is going to be! Just think ... no racing experience and carrying extra weight—" "Is that legal?" Jeff Spencer interrupted. "Hell, yes! The weigh-in is to ensure that no horse has a weight advantage. He can't be carrying less than the stated weight. But if an owner wants to handicap his own horse with extra weight, that's his choice. He's giving the other horses an advantage over his own and that's legal!" Spencer was still thinking about the prospects. Then he asked, "But what about the girls riding? Is that legal?" "Jeff, buddy, who owns those horses?" Spencer's eyes widened. Softly he replied, "The girls do. They're joint owners of both King of Bluegrass and Black Silk. You mean... ?" "I sure do mean!" Andrews replied with a grin. "An owner is always a qualified rider to ride her own horse. It hasn't been done in living memory to my knowledge, but it's very legal." Spencer let out a low whistle. Then with a grin he said, "We need to find some nice bookies—" "Both here and overseas," Andrews interjected. Then he mused, "I wonder what sort of odds we could get betting King to take the Triple Crown? A thousand-to-one, maybe?" Visions of a humongous payday danced in the heads of the Farm's people. Without a word being said, it was instantly understood by everyone that there would be no hint of the performance of the two horses. It was silently understood that the horses would never even be mentioned when meeting socially with other horsemen. Jeff Spencer mused, "Yeah ... Everyone knows we have King, and his sire is Satan. And Satan's track record is certainly well-known, too." He paused and then continued, "Boss, it wouldn't be a lie, would it, if we casually put out the word that we haven't been able to find a jockey able to even get on his back?" "It sure as hell wouldn't!" Andrews agreed. "Neither girl is licensed as a jock ... Hell! They only rode for the first time this morning." Instantly, that became the party line. But as experienced horsemen, it was understood — again without a word being said — that the lack of a jockey would only be mentioned if someone asked. No one from Bluegrass Farm would ever bring up either King or Blackie. Just then another stable hand came running up. "Boss, you've got to see this! You're not going to believe it." With that he led the way toward the jumping ring while continuing, "After their race, the horses took the girls to the riding area and practiced their gaits. Would you believe it? Both are perfect five-gaited saddle horses. But now ... Just look!" The whole crew had moved over to the jumping ring. There they saw the two girls, still on horseback, at opposite ends of the jumping stands, raising the bar another notch. "Jeff, do you remember where we left the bars last time?" "Yeah, boss ... Holy shit! They were left at the winning heights from last year's Lexington Horse Show. And they're raising them!" [Author's note: The Lexington Horse Show has no jumping. But this is a work of fiction.] Indeed they were. The men watched as the girls finished raising the bar on the last jumping standard, then walked back to the starting position. King was off, followed moments later by Blackie. With perfect form they cleared every bar with vertical distance to spare. The girls seemed to naturally lean forward over their horses' necks as they jumped. "Is there anything those two can't do?" Spencer breathed. "I'm not sure the two of them could pull a loaded brewery wagon," John Andrews replied softly, "but I wouldn't bet any money that they couldn't, either." The girls finished and walked the horses over to Andrews. "How did we do?" Tanya asked. "You did fine," Andrews replied, "but that's the last damned time you ever get on those mounts without helmets, hear?" "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," the two girls said in unison. Then they ruined it by giggling. ------- Tanya answered Jessie's question. "Uh ... it seems that football is a very big sport here, and Tasha and I have been studying the films and reading up on it. We were thinking of going over to the high school and seeing if we could actually throw a football around. I think we've got the theory down pretty well, but it's time to see if we can make the theory work." Jessie Johnson just slowly shook her head. She knew that the two girls were incredibly well-coordinated and very strong. She was afraid they couldn't grip a football, but then she realized they both had very long fingers, so maybe... "Okay, kids. I'll tell hubby. Be sure you don't forget your devices, though." Jessie's hubby was Dan Johnson who was in charge of the Farm's security detail. The fact was it was far larger than most towns' police departments and far better trained. Dan was an ex-Army Ranger, as were most of his men. The few who were not former Rangers were former SEALs. And as far as conditioning was concerned, Dan insisted that his men be in even better shape than when they were on active duty. The device Jessie referred to was a tiny electronic marvel. In size and shape it looked like a key fob used to remotely lock and unlock car doors. In reality, it had two major functions: First, using GPS satellites, it allowed constant tracking of the girls' exact location. Second, it was a communications device. Pressing a button once indicated that the girl wanted to be picked up. Pressing it twice quickly indicated that help was needed, and pressing it three times quickly was an emergency signal. Although they had only done it a few times in practice, three rings was like a general alarm in a fire station: Everything rolled in their direction at the highest possible speed. And using the Corcoran connections, the Farm's security force were all special agents of the Kentucky State Police, carried a not-so-small arsenal of weapons in their cars, and also were equipped with the usual assortment of sirens and flashing lights, although theirs were concealed behind their vehicles' grilles. Finishing their riding for the day, the girls showered and went out the front door. There was a silver Rolls limousine waiting for them, and off they went. It was one of four identical units. Had they bothered to look — they hadn't — they would have seen the license number was BGF—1. Virtually all the farm's vehicles were BGF-something, except for the security vehicles which carried standard plates. However, unlike the usual plates, if one were to try to run a security plate number to identify its owner, all that would be reported was that the vehicle was not stolen. No other information would be provided short of a court order. The two girls had been to Memorial High School only once before, when they had gone over late in the previous school year to register as freshmen. Jessie Johnson had gone with them representing the girls' parents, Caitie and Bill Corcoran, with all supporting documentation. A part of the documentation was evidence of private schooling through the eighth grade. But this was the first time the girls had been to the school by themselves. Being sensitive to the feelings of other kids, the girls alighted from the car around the corner from the athletic fields and then ran over flipping their football back and forth between them as they ran. It was only eleven o'clock when they reached the football practice field, and there were only two other people there: two boys who appeared to be about the girls' age. They, too, were throwing around a football, or trying to. The fact was they were really inept. Tasha shrugged and passed the ball to Tanya using the moves they had practiced in their gym and at home. She was gleeful when it worked; the ball shot over to her twin in a lovely tight spiral. The girls threw the ball back and forth, moving further away from each other each time. When they were about 40 yards apart, it was still working. When they figured out that they were okay with passing mechanics, the one without the ball would start running while the other tried to put it in the receiver's hands while she was running full speed. Initially, that didn't work too well; the first few were way behind the receiver and then they were out of reach in front. But it didn't take long for them to get the feel of throwing to a moving receiver so they just continued. After throwing the ball around for an hour, they took a break. They found that the two boys had stopped what they were doing and were just sitting and watching them. Going over to where the boys were sitting on the ground, Tanya said, "Hi! I'm Tanya Corcoran, and this is my sister, Tasha." She grinned and added, "We're going to be going to school here in the fall. We're freshmen. Who are you?" The two boys had sheepishly risen to their feet. Neither knew quite what to do, but one extended his hand and said, "Hi, Tanya. I'm Mike Barnes and this is my best friend, Ben Brewster." Then he blushed and blurted, "Boy! I wish I could throw a football the way you two do!" At that point he turned from bright pink to crimson and added, "You're the most beautiful girls I've ever seen!" The two girls exchanged looks. In the first place, Mike and Ben were the first two boys their own age the girls had ever spoken to. Furthermore, in spite of the boy's blushing and stammering, they realized that he was being sincere both in praise of their passing and his comment on their beauty. "Thank you very much," Tasha replied, blushing in turn. "That's very nice of you to say. "Do you two go to school here, too?" "We're going to," Ben Brewster replied. We're freshmen, too." He paused and then stammered, "Could ... could you show us how you throw the football so well? I don't know if you noticed, but we're pretty inept." Without replying directly, Tanya asked, "Would you guys like some water? It's really pretty hot, and it's easy to become dehydrated." In addition to their football, the girls had a soft cooler with bottles of spring water. The boys accepted gratefully. The boys were wearing Levi's cut off about two inches above their knees along with T-shirts. The girls were also wearing Levi's but they only had about an inch of inseam left. Both girls were wearing cropped T-shirts with the sleeves cut off, and neither wore a bra. Although the girls were rapidly developing, they had breasts with B cups but never wore bras. Their tits were high, very firm, and fully self-supporting with small nipples on quarter-sized areolae. The boys, though, were at an age when many of the girls had reached puberty but most of the boys had not. So Mike and Ben were much more impressed with the girls' athletic ability than they were with their hardened nipples. In fact, they didn't even notice them. The girls started to work with the guys, with Tanya pairing off with Mike. She started with gripping the ball — Mike, too, had big hands and long fingers — then started to work on his throwing motion. That needed a lot of work. While he was practicing, throwing the ball to Tanya standing only about ten yards away, she was studying him. Although the boys were only about the same height as the girls — about five feet nine — she noticed that his hands and feet were both large. Thinking about it, she realized that often the hands and feet grew earlier than the body; perhaps both boys were going to end up quite tall. They finished up after about forty minutes. The girls told the guys that they really should start to work out more and maybe give some thought to weight training. After agreeing to meet again the following morning, Tasha asked where the school's football players were. "Oh, they're away at a football camp the coach runs," Ben replied. "It's up in Ohio somewhere. I understand that it's a boys camp run by Coach Adams' college roommate. When the camp shuts down at the end of the season, Coach gets to use it for his football players for very little money. I guess they're due back the Friday before school starts." He shook his head and added, "That's going to be ugly." "What's that mean?" Tasha asked. "It means that when they get back they usually go berserk. It's a great time to be as far away from them as possible." The girls continued to meet the boys every day and were both surprised and pleased at the progress the guys were making. And so it continued until the Friday before school was to start for the year. For some reason, the girls elected to stick around the field after the boys had left for home and had forgotten the warning about the returning players. They were about to finish up for the day when they heard a shout from behind them: "Fresh meat!" Wheeling around, they saw three big guys bearing down on them. The apparent leader said, "Look at those two! They'll be just perfect! We've got that bitch we've been fucking, but now we can share the wealth." Then to the girls he said, "Get ready for a lovely raping!" "Uh, oh!" Tanya said softly to Tasha. "Now we're about to see if Tae Kwon Do really works." At the same time, she reached into her pocket and pressed the button on her communicator three times quickly. Rather than fleeing, the girls moved a bit apart. The leader went for Tanya. And since he had been the one threatening rape, Tanya didn't hold back. When he grabbed for her, she kicked him in the balls. The fact was, though, that she focused her aim at the middle of his belly, so in effect she was kicking through his testicles trying to split him in two from his crotch. What she succeeded in doing, though, was to crush his testicles against his pelvis. A moment earlier he had been intent on raping her. By then, he was doubled over on the ground, first vomiting up his guts and then trying to hug himself into a fetal position. The other two went after Tasha. She dropped one by smashing his knee with a wicked kick and then broke the arm and the shoulder of the other when he grabbed for her. With their three assailants on the ground and harmless, for the first time the girls were aware of the wail of inbound sirens. ------- Chapter 2 What the girls didn't know was that a standard routine for the Farm's security detail was to have at least one car with two men close to the girls at all times. On that Friday morning there were two and Dan Johnson, chief of security, was in one of them. They were on the scene scarcely a minute after Tanya had sounded the alarm. When the two cars arrived, three security men raced toward where the two girls were standing. Both girls were taking deep breaths winding down from the adrenalin rush that followed their attempted rape. Meanwhile, Dan was in his car radioing the local police. Just a moment later the first cruiser pulled up. By this time, the girls were running toward a door to the boy's locker room that was standing ajar. It was from that door that the three attackers had emerged. They were approaching cautiously when they were overtaken by a uniformed female police officer with her male partner. He was carrying a heavy bag with him that they later learned was a rape kit. Tanya and Tasha were right behind the two officers and almost ran into the back of the woman when she stopped short, muttering, "Oh, shit!" A young girl was lying on her back on a massage table with her legs spread wide and her arms tied to two of the table's legs. Two cheerleaders, judging by their uniforms, were trying to clean blood from her face and barely-formed breasts. The girl's crotch was covered with blood and semen but the girls had made no move to clean that up. The victim's eyes were closed so she wasn't aware of the new people in the room. Going to the girl's side, the female officer whispered, "You're all right now, sweetie. You're safe." Then she paused and asked, "Are you Cassie Fisher?" The girl seemed unable to speak, but she did nod her head. "Let's go, Jack," the woman told her partner. "You know what to do." Jack, the other officer, had already opened the bag he was carrying. First, he started taking pictures of everything in sight. Then, when his partner moved the two cheerleaders aside, he carefully photographed the girl's body taking particular care to capture the blood, semen, and distended vagina still gaping open. Finally, he said softly, "I've got enough, Chris. How about if you get the semen samples? You have a much lighter touch than I do." "While I do that, call the FBI." She rolled her eyes and added to no one in particular, "This is going to be a real doozy!" Jack used his lapel mike to radio headquarters. "Notify the FBI. We've found the Fisher girl. She's been brutally raped, but it looks like she'll be okay. And get several ambulances over here, stet! The girl has to be hospitalized and the apparent rapists will need to be, too." He listened for a moment and then, apparently replying to a question, said, "It seems that our neighborhood rapists decided they wanted more fun. All three of them are on the ground. One barfed out his guts, another appears to have a broken arm and possibly a broken shoulder, and the third has his leg at a very unnatural angle. We left them to the tender mercies of Bluegrass Farm's security. It was two of their girls who were the targets. Clearly, they picked on the wrong girls!" Meanwhile, while Officer Christine Martin was taking semen samples from the girl's groin, Tanya and Tasha stood on both sides of her and just gently stroked her head while making soothing noises. The girl's eyes opened and she asked who they were. They introduced themselves and Tanya said, "I heard the officer ask if you are Cassie Fisher, and you nodded your head. Where are you from, Cassie?" "I live in Cincinnati," the girl said softly. "I was just walking along the street near my home when a car stopped and a guy grabbed me!" Tanya looked at Tasha who was slowly shaking her head. "Those guys really bought the farm! This is interstate kidnaping and rape. That's a very tough Federal rap. No wonder Jack notified the FBI. Normally they come into an investigation 24 hours after a kidnaping against the presumption that the victim was taken across a state line. It hasn't been 24 hours, but there's no doubt about it: Cassie was in Ohio when she was grabbed, and now she's been raped in Kentucky." By this time, all hell was breaking loose. The first of the ambulances had arrived, and the EMTs loaded the girl on a stretcher. Since the girl was holding both Tanya and Tasha by the hand, the senior just shrugged and motioned for the girls to come with them to the hospital. On the way out, they signaled Dan, and he nodded. He gave orders for one of his security units to follow the girls to the hospital. Meanwhile, more police units were arriving. Fortunately, the timing was such that there was about to be a shift change. Lexington's senior police officer on duty used his head and authorized immediate overtime for virtually the entire outgoing shift. The officers were ordered to Memorial High School to assist in interrogating witnesses. At the same time an FBI vehicle carrying Cassie's parents was rolling south at high speed. It had been met at the state line by two Kentucky State Police cruisers which were clearing the way. [To the everlasting frustration of Ohioans, the Ohio River south of the state is entirely in the state of Kentucky. The state line is the Ohio shore.] With police cars constantly arriving, at the same time a school bus pulled up loaded with the returning football team, and from a different direction, three cars carrying cheerleaders also unloaded. The police, acting under the direction of Officer Chris Martin, separated the new arrivals into four groups: One group consisted of the team coaches; another, all the football players 18 and over; a third, with all the players younger than 18; and the final group composed of the newly-arrived cheerleaders. Chris began questioning the cheerleader captain who was one of the girls with Cassie when Chris and her partner arrived. The girl was over 18, and Chris gave her the Miranda warning before asking any questions. What she learned was utterly appalling. All the cheerleaders were arriving to fuck the football players who had just finished their summer camp. That would have been the third year that it was done. The girl proudly told her that on her first time, two years earlier, she had fucked the entire starting backfield, and the year before she had pulled a train consisting of the entire offensive unit. "Pulled a train?" Chris asked. She knew what it meant but wanted the girl to tell her in her own words. "I fucked the whole team!" the girl proudly announced. "One right after the other. It was awesome!" "How old were you then?" Chris quietly asked. "I was 17," the girl replied. "I was only 16 the first time." Chris rose from her chair, leaving the girl seated, and found her partner. "Jack, this is going to be horrendously expensive for the taxpayers. I think you'll want to hear this, too." Her partner pulled up a chair and the pair continued questioning the girl. It had occurred to them that there were no signs of breaking and entering. The girl told them that the quarterback, Junior Jones, had keys. Coach Adams had given him keys to the gym before leaving the camp. Since the three boys were in Junior's car while the rest of the team was returning in a school bus, the car would likely arrive much earlier, so Junior had the coach's keys. "Good grief!" Chris exclaimed quietly to Jack. "Can you believe this? A felony rape in a school building with the assailant having been given the keys? Furthermore, we've just learned that there have been I-don't-know-how-many cases of statutory rape! And guess what? The statute of limitations still has a long time to run. Can you imagine all the lawsuits waiting to be filed?" She rolled her eyes and shook her hand as if it had been burned. Although the age of consent in Kentucky is 16, many of the cheerleaders who had been fucked the previous year were only 14 or 15. By this time, things were really chaotic. At least one TV remote unit had set up outside and had a satellite link back to its station. Parents of the underage students were also arriving, having been called at home or at work. ------- Tanya and Tasha were still with Cassie Fisher who by then was in a guarded private room. When her parents arrived accompanied by two FBI agents, the girls introduced themselves and then left the room with the agents while the Fishers were with their young daughter. They went down to a waiting room at the end of the hall and the girls told the FBI their story. At first, they were not believed. It seemed impossible that two girls, not yet 15 years old, could have put down three burly football players. One of the agents went to a phone at the nurses' station and called in. Since he was still in sight of the other three, they could easily see the expressions of consternation as he spoke to the other party. When he returned he asked, "Which of you took on the quarterback? He was the guy in the lead, I suppose." When Tanya said that she had, he asked her to stand and then asked how much she weighed. "About 120, I guess," Tanya replied, puzzled. "Good grief!" the agent exclaimed. "The guy you took on was the leader of the bunch, and apparently the instigator of both the kidnaping and the subsequent rape." He slowly shook his head and said, "But that's the last time that's ever going to happen." "What do you mean?" Tanya asked. "Did ... did I hurt him?" "Miss Corcoran, you crushed both his testicles so badly they had to be surgically removed. Now he's a eunuch." Then to Tasha he said, "All you did, Natasha, was to shatter one guy's knee, and break the other guy's arm and shoulder in four places." He slowly shook his head and asked, "Are you two professional athletes or something?" The girls explained that they had been trained as gymnasts and dancers from the age of three. They added that they had been learning Tae Kwon Do as well as associated martial arts for about six months. "All I can say is, you certainly learned well. Congratulations!" ------- That night there was an emergency meeting of the Lexington school board. Present with the board members were the board's attorney and a senior representative of their liability insurance carrier. He addressed the board first. "I'll let you have the news hard and fast: The district has a $10 million liability policy, and we're prepared to write checks right now for $30 million. It seems that there have been dozens of cases of statutory rape going back three years. You're lucky as hell because you have one-year policies written on a losses-incurred basis. That means that you have $10 million for each of the three years. "But this doesn't begin to cover your potential liability for the Fisher girl. That was plain felony rape along with kidnaping. And the rape occurred on school property with the rapist having been given the keys to the school. You're so exposed, it's ridiculous. "Finally, I would urge you to consult personal attorneys. This Board is likely to be sued individually and severally for every dime you've got." He concluded by asking, "Has the coach been fired yet?" Without answering his question, a female board member demanded, "How can we be personally sued? We didn't do anything." "That's the problem!" the insurance executive exclaimed disdainfully. "There's a wonderful element in the law with respect to liability: it's "knew or should have known!" You're sort of damned if you do and damned if you don't. And the fact that this has been going on for three years is very bad for your personal cases. Had this been a one-time thing — only today's horrible events — you could probably fire the coach, settle with the Fishers and be done with it. But that's not the way it is." "Well!" another board member pompously sniffed. "Clearly, it's the principal's fault! It's a complete breakdown of supervision." "Oh, come on! Get real!" the insurance man exclaimed. Clearly, he had done his homework on a crash basis because he was obviously well informed about the district's situation. "You have a brand-new principal here at Memorial. The guy hasn't even been here a month yet! Furthermore, I understand — and this is going to look very bad for all of you — that the previous principal's contract was not renewed because of his efforts to discipline... the football coach!" "But he couldn't discipline him!" a third board member protested. "Coach Adams got his team into the state regional championship game." The insurance man just rolled his eyes. "Get out your checkbooks, folks. You're going to need them." ------- It was late Friday night before Kevin Carlisle, an attorney, was finally able to reach his primary client, Jumbo Jones. Jumbo was the county sheriff and Junior Jones' uncle. Beyond being sheriff, he believed he owned the county and could — and did — do whatever he wanted. Carlisle had been unable to reach him because he had been "auditioning" new talent for the underage houses of prostitution he ran. The fact was that in his county if it was illegal, Jumbo ran it. Kevin had been very careful to keep from knowing about any of Jumbo's illegal activities before the fact. If Jumbo had another name, no one knew it. That was even the way it appeared on the ballot when he ran for reelection ... unopposed. He was almost never opposed. Once, years earlier, a guy started to run against him, but he was found beside the road unconscious, having been beaten to within an inch of his life. He withdrew, and he was Jumbo's last opponent. "So what's up?" Jumbo asked after exchanging initial greetings. "Junior's in jail," Kevin replied bluntly, "or he will be when he gets out of the hospital." "Jail!" Jumbo screeched. "What the hell do you mean, he's in jail? Get him the hell out, right now! What the hell do you think I'm paying you for?" "Not this time, Jumbo," Kevin replied calmly. "Your nephew really bought the farm." "And what the hell does that mean?" Jumbo demanded. "That means that there's a fight on right now between the Commonwealth of Kentucky and the Feds to see who gets to entertain young Junior for the next 20 years or so. That means that he's looking at Federal charges of interstate kidnaping — he grabbed a 12-year-old girl in Cincinnati and brought her here — and state charges of felony rape, as well as more counts of statutory rape than I care to think about. "But you could look at the bright side," Carlisle commented dryly. "He'll never do that again." "And what's that mean?" Jumbo almost screamed into the phone. "That means that they had to amputate his testicles — they were completely crushed — and may have to amputate at least part of his prick, too, but that's not certain yet." "My God! How in hell did that happen? How many guys went after him?" "That's what's really interesting," Kevin responded blandly. "It was just a single 14-year-old girl, and he came after her." "You're shitting me! That's impossible!" "Jumbo, have you ever watched Olympic gymnastics?" "I guess so," Jumbo muttered. "But what does that have to do with anything?" "Well, as you may have noticed, those girls are all muscle. But they're all about four feet ten. Guess what? The girl Junior attacked — and he was the attacker — happens to be one of those world-class gymnasts ... but she's more like five feet ten. And that's not all. It seems she's an expert at Tae Kwon Do, too. She cut loose a kick that just about put his prick and balls up into his belly. I guess she must have shattered his balls against his pelvic girdle." "Damn it! Get him off and get him out!" Jumbo demanded vehemently. "No can do. Aside from everything else, they've got him dead to rights. They've got the whole nine yards: semen matches, eyewitness testimony — oh, yeah! Lots of that! — and best of all from the Commonwealth's point of view, the first officer on the scene was Chris Martin. It seems she just got back after taking a course on handling rape cases. And she sure as hell paid attention and handled the whole thing by the book. And that book is heavy and it's going to land right on Junior's head. "I'm afraid, Jumbo, that you're going to have to get used to seeing Junior as a boy-toy for some big Bubba in the slammer. The only open question right now is who's going to be paying for his room and board, the Commonwealth or the Feds. He's toast." "But that can't be!" Jumbo insisted. "I run this place!" "Sorry, Jumbo, but you don't. There's a family you've ignored named Corcoran. Oh, yeah ... the girl who clobbered Junior was named Tatiana Corcoran. They can buy you with their petty cash!" "But I've got millions!" "And they've got billions!" Carlisle retorted. "Possibly as much as a hundred billion, but no one knows for sure ... possibly even themselves. They own Bluegrass Farm, and I'm sure you know it." "I'll—" "I don't want to hear it, Jumbo!" Kevin interrupted. "I would advise you, though, to lay off and get some sleep. You're going to need it." ------- Chapter 3 It was Wednesday of the first week of classes, and Ed Brennan, Memorial High's new principal, was still finding his way around. The fact was that he had only been hired a few weeks before school started. Although his predecessor, Charley Peters, had been fired — or tendered his resignation — in the spring, the school board had been unable to fill the vacant position for months. There were at least two reasons for this: First, Charley had been very well-liked and respected in the school administration community; no one was in a great rush to take his former seat. Second, the word had gotten around that the reason for his departure was a dispute he had had with Red Adams, the football coach, regarding alleged activities during and after spring practice. The school board had unquestioningly backed Adams. At this point, things were unclear. No one except the parties concerned knew if Charley Peters had resigned in protest or if the board had asked for his resignation. No matter. It had taken Peters no time at all to land an even better post, and no one was very interested in taking his place at Memorial, in spite of — or perhaps, because of — the school's football prowess. Ed Brennan was 37 years old and was serving on an emergency certification as a school administrator. He had just retired from the army as a major after serving 20 years, virtually all of it as a Ranger. He had enlisted at 17 and later was commissioned after going through OCS. Along the way he had earned his BA with a combined major in history and political science, and later earned his MA in American history. But at no time had he taken any education courses and, in fact, considered them to be an utter waste of time. Now he was waiting to meet with Florence Zachary, a newly-hired social studies teacher, who was teaching 9th grade civics and 9th grade history, among other courses. When Mabel Stevens, the secretary he had inherited — thankfully — from Charley Peters, told him of Zachary's appointment, she had presented her personnel folder to him with a sniff. Ed already knew Mabel well enough to recognize that sniff as signifying extreme disapproval. Brennan looked over the file, paying particular attention to Zachary's academic background. To be sure, she was fully accredited as a high-school social studies teacher. When he looked over her academic transcript, though, he muttered a soft but fervent, "Oh, shit!" He checked the transcript and then checked it again. All it did was to confirm his first impression: Florence Zachary had no college-level courses in history, geography, civics, or economics. Instead, all of her subject-matter courses for her certificate in social studies in the School of Education were in psychology or sociology. Ed leaned back and closed his eyes. What he had found was a partial answer to the rhetorical question: What's in a name? All too often, he had found, the answer was: a great deal. And this was one of those times. By changing the title of the certification from history, civics, or whatever, to social studies, all of a sudden courses in the social sciences qualified as subject-matter courses required to be certified to teach the subject at the high-school level. So here he was, stuck with a teacher assigned to teach civics and American history, yet having had no courses in either subject beyond whatever she may have had in high school or before. Then he checked again to find Zachary's date of hire. Again, there was the muttered, "Oh, shit!" but it was even more fervent this time. As he should have guessed, Zachary was hired between the time Charley Peters left and he had come onboard. She had been hired by the bane of his existence, Clarence Edwards, his assistant principal. Quite honestly, Ed had no idea what to do with Clarence, except that he reminded him of von Moltke's famous square regarding the assignment of military officers. Von Moltke had a two-by-two matrix. On one axis, the entries were Smart and Stupid. The other axis was labeled Aggressive and Lazy. Von Moltke was chief of the German Imperial General Staff. He argued that an officer who was smart and aggressive was an ideal line officer. Faced with changing battlefield conditions, he would pick the best available option and aggressively pursue it. An officer who was smart but lazy was fine as a staff officer. He could sit back in his chair puffing on a pipe and come up with all sorts of stratagems for the line officers to execute. Then there was the officer who was lazy and stupid. Him you put in the rear area, stacking underwear or something. This left the officer who was aggressive and stupid. "Him," von Moltke argued, "you shoot!" For he will be aggressively doing all sorts of dumb things that could lose battles and lose the war. As far as Ed Brennan was concerned, Clarence Peters could have been the model for the aggressive-stupid box in the square. Shaking his head, Ed figured that if he put Peters in charge of paperclips, he would find some way to paralyze the school. But that was a problem for another time. Mabel had just buzzed to tell him that Ms. Zachary had arrived. "Send her right in." As she entered his office, Florence Zachary looked puzzled. "What's the problem?" Brennan asked. "You ... you saw me right away," she replied, shaking her head as if in amazement. "What's wrong with that?" "But ... but you're the principal!" "So... ?" "You're the top boss, and I'm the newest teacher. I'm supposed to be kept waiting." "Where in hell did you ever get that idea?" Brennan asked. "If I kept you waiting unnecessarily I would be wasting both our time. It's senseless." "But that's what they teach administration majors in Ed School," she insisted. "That's what my roommate was majoring in, and she told me." Ed just rolled his eyes. "But I understand you have a problem. What is it?" "It's those infernal Corcoran twins!" she wailed. "They're insufferable!" "But what exactly have they done that's insufferable? School has been in session for only two days." "They ... they challenge my authority!" "And how do they do that?" "Well, take this morning, for example. Would you believe it? They had the gall to tell me that ... that God — her voice dropped to a near-whisper at the mention of the word — is mentioned in the Declaration of Independence! They did! They honestly did," she insisted. "And what did you say?" Ed asked reasonably. "What could I say? I said that was utterly ridiculous! After all ... we have separation of church and state!" Zachary proudly announced. "Ms. Zachary, I agree there's a problem," Ed said quietly, "but the problem is yours, not theirs. The amendment in question reads, 'Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion... ' And at the time the Constitution was adopted, about ten states had established churches. The reason for the amendment was no one wanted a national church — such as the Church of England — imposed upon them. For the most part, the drafters had no problem with the concept of an established church; they just could not agree on which one to establish so the amendment bans a national church. "Are you familiar with these lines: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.'?" Florence Zachary looked puzzled and said, "They sound vaguely familiar, but I really don't recognize them." "They're from the Declaration of Independence. When our founders said, ' ... they are endowed by their Creator... ' who was that, do you suppose?" The woman's eyes widened. "Do you mean... God?" "I'm unaware of any other meaning ever being accepted for the term," Ed replied blandly. Feeling outgunned, Zachary shifted her target. "But that's not all. They have the nerve to claim that handgun control laws are ... are... unconstitutional! Can you believe it? The nerve of those two!" "They have a point. No less than Professor Lawrence Tribe, a professor of constitutional law at Harvard — and himself a handgun opponent — wrote not too long ago that if people want handgun control, they would have to amend the Constitution." "That's nonsense!" Zachary protested. "The Second Amendment deals with the National Guard!" "I'm sorry," Ed retorted, "but that's the reason for Tribe's statement. Scholars are now in agreement that the militia referred to in the Amendment is the General Militia — all able-bodied men between the ages of 18 and 40 — not the Organized Militia which were the antecedents of today's National Guard. "In the American Revolution it was general militiamen under Jack Sevier who annihilated Ferguson's Tories at Kings Mountain, thus destroying Corwallis's left flank. The general militia typically elected their own officers, so Sevier had been elected colonel in command. Similarly, Abraham Lincoln was elected a captain in the general militia when it was called to serve in the Blackhawk War." Florence Zachary just sat there, stunned. At that point, Mabel Stevens diffidently knocked on the door and then entered. She apologized for interrupting but it concerned social studies, and Ms. Zachary was the newest in the department. Mabel went on to tell them that Henry Clay High School had an immediate need for a social studies teacher. It seemed that a teacher there, scheduled for maternity leave later in the school year, was being forced to take a medical leave of absence immediately. Her doctor had certified in writing that she was no longer physically able to perform her duties as a high-school teacher. "Ms. Zachary," Ed asked, "are you interested? Would you rather go over there, or face the Corcoran twins twice a day, every day? Since you have them for history, too ... And, of course, I cannot honor your request to discipline those two. They haven't done anything wrong, or at least nothing you've told me so far has put them in the wrong. So... ?" The woman looked as if a great weight had been taken off her back. "I'll take it!" she excitedly exclaimed. "Where do I go and who do I see?" Mabel gave her the information and Zachary almost ran out the door, leaving the two alone in Ed's office. "Mabel Stevens, how in hell did you pull that off?" "Moi... ?" she said with an expression of the most injured innocence. "Yes, you!" Ed said with a grin. He then learned that there was an informal association of principals' secretaries in the district. The secretary to the principal at Henry Clay was her best friend. The leave of absence was absolutely on the up-and-up, though. Furthermore, because the school had anticipated that the pregnant teacher would be taking maternity leave long before the end of the school year and had anticipated her replacement with a long-term substitute, her classes were set up with her team-teaching with a very experienced teacher. "So, if that girl opens her ears," Mabel concluded, "she might even learn something." "Mabel, you're a doll!" Ed said in congratulations. The woman just beamed and blushed. "Now if only we could do something with Clarence..." Ed Brennan had very quickly concluded that the very best thing that had happened to him was to have Mabel Stevens as his secretary. He had soon learned that when Charley Peters had been forced out — and he had been — Mabel thought of resigning. But she was close to retirement — she was old enough to be Ed's mother — and she lived close to the school. So she decided she would wait and see who Charley's successor would be. When she learned that Ed was a retired Ranger, she was ecstatic. "About Clarence..." Mabel mused. "You're a good friend of Dan Johnson out at Bluegrass Farm, aren't you?" Mabel was absolutely correct. Ed had been in the position for only a day when Dan had shown up at his office. Army Rangers are not that numerous, and careerists often knew one another, or at least knew of them. In this case, Ed and Dan had served in the same unit for a tour and had great respect for one another. "Yes, he's a good friend, but why do you ask?" "Look, Boss, Bluegrass Farm is owned by William Corcoran, and Tanya and Tasha are his adopted daughters. From what I hear, Corcoran has more money than the mint. I was checking over bulletins and announcements that are always coming into the office. Do you think you could get Corcoran to spring for a few bucks and pay for Clarence Edwards to spend the year at workshops and seminars? I happen to know that he's married but there are no children and his wife doesn't have a full-time job." "Mabel Stevens, you are an absolute genius! Let me give it a shot." It was a matter of less than fifteen minutes to have the whole thing set up. Dan Johnson's parting words were, "Ed, are you sure Clarence can't get into any trouble at those sessions?" "Dan, I'm certain he can and he will. But I'm equally certain he could get into far more trouble right here, so..." "Bon voyage, Clarence Edwards!" Dan concluded with a chuckle. Then he grinned and said, "Now I can hire Jack Murphy as Zachary's replacement. I feel another emergency certification coming up." "Who's he?" "Another buddy from the Rangers. He has his BA with a dual major in American history and civics, and is close to his MA in history. But no education courses." Mabel returned his grin and said, "I'll get on the phone to Frankfort and I'll have the certification while I hold. The word is out, apparently, that any request from Memorial High School gets an automatic yes ... provided it doesn't cost the Commonwealth any money, of course." With that settled, Ed looked at Mabel with an eyebrow cocked and started drumming his fingertips on his desk. He didn't say a word, just stared at her. "What did I do this time?" she asked, knowing she was about to be teased. Ed Brennan was an inveterate tease, and Mabel just loved it. "Mabel Stevens, you've been holding out on me..." he said, extending his last word. Looking the picture of injured innocence, she asked, "About what, this time?" "You never told me that the inmates have been running this asylum, is what you've been holding out." She tried to maintain a straight face, but couldn't control a very girlish giggle. "Oh ... You found out about that, huh?" "It took Brandi about ten minutes to find out about it Monday afternoon." Monday afternoon, the cheerleaders were working out on a practice field. They were working out with Ed's wife, Brandi, who was filling in for the former cheerleading coach who had resigned. Although the woman had been not connected in any way with the rape scandal, nevertheless she wanted to put as many miles as possible between herself and Memorial High School. She had been released from her Phys Ed teaching contract at Memorial, and she had had no trouble landing a position in Louisville. But with no one to work with the cheerleaders, Brandi stepped into the breech. She had been a varsity cheerleader at Notre Dame for three years, and that's certainly big time. In fact, she was far better qualified to coach cheerleaders than her predecessor had been. Brandi was surprised at how few candidates appeared. The fact was that the squad had been decimated by Friday's events and their fallout. The cheerleader captain was one of the two girls in the locker room with the rape victim. The other girl was also a senior and was the captain's deputy. Although neither had yet been charged with a crime, her father's attorney was afraid she might be charged as an accessory at least. A number of other girls on the squad had been forcibly withdrawn by their parents. Although the full story had not made the papers, it had spread like wildfire by word of mouth all over town. So when Brandi blew her whistle to gather the girls, there were fewer than there had been on the squad, even counting the very few new girls who had appeared to try out. It took just a few questions for Brandi to learn that previously new cheerleaders were chosen by members of the carryover squad, and the captain had veto power. The result was that only members of the "in" group had a chance. This was well known among the students, thus the paucity of candidates. Ed handled this immediately following his meeting with Mabel. He got on the schools PA system and announced that cheerleading tryouts would be held again that afternoon and the selection of candidates would be made by the coach not the cheerleaders themselves. The only requirements to be a cheerleader, he stated, were to be energetic and enthusiastic. He added, "If you're out of shape, don't worry about it. My wife will correct that problem in no time." That afternoon, nearly two dozen new girls appeared at tryouts. Four of them displayed outstanding energy and enthusiasm, and looked like they might become the stars of the squad. Mabel Stevens was as good as her word. Just a few minutes after speaking to a senior administrator in the Department of Education, an e-mail arrived with John Murphy's emergency teaching certificate attached. Brennan wasted no time contacting Jack. His buddy appeared less than an hour later and his contract was signed on the spot. He would start the following day. ------- Tim Jordan was the boy's soccer coach at Memorial and had agreed to help the new principal out by also working on football. For the immediate future, Ed Brennan was doing most of the coaching but he was the first to say that he could work with the guys on conditioning and drills but he knew nothing about play-calling. Tim had agreed to help out on that front and had spent the previous two nights going over the Memorial playbook. Since Junior Jones had been a top-rated high-school quarterback — one of the best in the nation, in fact — most of the plays were passes. In fact, while many teams use the running game to set up the pass, Memorial did the reverse: It used it's passing attack to open things up for the run. But no more Junior. Furthermore, his two partners in crime were the best receiver and the school's top running back. So Memorial was faced with a very solid front line, an excellent defense, but no offensive weapons at all. While Jordan was musing, it suddenly registered in his brain what he had been watching: The girl with a goalie's jersey was regularly booting the soccer ball a mile! From the goalie's box, she was routinely kicking the ball beyond midfield before it hit the ground. That got him thinking. Put the foot back in football? he wondered. First he spoke to the girls' coach, and then to the girl herself. It was Natasha Corcoran, and she was excited to learn of his interest. When he asked if she could kick a football, Tasha replied, "Sure. Tanya and I have been practicing all summer." That resulted in Tanya being called over, too. Tim looked at the two girls and realized that, although they appeared to be identical twins, they really weren't that identical; he had no trouble telling them apart. And since they were the same height, same weight, same build, with the same hair and eyes, it was a puzzlement. He learned that Tasha was the punter, while Tanya was the better place-kicker. He gathered some balls and one of the junior team managers to chase them and took them over to the football field. Standing on the 30-yard line, Tasha booted magnificent spirals that turned over, landed, and stopped inside the 5-yard line at the other end. Her first kick had sailed far over the head of the manager who was back to catch it but that was no surprise. The boy had never encountered a punter with the leg strength and extension that Tasha had. Then it was Tanya's turn with Tasha holding. Starting from extra-point range, she just monotonously pumped ball after ball toward the goalposts, splitting the uprights every time. After the first few, they just moved upfield until she was kicking with the ball placed on the 50-yard line. And still she split the uprights! Not wanting to risk an injury, Tim stopped it right there. "Good grief!" he exclaimed. "I think Memorial has two brand-new offensive weapons." Then he grinned and added, "You two don't happen to know anyone who can throw a football, do you?" The two exchanged looks, nodded, and then Tanya said, "As a matter of fact, we do. The problem is he's only a freshman and not much bigger than we are right now. But he can throw and he's very accurate." "Who receives the passes?" Tim asked. "His best friend. He's about the same size, but he's very fast and has really good hands." After talking awhile longer, the girls agreed to contact Mike Barnes and Ben Brewster and see if they could get them to try out. That evening, the girls were sitting around the table in the kitchen going through the telephone directory. Jessie, their cook, was watching with amusement because the girls weren't having any luck at all. "What's the problem?" she asked. In frustration, Tanya replied, "Do you know how many Barnes and Brewsters there are in this damned directory? Dozens! And Tasha and I have no idea where they live!" she wailed in frustration. "Does it really matter?" Jessie asked calmly. Clearly this was not a life-or-death situation. "You have those two in virtually all of your classes, don't you?" Mike Barnes and Ben Brewster were not new to Jessie; the girls had been talking about them for weeks. "But we don't even know where they live!" Tasha repeated. "So what? They don't know where you live either." "That's different," Tanya sniffed. "Oh... ? And how is that different. "Because they're boys!" Tanya replied as if that made a big difference and the difference should be apparent to anyone. "That reminds me..." Jessie began. "Don't you think you're overdoing this anonymity thing, bigtime? I mean ... Dan had to go and buy a Toyota Camry just to drive you kids to school! Sheesh... ! Of course, it was built over in Georgetown, and since it's less than 25 miles from here, you're helping with local employment, but still ... I mean ... What's so damned wrong with being dropped off at school in a Rolls? I think it would be pretty neat, myself." The two girls giggled because that was exactly what had happened. Tanya and Tasha decided to wait for lunch to talk to Ben and Mike about going out for football. They decided it would take longer than the time between periods and so it turned out to be. The initial reaction — no surprise — was, "You've got to be kidding!" That was followed by the argument that they weren't very good. The girls rebutted that by pointing out that in the land of the blind the one-eyed man is king. They might not be great, but Mike could throw far better than anyone else out for football, and Ben was a fine receiver with great speed and good hands. Finally the two boys were beaten into submission; they would try out that afternoon. It was no contest. Mike was really firing the ball, and Ben was consistently getting separation on the defensive backs and making catches. As Ed Brennan watched Mike pass, he saw something that looked familiar. Then he realized what it was: Mike Barnes was throwing the ball the same way that Tanya Corcoran did. At the next break, Ed asked him about it. "Did you teach Tanya Corcoran to throw a football?" Mike just laughed. "What's so funny?" "Your question, coach. It was the other way around: Tanya taught me to throw a football." Then Mike just shook his head and continued, "Maybe it's her background in ballet and gymnastics ... I sure don't know. But what I do know is that not only does she know the mechanics of throwing a football, she's incredible! She also knows exactly which muscles are doing what, and how to get them all working together for the maximum effect." So Tanya became the unofficial quarterback coach. When the girl's soccer coach complained that she never got to see the Corcorans at practice, Brennan kissed it off with the comment, "Those two are so damned good, it's unfair to the opposition to let them practice, too." With the addition of Mike and Ben to the squad, quarterback and wide receiver were covered, but there was no running back. And even though Mike was a very accurate passer, he still didn't have great arm strength to fire the ball downfield. And neither Mike nor Ben weighed even 150 pounds. This time Tasha came to the rescue. She had been watching a running play in which a guard pulled to lead. The guard was huge, but he was amazingly light on his feet. Although not very fast, he was very quick. She pointed this out to Brennan, and The Tank (Clarence Brown) was born. When Brennan tried him out as a running back, he learned something else, too. First, he had very soft hands and was an excellent receiver coming out of the backfield, but beyond that he had the ability to move his body so that, even when going through the line, no one was able to get a clean shot at him. In addition, because of his great size — Brown was already six feet four, 240 pounds, and still growing — he was very tough to bring down. And Tasha began to work with him on his running speed, and that was the cause of some merriment. No sooner had she started, when a beautiful, very tall black girl come over and demanded to know what Tasha was doing. "I'm trying to get his speed up." "Sheesh, girl, are you trying to get me killed? Or at least raped? Don't you realize that the only thing that's preserved my virtue to this point is that I'm faster than he is?" "Oh..." Tasha replied with a deadpan look on her face. "I guess you'll have to work out with us, too, to try to maintain your advantage, won't you?" The girl, Deann Washington, was, like Clarence Brown, a junior. While beautifully slender, she was almost exactly six feet tall. She could have been an outstanding runway fashion model. The two girls exchanged grins and winks, but Deann did start running with them. ------- It was a few weeks later, just before Memorial's first football game and Ed Brennan was in his office. There was a knock on the door and Harry Davenport stuck his head in. "You wanted to see me?" he asked. Ed had sent him an email earlier telling him to see him but that it wasn't urgent. "Yes, I did, Harry. I wanted to find out how the twins and my backfield stars are making out in your Introductory Algebra class." Harry came in and sat down. "Introductory Algebra? Those four? What a sick joke that is!" Then he chuckled. "What's so funny?" "What I did to them yesterday..." Davenport replied while chuckling again. "Which was... ?" "I passed out assignment sheets for homework due today. Those four turned it in, but Tasha murmured just loud enough for me to hear, 'That really wasn't fair.' And you know what? It wasn't." He chuckled again and shook his head, remembering. "What wasn't fair?" Ed persisted. "For their homework I gave them a problem that was worth half the grade on the Advanced Algebra final exam from last year." "And... ?" "All four got it right, but when class was over Tanya complained that it had taken them nearly 30 minutes to solve it. Keep in mind, though, that the question was half of a two-hour final." Again Harry shook his head and continued, "Since the kids haven't had advanced algebra, they had to create a method for solving the problem, which they did, and still produced the precisely correct answer within 30 minutes." Ed just shook his head. He was amazed but had come to expect amazing things from those four. "How are they in class?" "It's really sort of funny. The four of them sit in a row in the back of the room. I watch the two girls. If one of them is slowly shaking her head, I know I'm losing most of the class and start over again. If they're smiling and nodding, the rest of the kids are getting it." Then he looked a little puzzled and changed the subject. "Ed, have you ever met any of the boys' parents?" Ed just shook his head. He attached no significance to the fact, though, since he was so new himself. "It's funny," Harry continued. "I've checked with the boys' teachers from middle school, and it was the same thing. Only one teacher had ever met a parent, and that was only a single teacher a single time. I was supposed to meet with Mike Barnes' parents, but his mother had to cancel. But she did speak with me on the phone. "Obviously, she's very much aware of exactly what Mike is doing in all of his classes. She's very intelligent and very concerned about her son, but..." "But what?" Davenport shook his head and looked puzzled. "But ... she sounds so young! She has a lovely speaking voice, but she sounds like she's only in her mid-twenties or something." He just shrugged and then brightened remarkably. "I saw the four kids in the cafeteria yesterday. Ed, you'll never in a million years guess what they were doing." "Okay. I give up. What were they doing?" "I was near their table when I heard Tanya say, 'Pawn to king's bishop four.' I did a double-take. As you probably know, that's a chess move ... but there was no board nor any chessmen. Believe it or not, Tanya was playing Tasha in mental chess. Each had a picture of the chessboard in her head and moved the pieces verbally!" [Author's note: This isn't as great as it may sound. In NYC there's at least one guy who plays 10 boards at once, blindfolded. He's remembering board positions for 10 games at the same time.] Brennan softly whistled and shook his head in amazement. "But that wasn't all: Believe it or not, the two boys were kibitzing a mental game! They were following the moves in their heads, too." "They started talking about errors, when Tasha just sniffed and said, 'The critical mistake Tanya made was agreeing to play me in the first place!' That earned her a smack from her twin." Then he asked, "Is it true, Ed, that those girls are Russian?" "It's top secret, Harry, but yes they are. Believe it or not, they've only been in the States for about six months." "Well, it sure looks like we came out ahead on that one," Harry commented. "Changing the subject, what's the outlook for Junior Jones and friends? Think he'll walk?" "Hah!" "But Junior is Jumbo's nephew," Davenport protested. "He's rich as hell and he's always taken care of Junior." "That's what I hear," Brennan replied, "but I'm the new kid on the block so I certainly don't know if it's true. But assuming it is, Junior's still toast!" "What's that mean?" "Harry, I'm sure you've heard the expression, 'more money than the mint, ' right?" Davenport just nodded his head. "Well, that line could have been written for the Corcorans." Davenport shook his head, confused. "I don't understand, Ed. It wasn't the Corcoran girls who were raped." "No, I guess you don't understand, Harry. Tanya and Tasha were attacked. That was a personal assault on Bill Corcoran's immediate family!" "But ... but ... they're adopted!" Davenport protested. "Harry, if you don't take anything else away from this conversation, learn this one thing ... and pass it on to your colleagues: Tanya and Natasha Corcoran are the daughters — I repeat, daughters! — of Caitlin and William Corcoran. And that's the way it is. "Let me fill you in a bit more: First of all, as you probably know, the Corcorans had never heard of Cassie Fisher before her rape. Notwithstanding the fact that the two girls put all three of their assailants in the hospital, all is not forgiven. First of all, the Fisher girl is now under armed guard, 24 and 7. And I don't mean rent-a-cops, either. I'm talking about the world's top personal security firm. And that's really big bucks. "But that's not all. There are two young women who take turns sleeping with Cassie every night. Not only are they licensed psychologists, they're rape specialists and former rape victims themselves. Cassie now considers them to be her closest friends. In addition to a whole new wardrobe, the girl has had a complete beauty make-over. She was always a very good student and a very good girl, but now she's blossomed into a young beauty. Those two young women were the guests of honor at a huge birthday bash on the occasion of her thirteenth birthday, too." Ed paused and then added, "That was organized and paid for by the Corcorans, too. "Is that everything? Oh, no! Representing Cassie as her personal lawyer is the nation's top rape lawyer. He almost always works for the defense and has gotten some pretty bad guys off. But now he's working for Cassie. No defense lawyer can even talk to her without him being present. And when he's not with Cassie, he's working to help the prosecution prepare its case. "Details? They even have experts testifying that the blows Tanya and Tasha used could only be made against attackers. And believe me, no one is going to try to argue with those experts. "So back to your question, those guys are toast. Oh, yeah ... One more thing. The prosecution won't even discuss a plea bargain with any of the three. They're going to go for everything. Understand?" Davenport grinned wryly and replied, "They're good girls to leave alone, huh? You mean I should look for other young lovelies to molest?" Ed returned the grin. "That's an excellent idea, Harry." "Changing the subject a bit, now that the three stars are in jail — and from what you just told me, likely to stay there for quite some time — how's the team look?" Then he frowned and added, "I'm sure you know that every paper that covers high-school ball has picked Memorial to finish dead last." "So I've seen," Ed replied. Then he mused, "I'm not making any promises, but I think we're going to have a few surprises for some people." ------- Chapter 4 Memorial's first game of the season was against Henry Clay High School. Not only was Clay the defending Kentucky state champion, being also located in Lexington, Clay was Memorial's archrival. And being neighbors, Clay was all too well aware of what had befallen the stars of Memorial's prior team. They were really expecting a walk-over. The pivotal play proved to be the kickoff. Clay had won the toss and elected to receive. Tanya placed the ball on the kicking tee and, when the referee's whistle sounded, she really booted it. Clay's two deep receivers watched the ball hit the ground in the end zone and bound toward the end line so they trotted toward the sidelines. They fully expected the ball to go over the end line for a touchback and then be brought out to the 20 for Clay's first offensive play. But that's not what happened. Instead, on its second bounce, the ball landed on its nose and then skipped back to sit on the ground five yards behind the goal line. A very alert Memorial cover man was on it like a cat. With the ball cradled in his arms, the referee's arms went up signaling a Memorial touchdown. Tanya's extra-point kick split the uprights, so with only seconds gone in the first period Clay was down by seven. There are two things that can happen in such a situation. One is to ignore it and get on with the game. The second is to seek to fix blame. Unfortunately for Clay, they went the second route. And because of the blame-game, the Clay players focused on not making a mistake rather than thinking about the play they were trying to run. The results were disastrous. Mistakes seemed to pyramid on themselves. And the Memorial defense preyed on every one. Fumbles were recovered, passes were intercepted, and, even though Memorial had no offense, they didn't really need one that day. Tasha accounted for two scores by punting the ball dead on the 1-yard line once, and the 2-yard line later. Capitalizing on the hyper-tense Clay players, Memorial got safeties both times. And Tanya even kicked a 50-yard field goal. The combination of a truly aroused Memorial defense coupled with a demoralized Clay offense resulted in the final score of 14-0. The Memorial stands went utterly berserk! Going to the game expecting to see a slaughter, they had seen their boys triumph. And to make the day even sweeter, their vanquished foe was the hated Henry Clay High School, the defending state champions! Could anything be sweeter than that? ------- It was very late Friday night following the Memorial-Clay game when Kevin Carlisle finally reached Jumbo Jones on his cellphone. "What in hell are you calling me for at this time of night?" Jumbo growled. Then he looked at a clock and added, "Holy shit! It's almost four o'clock!" "I called to find out if you have any part-time deputies you could activate to full-time status," Kevin replied blandly. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jumbo demanded. "That means that you won't be seeing eight of your deputies any time soon." "What?" Jumbo screamed into the phone. "It seems that four of the Bluegrass security guys were in a quiet little bar — not in your jurisdiction, unfortunately — when they were accosted by eight of your off-duty deputies. One of your guys was heard to say something like, 'We're going to fix you bastards for what you did to Junior, ' or words to that effect." "And... ?" "Bad move, Jumbo," Carlisle replied. After pausing for a moment he continued, "They should stick to beating up drunks. Unfortunately, the Bluegrass guys weren't drunk — they weren't even close — and they're in top shape. What you know — or sure as hell should know — is that they're all ex-Rangers, and the ones who weren't Rangers were SEALs. Your guys are now all hospitalized — in the prison ward, by the way — with at least one broken major bone each. The leader of the band — your chief deputy, I understand — has a broken jaw, broken arm, broken leg, and a shoulder broken in three places. They might — or might not — be able to put him back together." Kevin paused, and then his tone of voice changed completely. "What the fuck are you doing, Jumbo? Are you out of your fucking mind? Against that outfit, you're so damned overmatched it's ridiculous! I warned you to lay off but apparently you didn't listen. I hope to hell you're listening this time!" Needless to say, Jumbo was not used to hearing anyone speak to him that way. "Now you listen to me, Kevin Carlisle! I've got a reputation to protect. My nephew — my nephew! — is in the slammer, for God's sake! You expect me to just sit and take it? Hell, every jealous bastard and his cousin will be looking to cut a piece out of my territory! Next time—" "I don't want to hear it!" Kevin nearly screamed. Then in a calmer tone he added, "Jumbo, you're overmatched. Have you followed what's happening with that Fisher girl? Do you have any idea how much money is being spent? My God, the Corcorans are spending it by the boatload! Jumbo, face facts: You left them alone so they left you alone. If it comes to a fight, they've got all the heavy weapons. Do you understand? And I sure hope you're listening and listening good!" Jumbo just grunted and hung up. ------- Incredibly, Memorial High achieved a season record of 7-2! They actually made the championship playoffs but met Henry Clay again in the first round. But that time, Clay had its act together and Memorial lost, but only by one point, 21-20. Given their situation it was a moral victory for Memorial. The season had been interesting, to say the very least. First, the entire defensive unit played their collective hearts out over the entire season. They recognized before the first game that Memorial would have no chance if a game became a shootout. They were certain to lose. So the focus of the defense in every game was to hold the opponent scoreless. They couldn't do that, of course, but no opponent ever scored as many as the 21 points that Henry Clay scored in the playoffs. The offensive line vowed to protect their quarterback, Mike Barnes, at any cost. Although only a freshman, Mike demonstrated great leadership from the very beginning. But since he didn't even weigh 150 at the time, his linemen knew that if he took a clean hit from a monster defensive lineman or linebacker, they could break him in half. Never did they get that clean hit. For the first few games of the season, the defense — along with the kicking of the Corcoran twins — was the offense. Then the Tank began to rumble. He was born with good moves, and working with the twins his straight-ahead speed kept improving. With great blocking up front, he registered gains of ten yards, then fifteen, then more than twenty. And given that he was almost impossible for a single tackler to bring down, defenses had seven, then eight, then nine men in the box to stop him. And then lightning struck. Mike had been calling almost all the running plays as play-action, faking a pass. It soon became like a scarecrow: Once the crows determine that none of their number have been killed or injured by the object, they would even start to perch on the scarecrow's shoulders. So too with Mike's fakes: opponents ignored the pass threat and stacked the line to stop the run. But after an opponent's kickoff, Memorial had the ball on its own 18-yard line. As usual, Mike appeared to handoff to Tank while he rolled to his right. But that time things were different. With nine men up close to stop the run, Ben Brewster had only single coverage from a cornerback. He put on a burst of speed that surprised the back and left him in his wake. Mike fired a pass that caught him in full stride and Ben just ran away from his lone pursuer. And that play repeated with increasing frequency as the season wore on. The result was defenses could no longer rely on Memorial running the ball and had to be ready for a pass. This opened the middle for Tank to rumble. Beyond that, Tank began to be devastating as a receiver coming out of the backfield. Tasha won the last regular-season game. Very late in the game, Memorial was trailing 14-7, when Mike connected with the Tank for a touchdown on the last play of the game, bringing the score to 14-13. Tasha and Tanya came out to set up for the extra-point try, and the opponents set in their normal defensive positions for a point-after attempt. Since they had been heavily favored to win — as virtually all of Memorial's opponents during the season had been — they figured that Memorial would play for a tie — there was no overtime — and consider that a moral victory. But that's not what happened. Tasha was on her knees awaiting the snap from center. It came high, apparently forcing her up on her feet to catch the high snap. She caught the ball and then fired a pass to Ben Brewster standing uncovered in the end zone for a two-point conversion and a 15-14 win. And yet again the Memorial stands exploded in cheers. There was one other oddity during the season: While the PA announcer would announce the names of the players making a play, with Tasha and Tanya, they were just numbers. When an extra point or field goal was kicked, the announcer would say, "Field goal and three points for Memorial. Kick by #1." Similarly, when a punt rolled out of bounds at the 1-yard line, it was, "Punt by Memorial, #3." And so it remained throughout the entire season. ------- It was mid-November, time for the fall sports awards assembly. At Memorial, this was a three-times-a-year event and followed the conclusion of each season's sports schedule. It was the time at which varsity and JV letters were awarded and when team captains were announced for the following year. That year there was particular interest because of the football team's remarkable performance along with the girls soccer team winning the state championship. They achieved that through the brilliant offense of Tanya coupled with the incredible performance of Tasha in the goal. Principal Brennan was particularly proud of his teams' achievements as he began the assembly. First up was boys soccer. They had had a winning season but nothing exceptional. Then, amid cheers from the assembled students, the champion girls soccer team was introduced. There was one point of great consternation when the captains of the girls team for the following year were announced. Cindy Knight, the girls' coach, did the honors. "Folks, I have a real surprise for you all. As I'm sure you know, it's traditional that team captains are seniors. Well, I have news: First of all, we handled the selection of captain a bit differently this year. We had, in effect, two elections. All of the graduating seniors voted in one group, and all of the returning players voted in the second. "Why, you might wonder, did we ask seniors to vote? After all, they're not going to be here next year. Frankly, that was the very reason we asked them to participate. They won't be here, but they played all season with whoever would be selected, so hopefully they would make a selection for the good of the team and not for reasons of personal friendship. The reason for voting by the returning players is pretty obvious. "Well, we have co-captains next year. These two girls were the nearly-unanimous choices of both the seniors and the returning players. "It's my great pleasure to introduce the captains of next year's girls soccer squad... Tatiana and Natasha Corcoran! As far as we know, this will be the first time in the history of this school that athletic team captains will only be sophomores. But it was truly the unanimous feeling of the entire squad that, were it not for the Corcorans, not only would we not be state champions, we wouldn't have even made the playoffs! "Tanya and Tasha! Come over here and let the folks get a good look!" The girls stepped forward and were greeted with a standing ovation from the students. At that point, when the applause died down, Tim Jordan, the boys soccer coach and part-time football coach joined Ed Brennan. They reviewed the highlights of the season, singling out Mike Barnes and Ben Brewster for particular praise for their skill and poise, in spite of only being freshman. Then Ed spoke about Tank Brown: "I can't tell you how proud we are about Tank's accomplishments in football. But I'm going to tell you a tale out of school. You'll never guess who Tank's football idol is. But I'll give you a hint: His idol is not a running back. In fact, his idol is no longer playing football and hasn't played in years. "Folks, Tank's idol is Dan Dierdorf, whose name some of you might recognize as a prominent sports announcer. The fact is, though, that Dan was a fine offensive guard for what was then the St. Louis Cardinals. Now why would a guard be Tank's idol? Believe it or not, it's not because of his football playing. Dan Dierdorf is Tank's idol because, while playing varsity football at University of Michigan, Dierdorf managed to graduate number two in his class! And Michigan is a huge school and graduates thousands each year. But he was number two! "And I'll add something else: As proud as I am of Tank's playing, I'm even more proud to announce that he has made the high honor roll! I can't tell you how proud we are of this guy! Tank, come over here and say hi to the crowd." Tank came over to the microphone and said, "Thank you, coach. But I really want to thank three people for helping me to achieve what I did. First, there's Deann Washington. Without her driving me, I would be barely passing, but with her help and encouragement I'm doing pretty well in my classes. "Second, I really need to thank Tanya and Tasha Corcoran. They're the ones who have worked with me on my running, and thanks to them I'm faster, by far, than I've ever been. And you know what else? They're still working with me, and I'm still getting better. I can't wait for next season!" He acknowledged the cheers and returned to his place behind the team. Tim Jordan had the last word. "Folks, I'll tell you this right now: If Tank continues to develop the way he did this year, next year he'll be one of the most highly-recruited football players in the country. Not only is he an outstanding player, unlike all too many others, his academic qualifications will make him a shoo-in." Then the two coaches passed out varsity letters. Before doing it, though, the principal remarked that, for the first time, through the generosity of an anonymous donor (the Corcorans), every player would receive a football letter jacket. When all the letter jackets had been handed out — and put on by the winners — Brennan returned to the mike and mused, "Why is it I think I'm forgetting something? Or someone, maybe? Or perhaps it's someones? Hmm..." Then he snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Of course! Numbers 1 and 3! Now however could I forget them?" Turning to where the girls soccer team was still gathered on stage, he said, "Okay, numbers 1 and 3! Get your lovely tails over here!" Blushing, Tanya and Tasha again came across the stage. "Folks," Brennan continued, "this is another first for Memorial High School. For the first time in our history, we're awarding varsity football letters to two girls. And I want you to know that they qualify against any relevant criteria one would care to mention. They've both scored points for us, and they've won games for us. Without them, I don't know where we would have been. "But they were out there playing for us. So it's with great pride that I introduce to you, Number 1, Tatiana Corcoran, our place-kicker, and Number 3, Natasha Corcoran, our punter! Now let's hear it for our stars!" And again there was a monstrous standing ovation. ------- Again, it was very late on the Friday night of the high school's sports awards assembly when Jumbo Jones activated his cellphone and growled, "What the hell do you want this time, Kevin?" "Good morning, Jumbo," Kevin Carlisle replied blandly. "I just called to find out what you're going to do without deputies. Let's see ... There are eight still in the hospital, but awaiting trial. They've just been joined by four more." "What is this shit?" Jumbo screamed. Kevin ignored the scream and just continued, "Have you ever seen those signs that read, 'No Trespassing! Survivors will be prosecuted'?" "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about signs on the back sides of the Bluegrass Farm property," Kevin continued. "Believe it or not, that is what those signs say. And you know what else? They're not kidding." For a change, Jumbo was speechless. "It seems that tonight ten of your boys, including your acting chief deputy, decided to make a midnight visit to the farm. Big mistake! They went over the back fence, but it seems they picked a spot where some Bengal tigers were camped out. Unfortunately, the tigress, named Rachel Jackson, was nursing a pair of her newborn cubs out there." Kevin paused and shook his head. "Jumbo, never appear to threaten a tigress with young cubs." "Wha ... what happened?" "As I said, I guess ten guys came over the fence. Four of them didn't make it more than a few feet in from the fence line when the two tigers hit them. All I can say is, you really don't want to see what's left. But then the remaining six, instead of bailing out, continued on. As I got the story, suddenly this whole field was illuminated as bright as daylight ... And your idiots started shooting! "A very bad idea. Two were killed and the remaining four were all wounded. They join their colleagues in the prison ward. And, Jumbo, I hear that they're talking. But that was after some rather odd veiled threats..." "Which were... ?" "I gather someone reminded them that the tigers knew their scents, and didn't like them one little bit. The tigers apparently associate those scents with danger to their cubs. And you know what, Jumbo? That's a very dangerous position to be in. So rather than being freed to the tender mercies of a pair of tigers, your guys have apparently decided they're a lot happier where they are right now. "Just thought you'd like to know. "And one more thing: In baseball, after three strikes, the batter is out. Jumbo, I think you can consider yourself to have now taken three strikes. There was Junior, then the attack in the barroom, and now, judging from all the arson equipment those guys had with them, they were planning on torching the house and barns. All I'll say is, look out!" "They can't touch me," Jumbo bragged. "My position is secure." "If you say so..." ------- Chapter 5 Liz Dunbar sat at her desk, puzzled, early on a Friday morning. She worked in a very obscure office in the Kentucky Department of Revenue. Her job and that of her few colleagues was to cross-check liquor purchases reported by wholesalers in the state with liquor sales reported on an establishment's Schedule C. She had been doing the work for only a year but had already earned far more than her salary by finding an establishment whose liquor purchases were far larger than could be explained by reported sales. Her finding triggered undercover visits to ensure that the bar wasn't really using half a liter of liquor to make each drink. They were followed by a surprise audit which in turn produced additional taxes as well as fines and penalty payments. The reason for her being puzzled, though, was just the opposite. She was looking at the report for an establishment called The Girl Spot. The problem she faced was that the Spot's reported sales for tax purposes were a substantial multiple of the sales of liquor as estimated from the wholesalers' reports. Liz took her concerns to her supervisor who could not have cared less. As far as she was concerned their job was to find establishments buying more liquor than their sales indicated not one that was buying much less. Indeed, Liz felt, it was the classic bureaucrat's reaction: It no my yob! Returning to her desk, she thought for a minute and then called her best friend, Jake Brewer. Liz had known Jake since ... forever! The Brewers — and Jake — lived next door to the Dunbars when Liz was growing up. And although Liz was four years younger than Jake, he never minded when she hung out with him and his friends. At that time, Jake was a lieutenant in the Kentucky State Police. He was close to completing his law degree after getting his BA in criminology with a minor in economics. Clearly, Jake was on the fast track with the state police. Remarkably, Jake was at his desk when Liz called. "Jake," she asked without preamble, "do you know of a place called The Girl Spot?" "As a matter of fact, I do," he replied. After a pause he added, "It's a high-class strip club, if there is such a thing." "You sound familiar with it. Are you?" "Yes, I am. A number of my guys work there on their off-duty hours. I guess they like having state police as bouncers." "Uh..." Liz stammered, "could you take me there? Like tonight, maybe? And by the way, where is it?" "It's on the road between Frankfort and Lexington, closer to Lexington, though." Then Jake said, "Liz, if you don't mind my asking, why are you interested in The Girl Spot?" Quickly she filled him in on what she had found, laying it all out. She didn't hide the fact that her supervisor had less than no interest in what she had found. "Tunnel vision!" Jake exclaimed. "Good grief! Hasn't that woman ever heard of money laundering?" "I don't know," Liz replied. After a pause she added, "I've heard of it, Jake, but I honestly don't know what it is. What is it, anyway?" "I'll give you a simple illustration: Years ago when a lot of bookies ran numbers games, they often would also own coin laundries or vending-machine operations. The reason was that most of the bets on numbers were quarters. As a result, the bookies would take in quarters almost literally by the basketful. But since the numbers games were illegal and they didn't want to attract too much attention, they had the legitimate businesses that also handled large numbers of quarters. "It was funny, really. Although initially they didn't care about the legitimate businesses except as a way of laundering their quarters, some of them became very successful, and some ended up going straight. But the fact was the real purpose of the coin-op businesses was to handle deposits from their numbers game." He chuckled and added, "A couple of them got too greedy, though. They chintzed on the legitimate businesses — they were really too small for the money they were allegedly making — and they were caught because they couldn't have taken in all the money they were depositing if every machine they owned was running 24 hours, seven days a week." "Oh... !" Liz breathed. "So that's it." She paused and then asked, "Who owns The Girl Spot then? From what you just told me, if they're laundering money someone with other illegal business interests must own the place." Jake thought for a moment before replying. "It's owned by Jumbo Jones." "You mean... the sheriff?" "That's one of his occupations. He is also reputed to own brothels featuring underage girls — as young as 12 — more than a few illegal stills, some illegal after-hours clubs ... Let's just say that in his county — and beyond, to some degree — if it's illegal, it's Jumbo's." "Wow!" Liz exclaimed. Then she mused, "I just wonder ... Maybe my supervisor knew more than she let on. Just maybe..." "It wouldn't come as a great shock," Jake commented. "There are at least a few representatives and a couple of senators in the statehouse who are supposed to be on his pad, too. Taking care of a supervisor in the Department of Revenue could be handled with petty cash." "So will you take me?" "Still want to go?" "You said you've got a number of your people there, so we should be okay, right?" Jake agreed and later picked Liz up at her apartment on the Lexington side of Frankfort. For reasons unknown to her, she had left work early and had spent the extra time cleaning her apartment to a degree she never had before. It was well after dark when they reached The Girl Spot. Immediately, Liz was a bit surprised. She had seen strip joints in the past, and they usually had flashing neon signs with girls stripping in lights. But not this place. There was a very plain sign close to the road that just said "The Girl Spot" in very readable red letters. But that was all. The building itself, she realized, would look pretty shabby in the daylight, but didn't look bad at all after dark. And the place even had valet parking! Jake drove up to the waiting valet. As soon as the car came to a stop, one of his off-duty troopers was there to open the door for Liz. As she alighted, Jake, who was already out of the car, could see that the officer's eyes had really lighted up on seeing her. In preparation for the evening, Liz had shaved everything, even her whole pubic area leaving only a well-trimmed patch above her clit. She was wearing her "little black dress" along with thigh-high black seamed stockings and a black thong. When Jake called for her, he forbade her to wear her glasses. The glasses were wire-rimmed and very severe-looking. Liz thought they made her look more professional. Jake thought they looked dumb. And because Liz had perfect eyesight they stayed in her apartment. Beyond that, though, Liz had worked on her face like she never had before. Her eyebrows were plucked, her hair was short in an urchin cut, and she had even broken out the Chanel No. 5. What am I doing this for? she wondered. This is only a business call with my best friend accompanying me. "Hi, Jack," Jake greeted the bouncer. "We're here to see Sam Kramer. Is he in tonight?" The off-duty officer grinned and whispered, "Lieutenant, you're really moving up in class! Your girl is an utter knockout ... and all class!" "And she's also my best friend," Jake replied, trying to cool it. They went into the club and Jack had passed the word about seeing Sam Kramer, the general manager of the club. The pair were escorted to the back of the club where the bouncer knocked on an unmarked door and announced that there were visitors. Shown into the office, Liz was impressed. Things were extremely neat and organized. After the introductions, Liz revealed her position with the Department of Revenue but stressed that her visit was unofficial. Nevertheless she asked about the club's tax returns. Kramer proudly announced that he prepared them all personally, and went to a file drawer and brought out a file. All of the returns were stacked neatly in the file and held with an Ace fastener. When she saw the return on the top of the stack, Liz's eyes widened. The entire return was printed — obviously Kramer had the software for the Commonwealth's form on his computer — and the neat column of numbers had been computer-printed. But the copy of the form submitted to the state had handwritten numbers. She took out her copy and put it on Sam's desk. "Where did that come from?" Kramer demanded. "I never sent that in." "I can see that, Mr. Kramer," Liz replied. Then she asked, "Do you have a magnifying glass, by any chance?" In his very well-equipped office, Kramer did. He took a large glass from his desk drawer and passed it to her. She looked at Kramer's file copy and then used the magnifier on her own. "Jake, take a look at this," Liz said, "and tell me what you see." Jake did and then announced, "Someone took a blank report, cut off the data section and then pasted it over Sam's report. Notice that the lines are close, but don't quite line up. They look fine to the naked eye, but under magnification it's easy to see where the old and the new come together. Further, you'll note that Sam's copy has only one signature — his — while your copy, Liz, has two." "I ... I send it to headquarters," Sam explained. "They make a copy for their files, sign it, and send it in. At least that's the way it's supposed to work." Liz and Jake had seen enough. Clearly, any hanky-panky was being done elsewhere. Just then there was a soft knock on the door, and Sam called out, "Come in." The door opened and a stunningly beautiful young woman came in wearing a white terry bathrobe. "Hi, Mel," Sam greeted her. "What's up?" "I just wanted to let you know that the plumbing appears to be working fine, so it's a go for the next show." "Folks, this is Mel Brewster, one of the two stars of our show," Sam proudly announced. "She and Jill Barnes alternate as the stars." He chuckled and added, "Mel appears as Monique, and Jill, as Monica. So far, no one has tipped to the fact that it's the same name, only one is the French version." Mel was introduced to Liz and Jake. Liz was nearly overwhelmed. Melanie Brewster was truly drop-dead gorgeous. She was tall — about five feet ten— with golden hair in a short urchin cut, and gorgeous blue eyes. Her voice was soft and lovely as she invited them to stay for her appearance. "We're trying something new tonight," she told them. "I think you'll enjoy it." Then she grinned, winked and added, "At least I hope you will!" Liz and Jake exchanged looks and then agreed to stay. Mel grinned, then scampered off. The couple went out to the club where they were greeted by a waitress who had just hung up the phone. Since she escorted them to a table in front at the center of the semicircular stage, Liz concluded she had just been speaking with Sam Kramer. Her thought was confirmed when the girl quickly removed a Reserved card from the table. The first thing Liz noted was a brass railing about three feet out from the edge of the stage that circled all the way around it. "This is one thing that's very different from the normal strip club," Jake explained. "Normally, the first row of tables is right against the stage so the patrons can give money directly to the dancers. But here, with that railing, the dancers are out of reach." Liz had been looking at the dancer on stage and marveled. First, to her utter amazement, the girl's breasts appeared to be even smaller than her own very-modest B-cups. On the other hand, the girl's were perfectly shaped with two nipples that appeared to be as hard as little pebbles. The other thing was the girl was dancing to a modern jazz piece that was almost classical. And her movements were those of a gymnast or a trained dancer. And she was completely nude. "Where ... where would this girl put money, if the patrons could give her any?" she asked. Even in the dim light she could see Jake blush. "You really don't want to know." Then it was Liz's turn to blush as she realized the only possible place would be for the girl to take it in her vagina. "You mean... ?" she asked, pointing down to her crotch. "I mean!" "This girl looks more like a modern dancer or a gymnast than a stripper," Liz commented. "As a matter of fact, I think she's both. She's a senior at University of Kentucky in Lexington," Jake replied. "A lot of the dancers are. But you're right: This club really goes its own way where talent is concerned," Jake whispered. "I gather that some modern dance groups are dancing nude these days. It seems that a lot of the girls don't mind dancing that way; it's the pawing they don't like. That, and having to cadge drinks from the customers between times. And that's something else this club doesn't do either." At that point the girl concluded her dance and stood with a very warm smile on her face — almost a grin — and with her feet spread and her arms upraised. There was a great deal of very warm applause. Liz took the opportunity to look around the club. It was a Friday night, of course, so she expected a crowd. But on the other hand, this was only the first show, so it was really quite early for such a club to be so crowded. Beyond that, though, she was surprised to see the number of couples in the audience, and equally surprised to see that, for the most part, they were all well dressed. She was amused to see a number of other women wearing their own little black dresses. When the dancer left the stage, Liz noticed for the first time a number of blank envelopes in a holder in the middle of their table. Looking around, she realized that there were similar holders on all the tables. "What are these for?" she asked. "To tip the dancers," Jake replied. "If you want to leave a tip, you call over a waitress who'll tell you the name of the dancer if you've forgotten it. You write the name on the envelope, put in whatever you feel like and give it to the waitress. And believe me, my guys make damned sure the right girl gets all the money that's coming to her." At that point, an off-stage voice announced, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, The Girl Spot is proud to present the star of our show, Monique!" He paused and then said, "It's six o'clock. Time to get ready for your date." The stage had been in darkness while the announcement was being made. At his words, the lights came up to reveal Monique (Melanie) lying in bed. At the announcer's words, she yawned and stretched, revealing that she was totally nude. Getting out of bed, she proceeded to go through a series of stretching exercises that revealed the fact that she was incredibly muscled. Moreover, from the way sweat started to flow from her body, it was apparent that the exercises she was doing were real. Completing her exercise routine, she moved to the side of the stage, and more lights came up. The audience gasped as they realized there was a full glass-enclosed shower on the stage. Furthermore, when Monique turned the control, it was apparent that it really worked. Getting in, she proceeded to wash herself all over, paying particular attention to her vulva and breasts. "My God, she's gorgeous!" Liz breathed. "And she's what? About my age? Maybe a year or two younger?" "You might be surprised," was Jake's response. To Liz's amazement, Monique even shampooed her hair. Only then did she realize why the girl's hair was short. Otherwise she would need all her time on stage, and then some, just to dry it. Finally she emerged from the glass shower and very sensuously dried herself. Then she went to a dressing table with a whole series of mirrors strategically arranged to allow the entire audience to see all of her. Sitting on the stool, she first used a dryer to dry her hair. The dryer was apparently powerful because it appeared fully dry after only a few minutes. Then she turned toward the audience with her thighs spread wide. Using a hand mirror, she examined her bare crotch for any stray hairs. Using tweezers, she pulled a couple out. Liz could see the girl's skin pulled toward the tweezers, so it was not an act. All the while, there had been soft music playing in the background. Again, it was nothing at all like what one would expect with a stripper. But she's not a stripper, Liz reminded herself. I guess she's an exotic. At least I think that's what they call dancers who start off naked and stay that way. Meanwhile, Monique had completed her search for stray hairs and began to work on her face. Clearly she was very skilled with makeup because in just moments the girl's eyes appeared to be twice as large and twice as bright as they had been. Then she took a tiny black thong and slipped it on. That move was followed by adjusting the string sides just so and slipping the cord running between her legs carefully into the crack of her ass where it proceeded to disappear. This was followed by a pair of thigh-high black stockings with seams, the same type Liz was wearing. After slipping them on her legs, she used the mirror to ensure that the seams were centered on her perfect legs. Liz's eyes widened when the girl put a diamond choker around her neck and then reached for her little black dress. At that point, it was apparent to Liz that Monique would end up dressed in exactly the same way that she was herself. Monique's outfit was completed with a pair of pumps with two-inch heels, again exactly like Liz's. Liz was a bit surprised that Monique was not wearing four-or five-inch "fuck-me" pumps. At that point, door chimes sounded and Monique went off the stage to greet her date. The lights came up, the audience applauded and cheered this time, while Monique reappeared to take her bows. She was still wearing her thong but had lost her dress. She bowed repeatedly as the applause continued. But finally she was able to leave the stage. At that point, the club lights came up. They had arrived at the break between shows. While Liz and Jake were discussing what to do next, Melanie Brewster came out into the club and up to their table. "May I join you two?" she asked softly. Jake jumped to his feet and pulled out a chair for her. She smiled warmly, sat down and asked, "Well? What did you think of it?" "Absolutely incredible!" Liz exclaimed. "Great!" Mel enthused. Then she stood Liz on her ear by asking, "Would you like to do the late show for me? I see you even have your own costume." Liz was utterly stunned. She was speechless. "I don't know though..." Mel mused, ignoring Liz's reaction. "When they see me or Jill Barnes, my alter ego, after you, it would be a terrible come-down." "You've got to be kidding!" Liz finally exclaimed. "Me... ?" Melanie studied Liz's face and finally concluded that the girl was serious. Slowly she shook her head and said, "They have eyes but they do not see. Liz, you are one of the world's great beauties, but apparently you don't even know it. What a stinking shame." Then she grinned and said, "How about if I give you a Truth or Dare-type dare? Would you do it?" Before Liz could reply, a waitress came over to the table. Mel ordered a ginger ale, and suggested that the couple order steak sandwiches. "They're really very good here," she commented. Liz and Jake did as she suggested, ordering them medium-rare. Jake commented, "I notice you don't even make a pretense of ordering a drink which turns out really to be just colored water. You ordered a ginger ale." "And you won't find it on your bill, either," Mel said. "Oops! You won't see it on your bill for two reasons. First, if a girl drinks with a customer, she buys her own. But second, you won't see it because there will be no bill. You're my guests." "What?" Jake almost screamed. "Why's that?" "Again for two reasons," Mel replied. "First, I like you, and I asked you to check out my new routine. But second, as a part of our contract with the club, we get a few comps each month. Furthermore, they're cumulative: If you don't use them this month, they carry over to next month. Well, the fact of the matter is that I have about eight years worth of comps stored up; these are the first I've ever used. Okay?" Jake and Liz just shook their heads. Looking at Liz, Mel repeated, "A dare?" "Okay," Liz agreed. Then she took a deep breath and asked, "What is it?" "I want you to really kiss Jake hard for one full minute. Okay?" Liz's eyes flared but she just nodded. Turning her chair to face Jake, she took his face in her hands, tipped it, and melted her lips to his. The sensation was utterly incredible. It was like no kiss she had ever had before in her life. Her tongue probed his mouth and began a dance with his. At the same time, she could feel a constant surge of electricity flowing between them, as well as hearing bells ringing in her head. For his part, Jake wrapped his arms around Liz's waist and pulled her closer to him. Their kiss just went on and on. "Enough!" Mel whispered loudly enough for them to hear her. Well, it would have been loud enough if they had been able to hear anything over the ringing of the bells. Their kiss just continued. Mel just smiled and watched. What she was seeing was exactly what she had expected to see when she had seen the couple together for the first time in Sam's office. She had immediately decided that the two were madly in love, but Liz, at least, didn't know it. Finally, she rose from her chair, went to the enraptured couple and eased them apart. "It's a good idea to breathe every once in a while," she commented drily. "I think it's necessary for good health or something." The pair were just gasping for breath. Then Liz looked up at Mel with her eyes dancing and asked, "My turn now?" "Okay, I guess. What's my dare?" "I want you to kiss Jake with all your power for one minute!" "Are you sure?" Mel asked skeptically. "I'm sure," Liz declared. "Now do it!" Melanie raised an eyebrow but moved her chair close beside Jake's. Then she repeated Liz's motion, taking his face in her hands and turning it. Then she kissed him, unleashing all of her very considerable power. And Jake returned her kiss enthusiastically. After one minute, Liz quietly called, "Time." The two eased apart. To Jake she asked, "How was it?" "Loaded with pure love," he replied, "but—" "No bells," Mel finished for him. Then to the surprise of both girls, Jake said, "Isn't it my turn, yet?" The two girls exchanged looks, shrugged and nodded. "Okay. Liz, I want you to kiss Mel the same way you kissed me. And you really have to let out all the stops. Okay?" Liz swallowed hard but did what he asked. When her lips met Mel's, Liz didn't know what to expect. But what she got amazed her. When Jake called time, she eased away, shook her head and murmured, "I didn't think one person could contain the love this woman has inside her." Then glaring at Mel she declared, "You're not married, are you?" When Mel just shook her head, Liz continued, "Well, why in hell not?" "Because I have a boyfriend, and I'm not about to give him up!" With that Mel opened the little black purse she had and pulled out a small folder of photos. Pointing to one of them, she said, "This is he. Isn't he handsome?" Jake, who had been looking over Liz's shoulder, gasped. The picture showed Ben Brewster wearing his Memorial High football uniform with its number, 21. "Good grief!" Jake exclaimed. "Liz and I both graduated from Memorial. And this season was saved by two incredible players, a flanker back named Ben Brewster and a quarterback, Mike Barnes. Both of them are only freshmen." Looking at Mel, he shook his head and continued, "So Ben is your son? But that's impossible! You couldn't have given birth at the age of nine!" Melanie was sitting with her hands folded on the table. She paused as if to collect her thoughts, then began, "I live with Jill Barnes. My son, Ben, and Jill's son, Mike, are best friends. Jill and I first met at a home for unwed mothers-to-be. We were both just 13 when we delivered only two days apart." Again she paused, then continued, "Our stories are almost identical. In our first experience with sex, we conceived. And our parents wanted us to abort." Her eyes were wet with tears as she continued, "You know, a woman's right to choose? Well, as far as our parents were concerned, there was only one available choice. But since we didn't take it, we were both thrown out of our homes." Mel held her head up proudly and said, "I gave birth to Ben, and Jill, to Mike. Two finer young men you'll never find." Then she grinned and added, "I guess the boys may have gotten their brains from us, but their athletic development was courtesy of their girlfriends." When she said girlfriends, she rolled her eyes. "What do the rolling eyes mean?" Liz asked. This time Mel really grinned. "It means that the guys are the girls' boyfriends, but the boys don't know it yet. The four of them are together constantly at school and do everything together. But they've never ever been out on a date. Not even a Coke date, if you can believe it. "I guess it's partly a matter of money. We don't really have very much. We live in a duplex — we're on the first floor — and all of our money goes for education and computers. There really isn't much left." Then to their consternation, Mel told them about the girls playing mental chess with the boys kibitzing. The couple just slowly shook their heads in amazement. Mel changed the subject. "What did you really think of my act? And please be honest." "It's really great!" Liz repeated. "Okay, let me try it a different way. Did it turn you on, Liz?" "Yes, it did," Liz replied blushing cherry red. Then she grinned and added, "It's a good thing I'm wearing my little black dress. The wet spot doesn't really show." "Now, about my offer... ?" "What offer?" "To do the late show for me, silly! What else would it be?" "You're nuts!" Liz exclaimed. "You're certifiable." 'How long have you known Jake?" Melanie asked. "Since ... forever!" Liz grinned and added, "You want to know what my very first memory is? I think I was about two years old, and I remember this big boy standing next to my playpen, just staring at me. He was so handsome!" Liz really stretched out the word "so". "And I'll bet you hung out with him and his friends, even though he was older, didn't you?" Liz just nodded. Then she added, "Jake took me to my high-school senior prom. And he took me to my senior prom at college, too." "God, lady, you are dumb! That's d-u-m-b, dumb! I'll bet you that Jake Brewer has been in love with you his whole life. He's just been waiting for you to awaken to the fact." Then Melanie changed the subject. "What do your parents think of Jake, anyway?" Mel's question took Liz aback. "They ... they like him ... I guess." "Just 'like'?" Mel persisted. "Oh, shit! Our families live next door to one another. My mother, Sharon, and Jake's mother, Peg, are best friends and have been forever. And our two fathers are best friends, too." "Do you have any siblings?" "I have a younger sister, Jill, and Jake has a younger brother, Tom. I guess — no, I know — that they're each four years younger than we are. "Are they friendly?" Mel persisted. "Get real!" Liz protested. "They're both just kids. Hell, they're four years younger than we are." "Liz, I've got news for you," Jake interjected. "Tom is 24 and your sister, Jill, is 19. Both are legal adults, so I really think calling them kids is a bit out of date. And, by the way, when were you home last?" That question took Liz aback, too. She blushed and admitted, "Quite awhile ago." "Well, let me assure you, Jill Dunbar is no kid!" "You mean ... She's... dating?" Jake just grinned and nodded. "Yep. It sure must have been quite awhile ago!" Liz had been studying Jake's face intently. Finally, she just shook her head and said softly, "You really couldn't be interested in me as anything more than a friend." "Oh? Why not?" "Because I'm as plain as a grocery sack, and have all the curves of a straight stick!" Liz was really miffed when her words were greeted by both Melanie and Jake with howls of laughter. While Liz had been studying Jake, Melanie had been studying her face. When she stopped laughing she suddenly snapped her fingers and exclaimed, "I got it!" "Got what?" Liz and Jake responded in unison. Instead of replying directly, Mel said, "Liz, I notice indentations on the bridge of your nose. They're usually a mark of eyeglasses. Do you normally wear them?" Liz just slowly nodded her head. "That's it!" Mel shook her head and said, "Girl, you really take the cake. You have spent years making yourself look as dull as ditch water ... probably for professional reasons. But I really wasn't kidding. You have the body and the innate grace to be an incredible exotic dancer. You're one of the world's great beauties... and you don't even know it!" At that point Melanie glanced at her watch and exclaimed, "Oops! I have to get ready for the next show." She paused, looked intently at Liz and repeated, "Unless you want to go on for me, of course." Liz just grinned and shook her head. "One thing puzzles me, though. You really sound serious about me going on for you, but I thought Sam Kramer ran the place and made all the hiring decisions." Mel had risen to her feet but said, "Sam hires the staff, but Jill Barnes and I hire all the talent." She grinned and added, "These college kids prefer showing off their bodies to a couple of women rather than to a man. And the fact of the matter is that in more than a few places like this a girl expects to audition for a job by lying on her back with her legs spread wide." Liz's eyes just widened. As Melanie Brewster left the table to go backstage, Liz swallowed hard, turned to Jake Brewer and said softly, "Please take me back to the apartment and fuck my brains out!" ------- Chapter 6 Liz Dunbar awakened feeling better than she had in her whole life. She was in her bed enfolded in Jake's strong arms. Although she had not been a virgin when Jake took her the night before, she might as well have been. She had only been fucked twice in her life before, and both events had been horrid. The previous times had both been in the back seats of cars and probably lasted a combined total of less than five minutes. The previous night was, in fact, the first time she had ever slept with a man. While still in Jake's arms, she moved her pelvis a little and found that it hurt. But it was a wonderful hurting. She grinned to herself and then turned over in the bed. She had been sleeping with her back spooned against Jake. Now she was facing him as she hit his biceps with her small fist. Jake had only been pretending to be asleep. He, too, was just savoring the sensation of Liz's satin-smooth body against him. "What was that for?" he asked. "You didn't do it!" Liz complained. "What didn't I do?" "You didn't fuck my brains out, is what you didn't do. There are still a few brain cells in working order." Then she lay on her back, spread her thighs wide and asked, "Want to try again?" Jake did. But he didn't enter her immediately. Instead, he really began working her over, starting with her face, lips and ears, and then moving down her body. He spent considerable time working on her very firm tits and luscious little nipples. And when he kissed her lips, he again felt the surge of electricity through him. While his lips were busy on Liz's torso, his hands were working lower. Probing her pussy, he found that she was already flooding the bed with her love juices. Moving lower, he found that she was as sweet as sugar. "Now!" Liz moaned. "Put your cock in me now before I drown in my own juices!" He did and was amazed to feel her vagina pulsing rhythmically and seeming to draw his cock deeper inside. God, she's tight! And he was very big, but she took him in completely, even though he was stretching her in both dimensions. Jake took her up to one orgasm, let her come down a bit and took her back up again, but higher. Those cycles just repeated with Liz going higher each time until she could take no more and lost consciousness as he released a flood of his cum inside her. When she regained consciousness, Liz took inventory of her pieces and parts. Then she again punched Jake in the arm. "And what was that for?" "You still didn't do it!" Liz grumped. But Jake could see her eyes dancing with delight, so whatever it was, it wasn't very serious. "What didn't I do?" "You were supposed to fuck my brains out, but you got confused. You fucked my ass off instead. Sheesh! Don't you know enough to know the difference between my brains and my ass?" "With you?" Jake replied, raising an eyebrow. "Hell, no!" She really grumped at that one, but then ruined the whole effect by giggling. "What are we going to do today?" she asked. Then she pensively added, "After that remark you made about my sister, Jill, last night, maybe we should visit the folks." "And what are we going to tell them? That I've been fucking your ass off?" "Good grief, no!" she nearly screamed. "Mom would have a cow! She would totally freak! And Jill?" Liz just rolled her eyes. "Sweetie, I think you really have been away from home too long. I think you're going to be in for a big surprise." "And what's that mean, exactly?" "You'll see." ------- As they drove toward Lexington, Liz noticed that Jake was paying a lot of attention to the sky and she asked him about it. "It's this dumb weather," he replied. "Face it: To say it's unseasonably warm is the understatement of the year. It's nearly Thanksgiving, but the thermometer is pushing 80 degrees!" "So... ? I think it's pretty nice." "It's lovely, except ... We're in extremely warm, moist air coming up from deep in the Gulf. But just a few miles away to the northwest there's a huge mass of very cold Canadian air that's pushing south. The temperatures are in the 30s. What we're looking at is a collision of air masses with a temperature swing of more than 40 degrees. That spells violent storms." "Okay, so there may be violent storms, but so what?" "'So what' is that I'm supposed to be off this whole weekend, but I'm afraid I'll be called in for emergency duty if what I'm afraid will happen, happens." "Well, I guess we can just worry about that later." As she said it, Jake pulled into his parents' driveway and parked. The Dunbars and the Brewers lived at the end of a cul-de-sac. Although their two houses were quite close together, the next nearest neighbor was more than 200 yards away so they enjoyed a great deal of privacy. Some years before and after a great many legal hassles, the two families had combined to build a 25-meter Olympic short-course pool in their combined back yards. The fact was that the pool straddled the property line with exactly half of it in each yard. And since the day was so warm, that's where Liz and Jake headed. Going around behind Jake's house, Liz gasped. There was her sister, Jill, with her head on Tom Brewer's belly while he was gently caressing one of her tits while pulling on a nipple. "More, Tom!" Jill pleaded. "See if you can get it to extend a full inch. Please?" "Mother!" Liz screamed at the top of her lungs, breaking the word into two distinct pieces. "Jill is out at the pool and she's stark naked!" At that point Sharon Dunbar, Liz's mother appeared, followed by Jake's mother, Peg. "Quiet, dear," Sharon replied placidly. "Even at this distance the neighbors could hear your shriek." She paused and then added, "Besides, we prefer to think of it as being nude. It sounds more refined than 'naked'." Liz's jaw almost hit her chest. Not only were her mother and Peg Brewer naked, they had shaved their pubic areas, were tanned all over, and both appeared to be on the sunny side of 30!" "My God, Mom!" Liz nearly screamed. "What's happened to you? And to Peg?" Striking a model's pose, Sharon replied, "You like? And aren't our tits neat? I hope you notice that there's no sag, in spite of nursing two urchins each ... forever!" And she was correct. Furthermore, although the two women had appeared matronly the last time Liz had seen them, now both were quite slender and seemed to have shed at least 20 pounds apiece as well as 20 years of age. While this exchange had been taking place, Peg Brewer had been studying Liz. "Good grief, Sharon! It's finally happened! Look at your daughter. If that isn't a well-fucked look, I've never seen one." Sharon did. "Peg, you're absolutely right. And since your son looks like the cat who swallowed the canary, I can only conclude—" "That Liz has finally joined the real world!" Peg finished. Then to Liz she said, "Okay, let's see what you've got." With her eyes as big as saucers, Liz was slowly shaking her head back and forth. "Got... ? I don't understand." Instead of replying, the two mothers lost no time stripping off Liz's clothing. When she was down to her panties, he mother said, "You'll have to lift a leg, Liz. You're much too big for me to turn you upside down and shake you out of your pants." Moving like a zombie, that's what Liz did. In the meantime, Jake had remained behind Liz and was doing everything he could think of to keep his laughter under control. When she was completely naked, Liz tried to cover her breasts and her crotch, but her hands were slapped away by the two mothers. "Now spread your legs nice and wide and stick your pussy out like a good girl," Peg said. Liz was so shocked she did just that. "I just don't know, Sharon..." Peg mused, slowly shaking her head. "Her hips: they're lovely and slim, but aren't they too slim? How can she ever deliver?" "Not a problem," Liz's sister, Jill, assured her. "She does have lovely slender hips, but her pelvic opening is large. No problem." At that Peg fondled Liz's left tit and squeezed. "Mmm ... Nice and firm." Then gently she teased Liz's nipple until it was as hard as a pebble and protruding nicely. "Aren't our grand-babies going to look great hanging from that lovely nip? But ... How about the quantity of milk?" "Mother! What is this shit?" Liz finally exclaimed, throwing caution to the winds. "What am I? A brood mare or something? And don't Jake and I have anything to say about it?" "Of course you do, dear. It's just that Peg and I are getting antsy. You're 23 years old, and you're not even pregnant yet. But as far as having anything to say about it, you can have your choice of dates for the wedding ... as long as it's before next Easter." Then to Peg she asked, "By the way, who wins the pool?" Disgustedly, Peg replied, "Little Shit, of course! Who else ever wins?" "'Little shit'?" Liz asked. "Oh, that's just Peg's pet name for her other future daughter-in-law." Sharon giggled and added, "It's because whenever we have a pool, Jill wins. Peg is convinced she rigs them in some way." "And what pool was this one?" Liz asked with an eyebrow raised. "Oh," her mother replied airily, "it was just when you would come to your senses and get nicely fucked. How was Jake, by the way? He certainly seems to have all the equipment." The conversation had been taking place close to the side of the pool. Liz was facing the water when she got a sharp shove in the back, which sent her flying headfirst into the water. Her sister, Jill, dove in right behind and then dunked Liz's head as soon as it surfaced. Treading water in the 2-meter-deep pool, Liz asked her sister, "How long has this been going on between you and Tommy?" "Well, let's see..." Jill replied while seeming to review her memory. "I gave him his first BJ when I was 14—" "Beejay?" Liz interrupted. "What's a beejay?" Jill rolled her eyes and said softly, "I do not believe this!" Then more audibly she replied, "A blowjob? Cocksucking? Fellatio? Any of those terms ring a bell?" Liz just blushed bright red. Jill continued, "A BJ when I was 14, my cherry when I was 16, and my asshole when I was 17 ... Mmm..." By this time Jake and Tom had entered the water, too, and swum over to the girls. "Jake Brewer, did you know this was going on?" Liz demanded. Trying to look as innocent as possible — and failing miserably — Jake admitted, "Well ... Sort of..." With an eyebrow cocked, Liz pursued, "Which means... ?" "Well," Jake drawled, "you know Tommy has his own phone line now—" "No, I didn't know," Liz interrupted. "But continue." "Anyway, often when I call I get a young woman who sounds a lot like Jill, except she's gasping for breath. The last time I called, she gasped, 'Could you hold on for just a sec, Jake? I'm ... almost... there!'" Jake tried to look puzzled as he added, "I never did learn where 'there' was, though..." "Jill Dunbar!" Liz demanded, "do you mean to tell me that all you ever do is fuck in Tommy's room?" "Of course not!" Jill sniffed, trying to appear miffed. "About half the time he's fucking me in my bed." Liz had received an unbroken succession of shocks that day. Finally she gasped, "The parents?" "Oh, we don't bother them," Jill airily replied, "and you get used to Mom and Peg's orgasmic screams after a while." She brightened and asked, "Which reminds me ... Are you loud, too, sis?" Liz was again stunned by the question, but honestly couldn't answer it. She slowly shook her head and looked to Jake for help. "About the same as Mom, Peg, and you, Jill." With a completely deadpan expression on her face and in a dead-flat tone of voice, Jill announced, "You're loud." Then she grinned and added, "Which reminds me ... Which house are you and Jake sleeping in tonight?" Since they hadn't even talked about spending the night, Liz had no answer. Again she looked to Jake for help. "Your old room?" Jake suggested. "Fine. Then Tom and I will stay at your house. I think girls are particularly loud fucks when they're doing it for the first time." "First time?" Liz reacted indignantly. "Last night was not my first time!" Jill knew her older sister well. "Oh... ? I'll bet you five bucks you never fucked for a grand total of even five minutes in your whole life!" "I ... I..." Liz sputtered and then ran down, utterly defeated. "By the way, future sister-in-law," Tom interjected, "never, ever, gamble against your sister. She never loses. And I think most of her spending money — and she spends lots! — comes from playing poker. She is a real shark!" "Jill Dunbar!" Jake exclaimed while trying to control his laughter. "I'm ... I'm shocked... ! Truly shocked! That my future sister-in-law is a ... a... gambler!" Jill wasn't having any. "I beg your damned pardon, Mr. Law Enforcement Officer! Poker playing is not gambling. The California Supreme Court ruled on that about 100 years ago, and it's still good case law. The Court ruled that poker is a game of skill not chance, and hence it's not gambling." "But when you always win... ?" Jake persisted. "Look, Jake, is it my fault that most of the kids at University of Kentucky are innumerate? And as for probabilities, forget-about-it! They're utterly clueless. Can you believe it? There seem to be scads of kids who seriously think the odds are in their favor trying to draw two cards to fill an inside straight!" Tom looked at Liz and said, "Your sister is not to be believed. Last Saturday night, we went to a poker game and I could tell Jill was really disappointed. Since there hadn't even been a single deal yet, I asked her why. You know what she said?" Liz just shook her head. Answering his own rhetorical question, "There was only about $300 on the table, so that's all she could win." He chuckled and added, "She wasn't getting very good cards that night, either. Hell, it took her nearly an hour to clean the guys out." Jill tried her best to present herself as the embodiment of injured innocence. The four emerged from the pool, only to find Jake's beeper sounding. Sure enough, he was being called in because of the incoming storm system. Liz used the night to recover from the night before and get ready for Sunday night with Jake when he'd be off again. ------- Chapter 7 Tanya and Natasha were, of course, unaware of Melanie Brewster's assessment of her son's — and Mike's — lack of social awareness: the fact was that the boys were the girls' boyfriends but didn't know it. They hadn't yet really thought about sex. That being the case, the girls decided that stronger measures were called for. If they waited for the guys to ask them out, they would have a very long wait, so... When school was back in session following the Thanksgiving holidays, they wasted no time. Since by then it was assumed by everyone in the school that Tanya, Tasha, Mike and Ben always ate together, that's the way it was. There was another major point of difference between their little group and the rest of the kids: what they ate. While most of the kids bought what passed for lunch in the cafeteria, and some brought their lunches from home, this little group did the latter, but with a very big difference. Jessie Johnson, their gourmet cook, prepared lunches every day for the four. Tasha brought hers and Ben's, while Tanya had hers and Mike's. The fact was that Jessie made two complete lunches every day: one for the girls and another one for the guys. She recognized that the boys were growing far faster than the girls at that point and Jessie's lunch preparation reflected that fact. The reality was that no one in that school — and possibly in any other — ate as well as those four. The girls had prepared for the lunchtime meeting the way a general prepares for a battle. They hoped they were prepared for any contingency. They had two primary concerns. The first was just the fact of actually going out on a date. The second was the matter of appropriate clothing for the dance. Months earlier, the girls had given the guys satellite cellphones, and it seemed that they spent virtually every waking hour when apart talking on them. But never had they discussed a personal relationship even though there really was one. The fact was that the foursome was very different, but even they didn't realize how different from the other students they were. For example, because their social interactions were confined almost totally to their own little group, they never realized that often the assignments they were getting were very different from — and far more advanced than — those of their classmates. Their social interactions with others were complicated by their remarkable intellects. The fact was they were interested in things that their classmates often didn't even know existed. Conversely, most of the things their classmates were interested in bored the foursome to collective tears. The girls realized that they were really raising the bar in their relationship, but because they now knew the boys so well they thought that could be easily handled. Clothing for the guys was another matter entirely. It had been clear to the girls almost from the very beginning that money was in very short supply with the Barnes and Brewster families. Furthermore, the girls had guessed that the boys were living with single mothers. There was never a mention of a father on the part of either of them. They knew the mothers worked, but also knew that at least one mother was home with the boys at all times. Finally, the girls knew that the guys took every opportunity to make a few dollars mowing lawns, baby sitting, running errands, and doing anything else possible to earn money. Because the boys were under 16, any formal employment was out of the question. From a comment Mike Barnes had made to Tanya, she knew that neither boy had any good clothes at all. Mike had mentioned that when they went to church they would always sit in the back because they were embarrassed at being so underdressed. But the girls thought they had worked out a solution to that problem, too. Tanya kicked things off. "Hey guys, guess what?" "What?" Mike responded, unwittingly following Tanya's mental script. "We're going to the Christmas Prom!" Tanya announced happily. "Isn't that neat?" (Kentucky is sufficiently benighted that not all of its school districts had gotten the news that the word Christmas was an educationist's no-no.) Mike's face fell almost to the tabletop. "Who are you going with?" he asked, thoroughly dejected. Suddenly, Mike became painfully aware of the fact that girls were social creatures. "You, of course!" Tanya happily replied. "But ... but..." Mike stammered. "I didn't ask you, did I?" He was totally confused. "No, you didn't." "Well ... Are you asking me out?" "Of course not," Tanya replied primly. "You and Ben are taking Tasha and me to the Christmas Prom. That's all there is to it." "But we don't dance!" Ben wailed, entering the discussion. "So learn!" Tasha demanded, brooking no argument. "You told me once that both of your mothers are great dancers, and I'm sure they'll teach you." The two boys exchanged thoroughly dejected looks and then Mike said, "We have nothing to wear." Then he changed the subject. "And besides, freshmen don't go to the Christmas Prom." Mike was proud of himself for that one. He thought he had just managed to get Ben and himself off the hook. "I suppose that's right, too," Tasha admitted, "but most of the varsity football players go. And among us we have four earned varsity letters in football, and Tanya and I have letters in soccer besides, not counting our positions as co-captains-elect of the girls soccer team." She was tempted to stick her tongue out following her last line but resisted the temptation. "But we're only freshmen!" Ben wailed. "The upper classmen would kill us!" "With Tank Brown there with Deann? I really don't think so," Tasha smirked. "Not to mention the fact that the present whereabouts of the last three guys who tried to give Tanya and me a hard time is well known." The boys were crushed. All their best arguments had just gone down in flames. But Mike revived the only one the girls really hadn't handled. "We have nothing to wear." "At least one of your mothers will be home tonight, won't she?" Tanya asked. The fact was that The Girl Spot was closed on Mondays so both mothers would be home. Mike admitted as much. "Neato! We'll call you after dinner and explain things to your mothers." The fact that the boys had not agreed to go to the prom did not faze the girls for a moment. The way they interacted, if one could not refute an argument raised by another, he or she lost. And since the girls had handled all of the boys' objections... When the boys returned home, as was their wont they unloaded all of the day's events on their mothers. And the reality was that the mothers were effectively interchangeable. If Mike had a problem and Jill was working, he just told Melanie, and the same was true in reverse for Ben. The first item of business was the invitation to the prom. And the poor young men were crushed! Expecting sympathy, what they got was essentially cheering. The two young mothers were utterly elated. Furthermore, even though it was only four in the afternoon, the mothers immediately began their dancing lessons. And that, too, was a revelation to the two boys. For the first time in their lives they recognized that their mothers were utterly gorgeous. It was Mike who realized that his mother was just an older version of Tanya, only with fully-developed beauty. And by the time dinner was ready, the boys were actually dancing. Another revelation. That evening, Tanya placed the call. When Mike answered, her first question was, "Is your cellphone fully charged?" "Uh ... Yeah. I charged it when we got home," he replied dejectedly. "So did Ben." "Neato! But why do you sound so down?" "I told Mom about the prom." "And... ? What did she say?" "She didn't say anything and neither did Aunt Mel. All they did was to immediately start to teach us how to dance. "But why the concern about batteries?" "Because we want to set up a conference call between your two moms and Jessie Johnson, our cook and housekeeper." She gave Mike the instructions and a few moments later both mothers were on the phones talking with Jessie. Jessie's first words were, "Is there a place you two can go where it's private? I'm going into the study, because what I'm about to tell you is for your ears only. The girls don't know, and I don't want your boys to know either. "Is that possible?" The two mothers took the phones into their bedroom and laid down on the bed. Before leaving the boys, they had told them that the conversation was to be strictly private. And knowing them, they knew they would remain in the kitchen. "I'm Jessie Johnson," she began. "I'm the cook and housekeeper to the two girls. They live — they own — Bluegrass Farm. Are you familiar with it? On the south side of town?" "Familiar?" Jill exclaimed. "How could we not be? Your place is enormous! Out of curiosity, how many miles of white-painted fence do you have, anyway?" Jessie just giggled. "I really don't know. I do know, though, that there are three crews working full time just painting the damned things. "Beyond that, though, my husband, Dan, is chief of security out here. And he has a very large security force." She paused and then continued, "I hope we didn't unduly invade your privacy, but as you may know there were several attacks directed at us so we don't take too many things for granted. "Anyway, we know that you both dance at The Girl Spot." Jill and Melanie exchanged sad looks and simultaneously both women extended their fists with their thumbs pointing straight down. "Oh, shit!" Jill fervently murmured. For her part, Jessie just ignored the expletive and, as if nothing had been said, continued, "One thing we haven't figured out, though: We know that you two are the stars and you even share a name, but how is it that you also handle all the entertainers? We know you hire, train, and fire. How come?" Mel made some noncommittal sound, and Jessie continued, "I'll tell you one thing, though: Those girls worship the ground you two walk on. Our investigators are pretty good at finding out dirt, but the more they probed, the better you two looked." She paused and then continued, "There's one thing that's puzzled us, though. We know most of your girls are in college or graduate school. We also know that neither of you finished the seventh grade. But the most common remark we heard was how smart you two are. One girl — a doctoral candidate in political science — said you two know more than any professor she's ever had. She's impressed." To Mel, Jill mouthed, "Connie," and Mel just nodded. Jessie continued, "And we know you two are single mothers and gave birth at the age of 13." Melanie couldn't control herself. "I guess that really tears it for our boys, doesn't it? The girls don't know any of this, I assume, so you had to tell us personally why our boys can no longer see your girls." There was silence on the line for a few moments and then Jessie continued, but the two women were convinced she was crying. And then she appeared to be changing the subject. "My husband, Dan, spent his career as an Army Ranger. He's courageous, and he's seen brave men in action. "But you know what? When he was telling me about you two, he was crying like a baby! He described how he had seen men do very brave things taking a few minutes or possibly and hour or so. "But you two? For years and years beginning when you were only 13! And being thrown out of your homes for doing the right thing! Do you know what he said?" By this time the sound of Jessie's weeping was unmistakable, but she continued, "He said that having boys as good as your two is God's reward for your bravery. "And you know something else? When I told the girls' mother, Caitlin, about you this afternoon, she bawled! In order to get some money for her students, she allowed herself to be tortured and raped for an entire night. But to do what you two did — to prostitute yourselves when you were still children to get jobs and to keep them — was beyond belief. "Incidentally, she agrees entirely with Dan's assessment. Your sons are as good as they are as God's personal tribute to your bravery and suffering. Okay?" The two women were stunned speechless. And it was an all-time first. Clearly, the twins' family knew everything about them in incredible detail, but not only didn't mind, they apparently had limitless respect for them for what they had done. Before Jessie could continue, Melanie had a question. "Tasha introduced you as their cook and housekeeper. Are you the one who prepares their lunches?" "Yes, I am. Is there a problem?" "Awhile ago, Ben described something he had for lunch. 'A creamy meat-sort of thing, ' he called it. When he described it further, it sounded like paté de foie gràs, and loaded with truffles. Was it?" "It's very high in protein," Jessie replied defensively, "and fat is absolutely loaded with energy — the highest concentration around — and they seemed to like it..." "But then, Mrs. Johnson," Melanie continued very formally, "you really had to tear it, didn't you? I'm pretty proud of my southern fried chicken, but one day Ben came back raving about the fried chicken in his lunch that day." Mel faked a sniffle and wailed, "I was crushed!" "It was the gold-medal winner for food two years ago at the state fair," Jessie explained diffidently, "and of course won the blue ribbon for the best fried chicken." "Is there anything you don't do, Mrs. Johnson?" Mel asked acerbically. "I ... I'm a diplomate of the Cordon Bleu School in Paris, and I've completed the course work for my doctorate in nutrition." "Sheesh! Is that all?" Mel asked. "I mean ... it's not like you had a practical job ... like flipping burgers at McDonald's or something." "They seem to like the food," Jessie said, trying to sound hopeful. Mel changed tack dramatically. "I hope you realize the jeopardy in which you've placed our kids? I mean ... If anyone else in that school knew what our kids were eating, I mean ... The Watts riots would be like a children's tea party!" "You think they'll survive?" Jessie asked. "They'll survive," Jill conceded. "Okay, then, there's the last point: the boy's clothes for the dance. Are you familiar with Josef's?" "I know of it," Jill replied, "but frankly, I don't know anyone who can afford to go there." "Well, it's all arranged for tomorrow afternoon," Jessie said. "Can one of you drive the two boys over there after school?" "I could take them," Jill replied, "but there's no way we could afford to buy anything they sell." "I guess I wasn't too clear," Jessie replied. "First of all, the girls' parents are loaded. And I mean loaded! The number is in the range of one hundred billion dollars. That's with a B. Second, Caitie Corcoran sees her mission in life as trying to keep her loving husband from being buried under all that money. That being the case, she does her very best to spend as much as she can, as fast as she can. "So what's that have to do with you, you might ask? And the answer is that I had to do some very fast talking, explaining that the girls and I had visited Josef's and their clothing was as good as could be had anywhere. The reason for that, in turn, was..." Jessie stopped and changed tack. "After what I just told you two about Caitie, what do you suppose she wanted to do?" Melanie and Jill were dumbstruck. They had no idea and said so. "I'll tell you what she was going to do," Jessie continued, answering her own question. "She was going to have a private jet standing by at Blue Grass waiting to fly you and the boys to New York. There, she would make arrangements for the very finest men's stores to have private hours just for you. Then, after a fine dinner, you would have been flown back here to Lexington. And since the aircraft has seats that virtually become beds, the boys would have been able to sleep on the way back so they would be all ready for school on Wednesday. "That being the case, could you please get over to Josef's tomorrow? Say about four?" "But don't they close at five?" Jill Barnes asked. "Will that be enough time?" "Jill, they will close when they've finished up with you folks... Whatever time that might be! Clear?" The next afternoon Jill drove their 10-year-old Toyota Corolla downtown and parked in a lot that had a free parking arrangement with Josef's. Arriving at the store, they were greeted by a man shorter than Jill. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Barnes! Welcome to Josef's." With that he bent down and kissed her hand in the most continental fashion. "I'm sorry, Josef, but it's Miss," Jill corrected him. With that the man looked Jill over carefully and announced, "Such overwhelming beauty!" Only then did the newcomers realize that a young woman was standing beside a chair next to a small table covered with barber's implements. "I thought that the boys' hair should be trimmed a bit so that you might better judge the clothing." At the same time, Josef unobtrusively hung a Closed sign at the front door and drew down a shade. Jill's eyes widened as she realized what was happening. Before she could say a word, though, she was ushered to a comfortable chair and one of the tailors appeared from a back room carrying a silver tray on which were two glasses of tea. The glasses were in silver holders, and when Jill took one, she was surprised at its weight. "These are from the young women," Josef explained. "When they visited us for the first time, we offered them glasses of tea, too, but had to scramble to find appropriate holders for them. Then a couple of days later, a dozen of these arrived. My men were dumbfounded. It seems this set was made for a czar of Russia, and now we start our day, as do all good Russians, with our glass of tea in these." Then he laughed and added, "Or, as some people say, a glass of sugar dissolved in tea." Then he shook his head and continued, "That visit was something else. Although their names — Tatiana and Natasha — are both Russian, the girls looked, dressed, acted and spoke like classic upper-class Americans. But when one of my tailors cracked a joke in Russian to his colleagues, the girls were unable to keep from laughing, too. To say that the idea of American girls understanding Russian was astounding — particularly colloquial Russian and a joke to boot — understates the reality. "We coaxed them and finally they admitted they did speak the language. When they did, my people were enthralled. Their speech is that of the Russian court in Saint Petersburg, while we speak like rural peasants. And after all, that's where all of my men have come from. I grew up in Moscow, but am the only one of us from a city. And I regret to say that Muscovite Russian sounds barbaric to an educated Saint Petersburger." Josef had been speaking perfect English, albeit with a heavy Russian accent. He explained that none of his men spoke English, but all were taking classes in English at night. Although only a few minutes had passed, the female barber was already completing the second haircut. Jill had to admit that the boys really looked great. Then the process of fitting the clothing began as the hairdresser gathered up her gear and departed. Jill just shook her head in amazement as two tailors worked on each boy, measuring everything measurable, while a fifth carefully wrote down the measurements for each one. While that process was going on, she picked up a jacket and examined it carefully. To no one in particular she commented, "Why can't they make women's clothing like this? The workmanship is superb! I've never seen anything close in women's wear." Josef, who had been standing nearby, asked, "Was that a rhetorical question, or would you really like an answer?" Jill was startled by his question; she hadn't even realized she had spoken her thought aloud. But she pondered the question for a moment and then said, "As a matter of fact, I would like to know." "It's really very simple," Josef explained. "With fine tailoring, a man's suit or jacket can last for years, and they do. As a matter of fact, we do a very nice business in renovating old jackets. There are some made of hand-woven material that are simply lovely. But after 10 years or so, the lining starts to wear out and they might show general signs of wear and tear. So the owners bring them in and we fix them up. "But the key to it is that the styling holds; the owner is taking a negligible style risk. That's scarcely the case with women's wear. Seriously, would you pay for this sort of workmanship when you couldn't be at all sure that the garment would be wearable next season because of a style change? I sincerely doubt it. "It's a fascinating area," he continued. "In women's wear, at all levels of the process, the end garment is referred to by its intended retail price, such as $199.95. Regardless of whether a company supplies material, trim, or does the cutting, each knows exactly how much will be available for his contribution. And there's something else, too: As the price goes up, the amount for the material goes up, the value of the trim goes up, but the cutting — the actual manufacture — scarcely changes. "And then at the highest end, there is a joke that really isn't so funny: The joke is that the most expensive element of a designer dress is its label. At the very highest end, the profit margins are incredible. Why? Because when one is at the cutting edge of fashion, one is running the greatest fashion risks — that the market won't like a designer's cutting-edge style." Then Josef changed the subject. "Seeing you handle that garment, Miss Barnes, it's apparent that you know tailoring. Are you interested in the business?" "I'm very interested, sir, but all I can afford to do is look. But I really do a lot of that, though." "If you really know fashions — it's clear you know and appreciate workmanship — I think there's a great opportunity to open a high-end women's fashion boutique here in Lexington. There really are a surprisingly large number of women in this area who can pay those prices and would do so happily. While there are a few good stores in Cincinnati, if a woman is really into it she almost has to go to New York." How strange, Jill thought. That's exactly what I've been thinking about. The only thing I don't have is the money. By that time, the tailors had taken all the necessary measurements and started showing her materials. She was stunned to realize they were doing four complete outfits for each boy in addition to the tuxedos for the prom. There were even two topcoats, one of which would be a formal chesterfield. When she protested, Josef intentionally misunderstood and told her that because the boys were obviously still growing rapidly, more than four outfits would be a waste of money; they would outgrow them before they even had a chance to wear each of them once. Jill just rolled her eyes. She agreed to bring the boys back the following week for their first fittings, but told Josef that since her schedule for the following week was uncertain, Melanie might be bringing the boys. Josef then indicated he was very well informed. "It's my understanding that you're both free on Mondays, so why don't we do the fitting then? That way you both can see for yourselves." "But..." Jill protested, "does that give you enough time to do all your work?" "As you can see, there are five tailors here in addition to myself. All of us are master tailors, and your order is our very highest priority. If it were necessary, we could have the first fitting tomorrow." Jill just rolled her eyes. The following Monday all four returned to Josef's. His first comment was that Jill and Melanie could pass for identical twins. Then he had the boys try on the suits. Both mothers were truly astonished; it was their first experience with bespoke tailoring. Everything was simply gorgeous — the finest menswear either had ever seen — and the garments fit the boys like they had been made for them. Which is exactly what had happened. Ben Brewster had the ultimate line, though. "Mom, I never liked to dress up because the things never felt right on me. But this... ! It feels ... just like... me!" "Sweetie," his mother, Melanie, replied, "it feels like you because these gentlemen are master tailors. They are among the very best in the world at what they do, and what they do is produce the world's finest menswear." Josef had been very quietly translating Melanie's words into Russian. When she concluded, she was shocked when, one after another, the five tailors went down on one knee before her and kissed her hand. Melanie was truly shocked. "What was that for?" "That was just a sign of their appreciation for your acknowledging their work," Josef replied. Melanie just shook her head. "Some years ago, John Gardner said, 'The nation that reveres philosophy and denigrates plumbing will soon be in the position where neither its philosophy nor its plumbing will hold water.' Josef, I — and my best friend, Jill — appreciate it when people do a good job, and your people are the very best. So thank you!" "No wonder America is such a great country!" Josef replied fervently. "You can see the reaction of my people. That their patrons would express appreciation for their work is unheard of in their prior experience. The only things we ever heard were complaints. If no one screamed, we were satisfied. But to be told that we did wonderful work? Never! You have made their day." Josef paused for a moment and then added, "And you know what? Because of your attitude, you will receive the very finest work my people are capable of producing. Why? Since you appreciate their skill, they are going to demonstrate just how skillful they really are." Before leaving that day, Josef again surprised them by taking out a shoe ruler and carefully measuring the boys' feet. A week later, again all four descended on Josef's. And they learned the reason for the foot ruler: There were black shoes to be worn with their dinner jackets for both of them. Josef explained that the trouser cuffs were supposed to just touch the shoe tops, so they needed shoes for the cuffs to touch. The shoes were there, and the fit was perfect. When Josef asked the women what they thought, they turned the question around and asked him what he thought. He replied that the boys' suits and coats were the finest ever to come out of the shop. His people were very proud. At that point Jill commented, "Your people are exceptionally good, but I sense that they're taking even more than their usual care with the boys' things, particularly their tuxedos. Or am I wrong?" "No, dear lady, you are not wrong," Josef replied. "Indeed, they are taking the greatest possible care to ensure everything is perfect." When Jill looked puzzled, he explained, "Your boys will be escorting the two princesses to the dance. It's imperative that they look their best to properly show off the beauty of the princesses." He paused and then added, "We're convinced that they are royalty. And if the czars had had even a small fraction of their humanity and consideration for others, we're equally convinced that they would still be on the throne!" Jill and Melanie had indeed been told. And since in the interim the boys had been dancing with their mothers — or whichever mother was home on a given evening — they were all ready for the prom. ------- Chapter 8 When Kevin Carlisle told Sheriff Jumbo Jones that after three strikes, he was out, he was unknowingly prescient. It was in November when Kevin broke with precedent and went to Jumbo's office. Previously, virtually all contact had been by telephone, but that day was different. And Kevin wasted no time on pleasantries before unloading. "Jumbo, you're in deep shit. Your empire is collapsing." "What's that supposed to mean?" Jumbo growled. "There was a coordinated series of raids across the county last night. Amazing what the raiding officers found: There were several stills, a number of major gambling games, and one that's really going to hurt: several whorehouses with most of the girls underage, and some as young as 12! "Oh, yeah ... And it seems like a number of people picked up in the raids are singing like canaries." Jumbo was stunned. "That can't be!" he protested. "If ever there would be a raid, I'd be warned." "Oh... ?" Kevin replied with a raised eyebrow. "Well ... maybe a bunch of rubber checks might have been the problem. Rumor has it that a number of state reps and even a few senators are pissed off, bigtime." With his eyes wide, he asked rhetorically, "I wonder how that could have happened?" Initially Jumbo had been pissed, but by then he was scared. So scared, in fact, that he did something he had never done before: He fired up his private computer with someone in the office with him. The computer was powerful and was connected to a high-speed T-1 data line. His first target was his primary local bank. Logging in, he checked his balance ... and almost fell off his chair. He had expected to see a balance of somewhere north of two million dollars. What he saw was a balance of $126.50. Then he asked for all activity in the account subsequent to the last statement date. When he got it, he almost died. He found that ten days earlier his account had been virtually emptied thus explaining the subsequent bouncing checks. But the real shocker was the location to which his money had been transferred: It was to his own numbered account in the Cayman Islands. And because it was an account to which money often moved back and forth with his local bank, nothing had been said. Now in a state of rising panic, he logged in to his Cayman account. When it came up and he saw his balance, he felt that the ground had dropped away beneath him and he was in free fall. It showed a balance of a little more than $500. "My God!" he murmured. "There was more than $60 million there! What happened?" Checking the activity there, he found that the day following the transfer from his local bank, his Cayman account had been virtually emptied into an account in Luxembourg. The problem was that, like his Cayman account, the Luxembourg account was numbered so he had no way of knowing to whom his money had gone. The reality came back to Kevin's earlier remark about being out after three strikes. That is exactly what had happened. The Corcorans had moved decisively against him using the good offices of Christina Miller Harrington [Tina Miller Harrington first appears in Kristin.] Because of their friendship with the Harris family, Caitie Corcoran had met Tina, the girl who could make a computer do almost anything. It had taken some time to get things in place, but once set it all happened quickly. The first thing Tina did — and the most time-consuming — was to monitor Jumbo's computer, waiting for it to be activated. Because it had high-speed communications, it also had a permanent IP address. When Jumbo activated his computer some weeks earlier, Tina moved and Jumbo was toast. She had inserted a small worm that had no adverse effect on Jumbo's computer or its operation. What it did do was cause it to stay active even when Jumbo switched it off; although all its indicator lights indicated a normal shutdown, his computer was still running. Once the worm was active, she could access Jumbo's machine any time she cared to. At that point, she was able to relax. She did, and slowly shook her head in utter amazement. "This is utterly ridiculous!" she grumped. "My three-year-old son could crack this machine ... Hmm ... Maybe I should let him do it just for the practice?" Then she shook her head and answered her own rhetorical question. "Naah. Jimmy would think it's so much fun, he would be raiding accounts all over the world." The reason for her comments was that Jumbo had not used the most rudimentary security measures. It was, she felt, a reflection of the fact that he considered himself to be omnipotent as well as being above the law, so any security measure would only slow him down. The result was the first transfer order to Jumbo's local bank, then the transfer from the Cayman Islands to Luxembourg, and at that point Jumbo was cooked. What he, of course, couldn't know was that the money moved with the speed of light from the Luxembourg bank through four other banks around the world to end up back in the Cayman Islands again, but this time at the bank directly across the street from Jumbo's. Tina was amused at the thought: Jumbo's money had traveled tens of thousands of miles to end up only a dozen yards or so from where it had started. Only now it was in an account controlled by the Corcorans. Since the Corcoran problem was getting rid of money not getting it, Jumbo's money was earmarked for the rehabilitation and education of the underage girls who had been sold or forced into prostitution. Jumbo was in a state of shock. He was staring at his computer screen transfixed by the shocking development. When Kevin Carlisle estimated that the worst of Jumbo's financial shocks had worn off a bit, he dropped another bomb. "That's not all, Jumbo," he said quietly. "Early this morning a special grand jury was empaneled. Even though they've only been at it for a few hours, the rumor at the courthouse is they're already about to hand down a whole bunch of indictments ... against you. "Frankly, I expect you to be arrested before the day is out." Slowly Jumbo turned in his chair. Kevin was shocked to see that Jumbo had apparently aged years in just the previous few minutes. His face was ashen and suddenly lined. "It ... it can't be," Jumbo said as if talking to himself. "They couldn't. I ... I own this county." Kevin just stood there silently. Suddenly Jumbo's eyes flared. "But ... I'm a law-enforcement officer! Do you know what happens to policemen in prison?" Then he said softly, "Kevin, would you leave me alone for a couple of minutes?" Kevin left the office and closed the door behind him. Jumbo's secretary looked at him, puzzled, as he just stood looking at the closed door. For his part, Kevin was very glad the woman was present because of what he expected. A moment later there was the sound of a shot coming from the office. The woman jumped to her feet and rushed around her desk. With her beside him, Kevin again opened the door. Jumbo was face down on his desk with a smoking gun in his hand. He would not be going to jail. Jumbo Jones' suicide was front-page news in much of the state. Jill Barnes and Melanie Brewster both knew that Jumbo was the owner of The Girl Spot, but because the club ran independently they didn't think much about it. They were among the only ones in the area who didn't, though. In the first place, although Jumbo was known to be — or thought to be — very rich, none of his money could be found. Furthermore, it seemed that Jumbo was a believer in using OPM — Other People's Money. The absence of money, however, was matched by a plethora of claims from creditors of every imaginable description. It seemed that Jumbo charged everything and was very slow in paying his bills. Typically, he didn't pay a bill for at least 90 days, so his payables were huge. Moreover, no will was ever found, so the court appointed an administrator for his estate. This did not turn out to be easy, though. No one wanted the job, but finally a young attorney, Jim Wallace, was stuck with it by the court. While all of the legal proceedings were underway, there was a flurry of activity of a very different sort. A number of houses and offices were ransacked, and from the thoroughness of the effort, police immediately identified the perpetrators as real professionals. It almost appeared as if movers had been present taking virtually everything that wasn't bolted down and more than a few things that had been. The common denominator, of course, was that every establishment was thought to belong to Jumbo. While no one knew anything for certain, the word in law-enforcement circles was unanimous: Not only did Jumbo have a large number of people on the pad, there were a number of others who had been blackmailed into cooperating with him. General opinion — largely confirmed by some of the young girls in question — was that Jumbo had videotapes of politicians and others fucking 12-year-old girls. The girls testified to the existence of the tapes — they had been forced to view them afterwards — but none were ever found. Whether the individuals who had broken into the "Jones properties" found the tapes was a question never to be answered. But then there was the problem of the properties themselves. When the administrator started to work, he immediately began to run into blind alleys. Property thought to belong to Jumbo turned out to be owned by a corporation, and there were a very large number of properties and an equally large number of corporations. The property-owning company would, in turn, always turn out to be owned by another company, and so on until the owning company several layers removed turned out to be based in the Cayman Islands. One thing the administrator did have, however, was Jumbo's office computer. But when it was turned on, nothing happened. A specialist in computer data recovery was called in but he completed his work in a matter of minutes. That's all the time it took for him to find that Jumbo's whole hard drive had been overwritten with ones and zeros; it had been thoroughly wiped and no data recovery was possible. It seems that the moment Jumbo was found dead, Tina Harrington, who earlier had copied Jumbo's entire hard drive to one of her own, had activated the program that wrote all the ones and zeros. She and her friends knew everything that was on the original drive, but they were the only ones who did. The administrator was faced with a dilemma. On the one hand, there were dozens of properties "known" to belong to Jumbo. On the other hand, this ownership could not be proven. This left him in the position of only being able to sell with a quit-claim deed. The problem being, of course, that the claim being given up might not even exist. Needless to say, lenders were not falling all over themselves to lend to mortgagors who might not have an ownership interest in the property they were trying to mortgage. Curiously, there was a single exception: The Girl Spot. The deed to the property was found in the unlocked middle drawer of Jumbo's desk. It was, therefore, the only provable asset in the entire estate. And then Wallace, the administrator, blew it totally. The fact was, as Liz Dunbar had earlier discovered, while The Girl Spot wasn't making the huge profits that had been reported to the Commonwealth, from Sam Kramer's very accurate numbers it was clear that the club was making very good money. So what did the administrator do? He gave orders for the place to be padlocked immediately prior to being sold as quickly as possible. Of course, by suddenly closing it he destroyed a large fraction of its market value because it had ceased to be a going business. And to make matters worse — and complicate matters for the estate — he neglected to pay any of the employees, including the female talent, for time already worked. Melanie Brewster was scheduled to work the early shift on the Thursday before the Friday night Christmas prom. Arriving at The Girl Spot at ten o'clock, she found most of the early crew standing by the door, utterly furious. Everything had been padlocked, and there were signs all over saying that The Girl Spot was closed until further notice, by order of the Estate Administrator. While some of her former colleagues were trying to organize a march on the administrator's office, Mel just returned home in tears. Not only did she and Jill no longer have jobs, they were both owed for the previous two weeks. Thursday of that week was supposed to be payday — they were paid every two weeks for the two weeks ending the previous Saturday. But no money. And, like so many others, they lived from payday to payday. Fortunately, the boys were in school, so the women could cry on each other's shoulder without upsetting anyone else. And since the Christmas prom was the next evening and all the arrangements had already been made, they decided to say nothing to the boys. They agreed they could always get waitressing jobs the following Monday. ------- Chapter 9 When the boys returned from school on Friday, they were as nervous as cats. Mike admitted that they weren't very happy about going to the prom as freshmen, but his mother Jill again pointed out that all four of them had earned varsity football letters, so that made a difference. The girls had told them that they would eat after the prom, so they had a light supper and then prepared. Back at the Farm, the girls were doing the same thing. The exception was that Henry and Penny Hall had appeared along with their two young children. Although they had heard of the Halls from their parents, they had never met them. They did know, though, that both had numerous Oscars for hair styling and makeup respectively. The amazing thing to the girls was how youthful the two Halls appeared. Moreover, the Halls were elated. They had flown in on an Executive Aviation Gulfstream that was standing by for them at Blue Grass airport. Because the event was so important to their friends, they determined to go to Lexington, but then came the question of their young children. Although they had only been married for three years, they already had two children, Elizabeth, age two, (known as Little Bit, named after the girl who both believed had brought them together after so many years of having studios side by side), and Henry, Jr. (Hank), only four months old. [See Kristin.] The problem was that, even though the jet was pressurized, it was only pressurized to about 6,000 feet rather than sea level, and very young children often had difficulty equalizing pressure in their ears. But an experienced traveler told Penny of a sure-fire solution. So when they boarded the aircraft, as soon as the door was closed, she stripped, then buckled herself into her seat. When she was strapped in, Henry gave her little Hank to hold, and then Henry took Little Bit into his arms. With the plane positioned to take off from the active runway, Henry gave Little Bit to Penny who put the little girl on her right tit, and then put Hank on her left. As the plane accelerated in its takeoff, the two children were nursing at their mother's breasts. Moments later, the plane was airborne, and the seat-belt sign was turned off. With a grin, Henry got out of his seat and went down on his knees between his wife's widespread thighs. He began to eat his wife's bare pussy while the children were draining her milk-laden tits. Penny later told the girls it was the best flight of her life but didn't give them any details. The Halls set up shop in the kitchen, immediately assisted by the tigers, Andy and Rachel Jackson. Baby Hank was sleepy so Penny put him on Rachel's belly. Very gently she held him with her paws, and the infant was immediately sound asleep. For her part, Little Bit Hall met the tiger cubs, Thomas and Martha Jefferson. (There was a sense of humor at work in the cubs' naming. The Democratic party celebrates its founding with Jefferson-Jackson Day dinners. So now the household had both Jeffersons and Jacksons.) For the little girl, the idea of playing with live stuffed animals brought joy beyond belief. And the cubs seemed to have just as much fun rolling around on the floor with the little girl. It seemed that the three — two cubs and one two-year-old girl — all ran out of gas at about the same time. Little Bit just went to sleep resting on Thomas while Martha slept on her. While this was going on, the Halls were working their magic on the girls. They ended with magnificently styled hair and with their brilliant blue eyes appearing to be about twice as large as before. Penny Hall, as usual, pretended to complain about the girls' incredible beauty, claiming that a few more girls with their beauty and she would be out of work. "On the other hand," she commented, "there are only about a dozen or so in the world with your beauty, so I guess I'm still safe." Although they were going to the prom in two cars, the girls rode over to the boys' house in one. On the way they were shaking their heads about the fact that the Halls had flown out to Lexington just to prepare them for the dance, and even as they were being driven to pick up the boys the Halls were being driven back to the airport and the plane waiting to fly them back to Los Angeles. "Oh, well..." Tasha commented, "when you have a luxurious private jet at your disposal, I guess it isn't too tough." There had been one thing that had upset the girls' incredibly detailed planning for the evening: the weather. In spite of all of their very detailed preparations, they had overlooked the weather, and cold air had descended on the Lexington area, while a storm system was moving up the Ohio River bringing snow with it. And the girls had completely forgotten about coats. That afternoon, though, a messenger had delivered two very large boxes to the house. Jessie Johnson, who had answered the door, neglected to mention to the girls that the messenger was accompanied by two armed guards. The boxes were from Tatiana Harding — now Aunt Tanya to the girls — and each contained full-length fur coats made from a very dark fur neither girl had ever seen before. Since their gowns were white, the dark fur set them off nicely. Although Tanya and Tasha ignored the coats' labels, Jessie did not. The labels were primarily in English, although there was smaller Cyrillic script below. The labels proclaimed that the coats were Russian sable from Maximilian Furs of Saint Petersburg. Since the girls had nothing else to wear except parkas which would have been terminally tacky, they wore their new coats, although reluctantly. The two were certain they were wearing fake furs. The two silver Rolls pulled up at the boys' house and the guard riding beside the driver jumped out to open the door for the girls. Meanwhile, the boys were all ready and were pacing the living room floor, waiting. Every minute or so, one or the other would check the front window. It was Ben Brewster who was looking out when the girls arrived. "Holy cow!" he exclaimed. "The girls are here ... and they came in two Rolls-Royce!" The two mothers had been in the kitchen when they heard Ben's exclamation, so they came hurrying out just as the doorbell rang. Jill glared at the boys, pointing to the sofa. Sheepishly, the boys sat down, although both were sitting on the edge of their seats. Jill opened the door and couldn't control a gasp. Standing there were two of the most exquisitely beautiful young women she had ever seen. Both were wearing full-length Russian sable coats. Extending her hand she said, "I'm Jill Barnes, Mike's mother. And you're Tanya and Tasha, but which is which?" She ushered the girls in. The girls introduced themselves, as did Melanie Brewster. The boys had jumped to their feet when the girls entered but remained by the sofa. At that point Tanya asked very softly, "Could Tasha and I speak with you two, alone? I would like to speak to you, Mrs. Barnes, while Tasha talks with Mrs. Brewster." "Of course you may," Jill replied, "but it's 'Miss', not 'Mrs.' ... Unfortunately." With that, she led the way to the women's bedroom while Mel took Tasha into the boys' room. With the door closed, Tanya took a deep breath, looked directly into Jill's eyes — they were virtually the same height — and began, "Mrs. Barnes, I intend to seduce your son tonight. I will be taking his virginity and giving him my own. I hope you don't mind too much. I am on the Pill, so there should be no problem there. Since I have never been with a man in any sexual way, I'm certain I am clean and disease-free." Reaching behind her back, she unhooked the back of her dress and ran the zipper down its slide. Then she stepped out of her dress, carefully laid it on the bed and then stripped off her white thong. At that point she was naked except for white thigh-high stockings, white pumps, and a diamond choker around her neck. Jill Barnes was amazed. Tanya was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen or could even imagine. "No wonder... !" she murmured. "I beg your pardon?" Jill grinned while slowly shaking her head. "No wonder the tailors at Josef's speak of you and your sister as princesses. It's only because you are." Then, while still slowly shaking her head she asked, "You really want Mike to share your bed tonight?" Tears were forming in Tanya's eyes. She began to think that the night was headed for disaster. But ignoring her feelings, she straightened up even more and said softly, "Yes, ma'am, I do." At that Jill closed the distance between them, took the girl in her arms and hugged her tightly. But then she backed off a bit and slipped off the bathrobe which was all she was wearing. Again taking Tanya in her arms she crushed her tits against the girl's developing ones. "Tanya Corcoran, you're going to give my son the sexual experience of his life! And I couldn't be more thrilled." Hearing Jill's words, Tanya broke into a dazzling smile. "Oh thank you, Mrs. Barnes... ?" Her voice ran down at the end Jill noticed. "Why the question in your voice, Tanya?" she asked. "Be ... because what I really wanted to say was thank you ... Mama..." This time it was Jill's turn to be stunned. "You ... possibly the richest girl in the world ... want to call me ... Mama?" Tanya could only rapidly nod her head. "My darling daughter!" Jill nearly screamed. Then she took the girl in her arms, melted her lips to hers and felt an incredible two-way flow of pure love and incredible joy. Finally, the pair eased apart. Both had been shaken by the experience. Jill finally regained her balance, grinned at Tanya and said, "Aren't you planning on doing something before raping my poor boy? A dance, maybe?" "Is it that bad?" Tanya asked with her face falling. "My darling daughter, I certainly hope you know what you're doing tonight in bed, because I double-your-money-back-guarantee you that Mike most assuredly does not!" "I think I can figure it out, Mama," Tanya replied with a grin. And at that she again slipped into her thong. Before she could finish the maneuver, though, Jill was behind her raising the thong into position and then very carefully positioning the strings. "Butt floss!" she murmured. "Do you think I'm overdoing it, Mama?" "Since the objective is to get Mike into your bed, my darling, you'll need every bit of help you can get. You do realize, daughter, that you're undertaking Mission Impossible, don't you?" After a pause she added, "You said you're on the Pill, but ... No contraceptive is 100 percent effective. What if... ?" Again she paused and then continued, "When I lost my virginity, I wasn't on the Pill, but then it's rare for a girl to become pregnant the first time. But Mel and I are living proof that it can happen. So, to repeat, what if... ?" Wearing only her thong, Tanya stood up straight and looked straight into Jill's eyes. "In that case I'll carry the infant to term and be a single mother. But unlike your situation, I won't be thrown out of the house, and can provide for my baby." Jill immediately wondered how — or if — Tanya knew what had happened to her. Without saying a word, though, she slipped Tanya's dress over her head, smoothed her hair and kissed her. "Well, it looks like you're all set. All you need to do is put on your coat." Tanya just glared at the coat she had slung over the bed. "Mama, I'm sorry I'm wearing such a tacky coat, but it's cold, so..." At first Jill thought the girl was teasing, but looking into her eyes she was amazed to find that the girl appeared to be serious. With that, Jill slowly shook her head and murmured, "I just do not believe it." "Believe what, Mama?" "Daughter, do you have the slightest idea what you're wearing?" "It's just a coat that appeared just before it was time to leave. At least it's better than a parka." Jill started to giggle, but the giggle turned to laughter. In fact, she was laughing so hard she could no longer even stand so she sank to her knees on the floor. She was laughing so hard tears were streaming from her eyes and she was gasping for breath. Finally she regained control while Tanya looked at her as if she had utterly lost her mind. "My darling innocent daughter," she managed to gasp, "if you would kindly look at the label on that coat you would see it's from Saint Petersburg, Russia, and from one of the world's finest furriers. It's Russian sable, possibly the most expensive fur in the world." Slowly shaking her head she added, "Tacky? Not!" Hearing her brand-new mother's words, Tanya ran her fingers lightly over the fur. "I guess it is sort of nice, isn't it? Do you think the color goes with my complexion?" Jill held the coat for the girl to slip into it. Pulling it up around Tanya's neck, the girl just snuggled in it. But at the same time Jill noticed the monogram stitched into the lining and again she started howling with laughter. Tanya just looked at her new mother as if she had lost her mind. For her part, Jill was unable even to say a word. But finally she regained control and said, "Whatever you do, daughter, don't you dare let Mike see the monogram on this coat!" Tanya repeated the look: Her brand-new mother had lost her mind. Then Jill opened the coat so Tanya could see the monogram: T.C.B. At that point Tanya joined in the laughter. "Mama, you think it's a bit ... much?" "Tanya Corcoran Barnes, if Mike gets a glimpse of that, he'll start running north and won't even slow down till he reaches Hudson's Bay!" Tanya then changed the subject. "You mean this coat is ... valuable?" Jill giggled and replied, "Let me put it this way: The value of the two coats you and your sister are wearing would buy one of the Rolls-Royce cars out front ... at least! It's probably the world's most expensive fur from the world's most expensive furrier. Okay?" "Oh... !" Tanya replied, pretending to be abashed. "I guess I shouldn't just throw it on the floor when I get to the dance? Or use it to wipe up a spill?" "Good thinking, Daughter. Now how about getting your tight little ass in gear? A dance, or something?" The two went out to the living room and found Tasha and Mel just emerging from the boys' room. From the looks on their faces it was clear that the other pair had just had a similar experience. The tailors at Josef's were nothing if not thorough. They had even supplied the boys with white silk scarves to wear with their chesterfields. The two girls looked at the guys and just sighed. Tanya broke the silence by saying, "You guys have never looked nearly so good in your lives! You are so handsome!" while stretching out the word "so". And off the couples went in the two waiting cars. The two mothers noticed that there were two additional cars in the little caravan. They thought — correctly — that the other two were Bluegrass security vehicles. Each contained four men. The women exchanged looks as they realized that their two sons and two new daughters were being escorted by twelve armed men. ------- Chapter 10 As the cars moved away, the two mothers stepped away from the window. Both just shook their heads. "What did you think?" Jill asked. "The same thing you thought: How could our boys ever get so lucky! Those girls are utter dreams!" Slowly shaking her head Mel continued, "Can you think of a single thing a guy could possibly want in a girl that those two don't already have in abundance?" Then with a little giggle Jill asked, "Did you happen to notice the monogram in Tasha's coat?" Mel's eyes beetled and she slowly shook her head. "I'll bet you a nickel it's like Tanya's: NCB ... for Natasha Corcoran Brewster." "You're kidding!" "The hell I am. I saw Tanya's. It's TCB for Tatiana Corcoran Barnes." Just then the phone rang and Jill, being closer, picked it up. There was a female voice on the other end, a voice that Jill had never heard before. "Is this Mrs. Barnes or Mrs. Brewster?" "I'm Jill Barnes," was the reply. For a change, she didn't correct the caller with regard to her marital status. On the other hand she had no idea who the caller was. "This is Caitlin Corcoran. I'm Tanya and Tasha's mother, and I'm so happy to be speaking to you at last!" There was a momentary pause and then Caitie continued, "We owe you both a huge apology." "Apology?" Jill nearly screamed. "What apology? After buying our sons the most magnificent clothing any of us have ever seen?" "No," Caitie replied softly, "for costing you both your jobs ... and for even getting screwed out of your paychecks for time already worked." Then to Jill's utter amazement, Caitie told her to the penny exactly how much the two had had coming to them. "But how could you possibly know that?" Jill exclaimed. "The only records are in a padlocked club." "That's not quite true," Caitie replied. "It seems that Jumbo Jones kept very comprehensive records on his computer." "But his records were lost," Jill retorted. "It was in the local paper, The Herald-Leader. They recovered his computer, but the whole hard drive had been very professionally scrubbed. There was no recovery possible." "That's true, too," Caitie conceded, "unless a copy of the drive had been made before it was erased." "Are you saying... ?" "I'm not saying anything," Caitie replied. "We were talking about money ... and stuff." "What stuff?" "Like where you're going to live. Like what are you going to be doing. That sort of stuff." Jill was stunned. But when Caitie Corcoran had identified herself she held the receiver so Mel could listen to the conversation too. The two women looked at one another and just shook their heads in bewilderment. After a long pause Jill replied, "We're going to live right here. And on Monday, Mel and I are going to see about getting waitressing jobs." Now there was a pause at the Corcoran end. "Before you do that, could you do me a favor?" "Sure. What?" "Your bank has an ATM just a short distance away. Would you and Mrs. Brewster mind going over and checking your balances? Then call me back." Caitie gave Jill her phone number in New York City and then hung up before Jill could respond. The two women stared at the dead receiver and both rolled their eyes. Long-distance telephone charges were not in their budget. For that matter, there was no money to cover items that were in their budget. "The boys got four suits, two coats, and formal wear," Mel pointed out. We can scrape up the money. Besides, we just paid the phone bill so we have nearly a month to earn the money to cover the call." With that the two put on warm coats. A glance outside showed that it was snowing hard by then. But off they trudged to the branch bank. The branch had an ATM lobby that was accessible 24/7. Jill inserted her ATM card, punched in her PIN and requested her account balance. The machine made its usual noises and then spat out a small card with the information. Jill took it and moved away for Mel to repeat the process but didn't even glance at the card in her hand. Mel went through the same steps, but when the machine produced the information, she did look at it. When she did, she felt her knees buckle and she just sank down to sit on the cold terrazzo floor while still looking at the card. Seeing what happened to her friend, Jill did the same thing. And sank down to the floor beside Mel. "What's yours say?" she gasped. "A ... a ... a hundred thousand and six dollars and 77 cents," Mel murmured. "How about you?" "I beat you," Jill giggled. "I have $100,007.25. I'm richer than you are." The girls just continued to sit on the cold floor staring at the cards in their hands. "Want to see if it's real?" Mel asked. Jill just nodded. Mel got slowly to her feet and then with trepidation activated the ATM again, but this time she asked for $300, the most cash the machine was allowed to provide in a single transaction. Instantly it started to spew out the cash. After she collected it, she looked at the receipt and giggled, "Well, I sure didn't have a six-figure bank balance for long." Jill repeated the process and then the girls walked home feeling much better than they had when they left their home. "I guess we can afford that call to New York," Mel commented with a giggle. Returning to their duplex, they scarcely noticed that the snow had begun to stick on the street and the sidewalk. In a few minutes they were back in their home and on the phone. Caitie picked up on the first ring. "All right, Mrs. Corcoran—" "It's Caitie, please!" "All right ... Caitie. Now what gives? How did $100,000 get into each of our accounts?" Jill demanded. "Because I put it there." Caitie declared. "How else do you think it got there?" "But how?" Jill insisted. "You have to know the transit code and our account numbers." "Not too hard when we own the dumb bank." Caitie paused for a moment and then explained, "That's not strictly true. We don't really own the bank. We own the holding company that owns the bank that owns your little bank." Again there was a pause. "And frankly, it was a real pain in the butt to have to go through so many intermediaries to get a couple of stupid numbers. And that's why we put so little money in your accounts: Since yours is such a small bank, we didn't want to get much beyond the FDIC guarantees. "And for that matter, could you open accounts in the biggest bank in town? That's ours, too, and we can trust it to handle substantially larger balances." Jill heard Caitie's last words but let them go by. "Anyway, you asked us to call, so I'm calling. What can we do for you?" There was a pause before Caitie replied. "You could do me a huge favor." "Which is... ?" What followed came out in a rush of words. It was clear to Jill that whatever it was, Caitie found it very embarrassing. "Could you move out to the Farm? Please?" "The farm? Do you mean Bluegrass Farm?" "That's the only one we own, so yes." "But why?" Jill replied, totally puzzled and confused. "All our plans are going awry," Caitie explained. "The fact is that the rescue and adoption of Tanya and Tasha happened on the fly. We had no time for adequate planning or preparation. I had just delivered so we thought it would be better for them to be down there for a while. "But now Jessie Johnson, who's been a mother to them, is expecting a baby of her own!" Caitie paused for a moment and then continued, "She and Dan have been married for so long and have been apart so much of the time with him in the Rangers. She thought a pregnancy would never happen, but it did, and she's ecstatic. But it's not fair for her to have to look after our kids, too. "I would come down myself, but I'm expecting again, too, and my OB is here. In fact, she's about one minute away across our footbridge." "Footbridge?" Jill exclaimed. "What footbridge?" "The one that connects our two apartments, 40-floors up. And aside from being the finest OB/GYN in the world, if you can believe it, she's back at the hospital developing an additional specialty in pediatrics. And it's just so neat! She did such a beautiful job circumcising Billy, and she was in labor at the time, too." Suspecting something was odd, Jill asked, "And where did all this happen?" "On my kitchen floor," Caitie replied casually. "And Dorie was giving me forty kinds of hell because I didn't deliver fast enough — it took almost three minutes — while she was about to burst. It was all she could do to hold Susie in." Again, she paused. Then she added, "But it's really nice. Don't you think it's nicer when the boy is older than the girl? And Billy is almost a full three minutes older. Since I had just delivered myself, it was a near thing trying to catch Susie before she bounced on the floor." "Bounced on the floor? Wasn't she on a cot ... or something?" "Of course not! We were both on a heavy-gauge polyethylene tarp." Then Caitie mused, "Try as we might, we're always spilling some of the afterbirth, or packing material or whatever, on the floor, and the tarp cleans up easily." Jill and Mel exchanged looks while both were rolling their eyes. "Anyway, would you be willing to move out to the farm? We know your boys will be spending the night there with the girls, and it would be a real hoot for them to find their mothers out there waiting for them tomorrow morning." Jill looked at Mel with a question in her eyes. "We have some money now, so why not?" Mel replied to the unspoken question. "We'll do it," Jill replied to Caitie. "But what now?" "Two things," Caitie replied. "First of all, a new rental car will be delivered to your home tonight. In its clapped-out condition, I'm not sure your car could even reach the Farm. Beyond that, though, its tires are nearly bald, and the rental car will come with new ice tires. There's no telling how much snow you're going to get tonight or what the condition the roads will be like tomorrow morning. "Second, I'm back to the question I asked earlier: You've both agreed to move out to the farm, but what do you want to do?" Again Caitie paused, then continued, "Oh, yeah ... One more thing: money is not — I repeat, not — a problem. When you open your accounts at the new bank, they'll be funded from here. The bank already has its instructions; they're just waiting for you two to go in and sign some cards. "Jessie says she told you about my mission in life: trying to keep the love of my life from being buried under mountains of money. And with about a hundred billion, that produces an income in the five to ten billion dollar a year range. And that's in the range of 100 to 200 million dollars a week! So on the positive side, maybe you girls could help me unload some of it. Do either of you have any ideas?" The two women looked at each other glassy-eyed. They were stunned by the numbers. Then Mel took the receiver, introduced herself — to that point Jill had been doing all the talking — and said very diffidently, "This is Mel Brewster. Could ... could we do something with The Girl Spot? The word is that the estate administrator is trying to unload it fast." "Terrific idea!" Caitie exclaimed. Then she paused and said, "Have you ever heard of the law firm of Braxton, Barrett & Clay?" "No," Mel replied, "but that doesn't mean anything. For fairly obvious reasons, Jill and I don't know any law firms." "Well, some of our companies have used the firm," Caitie continued, "and they speak very highly of a young lawyer there named Tom Brady." She then proceeded to give them the firm's telephone number, as well as Brady's home phone and cellphone numbers. "Call him right now. He's unmarried and seems to spend all of his time lawyering. Tell him you want to acquire The Girl Spot immediately." "There's one more thing," Mel added. "The kids who work there — including all the talent — were stiffed out of their paychecks for the last two weeks. Would you mind, Mrs. Corcoran—" "It's Caitie, dammit!" "Would you mind, Caitie, if I used some of the money you've just given me to pay them for time already worked?" "Of course not! Great idea." Caitie paused again and then said, "You and Jill hired and trained all the talent, didn't you?" Mel acknowledged that they did. "Well, I've never seen The Girl Spot, of course, but doesn't it need some work? Assuming that it does, why don't you put the whole staff on the payroll beginning right now? From what we've heard, it's a very good operation and has a very fine staff. Since those people won't have any trouble finding other jobs, the only way you can be sure to keep them together is to start paying them." "Does that apply to Sam Kramer, too? He's been the general manager, and he's really good. And I know he's married with a family and really needs the money." "Of course! Why don't you call him right after you call Tom Brady? He probably knows the wait staff, bartenders and cooks far better than you two do anyway." Caitie then read off the amounts owed to each staff member. The pair agreed on that course of action and then Caitie asked Jill about her plans. Jill replied, "Caitie, do you mind if I wait a bit before I answer? I have some ideas, but they haven't really jelled in my mind yet." And that's the way it was left. The two women agreed that Mel would be taking charge of The Girl Spot while Jill tried to decide what she wanted to do. The fact was that, while Mel knew of Jill's interest in fashion, she had no idea how serious her interest really was. Jill had been mulling over in her mind what Josef had said about a high-fashion women's store in Lexington. For that reason, while Melanie began making her phone calls, Jill went to their computer which fortunately had a DSL connection and could be used while the telephone was in service. Mel started her telephoning, beginning with Tom Brady's home phone. She connected on her first try. "Mr. Brady," she began, "my name is Melanie Brewster. I'm calling you at home on a Friday evening at the suggestion of Caitlin Corcoran." Brady was stunned. "You mean ... Corcoran Enterprises? And Bluegrass Farm? And..." "That's the one." "What can I do for you, Mrs. Brewster?" Mel didn't feel like correcting his impression of her marital status, but certainly didn't want to remain on such a formal footing. "It's Melanie or Mel," she insisted. "Okay, Mel. What can I do for you?" As quickly as she could, she explained that she wanted to acquire The Girl Spot. Furthermore, she wanted to do the deal as quickly as possible, and, recognizing the time required for a property closing, she wanted to take possession at the earliest opportunity. Finally, she was particularly interested in the size of the property. Although she wasn't at all sure, she thought that there was far more land than had been used by the club. Brady didn't bother to ask why she was interested in the property. He felt it really was none of his business. Instead he said, "I know the estate administrator, Jim Wallace. He's a pretty good guy, but frankly I don't think he's doing a great job as administrator. I guess he panicked because it's been so hard to determine what, exactly, Jumbo really owned. And closing down The Girl Spot was just plain dumb. "I do know that the word around town that he's trying to sell the place as quickly as possible is accurate." After a pause he continued, "Mel, you forgot two very important things: How much are you prepared to spend, and how confident are you about the financing?" "I'll take the last question first. There will be no financing; closing will be with either a certified check or a cashier's check. I'm assuming that it will be immaterial to him which one it is. "With respect to your first question, it's a very good one. I'm sure it's clear to you that I want the property and I want if fast. On the other hand, I have no desire to bail out Jumbo's creditors unnecessarily. Since those two points are contradictory, I prefer speed to price. Okay?" Tom Brady was wondering just who Melanie Brewster was. What he did know was that he certainly liked the sound of her voice — she sounded quite young — and her answer to his last question indicated she really had thought through the transaction. Then he said, "I know Wallace is really anxious. I could call him right now and see what he says." After checking the time — it was after ten — he added, "Could I call you back within the next 30 minutes or so?" Mel quickly agreed. As soon as she hung up, she called Sam Kramer. Again she was in luck; he was home and not yet in bed. When she told him she was buying The Girl Spot he was pleased. When she told him she was covering his back pay and he was back on the payroll immediately, he went into orbit. "Melanie Brewster, you are one of God's great people!" Then he paused and added, "I've heard of some of the things you and Jill had to do before you were 18 in order to keep your jobs. I also know that you've each been supporting a son. I don't know where the money is coming from but I have to believe it's God's reward for being such a wonderful person!" They concluded the call after splitting up a call list for the other staff members. After concluding the call, Mel began calling the dancers and reached most of them. She was amused at the number of them who asked if they could come right over to Mel's to pick up their checks. In the event, she even found a use for some of the cash machine's cash. One dancer came in a cab but didn't have enough cash to even cover the fare. She told Mel that she was a lifesaver; the girl was being threatened with immediate eviction from her apartment for nonpayment of her rent. It was close to eleven and Mel was between calls when the phone rang. It was Tom Brady. "Mel, we've got a deal," were his first words. He related that he had successfully contacted Jim Wallace and concluded a deal on the spot. "I offered him fifty percent cash up front in return for immediate occupancy with the balance payable at closing." He laughed and added, "He's so desperate for cash I guarantee you that this deal is going to set a Commonwealth record for its closing speed. And if there are any delays, I'm certain none will be Jim's fault." He told her the terms of the deal. From the information she had received from Sam Kramer, Mel knew that her purchase price was only about two times the previous year's net profit. Idly, she wondered if Wallace knew how profitable The Girl Spot really was, but from his asking price she concluded that he did not. They agreed to meet at Tom's office Monday morning at 9:30. Jim Wallace would be arriving at ten to execute the purchase & sale agreement and to receive a certified or cashier's check for the down payment. Mel would be taking possession on Monday morning. ------- Meanwhile, Jill had gone to her computer and then to a private chat room that she and her best friends on the Internet, Thin1, and Style1, maintained. She was both amazed and pleased when she found them both there. She had intended to ask their advice about a high-fashion boutique in Lexington, but before she could even get started, Style1 had a request for her: Style1: Hi, Exotic1! You're just the girl Thin1 and I want to see. Exotic1: What did I do this time? Style1: LOL! Nothing. But we need your opinion on some things. To Jill's utter amazement what followed was a virtual fashion show. Furthermore, whatever Style1 was using for software, it was both sophisticated and powerful. In operation it was reminiscent of some automobile company websites that permitted a car to be examined from any angle. Style1's software did exactly the same thing with high-fashion women's outfits. Jill was further surprised at the degree to which her two friends were deferring to her judgment and finally she asked about it. Style1: Remember when we were looking over fall fashions? That was before I got this new software, but do you remember? Exotic1: Yeah. So? Style1: Do you remember Thin1 and me giving you a hard time about a number of the items? Thin1: I sure do even if Exotic1 doesn't! Exotic1: Okay. I guess I remember. So what? Style1: "So what" is that you were totally right in your judgments and Thin1 and I were wrong. That's the "so what". Exotic1: BFD! As the saying goes, even a blind pig can find an acorn once in a while. So, like the pig, I got lucky. I repeat: BFD!!! Style1: Do you have a few minutes? Could you gossip with Thin1 for a bit? I have to make a phone call. Exotic1: I can do that. Style1 left the chat room and Jill gossiped with her Internet friend. But Style1 wasn't gone very long. Style1: Exotic1, do you know where we are? Exotic1: I guess I've always assumed you were in New York. It's the fashion capital after all, and you two have always impressed me as being very well-connected in the industry. Style1: You're right, and that's where we are. I think you know Caitie Corcoran, don't you? Exotic1: Yes, I do. But how did you know? Jill was utterly stunned. For Style1 to make such a statement, she must know who I am! But how? Style1: I guess the time has come for us to come clean. I'm Anita Johnson, but I guess I'm better known as Nita Lucas. Thin1 here is Adrienne Cameron, but she's better known as just Adrienne. Do either of those names ring a bell, Jill Barnes? Exotic1: You've got to be kidding! Only the nation's — if not the world's — top fashion authority, along with possibly the most famous runway model in the world, too. Do those names ring a bell? Surely, you jest! Exotic1: But how did you know who I am? Style1: Call it a good guess. But to explain a bit, Caitie is a very dear friend. Furthermore, there are a number of us who live in one another's pockets and gab incessantly. Caitie was raving one day about your fashion knowledge and fashion sense. Apparently it was all in an extensive investigative report she had done on you. Then Tina Harrington was able to trace you through your IP address to Lexington. She's about to crack your ISP's computer to get details, but now I'll tell her not to bother. Exotic1: From the way you started this dialogue, I gather you want something. What is it? Style1: You're right of course. What we want is for you to come up here to New York next week. I would ask you to come tomorrow, but Caitie tells me you've got a busy weekend with your son and brand-new daughter. And then I guess you're moving, too. Exotic1: You don't miss much, do you? Your intelligence system is remarkable. Style1: Anyway, if you're agreeable, Kris Harris, my sister-in-law, will be sending her husband's private plane down to Blue Grass. It will be ready for takeoff any time after seven Monday morning. Do you think that could work for you? Exotic1: I'm stunned. A private plane? Just for me? Style1: Actually, it's an Executive Aviation Gulfstream G-550. Kris and her husband own EA, but this aircraft — the best in their fleet, BTW — is his private aircraft. You should have a very comfortable trip. Incidentally, you'll be staying with Caitie Corcoran at the Corcoran penthouse. And I can't tell you how anxious she is to meet you in person, not to mention the fact that Bill's out of the country and Caitie's really looking forward to your company. Exotic1: But why the trip at all? Of course I really am looking forward to meeting Caitie, but the invitation was yours, not hers. So why? Style1: Because next week is the unveiling of the next season's fashions, is why. And rather than have you critique over the Internet, I would far rather have you here in person. Exotic1: You're kidding! Do you mean to say that I'll be attending some of the first showings of next year's fashions? Style1: No, dear. It's not "some of the first", it's the very first. And from the best seats in the house, of course. For some reason or other, some of the very top designers hang on my every word, LOL. But what the hell ... it beats going to the office. Exotic1: Which is? Style1: I'm Executive Vice President of Bergdorf Goodman and its fashion director. Exotic1: Oh shit! Thin1: And what does that mean? And, although you've been dialoguing with Style1, I am still here. Exotic1: "Oh shit" means I have nothing to wear. I'm strictly a looker, not a buyer ... and I have absolutely nothing. Style1: You have a pair of jeans, don't you? That's all you'll need on the plane and we'll take care of everything else up here. Okay? Exotic1: How would it be if I call you late tomorrow? By that time I'll know how things are going. And, for that matter, I'll know if I still have a son. I told his girlfriend — my new daughter — that he might be running north at top speed until he reaches Hudson's Bay! Thin1: ROFLMAO! That's right! He's scheduled to be seduced by Caitie's daughter Tanya tonight, isn't he? Exotic1: That's her hope. We'll see how it plays out. Jill shut down her computer and went into their living room. She found Mel just finishing up with one of the dancers who was so happy she was actually bouncing with joy. The girl left and Jill asked, "I wonder how the kids are making out." Mel was barely able to suppress a giggle while raising an eyebrow. "Oops! Poor choice of words." After glancing at the clock — it was after eleven — she answered her own question. "They're probably still at the dance. Then it's back to the Farm for dinner, so I guess they're not making out at all ... yet!" To their surprise, the doorbell rang again. Since Mel had already seen all the people who said they would be by to pick up their checks, the two women exchanged looks, shrugged, and Jill opened the door. It was a representative from the car rental agency with two sets of keys for their new car, which they had forgotten about. Again the pair put on their coats and went out to look it over. While the rental rep got into another car and drove away, they looked at their new car, a white Lexus LS equipped, apparently, with all the luxury options. Mel went around to the driver's side and started it while Jill went to their Corolla to move it further up their driveway to make room for the Lexus behind it. Before moving it, though, she had to sweep off about two inches of snow that had already collected on it. After moving their car and locking it, Mel had already driven up behind her. "Pretty cool car, isn't it?" Jill commented. "Oh, I don't know," Mel sniffed. "After all, it's just an overgrown Corolla." ------- Chapter 11 When the two Rolls pulled up to the entrance to the gym at Memorial High School, they caused consternation among the kids who were walking up from the parking lot. The fact that a guard hopped out of the car and was holding the rear door didn't lessen the impression. The two girls were pleased to see that one of the onlookers was Virginia James, the ex-captain of the girls' gymnastics team. And that was a story in itself. ------- Immediately after Thanksgiving, gymnastics practice had started under the direction of the high school's new volunteer coach, Seana Dunphy. With their first match coming very soon, the girls were very hard-working in their practice. Although none of them knew anything about Seana, she certainly seemed to know a great deal about gymnastics. She should. The fact was that she was one of the nation's top gymnastics coaches and had been asked to coach the U.S. Women's Olympic Gymnastics Team. In fact, the invitation had been extended at the tryouts for the team held during the summer. Tasha and Tanya had been out there and had been invited to join the team, having achieved world-class scores that were significantly superior to any other candidate's. The girls declined the invitations claiming they didn't want to drop out of school for a year to train full time with the team. And at the same time, Seana, who had been impressed with the girls, received an offer from Caitie Corcoran to work with them full time. And since the money was more than four times higher than what the Olympic Committee was offering... Things were going smoothly until shortly before their first dual competition. And their opponent, like the football team in its first game, was the hated Henry Clay High School. And again, like their football counterparts, the Clay girls were defending Kentucky State Champions. It was at that point that Virginia James went to Seana with her lineup for the Clay competition. Seana looked it over and almost dropped her teeth: Neither Tanya nor Tasha were on the roster. "Virginia, why aren't the Corcoran twins competing?" "They're much too young and inexperienced," the girl sneered. "And against Clay we need our very best. They can compete against smaller schools. Besides," she sniffed, they're both too tall!" Indeed, the Corcoran twins by then were both almost five feet ten and still growing. Virginia was five feet two, while Seana was five-one. "You're right about one thing," Seana conceded. "The girls are far taller than most female gymnasts ... or male gymnasts, for that matter. But it doesn't seem to slow them down much." Then, apparently changing the subject, she asked, "How much do you practice?" "Every week!" Virginia announced proudly. "And I have even been taking private lessons every week for months." "Virginia dear, let me give you the hot scoop: Tanya and Tasha have been practicing every day — and I mean every day, including Saturdays, Sundays and holidays — since they were three years old! Want to match that?" "But how do you know that?" the girl demanded. "Because it was common knowledge at the tryouts for the U.S. Olympic Gymnastics team last summer." "Olympic tryouts?" the girl almost screamed. "What were they doing there? And why were you there, for that matter?" "They were qualifying one-two for places on the squad," Seana replied casually. "And when they declined their invitation, I did, too." The girl was utterly stunned. But then she asked, "What invitation did you decline?" "The invitation to coach our Olympic team." The girl just gasped, utterly speechless. "But why?" she finally managed to say. "Because I wanted to coach those two girls. And if they weren't staying out there, neither would I." "But ... but you're not getting paid! You're a volunteer coach." "Yes, I am a volunteer coach, and no, the school isn't paying me. But I am being paid ... and paid very well, in fact." That conversation settled who would be competing against Henry Clay. Moreover, the word quickly spread among the team members regarding the girls' accomplishments, and Seana's. Memorial was the home team for the competition. There was the normal gymnastics setup in a smaller gym adjacent to the main one with the addition of two giant plasma screens set high on a wall. In international competition, all members of a team are competing at the same time rotating among the positions. But in high school competition, there are not nearly enough judges — competent or otherwise — to be able to judge multiple events simultaneously. In fact, there were so few schools in Kentucky with gymnastics teams that the Henry Clay state championship did not have nearly the cachet of its football title. The first Memorial competitor was Tanya on the uneven parallel bars. She went through her routine and received scores of two fives and a six. At that point, Seana called a timeout and asked to see the judges' score sheets. "I beg your pardon? What nerve!" exclaimed the woman who was the chief judge. "I scored it a five, and that's that!" "I beg your pardon," Seana continued, "but perhaps you're a little confused regarding gymnastics scoring. You must be thinking of another type of competition. In gymnastics, every competitor starts with a perfect score of ten. Any miss results in points being deducted. I wish to see your score sheet to see for what misses you penalized Tanya. "Oh, by the way ... to set a standard, I am taking the liberty of showing the uneven parallel bars competition from this year's tryouts for our Olympic team. I'm sure you'll find it interesting, and it will only take a few minutes." The Clay coach was very interested. And it had been apparent that when Seana explained gymnastics scoring to the judges, it was largely news to the Clay coach, too. What no one had noticed was that Tanya's performance that day had been taped as well. Moreover, Seana had carefully selected the camera location to replicate the camera position at the tryouts. The tapes rolled on the giant plasma displays side by side. It was as if the same picture was being displayed on both screens. When Tanya stuck her dismount — the two were identical — the right-hand screen went dark. Then on the left-hand screen there was a tape of the ABC broadcast of the trials. The announcer, having announced the competitor as Tanya Corcoran, was excited, and the commentator — a former Olympic medal-winning gymnast herself — was enraptured. As Tanya finished her routine, the girl screamed, "Yes! That was absolutely perfect! Now we'll see the scores." The scores were displayed: all tens. The judges at Memorial were in a state of shock. Seana repeated, "May I see your score sheets, please?" The senior judge was the first able to speak. "But ... but ... what is that girl doing here? Why isn't she at the Olympic training facility?" "Because Tanya declined the invitation, as did her twin. They wanted to stay here at Memorial — they're only in the ninth grade, after all — so they're here. "Those score sheets, please?" "I was totally wrong," the senior judge admitted. "I ... I knew Tanya was only a freshman, so I wanted to give her room to improve." But then with a woeful grin she added, "But I guess it's a bit difficult to improve on perfection, isn't it? I give her a ten." The competition was a Clay wipeout. With both Tasha and Tanya monotonously posting tens, Clay had no chance. At the conclusion, though, Seana teased the girls because the judges had missed several mistakes the girls had made, but she had not. To that the girls stuck out the pink tips of their tongues and then ran off to the showers. But the Clay competition was the end of Virginia James as team captain. With a single dissenting vote — Virginia's — Tanya and Tasha were elected co-captains of the gymnastics team, effective immediately. ------- While the foursome were getting ready to enter the building, eight men appeared — the men who had been in the accompanying cars — and entered ahead of them. Of course, they were members of the Bluegrass security force and were there as a result of arrangements made between Dan Johnson, the chief of security, and Ed Brennan, the school's new principal. Initially, Ed had been skeptical about having armed men — a total of ten — at the dance. But he was cognizant of the attempted rape of Tanya and Tasha as well as the attack on the farm itself. Furthermore, although Jumbo was gone, there was no telling who might be seeking revenge in his name. And Dan sealed the deal when he pointed out to Ed that he could guarantee a very nice, well-behaved dance with absolutely no trouble. Knowing the men and their training, that was a point Ed freely conceded. Finally, although Dan didn't mention it to anyone, he knew that plans were underway for the boys and their mothers to move out to the farm and thus come under its security umbrella. Dan had supreme confidence in Caitie Corcoran's powers of persuasion with respect to getting the Barnes and Brewsters out there. Indeed, he and Jessie had encountered her persuasiveness first hand. Shortly before he was to retire from the Army he had been contacted by Caitie. At the time, he was stationed at Fort Benning, Georgia, and Caitie flew down to meet Jessie and him. They met at the finest restaurant in the area and Caitie immediately offered him the job as chief of security at Bluegrass Farm, then just getting underway. When she told him the salary, he was stunned. It was four times his pay as a sergeant major. Their meeting was on a Friday evening, and he was off for the weekend. Accordingly, the next day they had flown in Caitie's plane, a Gulfstream G-550, to Lexington, Kentucky. There they were met by a limousine and driven to the farm. The Johnsons loved it at first sight. Jessie had grown up in Virginia, while Dan was from North Carolina. To both of them Bluegrass Farm was Heaven on earth. The couple were shown the magnificent house that would be theirs. It was brand new, beautifully furnished, and theirs at no cost. Further, not only would Caitie pay for Jessie's continuing studies toward her doctorate in nutrition, she even refunded every dime she had spent on her previous education, including the cost of the Cordon Bleu School in Paris. Their house was only a few feet from the main house, and Jessie was also hired as chief cook at a salary that would have impressed a top chef in one of New York's finest restaurants. But that wasn't all. It was "salary & expenses." It turned out that virtually any money they spent Caitie deemed to be a Farm expense. During the previous summer, the Johnsons had planned their very first vacation together, ever. They were going out to Hawaii. When Caitie heard about it, it became a covered expense. Dan protested but was told he was going to check out the location's security. "But what's Jessie going to be doing? You certainly can't call her trip a business expense." "The hell I can't!" Caitie declared. "Dan, you man. Me woman. No trust man to make judgments about the quality of the shops, their merchandise, and so forth. Why, Dan Johnson, I'll bet you don't even know which Gucci handbag is the very best seller, do you?" Dan was forced to admit defeat. The result was a private jet to Hawaii — and Jessie's induction into the Mile High Club — as well as the finest suite in the hotel. It took Dan's best intelligence-gathering abilities to learn that their suite went for $3,000 a night! And they were there for three whole weeks. After Christmas, he and Jessie were due for another "business trip." This time they were going to Zermatt for three weeks, then to Vail, Jackson Hole, and then Utah. When he asked why three weeks in Zermatt, Caitie merely sniffed, "Because you don't ski, turkey. And it will take you at least three weeks to learn. The top ski instructor there will be with you full time for your stay." Anyway, there was plenty of security at the school's Christmas dance. Mike Barnes and Ben Brewster still felt uneasy as they entered the gym where the dance was being held. The four entered in a row with Mike on the right, then Tanya, Tasha, and Ben on the left. The band was not playing — they were on a break — so the attendees were just standing around talking. When the four entered, there was an audible gasp primarily from the girls but also from some of the guys. All eyes were on the twins. Female eyes really widened when a security officer took the girls' coats. It was obvious to them that the fur was real, although none there could identify it. Moreover, since the coats were identical and fit the girls perfectly, they were not borrowed. With their coats removed, again there were gasps. A couple of senior girls who were preoccupied with the latest fashions quickly spread the word that the girls' dresses were designer originals and cost thousands. No one questioned the couples' right to be at the dance. Looking around, they saw Ed and Brandi Brennan across the gym and went over to say hello. When Ed saw them, he introduced them to Brandi and then commented to the girls, "Kids, for football players, you clean up pretty nice. Then raising an eyebrow he said, "I hear from Seana Dunphy that we're likely to be on the hook for more awards this winter. She claims that with you two we've got a lock on the state gymnastics championship." Then to the boys he asked, "But what are you two doing for exercise now that football's over?" The pair exchanged looks and Mike replied, "We're working out and trying to bulk up. I don't want to look like a thin stick out there next season, and neither does Ben." By that time the band had returned and the boys asked the girls to dance. It was the very first time for all of them. The boys had only danced with their mothers and the girls had only danced with each other. But off they went. With his eyes wide, Ben commented, "Tasha, you're even lighter on your feet than my mother is, and she's a professional. How long have you been dancing, anyway?" "Since I was three," Tasha replied. "About all we did, all year long, was spend about half the day dancing and the other half on gymnastics." Ben thought about her answer and then asked, "But what about schoolwork? When did you do that?" "Tanya and I did it after hours. Many of the other girls never bothered, and the administration didn't care. If a girl wanted to study, it was on her time, not theirs." Later, the foursome were standing talking to Tank Brown and Deann Washington when, to their surprise, Harry Davenport, their math teacher, came up, and to their greater surprise asked Tanya for a dance. The pair moved off on the floor. "You are an incredible dancer, Tanya." Davenport paused and then added, "But I understand that you studied ballet beginning at age three. Is that right?" "Yes, sir." Then he changed tack suddenly. "Tanya, what are your plans for school?" She was taken all aback. "Why ... why to stay in school and graduate, sir." Davenport slowly shook his head. "Tanya, the reality is that you two — no! you four! — could all graduate this June. Did you four know that, while your math course is named introductory algebra, that's not what you're taking. You four have been taking — and excelling in — advanced algebra, a senior course. "The fact is that after this year — or first semester of next year at the latest — there will be nothing for any of us here to teach you. Did you realize that?" "No, sir." After a pause, Tanya continued, "Do you have any suggestions, sir?" "I do, but before I mention them, there's something else I need to say. First, you are without a doubt the finest dancer it's ever been my pleasure to have in my arms. Second, you and your sister are the most beautiful young women I've ever had the good fortune to see, let alone to teach. And then there are your incredible brains! "But to your question, I have an idea. I haven't mentioned it to a living soul and won't if you reject the idea. Any interest?" "Thank you, sir, for your compliments. As for your idea, of course I'm interested." "Okay, then. There are two parts to it. First, all four of you are brilliant; you can all do college-level work right now. But at the same time, you're young, still growing, and are making an incredible contribution to Memorial's sports programs. "Incidentally, I attended the gymnastics competition with Clay. Watching you and your sister close up was like watching Olympic gymnastics from the floor. You two are utterly incredible! You perform perfectly while making it all look so easy ... if one doesn't watch your muscles in action. "But back to my idea: The fact is that in college a player has four years of eligibility. Now, while many players — particularly in major sports — never graduate, a number do. Moreover, there's another element in high-powered college sports: red-shirting." "I've heard of it," Tanya replied, "but I'm not really sure what it is." "Let's say a school recruits a top high-school quarterback, but the varsity quarterback is only going into his junior year. The school might red-shirt the young quarterback for a year or two and then make him starting quarterback in his first year of official eligibility. Let's say he's red-shirted for two years. In his first year of playing, he's in his third year of college. So he might graduate and enter graduate school while still playing out his undergraduate sports eligibility. Understand?" "Yes, sir, but what does that have to do with us?" "Tanya, we're fortunate that the University of Kentucky is also here in Lexington. What I'm thinking about is having you take courses at the university. That will be a cinch to arrange. Yet at the same time, you'll still officially be students here at Memorial and eligible for its teams. Furthermore, it will give you the chance to socialize with kids your own age. "Socialize? Yeah, right. Aside from you four, how many kids here at Memorial play mental chess?" Tanya blushed beet red at his comment and asked, "How do you know that?" "Because I coach and advise the chess club and I overheard you playing at lunch one day. And Mike and Ben were kibitzing, too! "But anyway, what do you think of my idea?" Davenport grinned very youthfully and added, "The way you four are going, when you formally enroll at the University, I'm sure you'll be taking graduate courses exclusively, and conceivably at the doctoral level. And that's going to be pretty funny when the sportswriters find out what Ben, Mike and yourselves are really doing! "Now what do you think?" he repeated. "I like it, sir, and I'm sure the others will, too. But what do we do now?" "I'll talk to Ed Brennan on Monday and we'll see what happens. "And finally, Tanya Corcoran, not only are you exquisitely beautiful, you and your sister are the nicest people here, too. And your politeness is incredible. 'Sir' indeed!" Tanya just giggled. Then, acting on a sudden urge, she raised her lips and Harry Davenport kissed her lightly. It came as absolutely no surprise to him to find out her lips were as sweet as sugar and her kiss was the loveliest he could ever remember. Raising an eyebrow, Davenport commented, "Tanya, if you think that one little kiss is going to get you an A+ in Advanced Algebra — we're knocking off this Introductory Algebra nonsense right now — you're right. It will, and it did. "And thank you so much for the dance. I can't remember when I've ever enjoyed myself so much." With that he escorted Tanya back to where Mike was not-so-patiently waiting. She wasted no time in filling him in on her talk with Mr. Davenport. Mike was excited about the prospect as were Tasha and Ben when they were briefed. Meanwhile, Tanya had been glancing around the large gym and noticed the Farm security people. There were four concentrating on Mike and herself while another four focused on Tasha and Ben. Another fear of hers had been allayed. She had heard stories of dances in prior years that had really gotten out of hand, largely due to the behavior of Junior Jones and some of the football players, behavior that had been condoned by the then-coach, Red Adams. But now with Ed Brennan being both the football coach and principal, the students' behavior was impeccable. But what the girls enjoyed most of all was being held in the arms of their men. To both girls, it was like a dream come true. ------- Chapter 12 At eleven o'clock, Ed Brennan went to the bandstand and spoke to the bandleader. The band stopped the music and then played a fanfare to get the dancers attention. "Folks, I have bad news," Brennan began. "I've been talking with the local and state police as well as the Lexington and state highway departments. Instead of easing up, the snowstorm is getting worse. It threatens to become a full-bore blizzard. And since this is Kentucky, not the Rockies or northern New England, I don't know how many of you are driving cars equipped to handle any significant amount of snow on the roads. And for that matter, our people charged with keeping the roads clear don't have nearly the equipment some of those other places do. "That being the case, I'm afraid I'm going to have to end the dance right now. And finally, while it's entirely up to you, I would urge you to get back to your homes as quickly as possible. You really don't want to get stuck out on the road on a night like this!" While there were moans and groans from a number of the students, Tanya and Tasha were elated. They were getting a one-hour head start on their night's activities. A glance in the direction of Dan Johnson showed that he was on his cellphone, undoubtedly alerting his wife to the change in schedule. Four security men were putting on their coats preparatory to retrieving the cars. Subsequently, there was a small delay caused by the need to clean snow from the cars before they could be moved. Finally, though, they were ready to go, and two security men returned with the girls' sable coats. They were thoughtful enough, though, to give them to Ben and Mike to hold for their dates. And then they were off. Looking out the window of their Rolls, Tasha softly whistled. "This would be a big storm even in Saint Petersburg. According to the thermometer on the dash, the temperature has dropped to 18 and is apparently still falling. And with that wind howling, snow at this temperature is really prone to drifting." Ben felt very secure in the big car, but was worried about their mothers home alone. "I guess we'll be dropping you two off at the farm and then we'll be getting home." Tasha did not respond. It was a slow trip to the Farm, but once they reached the security gate they were home free. The fact was that the Farm had more and better snow-handling equipment than there was in most of the Commonwealth, disregarding the enormous difference in the amount of roadway to be cleared. The four cars were still together going through security, but once through the gates the two escorting cars peeled off while the two Rolls continued on to the main entrance. Seeing the house for the first time, Ben Brewster let out a soft whistle. "My gosh!" he exclaimed, "this place is enormous!" "It is fair sized," Tasha conceded. The house looked utterly beautiful. It was decorated for Christmas, and lighted with floodlights. With the addition of the heavily falling snow it looked like a Christmas card. Even though Ben, along with everyone else in the area, knew of the farm, very few had ever seen the main house. It was set so far back from the road it couldn't be seen by passers-by. The vehicle pulled to a stop at the impressive entrance, immediately followed by the twin Rolls with Tanya and Mike. The guards were out of both cars and opened umbrellas to keep the girls dry. But with a grin, Tasha waved him off and just stood there with her head back enjoying the feeling of the snow on her face. The guard chuckled and shook his head; Tasha retaliated by sticking out the tip of her pink tongue. Going up the steps, the door was opened by a maid before anyone reached it. "Good evening, Misses Corcoran," they were greeted. Entering the hallway, the "maid" took the girls' coats. In fact, the "maid" was Susan Andrews, the daughter of John Andrews, the chief horse trainer. She was in her senior year at University of Kentucky and was headed for postgraduate study in veterinary medicine. Although she thought she was on a scholarship from the University, in fact her education was being fully funded by the Corcorans, but the Corcoran's financial aid was masked by appearing to Susan and her family to be a scholarship. She took every opportunity to work at the big house as she was that night. The pay was superb and easily kept her in spending money. In reality, Susan was the girls' primary confidante and just the night before had provided them with a number of tips on how to behave on their first date. Often, Susan "babysat" for the girls when the Johnsons were off. She stayed to keep them company in the giant house. "Did you have a good evening?" Susan politely inquired. "Very nice, Susan," the twins replied in unison. For their part, Ben and Mike had exhausted their knowledge of dating etiquette. Moreover, they were both concerned about their mothers and were nervously shifting their weight from one foot to the other. The girls both recognized the symptoms. The conversations in the two cars had been virtually identical. Tanya took the lead. Picking up a phone in the hallway, she punched in the number of the boys' home phone. "This is Jill Barnes." "Mrs. Barnes, this is Tanya Corcoran. The four of us are at our place, but the guys are very nervous. They're worrying about you and Mrs. Brewster being home alone." Tanya desperately wanted to call Jill Mama, but obviously that would have been more than a bit much. Instead she passed the receiver to Mike. Jill reassured him that everything was fine at home and he should stay at Bluegrass Farm where it was safe. "But what if the power goes out at home?" Mike protested. "We have flashlights and candles," Jill reassured him. "Furthermore, we have gas heat, so we're not going to get cold and we would still be able to cook. What would you and Ben do if you were here, anyway? Go out and climb a utility pole?" Mike continued to protest but to no avail. He then passed the receiver to Ben who was told essentially the same thing by Mel Brewster. So the boys stayed. Again Tanya led the way, this time into the library. The boys' eyes widened as they realized it was far more comprehensive than the library at school. The two couples took seats on a leather-covered sofa that was easily wide enough for all four to sit comfortably. The boys admired the giant decorated Christmas tree at the end of the room. At that point Susan Andrews brought in a platter with caviar with all its trimmings. Already in the room were two buckets with sparkling grape juice being chilled. (Although to some the idea of sparkling grape juice is nauseating, it can be surprisingly good.) She uncorked a bottle and poured flutes for the foursome. With their customary thoroughness, the two girls had researched items that reputedly stimulate the libido. Although they could not find any definitive proof of the effectiveness of any of the items, they elected to take any possible advantage they could get. Accordingly, they were serving caviar — both being Russian, they naturally loved it — and oysters on the half shell would be the dinner's first course. Both, of course, were reputed to be aphrodisiacs. As far as the boys were concerned, it was only when food was served that they realized how hungry they were. It was already nearly midnight. After demolishing the caviar, they adjourned to the dining room. Once again, no detail had been overlooked. The dining table had been shortened to its smallest size which was perfect for the four and was set festively for Christmas. Raw oysters on the half-shell were at each of the four places. The boys knew what oysters were but had never had them. In fact, until a few years before they were born, there really were none available in Kentucky. In this case, the oysters had been flown in that morning from Norfolk. Susan then served the main course: filet of beef Wellington with sauce Périgord. Ben noted to himself that the stuffing appeared to be the same as he had had in a sandwich earlier in the fall, and since it was paté de foie gras, he was correct. Finally, after Susan had flamed cherries jubilee at the table, they were finished. The two girls exchanged looks and quickly exchanged the same gesture: both girls had fingers crossed. From conversations with the guys, the girls had realized that the pair had developed enough to finally recognize that there were physical differences between boys and girls, even though their interest had not gone beyond looking at the older girls in the high school who had well-developed tits. When Susan took the dessert plates away it was time to move. Leading the way, Tasha went upstairs to her room while Tanya peeled off at her own. The girls were barely able to control their giggles as they both realized at the same instant that it was going to be the first time that Tasha had ever been in her own bed. "You'll be sleeping here tonight," Tanya told Mike. "I hope you like it." Only then did Mike realize that the room wasn't just a room, it was a suite. Furthermore, he realized that the combined room area of Tanya's suite was roughly the size of their duplex apartment. He just gaped. Preparations for the night had been most detailed. In the first place, the girls had enlisted the aid of their Aunt Tanya: Tatiana Harding. She was a graduate of the KGB's famous — or infamous — Sparrow School where young women were trained to use sex in any form to further the interests of the Soviet Union. Since their targets were often senior diplomats, they were particularly trained in getting a very reluctant target into bed and set up in the most compromising position possible for subsequent most-embarrassing photos and video tapes. The girls' exchanges with Tanya had been ongoing for months. To add to their knowledge base, they had also consulted intensively with Susan Andrews. These discussions provided two benefits: First, Susan counseled with them regarding many of Tanya's tips. Some of them, in Susan's judgment, just wouldn't work in a U.S. high-school setting. Another advantage emerged, though. It turned out that Susan was in a relationship with a guy who was truly an older version of Mike and Ben: Had Susan not taken the initiative, nothing would ever have happened. From Susan's perspective, the sessions were very valuable, too. She had mentally noted many of the tips Tanya had passed on to the girls and already had used a few to great effect and both she and her lover achieved far greater sexual pleasure. Tanya led the way from her sitting room into her bedroom and then disappeared into the bathroom. For his part, Mike was just looking around the bedroom trying to figure out what was going on. What he didn't know was that the two girls' suites had just been completely redecorated. While formerly they had been very feminine, now they were as gender-neutral as a top decorator could manage. After all, although the guys didn't know it yet, these were the rooms they were going to be sharing with the girls beginning immediately. When Tanya emerged from the bathroom, Mike was stunned. All she was wearing was the shortie peignoir portion of a very expensive sleep set. The remaining items — a filmy bra and thong — had been omitted. Her peignoir was black and essentially transparent. It was only tied at her throat and was open below. While her tits were covered, her nipples and small areolae were apparent. And since it was closed with only a single ribbon, her bare pussy was exposed. There was just enough substance to the garment to slightly impede Mike's view and make Tanya far more tantalizing than if she had been completely naked. Mike had seen his mother and Aunt Mel partially nude on a number of occasions, but in his mind that didn't really count. But in this case he just stood with his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. Ordinarily, Tanya would have giggled and teased him unmercifully but this was anything but an ordinary situation. She moved close and whispered, "Do you like?" Mike was still speechless. All he could do was nod. Without another word, she began to take off his clothes. Mike remained speechless. Since he didn't know what to do, he did nothing except move an arm or a leg as Tanya indicated. Soon he was down to his jockey shorts, and Tanya dropped to her knees. Here she was taking advice from Aunt Tanya, reinforced and underscored by Susan Andrews: Suck him off before doing anything else. When she mentioned Aunt Tanya's advice to Susan, the girl had giggled and added, "She sure has that one right! If you try to take a guy Ben or Mike's age inside without getting him off first, he'll go off in five seconds or less!" Then she added, "That's the best single bit of advice you're going to get." Both Tanya and Tasha filed that bit away for immediate use on Their Night. On her knees, Tanya eased the jockeys down his hips and then over his raging cock that had been tenting his pants almost from the instant she had appeared from the bathroom. "It's so beautiful!" she breathed. And then she very gently blew warm air on it as it vibrated only an inch or so from her mouth. Then she eased it in in a well-practiced maneuver down her throat, taking his full length in her first real attempt. "Wha ... what are you doing?" he managed to gasp. But even as he said it, he could feel his love massaging his full length using muscles in her mouth and throat. His cock was large for a boy his age, but only about average for a man. And before he knew what was happening he exploded in her mouth. For her part, Tanya just let the first jets shoot right down her throat, then eased his cock up into her mouth. This accomplished two things: First, it enabled her to breathe again which is always a good thing. Second, it enabled her to taste his semen for the first time. She did and found she liked it. She loved it, in fact. When Mike exploded, Tanya's arms were around his hips. And it was a good thing too as his knees almost gave way beneath him. She eased back and looked up at his face when she felt he was again capable of standing on his own. "What was that?" he gasped. "It's called fellatio, or a blowjob." Tanya shook her head in feigned sadness and added, "It's pretty clear to me that we've wasted far too much time on mental chess when there are more obvious elements of your education that have been sadly neglected." "But why?" he asked, still utterly bewildered. "Why did you do it?" "That's easy. When you take my cherry in a few minutes, I don't want you to go off in the first five seconds." Slowly shaking his head, Mike repeated, "Take your cherry? What's that mean?" Tanya could no longer contain herself. She giggled and then said sadly, "As I said before, we've been wasting far too much time on inconsequential things." She paused and then continued, "Taking my cherry is another phrase for taking my virginity." Mike was slowly shaking his head, still apparently baffled. "Fucking my brains out?" she tried. "Fucking my ass off?" Again she paused and then added, "Do either of those phrases ring any bells?" Finally the light of understanding came on. "You mean... ?" "I mean! Now get your ass in that bed and lay down on your back." Mike did, but the look on his face was a combination of bewilderment and anxiety. Only recently had he noticed that girls had tits, and now he was going for the jackpot. As soon as he was on his back, Tanya straddled his hips, raised herself up on her knees and lowered her pussy down over his again rock-hard cock. Again, Susan had been right in estimating the speed of his recovery. Moving gingerly, she lowered herself on his sex, waiting for contact with her hymen. It wasn't long in coming. Again she used information from Aunt Tanya. First, she moved up and down to try to get her fluids flowing as much as possible. And for the first time, Mike actually assisted her, his assistance taking the form of teasing her nipples and gently pulling on them. When she felt she was as wet as she was going to get, she quickly lifted her legs up from the bed in a full side split with her legs out almost 90 degrees from her body. Her move was so fast, it had its desired effect. Tanya dropped with her full weight on Mike's cock and her hymen was no more. Bringing her legs back alongside Mike's hips, she just sat on his cock unmoving waiting for the pain to abate. When she thought she could stand it, she screwed her vagina down on his cock until she had him all in. Then leaning forward, she was able to stimulate her clit on his pelvic bone. For his part, Mike was expecting her to start to move up and down, but that's not what happened. Instead she began to massage his cock with her internal muscles. "It works!" she exclaimed. "What works? And what are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be going up and down? Or ... or something?" "That's one way of doing it," she gasped, "but not the only way. I've been exercising my Kegel muscles and this is the result. How ... how does it feel?" "It feels like you're milking my cock, is what it feels like," he gasped. "Great! Then I'm doing it right." She continued until she achieved Mike's inevitable explosion which, gratefully, triggered an equally strong orgasm in her. Tanya collapsed on Mike's chest, still joined. The pair just lay there together, both gasping for air. At the same time they heard orgasmic sounds coming from Tasha's room across the hall. Only then did they realize that the doors between the two suites were all open. Mike took the initiative finally, taking Tanya into his arms and snuggling. For her part, she felt it was almost better than the sex. And finally they kissed and it was everything Tanya had hoped, complete with electricity and bells. "What's going on tonight?" he asked. "You two have had this planned all along, haven't you?" Tanya just nodded while trying to keep her face impassive. "But why?" "For two reasons: First, if we hadn't, when would you and Ben have gotten around to asking us for a date?" Mike had no good answer to that question. He just looked sheepish. "Second, your cock isn't full-grown yet. We wanted you and Ben to break us in to your cocks. And besides ... since you're not full-grown yet, it will be easier for Tasha and me to take you in our asses. And you can get me used to taking you in my ass and stretch me to fit as you grow." Mike was stunned. "You mean... ?" "I mean!" By that time Mike had recovered, so Tanya climbed on him again. This time she was able to maintain herself in orgasm for minutes before she collapsed. Both almost instantly fell asleep. They were awakened later — neither knew how much later — by sounds coming from Tasha's room. This time Mike took the initiative and entered Tanya while she was on her back. He found that position worked at least as well. The two couples continued alternating until both collapsed sometime early in the morning. ------- Chapter 13 Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. The snow had stopped late at night and the road and highway crews were finally able to make headway in clearing the roads. After clearing the snow off their rented Lexus, Mel Brewster and Jill Barnes headed out to Bluegrass Farm with Mel driving. Curiously, since it was very close to the shortest day of the year, the sun was very low in the sky and coupled with the new-fallen snow, there was a great deal of glare and it was easy to lose sight of things in the dark shadows. They found what the others had found the previous night: Once they entered Bluegrass, the drives were much clearer than the roads had been. And again like their sons the previous night, they were astonished at the size of the main house. Pulling up in front of the main door, they were about to start unloading their things from the car when Jessie Johnson opened the door and rushed out to greet them. Although she was going to tell them that their things would be brought in, looking into the car she realized how little there was. The three women were able to bring in everything in just a single trip. Their gear was left in the entrance hall while Jessie led the way back to the kitchen. "I assume you two didn't bother to eat breakfast?" The pair just shook their heads sheepishly. "Neat!" Jessie exclaimed. "What would you like to have?" After a pause she added, "I can fix anything." Since the pair were still dumbstruck, Jessie began to offer suggestions. Finally, they settled on chicken liver omelettes. While Jessie made preparations, she served grapefruit halves. In almost no time, the pair were eating with Jessie sitting across from them at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee. "This is out of this world!" Jill pronounced. Then with some trepidation she asked, "How did last night go?" With a wonderfully warm smile Jessie replied, "I really don't think it could have been any better. Those four didn't fall asleep until almost six this morning. But honestly, I don't know if they're asleep or unconscious." Then she changed the subject dramatically. "I need help!" "What can we do?" Mel asked anxiously. "Anything ... Anything at all." "I have been getting forty kinds of hell from Caitie Corcoran for weeks!" Jessie complained. "And it's the same thing every damned time." "Same thing? What thing?" Jill asked. "She's constantly bleating about the same damned thing: We're not spending nearly enough money down here. Frankly, I'm tired of hearing it. Could you two please help?" she asked plaintively. "You're kidding! Aren't you... ?" Mel asked skeptically. "Hah! Don't I wish I were. I'm very serious." Then to Jill she said, "I guess you'll be going to New York Monday morning. There's a chance you could spend some money ... if you open that high-fashion dress shop you'd love to have." Jill was stunned. It was her dream, but one she had never shared even with the woman she had come to think of as her sister, Melanie. "But ... but," she stammered, "I don't know the first thing about running a shop! I would lose my ass!" She was stunned by Jessie's reply: "Even better! The fact is that Caitie is really looking for a money pit: something that will just eat up money. "Okay, that's done." Turning to Mel she asked, "How about you?" "I ... I guess I'll be reopening The Girl Spot. And I sort of have another idea..." "Which is... ?" Jessie prompted. "I'm not really sure, but I think the land area around The Girl Spot is quite large with hundreds of feet of frontage on the road. If I'm correct, much of the land is on the Lexington side of the property. Assuming all this proves to be true, I've been thinking about putting up a fitness club for women. I'll call it The Body Shop. "Keep in mind that this is all speculation. The size of the property is based on hunch, not fact. But if it works out, I would like to build The Body Shop on a really crash basis. Then I'll have the entire female staff of The Girl Spot working out there as soon as it's complete. "My thinking is that, first, it will keep them in shape, but second, they'll provide living proof of what a fitness program can do for a girl's body. "What do you think?" "Super idea, Sis!" Jill exclaimed. "Sis?" Mel responded before Jessie could speak. Jill had just blurted out the words without thinking. But after reflection... "Yes, dammit! Melanie Brewster, you are my sister! In fact, you're my identical twin! Never have two women gone through what we've gone through ... together! Mel, I never could have made it without you!" Mel started to cry but turned toward Jill and took her in her arms. The two had been lovers for years, but it had started and continued as a way for the two of them to obtain sexual release; there had been no men in either of their lives from the time the two had been impregnated. But hearing Jill's words, Mel instantly realized that what she had said was true: They were truly identical twins. With that realization, they shared the most loving kiss of their lives. When they eased apart, Mel said softly, "Thanks for your support ... Sis!" And again they kissed. While they were hugging each other, Jessie was shedding tears of happiness. When again they eased apart, Jill noticed something: Jessie appeared to be uncomfortable. It seemed as if she was straining not to squirm on her chair. "What's wrong, Jessie? Something seems to be bothering you." Hearing the question, Jessie gave up her fight and did squirm on her chair. "It's ... it's all these damned clothes!" she admitted. "Usually we're bare around the house, and ... and I've come to like it that way. But with you two ladies here now..." Mel and Jill couldn't control themselves. They both laughed uproariously. Finally Jill regained enough control to gasp, "That's the funniest thing we've heard in years! First of all, referring to us as ladies? Surely you're thinking of two other girls. Ladies just don't get pregnant at the age of 12! "And then there's the idea of being bare assed ... Jessie, dear, it may come as a great shock to you to learn that Mel and I spend about eight hours a day every day bare-assed. If you haven't received the detailed report, Mel and I are exotics. That means that we don't strip, we start off naked and stay that way. So if you think we would be offended if you shed your clothes, you've got to be thinking of two other girls! "So? Strip!" With a broad grin Jessie did just that. And while she was taking off her clothes, so were the two women. When she was completely bare, Jessie stood like a model with her shoulders back and with one foot ahead of the other. Mel finished stripping first and went around the table to get closer to Jessie who was still holding her position. Since she was posed as if for inspection, Mel did just that. Her first impression was that Jessie Johnson was one of the world's outstanding beauties. Like the girls, she was quite tall at five feet ten. Her skin was the color of light café au lait, and she had brilliant green eyes. Her hair was coal black; like the horses, her hair was so black it almost appeared to have blue highlights. With a very light touch, Mel ran her fingers over the woman's perky breasts. Her light touch was enough to bring both nipples into tight erections. Then Mel's fingers moved lightly down her body and came to rest on her abdomen. Looking the woman straight in the eye she commented, "Caitie Corcoran said you were pregnant. When did it happen? Last night? Girl, you're the most un-pregnant looking woman I've ever seen!" "I'm in the fourth or fifth month," Jessie replied softly. Just then Mel could feel movement in Jessie's abdomen. "My gosh!" she exclaimed. "I felt your passenger move just then!" Mel then changed position, moving so she could look at Jessie in profile. "I do not believe it. Even from the side there's no bulging at all." "I've had to increase my work on the pectoral muscles supporting my tits," Jessie admitted. "They're starting to swell and get heavier, so, unless I want to start wearing a bra — and I sure don't — I don't have a choice." Then with a grin she added, "Okay, Mrs. Brewster—" "It's Melanie or Mel. And it's not Mrs. Brewster... ever! Jill and I are not married and never have been." Ignoring Mel's interruption, Jessie announced, "This is a game more than one can play. Now why don't you two stand side by side?" The pair did, both striking a model's pose similar to the way Jessie had been standing. "Twins!" Jessie murmured. Then slowly shaking her head she added, "It's easy to see how the Monica/Monique thing works. You two are absolutely interchangeable ... and you're utterly gorgeous." Suddenly Jill's eyes widened and she murmured, "Oh, shit!" Jessie was startled. "What was that all about?" "'Oh shit' means that neither of our sons have ever seen us naked. And while they know we're both dancers, they certainly don't know that we're exotics." Looking at Mel she asked, "What are we going to do?" "Look, why don't I take you up to your room?" Jessie suggested. "Then maybe you both might want to look in on the sleeping beauties." Back to the entrance hall they went and gathered up the girls' things. With Jess leading the way they padded up the curved stairway at the back of the hall and then turned left and went down the corridor on the second floor. Mel looked both ways down the corridor and it appeared to end in both directions at blank walls. Reaching the apparent end, they jogged left and the corridor continued. She realized that the true length of the corridor was so long it had been broken up to avoid an exaggerated bowling-alley effect. Finally they reached the last door on the left and Jess opened it with a key. After doing so, she gave one to each of the women. "You'll note that this is a heavy fire door and this is about the best entrance hardware available. We thought you would like some privacy." When they were shown around, Jill and Mel just gasped. Their suite was in the corner of the house with windows in their sitting room facing east while the bedroom had windows on the north and east. Their bath was gigantic with a shower large enough for four, two sinks, a toilet, a bidet, and a gigantic sunken bathtub with Jacuzzi properties. "Good heavens!" Jill exclaimed. "This is larger than our living room!" "Is this okay for you two?" Jessie asked diffidently. "Of course, I'm certain you'll want to decorate it to your own taste..." "You've got to be joking!" Mel retorted. "I have never seen a suite of rooms nearly as nice as this in the finest decorating magazines. This is utterly magnificent!" Jess helped them put away their clothes. All three laughed because the few things they had were lost in the gigantic walk-in closets, and each woman had her own. "The kids are in the first suites past the stairway in the other direction," Jessie pointed out. With a grin she added that there was a stairway right outside their door that went down to the kitchen and the exercise rooms below. With that she started to leave so the two would be alone to get settled. "Uh..." Jill began haltingly, "there's something you should know, Jessie." Then she blurted, "Tanya wants to call me Mama." With that she blushed red as a beet. "And Tasha wants to call me Mommy," Mel added. Neither had mentioned the fact to the other, yet neither was surprised. "Honest?" Jessie yelped. "Oh, boy! Wait until Caitie hears about this!" Jill's eyes widened and she pleaded, "Please, no! Please don't tell her, Jess! She'll utterly freak!" Jessie grinned and replied, "You're right about that: Caitie sure will freak, but not for the reason you're probably thinking of." Slowly shaking her head she continued, "I guess you know that the girls have been in that ballet and gymnastics school since they were three years old. Neither know their families. I've tried to help but it's not the same thing. "But you two? Absolutely unbelievable. Do you realize that you both combine in their eyes the best features of a mother and an older sister? Furthermore, it's all happening as they're reaching womanhood and really need another woman. Caitie is going to be so happy she won't be able to see straight!" With that Jessie left the room. After exchanging looks, the pair, still nude, went down the corridor toward the stairway. Passing it, they came to two suites opposite each other with the doors open. From both rooms they heard the sounds of orgasmic ecstasy. Since Jessie had told them which suite was which, they split and each went into the one with her own son and "daughter." Making her way back to the bedroom, Jill found Tanya with her legs in a shallow V 90 degrees from her body while Mike was cuming again. Both screamed as orgasms shook them both. Gasping for breath, Mike rolled off the girl ending on his back apparently sound asleep. "Good morning ... Mama," Tanya whispered when she was again capable of speech. With the bed covers mostly on the floor, it was easy for Jill to see the pool of already dried blood on the bottom sheet and dried blood on Tanya's inner thighs. "Good morning, Daughter," Jill replied with a warm smile. Although she had a million questions she wanted to ask, she thought it would be better to ask them somewhere else. "How about if we get you cleaned up?" Having been warned, Tanya eased out of the bed and tested the ability of her legs to support her weight. They worked but she found that the muscles in her abdomen were very sore and her bare labia were bright red. She giggled softly as she realized she was definitely more comfortable walking bowlegged. Although she headed toward her own bathroom, Jill took her by the arm and guided her out to the hallway instead. Together they made their way to the women's suite. Going into the giant bathroom, they found that Mel and Tasha were there before them. Then the two girls showed the women some of the features of their new home. First, the water supply for the house came from a group of springs that once had provided the purest water used to make the finest Kentucky bourbon. The water was triple filtered and both the cold- and hot-water lines were temperature controlled. As for the giant tub, there were controls that could be used to dial-in the desired temperature or — the control the girls preferred — a button marked Hold. Using the faucets, they got the temperature to their liking and then pressed the Hold button. At that point, the controls automatically maintained the existing temperature. Because both girls were covered with blood and sweat, the women took them into the shower first. The four had a wonderful time with the mothers washing their brand-new daughters and then the girls washed their mothers. "You're so exquisitely beautiful!" Tasha breathed. Mel recoiled. "You've got to be kidding!" Then with her eyebrow raised sharply she asked, "Have you had your eyesight checked lately, young lady?" Tasha looked into Mel's beautiful blue eyes. There wasn't the slightest hint of any teasing; all there was was the deepest love ... for her. "You're serious, aren't you, Mommy?" Mel just rapidly nodded her head. Then Tasha used on her the same line Mel had used on Liz Dunbar: "You have eyes but you do not see! Mommy, I hate to spoil your day, but you and Aunt Jill are both drop-dead gorgeous!" Mel was stunned. But before she could say anything, Jill responded, "Is that the way it's going to be? I'm Tasha's Aunt Jill, and Tanya's Mama." With the warmest smile the girls had ever seen she continued, "And Mel is Tasha's Mommy and Tanya's Aunt Mel. Is that the way it's going to be?" she repeated. "If it's all right with you... ?" the girls stated in unison. "Speaking for myself, I couldn't be happier!" Jill exclaimed. "Nor could I be!" Mel emphasized. The two girls shook hands congratulating themselves on having the world's two most beautiful mothers. With their bodies scrubbed and their hair washed and conditioned, the four retreated to the tub. When the two women lowered themselves into the swirling water — the Jacuzzi pumps had been activated — Mel just leaned back against the side, closed her eyes and declared, "I think I'll just stay here forever. Never have I felt anything so wonderful!" At that point Tasha moved behind Mel, sat on the tub's step and cradled her new mother's head on her lap. Tanya had pressed a button on the control panel four times and now there was a thin layer of oil on the surface of the water. Skimming some off with her hand she proceeded to gently rub it on Mel's breasts and then all over her body. "What are you doing?" Mel inquired, sounding half asleep. "I'm massaging musk oil into your body. Don't you like it?" "Not a bit," Mel replied, still in a sleepy-sounding voice. "And you're going to have to stop it in a year or two, too." Tanya had been doing the same thing with Jill. But then the woman sat up straight and moved to sit beside the girl. By then only Mel was lazily floating in the tub. "Okay, girls," Jill announced, "it's time for us to come clean." Turning to look at Tanya she asked, "How much do you kids know about Mel and me?" Slowly shaking her head, Tanya replied slowly, "Not very much, I guess. We know you're both dancers. And we know you're probably the two best mothers in town. We know that at least one of you is always at home for the boys which is more than can be said of most of the parents of the kids at school." Shaking her head sadly she continued, "I guess the modal behavior is for a kid to go home after school to an empty house ... but never yours." The girl thought for a moment, shook her head again and concluded, "I guess that's about all we know." "Well, you're correct as far as you went." Then with a warm smile Jill added, "And thank you for the warm compliment about our mothering. "But there's a lot more. First, we are dancers ... but we're exotics. What that means is that we start off our performance naked and stay that way. Second, if we look young, it's only because we are. Mel and I are both only 27 years old; we gave birth to Mike and Ben only a couple of days apart ... at age 13. In fact, we had only been 13 for a few days before we delivered." Then with a wry smile she said, "A helluva way to start our teen years, wasn't it? "We had both been thrown out of our homes so we had to make a living. We were pretty tall and were able to get jobs stripping even though we were underage. It got pretty bad. We had to fuck the owner on request. We would go into work and one of us would be told it was her turn. We went into the office, stripped, and bent over the desk. Then the owner would take us from behind. Sometimes he'd be talking on the phone while he fucked us. Other times there might be one or more visitors in the office. We were supposed to just ignore them, strip, and get fucked. "There's something else you should know. I guess we're bisexual, and it started then. Although we were tall for our age, even after delivering babies our pussies were still pretty small and the boss loved to make us bleed. So we got into the habit of going down on the one who had been fucked to suck out the cum and anything else. We finally walked out of that place when the owner wanted us to fuck his friends. "I guess we were pretty good exotics, even then. We had started to develop a bit of a following. We didn't know it, of course, until after we quit that first place. We were able to get jobs at another one and a lot of customers apparently followed us over. The new owner saw his business increase dramatically while the previous guy's business went into the tank. So then things started to get better for us. "Then about nine years ago when we both turned 18 and were legal, we went over to Jumbo Jones' Girl Spot and have been there ever since." Slowly shaking her head, Jill looked at Mel and commented, "Do you realize these two kids have already had more loving than we have had in our entire lives?" Mel was startled by the comment and showed it. After reflecting on what Jill had said, she slowly nodded her head. "You know, you're right. We've each been loved only once: The first time when our cherries were popped ... and we both got pregnant. Since then we've been fucked countless times but never loved again." Tasha leaned over and kissed her mother on the lips. It was a kiss that quickly became passionate; it was anything but a mother-daughter kiss. When the pair eased apart, Mel let out a heartfelt, "Oh, shit!" "And what's that mean?" Tasha asked. "It means we've got a big problem is what it means. Jessie told us that you folks — and now we, too, I guess — are now members of a private nudist colony." Then with her eyes wide she concluded, "But what about the boys? They're going to utterly freak!" "Do we have any choice?" Jill countered. "Let's face it, Sis: Thousands of people have seen us stark naked. They've seen everything we could manage to show. Most of them we didn't know; some of them we didn't even like. But we performed for them anyway. And isn't it about time they learned what we do for a living?" So that's the way it went. The foursome got out of the bath, dried off and made their way to the kitchen. At that point Tasha announced, "Tanya and I will keep on going." "Going where?" Mel asked. "Down to the gym," she replied with a note of frustration in her voice. "And it's awful, particularly after that marvelous soak." "But we'll sure smell good!" Tanya pointed out, trying to find a bright side. "But why?" Jill pursued. "Mama, you've got to understand that Tasha and I have worked out almost every single day... since we've been three years old! On the very rare occasions when we've missed a day, we just don't feel right ... either physically or mentally. So..." Instead of peeling off, the older two followed the girls down. There they gasped as they realized the extent of the equipment in the gym. What immediately caught their eyes, though, were two very strange-looking machines set close to the plate glass window overlooking the Olympic swimming pool. "What on earth are those?" Mel asked, her curiosity getting the better of her reticence. The girls looked and both came to the same realization and in unison said, "Now we can really use them!" The older pair just exchanged puzzled looks while the two girls flipped a switch that sat low on the units. Then Tanya explained, "These are the latest and greatest from Female Fitness. In mechanical operation, they're still pretty much the way they were when they first came on the market about 20 years ago. Since then, there have been two major changes: First, they're now fabricated using a new plastic that's transparent to ultraviolet light. And you can see a whole array of UV lights that reach everywhere on the operator. Second, microprocessors are far more capable now than ever before. As a result, the machine tailors everything very precisely to the needs of the user. "For example, you can put on sun protection if you want, but the machine not only detects its presence, it determines the protection factor as well. And after analyzing the skin type and tone, it adjusts the UV light accordingly. You really can't burn." Then with a grin she concluded, "For the rest, we'll let you two find out for yourselves. All you have to do is get on the saddle and flip the On switch." With some trepidation Jill and Mel did just that. The two girls giggled as they saw the looks of astonishment on the two women's faces as probes emerged from the saddle and drove into their vaginas and anuses. "My gosh!" Jill exclaimed. "The damned things seem to almost meet inside me!" And indeed that was exactly what had happened. The two started moving the apparatus and almost instantaneously the machines had completed the necessary analysis of the women's physical condition and adjusted their settings appropriately. Experimenting, they found that if they eased up too much they began feeling unpleasant sensations in their vaginas and assholes. When they powered up, the sensations were replaced by increasingly pleasant ones. Tanya had noted that the initial machine settings were far over to the right side of the dial. They hadn't reached the machines' stops, but they weren't off by much. Then she exchanged grins with her sister as they could tell the women were reaching the end of the program. Now both women were working harder and harder as if they had a goal to reach. And indeed they did: Each achieved her objective and let out a scream as she was taken by the most powerful orgasm she could ever remember. They then just collapsed over the front of the unit while it automatically eased down and then shut itself off. "Oh. My. God!" Mel slowly exclaimed. "What was that?" Very blandly Tanya just repeated, "It's the latest and greatest from Female Fitness." Jill slowly shook her head. "I've seen those infomercials, but I've always assumed it was just the usual hype. And I mean ... having Kimberly Kramer doing them! Heck, she's only about 19 and looks great. But who couldn't look great at her age?" "Mama, I've got news for you," Tanya replied with a broad grin. "Kim Kramer is about 50 years old. Want to reconsider?" "But it's still all hype," Jill insisted. "What does she know about exercise equipment?" "Quite a bit, actually," Tasha picked up. "She designed every bit of it and is CEO of Female Fitness. Kim has her doctorate in mechanical engineering." "Okay. I give up," Mel said with a sigh. "And besides ... the dumb thing really does work." Then with a grin she looked at her new daughter, Tasha, and gestured toward the machines with her thumb. The pair wasted no time. As she was mounting, Tanya noted, "By the way, in case you were wondering, when those probes retract they're cleaned and sterilized for the next use." The two girls got into the saddles, adjusted their positions and then started them up. The women could see the warm grins on the girls' faces as the two probes moved up into their operating positions. As they started, a new thought came to Jill who asked, "How long have you two been plotting this, anyway?" She knew she had struck a nerve when the pair exchanged guilty looks. "For just a few days," Tasha gasped, answering for both as they exercised as fast as they could. "A few days, hell!" Mel exclaimed. I took a look at the suite you're now sharing with Ben. That place has been completely redone and personalized to him. I even recognized the titles of some of the books he's been wanting to read. And they're all there right now. Now who did the decorating? And for that matter, who did our suite?" Again guilty looks were exchanged, but this time it was Tanya who gasped out a name. "Good grief!" Jill exclaimed. "I don't know her, but I sure know of her. Her fees average about half a million dollars per assignment." "No way!" Mel protested. "No one has that kind ... of ... money..." Her eyes flared as her protest petered out. "Remember what we learned?" Jill reminded her sister. "Assuming half a mil, that's one percent of a week's income ... if it's a bad week." Mel just rolled her eyes. Finally the girls concluded amid a flood of orgasmic juices all over their saddles. "How was it?" Jill asked. "Pretty neat, huh?" "It's okay, Mama ... But not nearly as good as Mike." "You're kidding!" Jill exclaimed as her eyes bored in on Tanya's. When she did, Jill realized there wasn't the least hint of any teasing. "Say you're kidding, daughter... Please say you're kidding?" Now it was Tanya's turn to think she was being teased. But when she did what Jill had just done — looked closely into her eyes — she realized she wasn't. After thinking about it for a few moments she came to a realization: Her new mother had only made love once in her life and that had happened over fifteen years earlier. Moreover, Jill had been only 12 years old at the time. "No, Mama, I'm not kidding at all. Having Mike make love to me is at least ten times better." She was off the machine by that time and took Jill into her arms. "It will happen to you, Mama. You are just too beautiful and have too much love in you for it to go to waste. You're going to meet that right guy pretty soon." Jill managed to hold back her tears, but clutched Tanya's nude body to her own and just stroked her gently. At that point the four went into the shower room off the exercise facility and shared another shower, taking turns washing each other. When they finished they trooped up the stairs to the kitchen and breakfast. ------- Chapter 14 Jill and Mel quickly learned that Jessie hadn't been kidding about being able to make anything. Furthermore, they learned that the house had two walk-in refrigerators and two walk-in freezers. As a result virtually anything anyone wanted to eat was available at any time. The girls had big breakfasts while their new mothers had Cobb salads. They had just started on their food when the boys appeared wearing terry robes that had been hanging in the bathrooms. Both girls jumped to their feet and went to their respective lovers. In the process they were blocking the guys' view of their mothers. But after passionate good-morning kisses they stepped away. "Guys, your mothers," Tanya said softly. Her comment was greeted by audible gasps from both boys. Before they could say anything more, Tasha interjected, "Guys, this is Jessie Johnson. She's the wonderful woman who's been making those lunches for you that you like so much." Jessie rose from the table and took a model's pose. Then she slowly turned in a complete circle so the boys could get a good look. Then extending her hand toward them she asked, "Do you approve?" Ben's mouth was just opening and closing with no sounds coming out, but Mike was able to take her hand, swallow hard and finally say, "Mrs. Johnson, you're outrageously beautiful!" "What a nice thing to say to a pregnant woman!" Jessie replied with a happy smile. "But what do you think of your mothers?" Jill and Mel were still seated but both had their heads up straight and their shoulders back forcing their tits up and out. Ben had finally recovered enough to speak. To Tasha he said, "Could you stand beside Mother?" With a grin Mel rose from her seat and stood beside Tasha. Without conscious thought each put an arm around the other and the girl said softly, "Ben, she's my mommy now, too." Again moving as if by remote control they turned toward each other and kissed. Even to Ben and Mike, the love they shared was palpable. Jill, too, had risen from her seat and stood beside Tanya in the same position Mel and Tasha had first adopted. "And she's my mama, too!" Tanya proudly announced and then embraced the older woman. Meanwhile, Jessie had begun preparing a big brunch for the two boys while the six sat around the table. Mel and Jill exchanged looks, and Jill was elected to be spokeswoman. "Guys, it's time for us to come clean with you both," she began after taking a deep breath. "First, do you know how old we are?" Both boys slowly shook their heads. "Well, I'll give you a hint. We're both the same age to within a week or so. Does that help?" Again the two heads shook. "Okay," she continued, stretching out the word. "One more: How old are you two?" "Fourteen," Mike replied, obviously puzzled. Then he brightened and added, "I guess you and Aunt Mel are about 35." Jill pretended to look at herself and then at Mel. "Oh, boy ... What you're saying is we're over the hill, right?" Mike was chagrined. Regardless of what he said, he seemed to be putting his foot in it. "You're not 35?" he asked. Jill sniffed but then giggled. "No, we certainly are not! As a matter of fact, we're 27." Both boys' eyes widened. "You mean..." Ben stammered. "You gave birth at... 13?" Jill extended her hand to Mel and they shook. "Isn't that neat, Sis?" Jill said sarcastically. "They can even add and subtract ... as long as the numbers aren't too big, that is." Then her demeanor changed; she was no longer teasing them. Instead, the two women spent the next hour telling the boys about their backgrounds, omitting nothing. They concluded by telling them that they had moved to the Farm permanently and clothing was optional. "Furthermore," Mel said, "as we found out this morning, Jessie really doesn't like clothing. And, since she's the only person standing between us and starvation, you'll almost always be seeing her bare. And since for Jill and me being naked is an occupational requirement, we'll be naked, too. As for our new daughters, they're both dancers and gymnasts, and they, too, like being naked. "So, guys, I guess you're just going to have to get used to seeing lots of tits, ass, and pussy. Okay?" "Well," Mike said thoughtfully, "since they're five of the most perfect sets of tits, ass and pussy on the planet, I guess we can survive." That comment got him hugs and kisses from all five. As a sure sign of his loosening up, when Jessie came into his arms he kissed her and squeezed her perfect buns. "La, sir!" Jessie exclaimed. "What are you doing? I am an older married woman, after all and indeed in the throes of childbearing. Have you no consideration?" Instead of replying, Mike moved behind her and then took her slightly swollen tits in his hands and gently squeezed. Jessie was unable to control her gasp of pleasure, and when he teased her nipples — Mike had learned a great deal the previous night and was putting it to immediate use — she gasped, her pelvis shook and her cum started to run down her thighs. Instead of letting her go, though, Mike moved his right hand down to her bare slit, found her clit, and brought her off again. This time, though, her knees gave way and she sagged backward into his arms. Then, with her head resting on his shoulder, Mike twisted around and kissed her full on the mouth while exploring her mouth with his tongue. Then moving very gently, he eased her down onto a chair. Jessie just sat there gasping for breath. Finally recovered, she looked at Ben and said, "It would be the same with you?" Mel answered for him. "Since he and Mike are identical twins, I guess the answer has to be yes." Jessie just slowly shook her head. From the very beginning, she had been the girls' surrogate mother; they confided in her about everything. And, of course, she had been in on the planning for the preceding night from the very beginning. "You never even kissed a girl, let alone fondled one, until last night, did you?" Feeling chagrined, Mike blushed and slowly shook his head. "If I hadn't experienced it, I never would have believed it," Jessie continued. "Dan and I have been married for years and he's never kissed me as good as that. Never!" Then her brows beetled, she cocked her head and added, "And you were kissing a black woman, too." "No, Mrs. Johnson, I was not!" Mike stated decisively. "I was kissing an incredibly beautiful woman who happens to be black." Jessie just stared deeply into Mike's eyes. Finally she said, "I believe you." Then changing the subject slightly she asked, "How did you know how to squeeze my tits and play with my nipples so well?" "I ... I ... I just did what Tanya told me she liked and ... and I just did it to you, too." Then with an incredibly happy smile Jessie commented, "That's what I get for marrying a Ranger. Everything they touch is handled like a 60-pound pack! But you... ?" She just rolled her eyes. Then her eyes widened and she added, "Could I interest you in a Nubian slave girl, perhaps? Someone who could cook and clean and care for your golden princess?" Her last words shocked both Mike and Ben speechless. The girls — and women — on the other hand could scarcely control their laughter. Suddenly Jessie's demeanor changed dramatically. Snapping her fingers, she picked up the phone and punched in a speed-dialed number. Then she nervously drummed her fingernails on the tabletop, waiting. Then she brightened when the phone was answered. Without preamble she announced, "Caitie, it's me. And guess what? The girls both have new mothers!" Even though the receiver was at Jessie's ear, everyone around the table could hear Caitie's scream of happiness. Jessie continued, "And last night could not have been better! Would you believe it? From a standing start, the girls have made the guys into incredible lovers... in just one night! Can you believe it?" Then listening to Caitie, Jessie's eyes widened and she turned to the young people and said, "Your mother wants your lovers to take you into their arms and just kiss you. Now move!" The four jumped up from around the table and the girls went into the guys' arms. Their lips met and merged. The older three could hear the bells and feel the electricity that had suddenly charged the kitchen. They saw the girls pelvises go into spasm and then their cum started running down their thighs. The girls' loving embrace of their lovers became a grip of survival to keep from falling on their faces. "Caitie," Jessie reported, "you were absolutely right! In just moments the girls were cuming from just a kiss on their lips. The ones on their mouth, I mean, too. They almost put them out cold, and their cum cream is still flowing down their thighs!" Then she passed the receiver to Jill with the comment, "Caitie wants to speak to you, too." After exchanging greetings, Caitie started right in. "Jill, could you do me a really big favor?" "Of course! What?" "I guess you chatted with Nita Lucas last night, didn't you?" Jill acknowledged that she had. "I know you told her that you would get back to her regarding her invitation to come to New York. Well, I'm pleading with you! Please say yes." She paused and then continued, "I can't tell you how important this is. You see, my mother, Andy Taylor, and her best friend, Marty Harris, are personally involved. Andy is Nita's mother, too, while Marty is Nita's mother-in-law, so... "You see, the whole thing is a super fund-raiser for the United Negro College Fund. It's an organization to which Andy — and now Marty — have contributed millions!" Jill was bewildered. "I certainly understand it's an important event, Caitie, and I'll certainly come, particularly with you asking me, too, but..." "But what?" Shaking her head Jill replied, "I really don't see that I have anything to bring to the party. Anything at all!" With that Caitie began to laugh. "Jill, let me give you the hot scoop: What you bring to the party is utterly vital. You, dear girl, are going to decide which outfits will be shown ... and which models will wear them!" "What?" Jill nearly screamed. "What are you talking about? Nita Lucas is the world's foremost fashion authority—" "I'm sorry, Jill," Caitie interrupted. "She insists that you now have that title. She claims you're never wrong! Furthermore, she told anyone who would listen that you called last season exactly right. And you're the only person to Nita's knowledge who did!" After a pause Caitie continued, "And as an indication of the event's importance — and your importance to the event — Kris Harris, Marty's daughter, is dispatching her husband's personal plane down to Lexington to pick you up Monday morning. Incidentally, he owns Executive Aviation outright, so the aircraft is absolutely the best in the fleet. It will be on the ground at Blue Grass Airport waiting to takeoff any time after seven. Okay?" "I said yes awhile ago," Jill reminded her. Then she grinned and added, "I really can't tell you how excited I am. I've never been to New York before. In fact, I don't think I've ever been out of Kentucky." Then she snapped her fingers and corrected herself. "No, that's not true. I've been to Cincinnati a few times." Caitie just giggled and then the call terminated. "Well, as I guess you all just heard: I'm going to New York Monday morning. I guess Sister Melanie will have to hold the fort by herself." While the phone conversation had been in progress, the two boys had occupied themselves by eating out their lovers' pussies and licking the girls' cum cream from their thighs. In the same way the girls had decided they loved the taste of their lovers' cum, the guys loved the girls' pussy juices. Both girls ended up collapsed over the backs of their lovers after more orgasms than either cared to count. The boys having finished their brunch, the four went back to their rooms to dress. With a happy grin, Tanya informed them that it was time to meet the true loves of their lives. "But I thought I was the love of your life?" Mike protested. Trying to look thoughtful — and failing miserably — Tanya replied, "Well ... I guess you're a close number two." In the process the guys learned something else: Both had complete wardrobes already in their new rooms. Since the tailors at Josef's had taken such a comprehensive set of measurements, appropriate sizes were readily determined. Emerging from the house they found that the temperature was up in the thirties and still climbing. They went down the path to the stables and the indoor riding ring that was used when the main outdoor facilities were put out of action by the weather. When they entered, the first people they encountered were John Andrews and his daughter Susan. Susan wasted no time. "How was it last night?" Then seeing the guys she added, "Since Mike and Ben are still here, I guess it was okay." "It couldn't have been better!" the two girls exclaimed simultaneously. Then they explained to the guys the real relationship they had with Susan. "She's our best — and really our only — girlfriend," Tasha explained. With the Andrews trailing, they went into the stable and introduced the guys to King of Bluegrass Farm and Black Silk. Although neither boy knew anything about horses, even to their untrained eyes the pair were magnificent. And it was clear to them that the horses adored the girls. While they fed apples to the horses, Tanya inquired about their racing prospects. John Andrews replied, "From our perspective, things couldn't look better. In the two-year-old races this fall, no horse has won two. Basically, the competition is very evenly matched, so the Derby field is likely to be large. Lots of owners will be meeting the call for additional entry fees, since a whole bunch of them think they have a great shot at winning. "Furthermore, although not many people have paid it a lot of attention — most turf writers focused on the closeness of the races — the fact is that the times were just so-so. And does that ever look good for us!" "How about the advance betting?" Tasha asked. Andrews grinned and replied, "I've really got to meet that Tina Harrington. The woman is phenomenal! As much money as we've raised, she's always able to put it down somewhere and do it so quietly it doesn't look like anyone has wised up. She's still getting us a thousand-to-one or better!" Both boys had listened but didn't know what Andrews was talking about. Tanya explained, "Look guys, first of all, this whole thing is Top Secret, okay?" Both boys instantly agreed. "What Mr. Andrews was saying is that a bunch of people here at the farm are betting — at a thousand-to-one — that King and Blackie take the Triple Crown. That's betting them to win the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and The Belmont Stakes. And since they'll be carrying extra weight and will have never raced before, the track odds — for the Derby at least — should be outrageous!" "Extra weight?" Ben asked. "Why?" "Because Tanya and I are where we want to be. We're not going on any diets." Mike slowly shook his head. "I still don't understand." Tanya grinned and explained, "It's because Tasha and I will be riding the horses." Then she giggled and added, "If anyone asks — and some have — they're told that we haven't been able to find a jockey able to even get on King's back. And it's true. King just will not allow it. I'm the only person he'll allow on his back. And ever since we've been here, it's the same for Blackie: She'll only allow Tasha on her back. "And since we're not licensed jockeys — and we can't be; we're too young — the statement is absolutely true. No jockey has ever been on King's back." The two boys just looked at their lovers in amazement. "My gosh!" Ben exclaimed. "You two are going to be riding in the Derby?" "Yep," Tasha nonchalantly agreed. Then the girls took their horses out to the indoor ring and demonstrated the horses incredible combination of abilities taking them through their show gaits and then over the indoor jumping course. When they concluded, Tanya said that they would have to take their word that the horses were fast. "From the very first, they ran a mile and a half — the Belmont distance — in record time. Now they're even faster. Much faster." Finally the guys were introduced to Andy and Rachel Jackson and their cubs. The guys loved tussling with the cubs and were astonished at the tigers' communications ability. They had been dimly aware that there were tigers at the farm, but the girls had never mentioned that one. In spite of the damage the tigers had done to Jumbo Jones' men, the Corcorans had been able to keep the fact quiet; there had been no mention of it in the mainstream media. After another magnificent dinner — the first meal the new families had ever eaten together — the mothers took their new daughters back to their suite and again into the bathtub. After a long soak, the mothers used the pair of massage tables in the bath to work on the girls' bodies. "Mama, I know what Tash and I are going to be doing tonight, but what about you and Aunt Mel?" Suddenly Jill looked embarrassed. "Actually, we were hoping..." And her voice tailed off. "Hoping what, Mama?" "Hoping to be able to hold you and Tasha in our arms while our sons were taking you," she blurted as her face reddened with embarrassment. To her joy and amazement, Tanya beamed. She was ecstatic. "Oh, Mama, that would be so cool!" Then she added, "Uh ... Mama, Tasha and I were sort of planning to have the guys butt fuck us tonight." Then her eyes widened as a new idea came to her. "Could ... could I eat you while Mike's fucking my asshole?" "But ... but why? Why in heaven's name would you want to?" "Because that's where the love of my life came from. And because I love you so darned much." Then to aid her case Tanya added, "Honest, Mama, we're both very good. We ... we've been doing it to each other for years." "As have my sister and I," Jill replied. Then she reminded the girl of caring for each other and then being lovers. "But, Tanya," she asked, "do you know how it's done? Butt fucking, I mean." "We've received detailed instructions from Aunt Tanya," the girl replied. Then with a grin she added, "If it's kinky sex, Aunt Tanya knows about it. And the kinkier it is, the more she knows." Then she explained that Aunt Tanya was Tatiana Harding and she was a graduate of the Sparrow School. "In fact," she added, "she was in that school when she was our age." In response to questions, the girls explained what the Sparrow School was and how it functioned. Their mothers looked dismayed. By that time, the foursome had changed places; the women were now on the massage tables and the new daughters were working on them. Melanie was enjoying the sensuous feeling of Tasha massaging her tits — and trying to see how engorged she could get her mother's nipples — when a question came to her. "Why do you girls want to be taken in the ass tonight?" she asked. "Just think: Less than 24 hours ago, you were both unpenetrated — and untouched — virgins." Then she giggled and added, "Jill and I both saw the evidence of that this morning. "So why?" she repeated. The girls then told the mothers what they had told their sons the night before: Since the guys were not yet fully developed, they wanted the guys to take them everywhere, stretching them to size everywhere a man could enter a woman. And taking him in the ass was one of those ways. The two women exchanged looks. While they had both certainly heard of anal intercourse, they had no idea what form preparation might take. But the girls certainly did and told their mothers about it. Furthermore, all of the equipment was on the shelf of the linen closet in the bathroom. The massages having been completed, the girls got out enema bags and showed their mothers how they worked. There was even a collapsible stand on tripod legs with a hook on top to hold the bag at an appropriate height. The two girls bent over the lavatory counter and spread their cheeks while the women inserted the lubricated tip and released the flow of fluid. To their shock, the girls asked for the bags to be refilled a second and then a third time. Then they asked for Bardex plugs to be inserted and secured in place. When the girls got up from the counter their abdomens were visibly convex and the women could actually hear the fluid sloshing around inside. Or they thought they could, at any rate. "What's that for?" Mel asked, not really sure she wanted to hear the answer. "To really try to clean out our insides," Tasha replied. "Let's face it: The rectum and colon certainly aren't the cleanest, most germ-free places in the body. And since I want Ben to take me bareback, I need to be clean down there for him. Beyond that, Aunt Tanya says it makes it easier on us, too, since we've emptied out everything that otherwise would be there." "But why the plugs?" Jill asked. "Moving around helps to get the cleaning as complete as possible," Tanya said. "But without the plugs, we just couldn't do it." Then she shook her head and added, "Aunt Tanya told us that one time at the Sparrow School for punishment they loaded her with about a gallon and a half and she had to keep it in most of the day while doing everything that she would normally do. She says it almost killed her." Jill just rolled her eyes. Finally it was over. Or the women thought it was. But the girls repeated the whole process a second and then a third time. The last time the expelled fluid was clear. When the girls had drained and cleaned up, again they lay over the lavatory counter, spread their buns and asked their mothers to open them up. "And just how do we do that?" Mel asked. "Use that K-Y Jelly, Mommy," Tasha replied. "Start with one finger, then add a second and then a third. When you've got three fingers moving in and out, I'm all ready for Ben." The women did, with the girls trying valiantly to control their cries of pain as their sphincters were being stretched. But finally it was over and the girls returned to their own suites, each with her new mother. Tasha found Ben in bed, reading. "Time for you to go to work," she announced with a grin. "Tonight you get my last cherry." "Last cherry?" Ben retorted, bewildered. "My anal virginity. You're going to fuck me in the ass!" Melanie got on the bed, then drew her feet under her body with her knees spread wide. Then she moved a pillow under her pelvis to get it in the air. Tasha took her position and found her mother's bare pussy under her mouth. She was on her knees with her butt high, so she reached back and spread her buns. Ben might have been slow, but he wasn't stupid. And the sight of his mother and his lover, both naked, was more than enough to get him rock hard. Mel reached down and coated her son's cock with K-Y; then he got into position. Feeling his cock at her asshole, Tasha relaxed her sphincter as much as she could and pushed backward. And Ben just popped in. While he was easing into her ass, Tasha began nibbling her mother's lips and spreading them with her tongue. Then she probed her mother's vagina with her tongue. Getting her first taste of Mel's juices, she raised her head, gasped as Ben had his full length inside her and murmured, "Mommy, you're even sweeter than Tanya, and honestly I didn't think that was possible!" While Ben began stroking in and out, she went to work on Mel with a vengeance. Finding her new mother's clit was quite prominent, she worried it with her lips and tongue, bringing her to an amazing — and surprising to Mel — orgasm. At the same instant, she achieved the first anal orgasm of her life. But Ben wasn't nearly through. He kept pumping through her orgasm while she lapped up the juices flowing in an increasing flood from Mel's pussy. It couldn't last long and didn't. When Ben started cuming, it took Tasha over the crest to another smashing cum, while nibbling on Mel's throbbing clit took her over as well. All three just collapsed with Ben on Tasha's back while her face was still in her mother's pussy. Ben fell off to the side and Mel gently pulled the girl up from her cunt. When she did she saw that Tasha's eyes were open but unfocused. The girl was essentially unconscious. Finally straightening her legs, Mel moved farther up on the bed to use the headboard as a backrest. Then with Tasha's head resting on her shoulder, she began to kiss and caress the girl all over while at the same time licking her own love juices from the girl's face. Finally Tasha blinked and her eyes came back into focus. When she realized what her new mother was doing Tasha kissed her with all her passion unleashed. "Do you know what?" Mel whispered. "You're even better than Jill, and I thought she was the very best alive." After a pause she added, "I love you, my darling daughter." Then to Ben she asked, "Are you good to go again?" Indeed he was. The recuperative power of a teenager is remarkable sometimes. With a grin, Tasha spread her knees wide and brought her feet flat on the bed almost even with her buns. The combination raised her pelvis and opened her nether lips invitingly. Both she and Mel noted the same thing: In spite of being in Tasha's anus, his cock was clean. The enemas had done their job well. While Ben was picking up the tempo and fucking her with long strokes, Mel was caressing Tasha's tits and teasing her nipples. Suddenly, she started to laugh. "What's so funny, Mommy?" "This whole situation. Do you realize what's happening? My son is fucking my lovely daughter while I love her to death." She paused and then continued, "You know, daughter, you have an utterly perfect body! And that's all from me, your mother, too!" Tasha tried to reply but couldn't; in fact she could scarcely breathe since by then Ben had her in a near-continuous orgasm. When he realized she was gasping for breath, he eased up to allow her to breathe again and than took her even higher. Meanwhile, Mel was just watching in utter amazement. Finally it was over when with a shriek like a jet engine Tasha's ultimate orgasm caused her to lose consciousness. When she regained consciousness, she found Mel using a cool washcloth to wipe the sweat from her face and chest. Realizing that Tasha had rejoined the ranks of the living, she said softly, "I'm so damned jealous I can't stand it!" "Jealous, Mommy? Why?" "Because, my darling daughter, just tonight while I held you in my arms, you've had more sexual pleasure than I've had in my entire life! And I'm jealous!" she concluded with a grump. "How about with Ben's father?" "First, that was the total extent of my lovemaking with a man. And you know what? The whole darned thing didn't last five minutes, I don't think. In fact when my lover saw blood on his cock, I think he was scared shitless. Yep," she said with a firm nod. "The whole thing was five minutes or less." Then changing the subject she continued, "And, Daughter, I really don't think it would be a good idea for you to change your last name to Brewster. Some people might get the wrong idea when you get married." Pretending to look puzzled, Tasha said, "Married? Why on earth would we want to get married?" "Because one unmarried mother in two generations is more than enough! And I can't wait to see the gorgeous grandbabies that will come from your perfect loins." With that, Tasha just wriggled in her new mother's arms. After a while the three got out of bed, shared a communal shower and then went back to bed. Mel elected to stay in the room. She was on the right side of the bed with Tasha spooned behind her and Ben spooned behind her. Tasha couldn't resist. To her joy and Mel's frustration, Tasha spent the night with her hand over her mother's tit while unconsciously teasing her nipple. ------- Chapter 15 Monday morning, Melanie and Jill set off for town in two cars. Mel was driving the Lexus while Jill was riding in a Rolls. Initially they had intended for Mel to drop off Jill at the airport and then go on into town for her meeting with Tom Brady. But because of her trip to New York and the increasing likelihood that her dream of a designer dress salon might become a reality, she felt she should straighten out her banking arrangements before leaving. Since the bank in question was across the street from the law offices of Braxton, Barrett & Clay, it made no sense for Mel to drive to her ultimate destination, then out to the airport to drop off Jill and then go back in again. And it made even less sense in view of the fleet of cars maintained at the Farm. After parking her car in a visitors' spot in the garage below the law firm's building, she crossed the street and met Jill who was waiting for her in the Rolls idling at the curb. Although the bank had just opened, they were confident they would be welcomed. And indeed they were. The bank president, John Hughes, having been alerted to the presence of the Rolls outside, was waiting just inside the door to welcome them. Although he didn't know the Corcorans, he certainly knew of them. And the CEO of the holding company that owned his bank had called him at home the day before — Sunday — to underscore the importance of the two women's visit. The fact was that certain operations people had even been called in on Sunday to specially produce checkbooks and credit cards so they would be ready when the women arrived. He was a bit nonplused when he realized that the women were only wearing jeans and sweatshirts under parkas, but then he also realized that the rich are entitled to their eccentricities. After greeting the two young women warmly, he ushered them back to his private office. Mel was the spokeswoman for the pair. "I understand, sir, that accounts have been opened here for my sister and me?" "Indeed they have!" he assured them. Then he very expeditiously took them through the process of opening the accounts. (A very senior woman in the Operations Department had taken him through the entire process the day before; it had been many years since he had last personally opened an account, if, indeed, he ever had.) With all requisite forms duly signed, he welcomed them to the bank. Then he explained the very nonstandard aspect of their accounts. "First, ladies, if you check you will find that both accounts show deposit balances of five million dollars..." The girls were stunned. Already they felt as rich as Crœsus with $100,000; $5 million utterly blew their minds. "But that's really immaterial," he continued after a pause. "You see, that amount is purely notional. The fact is that both accounts are essentially imprest at the $5 million level. What that means is that every day after all checks have cleared, we draft on Morgan in New York to bring the balances back to that level. In short, you can consider yourselves to have permanent bank balances of that sum." At that point Jill could not completely control herself. She let out a soft whistle. "It would be thoughtful," the president continued, "if you would phone us if you should write a check for more than $5 million. It's not necessary, of course, but it would be nice if you would." This time it was Melanie who rolled her eyes. Then he gave them each a Visa and a MasterCard explaining that they were effectively unlimited. "Regardless of the amount of a charge, it's automatically approved, although there might very well be some security elements to ensure that you are the ones initiating the charges." That's certainly reasonable, Jill thought. While he had been going through his spiel he had been studying the beautiful women sitting across his desk. Having completed the banking business he said, "Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Brewster, you're twins, aren't you?" Slowly shaking his head he added, "You're fraternal twins, but you're so close in appearance you're nearly identical, aren't you?" To the women, his comment was startling. After all, it had only been a couple of days since the two had recognized the fact that they really were sisters. With a warm smile Mel responded, "You're very perceptive, sir. In many respects we are like identical twins: we are the same height, same weight, same hair and eyes. Moreover, we think alike, talk alike, and will often utter the same words simultaneously." Her smile changed into a cute grin as she added, "And sometimes one will start a sentence and the other will finish it. We're told that if a person isn't looking at us, he or she would swear one of us said the whole thing." Then Mel remembered the reason for her early visit to the bank: She needed a cashier's or certified check for her down-payment on The Girl Spot property. She told the president her problem. She was certain of neither the exact name of the payee nor the exact amount. She knew what had been agreed to but recognized there might be additional charges for who-knows-what. The president just grinned and said, "Not a problem, Mrs. Brewster. If you will just give me one of your brand-new checks, I'll have it certified in blank. You can fill in the amount and payee and then sign it when you know. All you need now is to write today's date." The idea that a bank would certify a blank check was utterly astonishing to the two women. Slowly it was starting to register that effectively they both were now very rich. He left his office and returned moments later with Mel's certified check. Glancing at her watch, she said, "Thank you, sir, for your time, your cordial welcome, and your outstanding service. But I have an appointment and my sister has a plane to catch." "Oh, dear! I certainly hope I didn't cause you to miss your flight!" "Not hardly," Jill responded. "It's a private jet and it's waiting for me at Blue Grass. And since I'm the only passenger, I'm confident it won't leave without me." He ushered them out of his office and accompanied them out to the street. There he said goodbye to Mel while holding the door of the Rolls for Jill. When it moved away and Mel had disappeared into the building across the street, he returned to his office reflecting on the fact that the two wealthy women were not only two of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but they were also two of the most gracious. Quite a contrast, he thought, to the behavior of most other wealthy women with whom he had contact. ------- Before Mel entered the building housing the law offices of Braxton, Barrett & Clay, she noticed that two adjacent shops at the street level were vacant. Having learned of Jill's interest in opening a dress shop, she decided on the spot that the building, being both new and in a very prestigious location, would be ideal. Acting on impulse, she strode into the office of the building manager, negotiated an option for a lease of the two stores and wrote a check on the spot for the option price. The manager's eyes widened as she casually wrote a check, and then widened still further when, on calling the bank, was told that the check was good without ever being asked its amount. That came as a shock in view of the very casual manner in which Mel was dressed. Leaving the office, Mel went to the elevator bank. The offices of Braxton, Barrett & Clay were on the highest office floor. Above them was a fine restaurant with floor-to-ceiling windows providing a panoramic view of Lexington and the surrounding country. The attitude of the receptionist changed radically when Mel announced, "Melanie Brewster to see Mr. Brady." Initially the woman thought that Mel was some delivery person, but Mr. Barrett, the firm's managing partner, had told her that Melanie Brewster represented the firm's most important client. That being the case, she buzzed for her relief to come immediately to the reception area while she personally escorted Melanie to the partners' conference room in which the meeting was to take place. That was also very much out of the ordinary. Tom Brady was only an associate and his office was, to say the very least, unimposing. This was the first time in her experience an associate was allowed to meet with a client alone in the partners' conference room. Tom quickly rose to his feet when Melanie was ushered into the plush conference room. Seeing him for the first time, she was startled. Based on what she had learned from Caitie Corcoran, in her mind's eye she had formed an image of an eyeglass-wearing nerd hiding behind a stack of law books. Tom Brady was anything but. He was almost six feet four with sandy hair and bright blue eyes. No glasses. Moreover, he appeared to be very nicely muscled. For his part, it was all Tom could do to keep from letting out a soft whistle of approval. Melanie Brewster was drop-dead gorgeous. When he extended his hand and she shook it, he was impressed with the firmness of her grip. Suddenly he realized that his sometime girlfriend, Marilyn Hodges, would just disappear into the woodwork in the presence of this woman. Glancing at her watch, a very inexpensive Timex, Mel realized that she was fifteen minutes late and immediately apologized. "For what?" Tom asked with a smile. The smile turned into a grin as he added, "Mrs. Brewster, don't you know that a client can never be late? You're on time whenever you arrive. And besides ... the meter's been running." Mel laughed merrily at his comment but at the same time realized that with a lawyer time literally was money. He quickly reviewed what was to happen and told her to whom the check was to be made payable and the exact amount. He rose to his feet thinking that Mel would need to go across the street to make payment arrangements. Instead, she reached into her purse, took out her checkbook and the already-certified check. With her eyes wide she asked with seeming naiveté, "Will this be all right, Tom?" Then she passed over the check. Brady looked at it, gasped and then whistled softly. "If I wasn't holding it in my hand, I would never believe it. This is a certified blank check! It's good for any amount. Good grief!" With her eyes still wide, Mel repeated, "But will it be all right?" Then she ruined her intended effect by starting to giggle. "I was thinking of filling it out when Mr. Wallace arrives. What do you think?" Tom grinned and replied, "I think I'd better call 911 and have an ambulance standing by. This move could cause poor Jim to have heart failure." At that point the room phone rang. It was the receptionist announcing Wallace's arrival. Brady's shared secretary was bringing him back to the conference room. When he entered, Mel almost laughed. The fact was that Jim Wallace looked almost exactly like her prior mental image of Tom Brady: he was short — about five feet four — slightly built — she doubted if he even weighed 140 — and wore thick glasses. Moreover, he had behavioral traits that reminded Mel of a frightened rabbit. Introductions were quickly made and they got down to business. Brady had drafted the sales contract and Wallace signed it after merely glancing over it. Then Mel stunned him when she took out her checkbook, filled out and signed the check, and passed it to Wallace. "But the deal was for a cashier's or certified check," he objected. "Did you look at the check, Mr. Wallace?" she politely asked. He did, and the expression on his face was utterly priceless. It was exactly what she and Tom had expected. Wallace gasped and stuttered, "This check is certified." Then he looked at Mel, shook his head and said, "But I could have sworn you filled it out right here a few moments ago." Again trying to play the part of an innocent she replied, "I did. Wasn't I supposed to?" "But it's certified!" "Oh, that ... I had it certified before I came up here." "The bank certified a blank check?" he gasped. "I don't believe it." "Golly, that's too bad," Mel said glumly. Then she brightened and added, "Why don't you call the bank president, John Hughes, and ask him." Then after snapping her fingers she added, "And, by the way, when you're speaking to him, please give him the name of the payee and the exact amount. I think they might like to have it for their records or something." Using the phone in the conference room, Wallace did just that. And then he was visibly shaken again when Hughes confirmed that indeed the bank had certified a blank check. When Wallace protested, Hughes shut him off by telling him that since it was a personal check, there wasn't room on the amount line to write a number too large for Mrs. Brewster's account to cover. As soon as Wallace left the room, both Mel and Tom cracked up. They were laughing so hard they found themselves in each other's arms just to keep from falling on the floor. When they regained control and moved apart, Tom suddenly realized what an incredible young woman he had been holding in his arms. But then, wasting no time, Brady called the cellphone of one of a team of surveyors who were already at The Girl Spot property ready to start their work as soon as Tom gave them the word. With that out of the way, he called reception and asked for the architects, engineers, and the general contractor to come on back. The professionals came in and Mel began by telling them her ideas for the two structures. Only about thirty minutes into their conference, they received a call from the surveyors. Although their work was not nearly complete, their first look confirmed what Mel had suspected: The property ran for more than 1,000 feet along the north side of the road, and indeed most of the property was on the east (Lexington) side of The Girl Spot. Mel was elated that her idea could work. "Gentlemen," she asked, "how fast can The Body Shop be up and running?" The architect swallowed hard and replied, "Six months?" The question mark was obvious in his voice. "How about thirty days?" Mel suggested. "But ... but that's impossible!" the general contractor (GC) insisted. "My lord! That would cost a small fortune!" "I don't recall speaking about money," Mel very calmly replied. Then her eyes hardened and she asked, "Were you serious? Could you get it done in thirty days?" "With an unlimited budget we could." "Then do it!" Turning to Tom, she asked him to draft the appropriate contracts. Then she added, "There's one more thing: I'll pay a 50-percent bonus on the contract price if it's in service 31 days from today. How's that sound?" Needless to say, that sounded just great. Then the GC had a brainstorm that proved to work: He told all his subcontractors and workmen about the 50-percent bonus and said that it would be passed on to them for their share of the total contract. If the incentive were to be achieved, everyone would get their share. It was perceived as such a great idea that it went right on down the line. While their discussion turned to The Girl Spot, heavy earthmoving equipment was already en route to the construction site and work began while they were still talking. And with premium pay being offered for all jobs, the work became the top project for construction men throughout the region. When the meeting broke up, it was lunchtime and Tom invited Mel to join him for lunch in the building's top-floor restaurant. "But I can't go dressed like this!" she exclaimed. Then she grinned and offered, "How about a McDonald's drive-thru instead?" "Look, Mel, we're eating upstairs. In the first place, the Firm actually owns the dumb restaurant. And in the second place, Josh Barrett was waiting for me in my office when I got in this morning. And I got in early. The reason for his visit was to remind me that you represent the Firm's most important client. As such, he insisted that we meet here in the partners' conference room and emphasized that whatever you want, you get. And he stressed 'whatever'! Okay? Upstairs?" There was nothing more Mel could say, so up they went. They were seated by a south-facing window and Mel pointed out the white fences in the distance that marked Bluegrass Farm. Tom had been fascinated by Mel's performance all morning. In spite of being personal, he couldn't resist. "You're really amazing, Melanie Brewster. Do you know that?" "And why am I amazing, Thomas Brady?" "Because I can't ever recall meeting a woman as bright, as knowledgeable, or as decisive as you are." Then his brow beetled and he added, "It's really none of my business, but why the interest in The Girl Spot, anyway?" "Thank you for your compliment, but you're wrong. And it relates to your second question: You see, I'm an exotic dancer. I've been performing there for almost nine years." "You mean you're a stripper?" "No. A stripper takes her clothes off on stage. An exotic starts off naked and stays that way." Then she grinned and added, "It's a good thing you didn't add 'nice' to your list of my virtues, because if you had, you would have been totally wrong. I'm anything but nice; most people think of me as a slut." "A slut? When were you last with a man?" Melanie just shook her head and replied softly, "A very long time ago." Then changing the subject, she went back to an earlier comment of his. "You said it was none of your business, but it really is. You see, Tom, I want you to be my representative at the construction meetings." Construction meetings are standard fare for heavy construction of all kinds. Usually they take place once a week and involve the GC, the architect, engineers, and the owner. But due to the speed of The Girl Spot project, it had been agreed to have the meetings daily. High-powered flood lights were being brought in and the GC was planning on around-the-clock operations, seven days a week. This time it was Tom's turn to change the subject. First he agreed to represent her at the meetings but then he asked about the money she was spending. "How do you expect ever to earn it back?" "That's a good question," Mel replied, "and the answer has two parts. First, I'm considering my investment in the two buildings to be the cost as if they were being built at a normal pace. The super premiums are a write-off." Then she grinned and added, "They're going to be some people who will be really pissed when we make money. You see, what they really want is a money pit: a business that loses money in a steady stream." Tom slowly shook his head and said, "But I gather that's not what you intend to do. Why not?" Again Mel grinned. "There was an old movie starring James Garner entitled 'The Wheeler Dealers'. In it there's a scene in which the female lead accuses Garner of only caring about money. Acting insulted, he replied that he didn't care at all about money; they just used money to keep score. "Well, I guess that's the way I feel, too: Money is a way to keep score. If customers don't come in sufficient numbers for us to make money, we're not giving them what they want. Regardless of what people may say, what counts is what they're willing to pay real money to get. "An illustration of this involved a flour miller — one of the very largest — whose primary customers were commercial bakers. The company had a large and expensive staff of technical support people. Furthermore, it had filing cabinets literally filled with testimonial letters from bakers describing how a tech support person had saved his ass. "Notwithstanding all the very sincere — and very real — letters, technical support had no value! Now how can I make such a statement? It's easy. No baker would pay so much as a penny-a-hundredweight more for the company's flour with its technical support component than for flour from another miller who couldn't spell technical support, let alone deliver any." She looked into Toms eyes and concluded, "See? No value." "Damn!" Tom exclaimed. "I forgot to include brilliant in the list of your attributes." "Brilliant?" Mel scoffed. "Mr. Brady, let me give you the hot scoop: I'm a 7th-grade dropout. Brilliant? Not!" "Honest? Mel just rapidly nodded her head. "Mrs. Brewster, I said nothing about education. And intellectual brilliance is independent of education. You are truly brilliant. Moreover, it's obvious that you're very well-informed and very widely read, too. Right?" This time Mel just made a face. "Let me add just one more thing: You're probably self-educated, but you've done a better job than anyone I know with a string of letters after his or her name." Then he grinned and concluded, "How about if you give me a ride out to the site? I've never seen the place and now we even have the keys." So off they went. ------- Chapter 16 Jill Barnes' flight to New York was delightful. She had never been in a private jet before, and in fact she couldn't remember ever having flown. Furthermore, she could not even imagine the level of luxury the aircraft, a Gulfstream G-550, provided. She was served a real breakfast and was thoroughly enjoying it when the pilot announced that they were in luck. "I don't know how many strings were pulled, but we're cleared into the Marine Air Terminal at LaGuardia. That will save you real time at the other end; it's a helluva lot faster into Manhattan from there than it is from Teterboro." The plane got a straight-in approach — no circling — and the pilot just kissed the runway on touchdown. As soon as the door was opened, a silver Rolls pulled up to the drop-down boarding stairs. In light of heightened post-9/11 security, it was a marvel, but there it was. The chauffeur jumped out and opened the rear door, then handed out two women. Jill recognized both instantly. From her photograph that appeared beside her regular fashion columns, she recognized Nita Lucas. And from a near-infinite number of appearances on fashion magazine covers, she recognized Adrienne. She studied the latter woman closely as the two strode over to where she was standing. Something about Adrienne appeared out of the ordinary. Suddenly, Jill realized what it was: The woman was far more beautiful at that moment than Jill had ever seen her before. By that time the three were exchanging greetings, but Jill, being the woman she was, just blurted out her new discovery. Nita giggled while Adrienne just smiled warmly. "That's because I've put on about fifteen pounds, am a nursing mother and there's another bun in my oven right now." She paused and then added, "I'm a wife with a husband I adore, I have the most perfect baby girl that God, in His infinite mercy, has ever seen fit to create, along with her brother- or sister-to-be." Then she slowly shook her head and concluded, "And this comes after being so thin and weak any stiff breeze would blow me down the street. Beyond that, I was a lesbian with no apparent chance of ever changing my status. But then I met Scott Cameron. The crazy part of it was I was introduced by a friend of Nita's — Bill Corcoran, by the way — in spite of the fact that not only did we live in the same apartment building, we were next-door neighbors! Can you believe it?" While this was going on, the threesome had gotten back into the car and were being whisked over the Manhattan Bridge to Bergdorf Goodman. When they arrived, they were soon in an elevator riding up to the executive floor, and Jill had switched her attention to Nita. Finally she blurted out, "I just do not understand it, Nita. How can a girl, not even 20 years old, possibly have achieved what you have?" But even as the words came out, they made no sense at all as Jill realized she had been reading Nita's fashion columns for years. She just shook her head. Grinning, Nita asked, "Would it be better if I was on the shady side of 40? Or maybe if you knew that I'm the mother of six children? And about to give birth to number seven?" "About to give birth? When? In eight and a half months?" "Nope," Nita replied laconically. "Probably next week ... Monday, I guess." Turning to Adrienne she asked, "What do you think? Monday morning at my place? I'll call Dorie Jackson and see if she's free." Shaking her head she added, "We've never had the nerve to try a circumcision ourselves." Jill's head had been going back and forth between her two friends like a spectator at a tennis match. "Do you mean what I think you mean? You're both going to deliver babies next Monday morning?" Then shaking her head firmly she added, "That's flat-out impossible!" By that time they had entered the most sumptuous office Jill had ever seen. When she commented on it, Nita just shrugged and said, "They like to keep me happy here at Bergdorf's." "Yeah," Adrienne commented drily. "Just about every year the Board of Directors asks her what position she would like for the following year. And the offer extends to any position in the company, starting with CEO." She giggled and added, "She insists she's happy being Executive Vice President & Fashion Director ... along with about eight weeks vacation a year." Returning to her earlier topic, Jill remarked, "Pregnancy? Babies?" The three women were in Nita's office and the two expectant mothers stripped. Both women, like Jill herself, had all-over tans. Nita's belly was flat while Adrienne's had a darling little bulge. Moving behind the two who were side by side, Jill reached around Nita's back and gently placed her fingers on the woman's abdomen. Instantly, she could feel movement in the woman's belly. Jill repeated the process with Adrienne who commented, "My husband, Scott, loves seeing my belly swell a bit, so that's what I do." "I don't understand." "Well, you see how flat Nita is. The fact is we can control the swelling from nothing — her — to full bore, but nobody we know with our peculiar powers has ever gone that far. Probably the greatest swelling was Tina Harrington's, but that was only because her husband is an artist and wanted to do a series of pregnant nudes. But she only went about halfway." "But ... but what about this Monday morning stuff?" Nita answered the question. "Oh, that ... The fact is that we can control the delivery to a degree. It's no biggie. And it avoids any of that labor-at-three-o'clock-in-the-morning nonsense." Finally they were about to get down to work, but first Nita had a little confession to make. "Jill, I guess we really got you up here under false pretenses. We said it was to see the latest fashions for next season at private showings. The fact is," she confessed, "we want you to select the outfits to be shown at the UNCF show." She paused and then elaborated, "It's a really big deal. My mother, Andy Taylor, and my mother-in-law and Andy's best friend, Marty Harris are running it. And Caitie Corcoran is in it up to her neck, too." Again she paused before continuing, "It's being held at Symphony Hall in Lincoln Center, which is even being remodeled to provide a runway. "Anyway," she repeated, "the selection of outfits to be shown is all yours." Jill just swallowed hard. The three then went into an adjoining conference room with a big table on which they could spread out the outfits that had been submitted for possible inclusion in the show. Everyone who was anyone in women's fashions had submitted entries. After being told by the experts — Nita and Adrienne — how many outfits could be shown in the time available, Jill started right in. The two experts were astounded at the speed with which Jill went through the submissions and made her selections. Even though she appeared to only glance at each one, if either of the other two questioned a decision — either acceptance or rejection — Jill instantly gave a detailed explanation for her choice. In every case, her reasoning was convincing. There was one outfit, though, that caused Jill to hesitate before rejecting it. When Nita raised a question, Jill replied, "It's utterly spectacular! The problem is there are only about fifty women alive who could wear it. And frankly, if you're filling Lincoln Center, you're going to be doing it with a large number of ordinary-type women. I want to focus on outfits that they could realistically consider wearing, and this isn't one of them. This requires a woman with an utterly perfect body." Hearing Jill's explanation, Nita picked up the phone and spoke into it quietly. No sooner had she hung up than it rang. It was Melanie for Jill telling her that she had rented retail space for her idea, Styles of Lexington. Jill was thrilled. At that point models started trooping in with outfits the two had preselected as being suitable for Jill herself. To the amusement of the pair — and to the chagrin of the relevant model — in every case the outfit looked far better on Jill than on the model chosen to show it off. When the three were alone for a moment between models, Adrienne feigned sadness and commented, "This is awful! Do you realize, Jill Barnes, that every damned one of these models is in the thousand-dollar-an-hour set, or very close to it? And with your beauty, your poise and your gracefulness, you outshine — and outperform — every single one of them!" Then she pretended to grump, "Not fair!" At that point a woman came in carrying an outfit on a hanger. After carefully laying it out on the conference table, she withdrew without speaking a word. Very casually Nita said, "That's for you, Jill. Try it on." Again Jill stripped to her thong and slipped into the dress. As she held it up before slipping it on she realized it was the outfit that earlier she had said could only be worn by about fifty women in the world. She slipped it on and turned to her friends for their opinion. "She's right, you know, Nita," Adrienne remarked. "Only I think she might be generous with her number: I think fifty women might be too high." "But whatever the true number is, there's one thing for damn sure," Nita added. "Whatever the number is, Jill's included in the group." To Jill she said, "On you it's utterly spectacular!" The three had taken a break and were eating delicatessen sandwiches that had been brought in when something occurred to Jill. "What about bathing suits? Aren't there going to be any?" "Oh, sure," Nita replied. "But we've already taken care of them." And that's all she said on the subject. Trouble arose when they went to match the selected outfits with available models. In spite of the show being for the benefit of the United Negro College Fund, there was only a single black model. Adrienne explained that there weren't many to begin with in the top tier, and virtually all had prior bookings all around the world. "The only one we could get was Charlene Davis." She made a face when she mentioned the name. "What's wrong with Charlene Davis?" Jill asked. "Why the face? She looks lovely to me." "She is," Adrienne replied. "But..." "But what?" Slowly shaking her head Adrienne replied, "Two things: She's dumb as a post and a klutz besides." Looking directly at Jill she said, "Because of the background of this show we would normally have Charlene showing about twice as many outfits as any other model, but we can't. Unfortunately, you can't give her more than about half as many as anyone else." She went on to explain that, due to her exceptional beauty, at the outset Charlene was in heavy demand at the highest prices. But that situation didn't last very long. Virtually every top photographer had tried to use her at one time or another, but all had experienced the same thing: It took at least three times longer to get a usable shot with Charlene than with any other top model. "The only way we can command top hourly rates is if we can give them the shot they want in the least possible time. And Charlene's not even in that game." Shaking her head Adrienne continued, "I'll be very honest: Frankly, I'm scared to use Charlene. And I'm not kidding when I say every time she goes out on a runway, I'm afraid she's going to fall off. And, believe it or not, she has ... and more than once." "Oh, shit," Jill murmured. Again Nita and Adrienne were astonished with Jill's speed matching models to outfits. Nita commented that Jill had accomplished more in a few hours than anyone else they knew of could have done in as many days. "You're really amazing, Jill Barnes. If you're going to be as good selecting women's wear for your new shop as you've been selecting items for our show, Styles of Lexington is going to be a smash!" "Look, guys," Jill replied thoughtfully, "when we chatted online the other night, I wanted to bounce off some of my thoughts and ideas. Now that I know who you both really are, you're ideal." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "First of all, I wanted to check out some things with you. Is it true that in high-end women's fashions, the most expensive element is the designer's label?" "If you're asking if the retail margin on very high-end items is far higher than normal, you're absolutely right. But why do you ask?" Nita replied. "Because," Jill replied, "what I've been thinking of doing is offering the highest-end fashions at a flat fifty-percent-off suggested retail." Nita just gasped while Adrienne giggled. "If you do that, Jill Barnes," Nita responded, "all I can say is it's a damned good thing that Lexington is more than 500 miles from New York. You would kill us! But why? And will the manufacturers let you?" "What I'm thinking of doing relates to your last question. I think they'll let me do it ... provided I don't say I'm doing it. And that's what I intend to do. Everything will be price-tagged, but there won't be any markdowns. The price will just be half of what anyone else would charge." Adrienne softly whistled. Nita asked, "Where did that idea come from?" "It's funny. I actually got it from something my sister, Melanie, is going to do with The Girl Spot. That's the strip club where we both work ... or did when it was still open. "The thing she's going to do relates to the liquors served. As I'm sure you both know, at any bar a call-brand drink is more expensive than a bar-brand drink." She giggled and continued, "But what she's planning on doing is using call brands as bar brands. The joker is that if a customer orders a Beefeater martini, he pays the call-brand price. But if he just orders a martini, he still gets Beefeater, but at the bar-brand price. "Similarly, with bourbon. Maker's Mark is going to be her bar brand. And so it goes. "The thing is — and this is the translation to Styles — nothing will ever be said. On the other hand, there aren't going to be any tricks. Bar gin will be poured from a Beefeater's bottle. So if a customer is paying attention, he can save some money. Similarly, if a woman is paying attention, she'll realize she's getting designer clothes at fifty-percent off." Nita and Adrienne exchanged looks. Then Adrienne said, "Believe it or not, you're going to be getting top models flying down there from here for their own wardrobes. Because we're in the trade, we routinely get discounts, but nothing close to fifty percent. And believe me, with the money top models spend on clothes in a year, the savings would easily cover the plane fare." Jill continued, "You two know most of the top models, don't you?" "Between us, I guess we do," Nita conceded. "Of course it helps that the very top model is sitting here beside us. But what's on your mind?" "It's an idea I've had," Jill began. "And now Mel tells me that she's rented space for me in probably the top pedestrian-traffic location in Lexington. "What I'm thinking about doing is using a couple of the windows for about a week before we officially open and have a one-hour fashion show during lunch hour." Her eyes brightened as she developed her idea. Clearly, she was excited. "What I would really love to do would be to use models who've been cover girls. Then we would start each day's show with a blown-up version of the cover sitting on an easel in the window. Then the model appears wearing the identical outfit and strikes the identical pose. "Then we continue with the new things I'll be carrying. There will be full credit to both the model and the manufacturer." With her eyes wide, Jill concluded, "What do you two think?" The two exchanged looks and Adrienne said, "Nita, you're the retailing guru. I'll defer to you on this one." Nita was excited. "I think it will be the ultimate knock-your-socks-off store opening, is what I think." Slowly she shook her head and continued, "Good grief! The publicity! I'll lay any money that after the first day the police will be blockading that block to vehicle traffic so the people can spill out into the street. There will be press and TV coverage without having to spend a dime. "Furthermore, it will be topnotch coverage, too. I can see it now in my mind's eye: The evening news featuring which world-famous models appeared at Styles that day." Picking up on her friend's excitement, Adrienne chimed in, "And I can guarantee the appearance of as many top-name models as you might want." Then the gorgeous woman blushed and stammered, "Uh ... could ... would ... you possibly be interested... in me?" Jill was stunned. "You're kidding! You've got to be kidding! Adrienne herself appearing in Lexington, Kentucky?" Very softly Adrienne continued, "I guess I've really been on a number of covers. I could appear every day from a different cover ... from Vogue ... from Glamour... from..." "Good heavens!" Jill exclaimed. "Not only could you appear in a different cover, every day could be from a different magazine." Looking at her new friend skeptically she continued, "But you're just teasing me, aren't you?" Before Adrienne could respond, Nita did. "The hell she's teasing! Jill Barnes, let me give you the facts of life: I've known Adrienne for more years than I care to count, but I've never seen her as excited about anything as she is about appearing at your store." Jill was finally convinced. They then spent the next hours filling out the details. The target date was mid-March as spring was coming to the bluegrass country and the flowering trees and shrubs would be in bloom. Transportation would be by private jet and the girls would be staying at Bluegrass Farm. When she told Adrienne about the farm's facilities, the model just sighed and said, "Good grief! We'll be getting an all-expense-paid super vacation in one of the most beautiful places in the country at its most beautiful time of the year." With another sigh she added, "I can almost smell those lovely flowers now." Nita just shook her head. "Adrienne, do you realize that last Friday we were behind the 8-ball with respect to the fashion show? We had weeks' worth of work but less than a week to do it in. And then Wonder Woman appears and it's all done in less than a day. "Wow!" Nita escorted them down to the main floor where a Rolls limousine was waiting for Jill. In the excitement about Styles, Jill had completely forgotten about the question of bathing suits or who might wear them in the show. ------- Chapter 17 Jill was astonished at the level of security at the Corcoran apartment house. The receptionist checked her ID, determined she was whom she claimed to be, and, moreover, was at the top of the Corcorans' list of closest friends who were to be granted access to the Corcorans' penthouse at any time. To facilitate matters, the man picked up an electronic camera and took Jill's picture. She was welcomed and ushered over to a private elevator by an armed security guard. The armed receptionist had apologized for any inconvenience and noted that in the future she would probably be entering from the garage below. She had entered the main door only to first take care of the security matters. The elevator had only three floor buttons: P for penthouse, L for lobby, and G for garage. The garage button required a key to activate it. Presumably the car was set up that way so that casual guests wouldn't find themselves in the garage by mistake. The car was fully paneled in furniture-grade fruitwood and even had an upholstered bench at the rear. The rear wall of the elevator car was mirrored and had a beautiful Christmas wreath hanging along with Christmas greens in flower holders in the corners. The car rose quickly but very smoothly in its shaft and then came to an equally smooth stop. As it came to a stop and the doors opened, Jill was grateful that Nita had sent her purchases on ahead. Her acquisitions — she was still fighting with Nita over whether or not she would be allowed to pay — were so voluminous, Jill realized there wouldn't have been room in the elevator car for them all. She found herself in a small elevator lobby that appeared to be an extension of the car itself. The paneling was the same, the mirror was the same, and even the Christmas decorations matched. Because she was feeling grubby after her trip and the day-long planning for the fashion show, Jill had chosen not to wear any of her new outfits. Rather, she was still wearing Levi's, a sweatshirt and a parka. Before she could even ring the bell, the door was opened by a beautiful young woman who appeared to be even younger than she was. The girl had sun-streaked brown hair and incredible gray eyes. Her hand was extended in greeting as she said, "Hi, Jill Barnes. I'm Susie Sloan and I'm delighted to meet you. Won't you please come in?" Although Jill didn't know it at the time, what had just happened was truly remarkable. For she had just become only the third person — Bill and Caitie Corcoran were the first two — to ever see the full-size Susie. And as was often the case, Susie was wearing skin-tight low-rise Levi's along with a truly ratty chambray work shirt with the tails knotted below her braless tits. Susie looked at Jill up and down. Her parka was open and her University of Kentucky sweatshirt was showing. Then with her eyes wide Susie said, "Golly! Caitie didn't warn me that you would be so formally dressed. Do I need to change?" Then she ruined the effect by giggling. "Caitie's out in the kitchen. Shall we?" While Susie was hanging her coat, Jill was looking around and her eyes widened. Beyond the entrance hall was an incredible living room with a cathedral ceiling. Beyond the glass wall facing her was the pool deck with all of the shrubbery hung with tiny Christmas lights. "It's pretty cold and windy out there," Susie commented, "but the pool's heated, of course, so if you really want to... ?" Jill just shivered and grinned, "I think I'll take a pass for right now. After all, I'm from the Sunny South." "South?" Susie asked skeptically with an eyebrow raised. "Yes, South!" Jill replied emphatically. "It's south of the Ohio River, so..." Susie just giggled again and led the way to the kitchen. There Jill got her first look at Caitie Corcoran, and she gasped. She couldn't help herself. Like Jill herself, Caitie had golden blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes and an all-over tan. All she was wearing were a pair of Levi's cut-offs and an apron. She was about an inch shorter than Jill. Seeing the look of amazement on Jill's face, Caitie looked down at herself and giggled. The sound was lovely. "I'm still playing cow for my daughter, Andy," she explained. "And can you believe it? There's another bun rising in the oven already!" Jill couldn't understand what happened next. She felt as if she were moving by remote control. She found herself stripping off her sweatshirt and then slipping off Caitie's apron. Taking the girl into her arms, she mashed her tits into a pair at least as firm as her own. The kiss the two exchanged was the most powerful and loving Jill could ever remember. When she eased away, she felt herself being turned slightly to find the experience repeated with a now-half-naked Susie, the girl having taken off her top in the meantime. There was the same love in Susie's kiss that Jill had experienced with Caitie's, without quite the power but with the same love. Even though Jill hadn't said a word, Susie remarked, "You're right. Caitie's kisses are much more powerful than mine. And it's just not fair!" As she said the last words, she glanced upward, but there was no explanation of her fairness comment. When Caitie asked Jill what she would like to drink, Jill was nonplused. The fact was that even though she had worked for half her life where liquor was served and had even tended bar on occasion, aside from a very occasional glass of wine, she never drank. Slowly she shook her head. "You're cooking," Susie said, "so I'll tend bar. How about a nice single-malt?" Caitie enthusiastically agreed so Susie poured Cardhu over ice in three glasses. Again, although Jill didn't know it, this was another first. It was the first time ever that Susie had had liquor since her tortured death. Since Caitie had reached a point where her dishes were just simmering, the three sat around the breakfast table. Susie raised her glass to Jill and said, "To one of the two bravest women in the world: Jill Barnes! You will find the happiness that you have so long deserved." While Jill just looked down at her glass, blushing, Caitie was astonished. Softly she said, "Jill, I'm sure you don't recognized the significance of what Susie just said. You see, you are sitting with Saint Susan Sloan: saint, martyr, angel, and now archangel." Jill was stunned. Then Caitie proceeded to give her Susie's background in detail. She concluded by saying, "Incidentally, there have been at least two firsts in the last few minutes. You're only the third person ever to see the full-sized Susie. Normally, when she appears she's about two feet tall. Second, this is the very first time I've ever seen or heard of her taking a drink." Susie just stuck out the tip of her pink tongue. "I love Cardhu. What can I say?" Jill was in a state of shock. She was in the presence of one of God's angels. As if she could read Jill's mind, Caitie said, "The fact is she is the closest to The Boss ... and possibly the most powerful." Caitie continued, "I have a confession to make. I'm sure it's obvious to you by now that I know a great deal about you. When we talked, I think I probably implied that the information was obtained as a result of a very detailed investigation. Well, it was ... and it wasn't. The 'detailed investigation' consisted of talking with Susie. She knows everything about you. And I mean everything! So, when I heard the toast she offered, particularly in light of her own incredible torture and death..." Caitie just slowly shook her head. "What I did — or endured —" Susie responded, "took a matter of hours. What these two young girls did ran for years. Furthermore, as I said before, I endured. I had no control. These girls did! They could have walked away at any time." After a pause, she continued, "A number of people have said that your two boys are as good as they are as God's reward for your self-sacrifice. Well, that's exactly the case. It was and it is." Jill had started to cry. Shaking her head slowly she demanded, "How can you say that? Mel and I are a pair of sluts! I ... we ... have tried our best with the boys. We want them to achieve eternal salvation. Unfortunately, as a result of our life choices, that's out of the question for us." Susie started to speak but then stopped. Instead, she called out, "Shari! Pasha! Get your furry tails in here!" Suddenly, the very large kitchen became crowded as two giant tigers appeared. With Pasha at 650 and Shari at 550, the two represented 1,200 pounds of ferocity. Jill would have been scared stiff had she not met Andy and Rachel Jackson, the tigers living at the Farm. Instead, she giggled softly as the two took their house-cat pose in front of the table. "May I kiss them?" Jill asked. Caitie giggled and replied, "Be my guest. But you had better ask them, not me." After a pause she continued, "By the way, this is Sir Pasha and Dame Shari. Both are Knights Commander of the Military Order of the Bath. Both were knighted by Her Majesty for distinguished service. The service in question being saving Her Majesty from an attempted assassination. The result was a number of dead bodies — although I was present at the time, I've forgotten how many — and one survivor, missing a hand, who proved helpful in eliminating the entire terrorist group." To Jill's amusement, she could see both tigers reddening in embarrassment at Caitie's words. "She's only telling me what you two did," she remarked. "Why should that be a cause for embarrassment? I think it's pretty great myself." Then she asked, "May I kiss you two?" Shari was the first to respond. "Of course you may!" With that the great cat sat back on her haunches and held her body erect. Jill moved between the cat's widespread forepaws and started to move her nipples against Shari's soft belly fur. It was something that Jessie had mentioned to her the day before but she had not had a chance to try. She found it heavenly. As she was moving to repeat the experience with Pasha, Caitie rose from the table with the comment, "Time for me to play cow again." As Jill began to move her nipples against Pasha's soft fur she asked, "How did Caitie know Andrea was awake? I didn't hear a sound." "There wasn't one," Susie replied. "Caitie has a sort of mommy filter. Whatever Andy is doing, Caitie just knows..." "And the dumb thing seems to reinforce the daddy's ear thing," Caitie asserted as she rejoined the others. "I don't think Bill would hear it if the whole roof fell in!" Already the baby was locked on one of Caitie's luscious nipples. When the baby finished nursing, Caitie passed her to Susie who had the baby gooing, cooing and laughing happily. "Andy just adores her Aunt Susie. And Susie being Susie, she knows exactly what makes her happy and does it perfectly." Caitie paused and then said softly, "Susie is also Andy's guardian angel. And, unlike Bill or me, Susie never sleeps. With Susie watching over her, she couldn't be more safe... from anything!" With the baby back in her bassinet, Caitie finished their dinner, apologizing in advance for such simple fare. Jill took one bite and just savored the taste. Rolling her eyes and making happy sounds, she announced that it was the finest beef bourguignonne she had ever tasted. Caitie had served it with french bread still warm from the oven and a very fresh green salad. "What's your secret?" she asked. "This is incredibly good!" "The secret is simple," Caitie replied. "It's the wine." Shaking her head, she continued, "A lot of people use the cheapest wine available for cooking. Big mistake. The fact is that the cheapest wines offer only one thing: alcohol. And guess what? Since alcohol is highly volatile, it cooks off in nothing flat leaving ... whatever the base of the wine was. And typically that isn't much. "In this case, the wine is Romanée Conti." "But ... but isn't that the finest burgundy in the world?" Jill stammered. "It's supposed to be," Caitie replied casually. "My aunt keeps us supplied." "Your ... aunt?" "Oh, sure." After a pause Caitie added, "Aunt Maria also happens to be Duchess of Burgundy. And since on the recreation of the Province of Burgundy and the duchy, she was given all the land. Of course, no one — much — was evicted; all the Burgundians are now her tenants ... and that includes Romanée. She takes her Romanée rent in wine and buys the rest. I guess now she's taking more than half their annual production." Caitie grinned and added, "It's her all-purpose gift. You know how some people send cookies? Aunt Maria sends cases of Romanée Conti. "She is so damned funny, too. Aside from a Nobel Prize in Physics, she's a princess of Bohemia, duchess of something or other in England, along with a string of active titles a mile long. Nevertheless, when she comes to the States, she enters on a U.S. passport as Mary Campbell. Everyone at Customs & Immigration know who she is, but she'll raise forty kinds of hell if anyone lets on. "She's just so neat!" Since the dinner was served with perfectly presented Romanée Conti, all three women stuffed themselves. Finally pushing away from the table, Jill remarked, "I've never eaten anything so good in my life! Along with everything else, Caitlin Corcoran, you're an exceptional cook!" By this time the tigers were napping in the corner with Shari resting her head on Pasha's great chest. Susie remembered why she had called them in and asked them quietly, "Okay, guys, what do you think of Jill Barnes? She insists she's a slut and her soul is irretrievably damned." In less time than it had taken Susie to speak those few words, the great cats were again sitting side by side in their house-cat pose. "The purity of her soul is in a class with our mistress ... and you," Shari replied softly. Jill was stunned. Susie continued quietly, "There's something you probably don't yet know, Jill. Aside from being the Corcorans' protectors, these tigers are also agents of the Holy Spirit. In matters of this nature, you're hearing it straight ... from up there." She pointed straight upward. "God has forgiven my sins?" Jill breathed. "What few there have been, yes," Susie replied. "Another thing you probably don't know is the significance of Shari putting you in Caitie's class. You see, at that level there are only two people: Caitie and Bill Corcoran. Now, apparently, you and your twin are there, too, or so close to being there that there's no discernable difference." Susie then snapped her fingers, apparently reminding herself of something. "I'm glad I said it that way. It reminds me of something else I meant to tell you. You and Mel, Mike and Ben, and Tanya and Tasha are now three sets of identical twins." Holding up her hands to head off a protest she continued, "The appearance of none of you will change. But genetically, you're identical except for a few trivial differences to account for the differential facial appearance. But you are and always have been awfully close anyway. Now you're just a bit closer." With the dishes in the dishwasher and everything else put away they headed for bed. At this point Jill swallowed hard and asked where she would be sleeping. "I never thought to even ask if you have room!" Caitie giggled and Susie laughed out loud. "Jill, dear, I'll give you the hot scoop: Caitie has never even counted the number of bedroom suites in this place. I happen to know the number but she doesn't. And to keep from embarrassing her too much, I'll only say that the answer is: a whole bunch! "But no matter. We're all sleeping together in Caitie's bed. I know the signs: With Bill away for a few days already, Caitie is dying. She's used to making love at least three times a day, every day." She paused and looked up, thinking. "You know ... This is the first time they've been apart since the first day they met." With a grin at Caitie she concluded, "We're going to have to fix you up ... and Jill's going to help." Jill had no idea what Susie meant, but she was about to find out. Entering the bedroom, Susie pulled off the spread and then carefully pulled back the sheet and blanket to the floor. Then she ordered Caitie into bed lying on her back. "Now, Jill, here's what you're going to do: You're going to sit on Caitie's face facing her feet. And I'll try to go to work." The three were all nude by this time, only having to shed their pants. None were wearing any underwear. Then, to Jill's utter amazement, Susie shrank before her eyes, ending up less than two feet tall. Responding to further instructions, Jill knelt on Caitie's upper arms and lowered her pussy toward her mouth. Caitie lost no time in beginning to work on Jill's labia and clit. She had learned her lessons well on her honeymoon, often at the end of the whip Tanya Harding was wielding. Jill had no idea what was coming. She saw Susie apparently shrink her body inward. But before anything else happened, she told Jill to get Caitie's love juices flowing. Since that had been the full extent of Jill's sex life from age 13, she started right in. In no time she had Caitie gushing like a fountain. With a grin Susie announced, "Well ... Here goes nothing." Although Caitie's mouth was muzzled by Jill's pussy, the two women heard Caitie attempting to scream. While the words were anything but clear, Jill was pretty sure Caitie was trying to say something like, "Oh, no! Please, no! Not again!" Susie, who knew exactly what Caitie was saying, just ignored her. Spreading Caitie's thighs as far apart as they would go, she put her tiny hands together, slid them into Caitie's vulva and proceeded to follow them in. The instant she started, Caitie tried to buck Jill off and learned to her amazement — and subsequently claimed sorrow — that Jill was at least as strong as she was herself. And Jill's weight kept her down. That and the fact that Caitie found Jill's love juices to be utterly exquisite. Jill's eyes widened as she watched Susie slithering deeper and deeper into Caitie's pussy until only her feet were still showing. Again Jill's eyes widened as she could see movement all over Caitie's lower body, but it was caused by Susie on the inside. For an instant she wondered about the infant taking form in Caitie's body, but then she realized that there was no way any harm could come to either mother or infant. In spite of Jill's cunt on her face, Caitie began to scream as her body started to shake in a continuing orgasm. And it was almost like Bill. She would be taken to a crest and all her muscles would seize up. Susie would give her a rest so she could breathe and then take her still higher. In the meantime, Jill had gotten off Caitie's chest. The poor girl was at the point where she could scarcely breathe. Beyond that, she was long past the point where she could pleasure Jill, and the girl had been taken by Caitie to three orgasms of her own, anyway. Instead Jill just kissed, caressed and stroked Caitie's beautiful body, realizing as she did how similar it was to her own. Finally, Caitie reached the point where her muscles would no longer even respond. Jill slowly shook her head as the process reversed and Susie's legs appeared, then her ass and pussy and finally her head. Even though she was coated from head to foot with Caitie's cum cream, she couldn't control her laughter. "It was so incredibly neat!" she giggled. "Can you imagine what it's like to be a human dildo? And feel an orgasm from the inside? And in a body like Caitie's?" Then her demeanor changed as Susie added softly, "And I love her so!" "You have a very special relationship with Caitie, don't you, Susie?" The angel just nodded her head. "She's your very best friend in this world, isn't she?" Jill added perceptively. "In fact, she's your only real friend in this world. You have very close relationships with others, but nothing like this relationship with Caitie, right?" Again Susie just nodded. But then she told Jill of her history with Bill and Caitie: How Caitie had bought a sheet, pillow, and cashmere blanket for her to use and how both Bill and Caitie had brought her to the most monumental orgasms of her life. "Never when I was living did I ever experience anything like that!" Looking at Caitie still sprawled on the bed looking like her arms and legs were detached from her body, Jill asked, "Will ... will she be all right?" "As you're about to see, Caitie's powers of recovery are truly remarkable!" "That's another gift from you, isn't it?" In reply, Susie just glared, causing Jill to giggle. In an apparent non sequitur Susie said, "Yep, it's true. You and Mel are the smartest 7th grade dropouts in the history of the world." Then with a grin she added, "Oh, by the way ... You and your twin are again intact virgins." "I'm what?" Jill squealed. "I think it's called virgo intactus, but I'm not really sure. Anyway, your husband is going to find blood all over the bed on your wedding night. And I'm going to be damned sure there's lots!" Then she looked upward and said, "Sorry, Boss. It just slipped out. But I really am trying." They both heard a rumble of Divine laughter. While still waiting for Caitie to recover, Jill asked, "By the way ... Where's Dorie Jackson?" Susie giggled and replied, "She's out in San Fran with Ken; they're due back late Sunday night. It's really funny. He was traded to the Giants — and took a heavy pay cut to make it work — to get with a team that wouldn't play the 49ers in San Francisco for at least five years. But he forgot interconference games, so actually he's in Oakland just across the bay to play the Raiders. And since Dorie's adopted sister, Carol, is still out there, Dorie is out there, too, along with their baby boy. "You know what? She's not a year old yet, but I really believe — in fact, I know — that Andy really misses him. And if you repeat what I'm about to tell you, I will kill you! Caitie is going to get her wish: The next one is a boy, while Dorie's is a girl." Susie giggled and added, "In just a few years there are going to be more damned connections between the Corcorans and the Jacksons than anyone would care to count." "Dorie is expecting again?" "Of course! You don't think Dorie would let Caitie go through the agonies of pregnancy and birth alone, do you?" Of course, when Susie said "agonies" her eyes were rolling. Again she laughed and added, "You know, Ken Jackson was absolutely right on the day after their wedding." "Right about what? What did he say?" "He said no one warned him he was marrying a virgin nymphomaniac. And he was right. She really and truly is." Then trying vainly to look sincere, Susie added, "But you know what? It's said that a sexually-satisfied athlete performs better. If that's true, he's the most sexually satisfied — better make that satiated — athlete on the planet. Of course, Bill Corcoran is ahead of even him, but Bill's not a professional athlete." By this time, Caitie had recovered. And had she ever! "Come on, guys!" she commanded, "It's time for a shower ... And we all need it, particularly the human dildo here." Looking at Susie she asked, "By the way, where in hell did the idea of shoving your whole body up my twat come from?" Of course, the first thing Susie had done on finally leaving Caitie's cunt was to return to her normal size. At least it was normal to Jill. "Caitie, that's the wrong direction." Caitie thought for a moment and her eyes widened. "You're kidding! You mean... ? The Boss?" "He sort of thought it would be neat. And He's the one who suggested I move my elbows out and sort of kick my feet. I was trying to pound your G-spot but I'm not sure if I got it." Caitie's eyes rolled. "You got it! Good grief, did you ever get it!" Then she grinned and asked, "What's an orgasm like from the inside? And how's my baby?" With a grin Susie replied, "It's like being inside a cement mixer. And your baby is, as usual, perfect." She didn't mention the infant's sex and Caitie didn't ask. The three went into the shower which was easily big enough for at least six and took turns washing each other's body, then they moved into the baby swimming pool which had been filling while they showered. Again they took turns gently massaging musk oil into each other's skin. While they were doing this, Jill mused, "Let's see ... Caitie, you certainly got off tonight..." Caitie rolled her eyes and rapidly nodded her head. " ... and you did a great job on me with your tongue and mouth..." Caitie just grinned and shrugged. " ... but it seems to me that there's one of us here who's done a lot of work with nothing to show for it." Jill and Caitie exchanged looks and then both focused on Susie. By that time, Susie was resting with her eyes closed and her head in Caitie's lap while Jill had been massaging her lovely body. "How about if we get this aging body into bed?" Jill suggested. "You can work on her top while I try to figure out something I could do down below." "That sounds like a plan," Caitie agreed. But then her brows beetled as she had a second thought. "But wait ... Why don't you take the top? I've been holding Susie while you've been working on her." "Dear Caitlin, I have news: I will freely concede that you're far more experienced in loving a man than I am, but... ! For the last nine years or so, I've had nothing but girl-on-girl sex, and it's the only loving I've had for more than 14 years. So..." Susie had been nearly asleep, but the dialogue between her two friends finally registered. "Wait a stinking minute!" she protested. "Don't I have anything to say about this?" Caitie and Jill looked at each other and then down at Susie. In the flattest possible tone of voice they said simultaneously, "No." The pair lifted Susie out of the water and then laid her on the heated tile floor. Jill had done her work well; the sprite just went to sleep. Caitie and Jill dried each other off, with Jill noting that Caitie's body felt the same as Mel's. In fact, they were essentially identical except that Caitie was about an inch shorter than Jill's twin sister. After drying off the now-sleeping angel, Jill lifted her up easily and carried Susie in her arms to the bed. Caitie got into the bed and moved to the top. There she knelt with her thighs together while she rested her weight on her feet that were together beneath her. Jill deposited the still-sleeping Susie with her head on Caitie's thighs, then spread the angel's legs and went to work. She put Susie's legs over her shoulders and went to work with her mouth and tongue. She found that her sex was even sweeter than Mel's, a condition Jill would have said was impossible. But she was. Jill went to work with a vengeance while Caitie kissed her lips and caressed and pinched her nipples. By this time Susie was very much awake. "Stop!" she pleaded. Then looking upward she said, "You've got to help me! They're ... they're trying to destroy me!" The only response was the rumble of Divine laughter. Using her experience, Jill took Susie up to a massive orgasm, let her regain her breath, then took her back up to an even more shattering orgasm. She did it again, and again, and again. But no one was counting. Eventually, Susie reached the condition Caitie had been in earlier: It appeared as if her arms, legs and head had become detached from her body. Even though she was still in orgasm, her muscles would no longer respond. Where she had been screaming with each orgasm earlier, by then she was reduced to croaking sounds. Jill and Caitie exchanged looks and both nodded. They had mutely agreed that by then Susie was sufficiently relaxed to sleep. The pair straightened out Susie's body on the bed. Jill had done such an expert job on the angel's pussy, swallowing what seemed to be quarts of her cum, that the bed was still dry. At Caitie's insistence, Jill spooned behind Susie while Caitie did the same to her. In moments all three were sleeping soundly. {html-end-marker} ------- Chapter 18 Jill Barnes awakened with Susie stirring in her arms. Since she found that her hand was still covering the angel's very firm tit, Jill gently pulled on Susie's nipple and then pinched it. Susie let out a little shriek that was loud enough to awaken Caitie. Turning her head toward Jill, Susie was about to protest but Jill kissed her first, preventing her from saying a word. When their lips eased apart, Susie moved a bit and moaned. "Good grief," she murmured, "I'm hurting in muscles I never knew I had!" "Golly, Susie," Jill whispered in her ear, "it can't be as bad as what the North Vietnamese did to you." With that she blew into the angel's dainty ear and then nibbled on it. Even after a full night's sleep Susie was still so sensitized that even that triggered an orgasm. But even hours later her muscles could barely respond. The sprite screamed, or tried to. What was intended to be a scream came out as more of a loud croak. "Don't be so darned sure about that," she was finally able to squeak out. Fully awake by then, Caitie commented, "Golly, Susie Sloan, I would have sworn you were in better shape than that. How do you feel, anyway?" "This is just awful!" Susie replied. "I'm never going to live this down. I'll ... I'll be a laughingstock up there." Looking upward she added, "And it's all Your fault, too. When I tried to get away, nothing would work. You just made me lie there and absorb punishment!" "Punishment?" a disembodied Voice asked. "That was punishment? It didn't look that way to me." Susie just sighed. Finally she admitted, "That was the most incredible night of love-making I've ever experienced." Then she tried to glare at Jill as she said, "All right for you, Barnes. Just for that I'm going to do for you what I'm doing for Caitie: I'm going to be your children's guardian angel! Now how do you like them apples? Huh? Huh?" "Children?" Jill replied. "I have a child — a son — and that's singular." "Jill Barnes, I'll tell you this right now: You're going to have grandchildren significantly older than your own children. You've heard Caitie complain that a woman's work is never done? Well, you're going to learn the truth of that statement, and in spades. You're going to have babies nursing at these luscious tits for years!" They eased out of bed, showered, bathed and then went to the kitchen where Jill insisted on making breakfast. Since it was only Tuesday and the selection of fashions and models had gone so much faster than anyone had expected, there was nothing on the schedule to do. As a result, Jill had a very quiet day. After breakfast, she took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather: It was in the upper 40s. She and Susie swam in the pool and then Jill took Pasha and Shari over to Central Park. After running a few miles with the two tigers, she ran them side by side while she practiced dance exercises on their backs. When she returned to the penthouse, she found that Susie had disappeared so she spent the rest of the day playing with baby Andy and reading. She and Caitie had a marvelous dinner and then Caitie insisted on working on Jill. "Among the three of us," she insisted, "you, Jill Barnes, got the least out of last night. And besides ... If I don't get a lot better soon, when Tanya Harding gets back with Bill, she'll beat me within an inch of my life." "And you'll love it, too, won't you?" Jill noted perceptively. "That's beside the point," Caitie sniffed. "Most women hate it." "But you're not most women." Although Caitie lacked Jill's experience, she was a very fast learner. The result was that Jill ended the night unconscious on the bed looking very much like her two friends had on the previous night. She was awakened by the phone the next morning at almost nine o'clock. Caitie was no longer in bed — she could hear the sound of the shower — so Jill answered it. "Oh, shit! It's happened again," were the first words out of Nita's mouth. "What's happened?" "Remember Adrienne saying that Charlene Davis is — among other things — a klutz?" "I guess so. But so what?" "'So what' is that she tripped over the coffee table in her own apartment and probably broke her ankle," Nita Lucas Johnson replied. "I said 'probably' because they don't yet know for sure. But it doesn't really matter. Right now she's in the hospital and, best case, she's got a severe sprain. But in no case can she possibly model tomorrow. "What are we going to do?" Nita wailed. "We're going to get another black model," Jill replied calmly. "But there aren't any!" Seeming to change the subject, Jill said, "Am I correct that this fashion show is vitally important to some pretty important people?" "You sure got that one right! If this show isn't perfect, both my mother and my mother-in-law won't be speaking to me. And that's assuming I'm still alive for anyone to be speaking to me." "So this is an all-stops-out operation?" Jill persisted. "Anything you want, you get," Nita replied. After a slight pause she added, "It sounds like you have an idea. Do you?" "As a matter of fact, I do. I almost suggested it on Monday when Adrienne said what she did about Charlene." Jill hesitated and then continued, "Look, when I first glanced at Charlene's picture, I immediately thought of a girl I know in Lexington." Then her voice fell as she added, "But I have no idea if she would even be willing to do it." "If there's any chance at all, go for it!" Nita said. "What do you need?" "If it works, I'll need a plane to go down to Lexington today. And I may need some high-powered help." "The plane's no problem, but what about the help?" "Before I answer, please answer a question for me: I understand that your mother, Andy Taylor, has given millions over the years to the United Negro College Fund. Right?" "Yes, she certainly has, but so what?" I've gathered from both you and Caitie that your mother is averse to publicity regarding her charities. But the question is: Has any word of her generosity gotten out to the black community?" "As a matter of fact, it has. Some months ago there was a cover story in the UNCF's alumni publication. Mom was able to keep the mainstream media from picking up the story, but I gather it's now pretty widely known among the blacks." Jill grinned and said, "That may be all I need. But would your mother be willing to fly down to Lexington with me? And would you? Would Adrienne?" "Yes, yes, and yes. What now?" "Why don't you alert your mother and Adrienne while I make a few phone calls." Using her remarkable memory for numbers, Jill called Memorial High School and asked for the principal, Ed Brennan. Even though school was closed for the holidays, he was in his office. She told him that she needed to get in touch with Deann Washington but didn't know where the girl lived. "I could get you her phone number, but as a matter of fact she's here at school today making some money with the work crew." "That being the case, could you have her paged to your office? I need to talk to her right now! It's most urgent." Ed Brennan immediately agreed and Jill told him she would just hold on the line. Some minutes later, Deann breathlessly picked up the phone. "Deann," Jill began, "how would you like to be a fashion model in New York?" "Let's see..." the girl mused. "I guess that was when I was about eight years old. It was after I was going to be a movie star, but before I was going to be a singer like Whitney Houston. Actually, except for a face with all the beauty of a grocery sack and a body that's a straight stick, I'm all set. But why do you ask, Mrs. Barnes?" "Do you have any interest in the United Negro College Fund?" "Not much, but again, why do you ask?" "Because I would like you to come to New York and model in a fashion show. It's a major benefit for the College Fund. Would you do it? Would your parents let you do it?" "I can't," the girl protested. "I'm certainly not intimately familiar with airline schedules, but I don't think I could get there in time." "That's no problem," Jill responded. "I'll be picking you up in a private jet and bringing you back to New York the same day. Mr. Brennan tells me you're working at school over the holidays. I'll cover any lost wages. Now what about you? And, more importantly, what about your parents?" "As far as I'm concerned, I'm going to go to the same school Tank goes to," she asserted. "I don't know what school that is, but it's very unlikely to be a UNCF member school." "And your parents?" Jill prompted. "That's a different story," Deann replied dejectedly. "Why do you suddenly sound so dejected?" "Do you know anything about my family?" Deann asked. "Not much. Why?" Deann giggled and replied, "Dad is vice principal, would you believe, of Henry Clay High School, our archrival. Mother is an associate professor of classical civilization at the university. I'm the eldest of four girls, and..." "And what?" Jill asked. The girl had just run down. "Dad graduated from Tuskegee University and Mom graduated from Spelman College in Atlanta." Deann paused and then added, "They're both UNCF member schools. And as far as my parents are concerned, with respect to anything that will help Negro colleges, their answer is an automatic yes." While she had been talking with Deann, Jill had noticed lights on two other phone lines lighted, but they were lighted no longer. "Hold on a minute, Deann. I have to make another call." Using another line she called Nita. "It's a go with Deann," Jill reported. "Now how soon can we get out of here?" "You really kicked over the ant hill," Nita giggled. "As we speak an EA jet is being ferried from Teterboro over to LaGuardia. It's being brought over against the outside chance you could make this happen. My mother, Adrienne and I will be waiting on the plane in 90 minutes. Is that good enough?" "That's great!" Jill replied. After switching to Deann's line, she obtained the girl's home address and told her they would meet her there at three. "But I can't get home by three," the girl insisted. "I'm working—" "Just leave early," Jill interrupted. "And call your parents and see if they could get home by then, too. Be sure to tell them it's for UNCF!" Before she could even get the receiver back on its hook, Caitie was in the room going through the array of clothing Jill had acquired on Monday. Jill found herself caught up in a whirlwind as Caitie took her into the shower, then the bathtub, and emerged to find a hairdresser setting up in the bathroom. Caitie had selected a blue suit for Jill in a color that was an exact match to her eyes. As she was being pushed out the door, Caitie held a Russian sable coat for her. Jill's eyes widened. "Where in hell did this come from?" she demanded. "Oh ... Tanya Harding picks them up," Caitie replied blandly. "Of course, when you get back we'll have to have it monogrammed for you. But there's no time for that right now." The same Rolls limousine was at the curb waiting for Jill. And, as had happened on Monday, when they arrived at the Marine Air Terminal at LaGuardia, they were waved through to the apron where the same Gulfstream was sitting with its starboard engine turning over slowly. Jill climbed the boarding stairs and entered the cabin. As soon as she was clear, the stairs retracted, the door closed and the port engine was lighted off. Back in the cabin, she was introduced to Andy Taylor and was stunned. She knew that Andy Taylor was a mother, a grandmother and a great-grandmother. Her son, John, and her daughter-in-law — and granddaughter — Caitie, already had a handsome son and, according to Nita, Caitie was expecting again. But Andy Taylor was a blue-eyed blonde who looked to be scarcely 21! As the aircraft neared Lexington, Jill checked her watch. The timing was essentially perfect. They would be landing at about two-thirty and would arrive at the Washington home by three. The service aboard was impeccable; the four enjoyed a marvelous lunch in flight. On landing, they found not one but two Rolls on the apron waiting for them, and a truck was already moving into position to refuel the aircraft. When Jill asked why there were two Rolls, she was told that since they hoped to be returning with another passenger, five would be too much of a crowd. The cars pulled up together in front of a lovely house. Jill smiled to herself as she recognized that it was located just over the attendance boundary for Henry Clay High School in Memorial's territory. Jill led the way up to the door and rang the bell. Almost immediately it was opened by a very tall and very beautiful black woman. It was easy to see where Deann's beauty had come from. "Good afternoon," the woman greeted Jill graciously, "I'm Donna Washington, Deann's mother. Won't you please come in?" They were ushered into the living room and introductions were made. Donna introduced her husband, Jim, and then proudly introduced her other daughters, Sueann, Leann, and Amyann. Sueann, who, Jill learned, was 15, was already six feet tall like her older sister. The younger two looked like they would eventually be as tall. When Jim Washington was introduced to Andy Taylor, he bowed and kissed her hand. "Mrs. Taylor," he began, "I graduated from Tuskegee University. My roommate was in New York a few years ago at the UNCF convention. That was the convention at which you and your sister, Allison Clifford, donated tens of millions of dollars to the Fund. "This morning when I got Deann's call, I called him and told him I might be seeing you. Do you know what he told me? And I mean he told me!" Andy just shook her head. "He said, 'Whatever Mrs. Taylor asks for, Jim, there's only one possible answer: Yes! Clear enough?' So, Mrs. Taylor, the Washington family's answer is yes. Now what question is that the answer to?" Andy didn't respond. Instead, Adrienne asked Deann to stand and turn around slowly. Adrienne's eyes widened at the grace with which the girl did both. The girl had lustrous wavy dark hair and eyes that were a startling shade of green. Her complexion was like light chocolate milk. "Wow!" Adrienne exclaimed. "With this girl we're hitting the jackpot!" "Mr. Washington," Andy finally replied, "the answer to your question is that we would like your daughter, Deann, to come back to New York with us right away. Tomorrow, she will be the featured model at a fund-raising fashion show to benefit the United Negro College Fund. "Do you recognize the woman who made the jackpot reference?" Jim Washington just shook his head, but his wife, Donna, answered. "Jim may not, but I certainly do! I don't know her name, but I do know I've seen her on the covers of more fashion magazines than I would care to count. She's possibly the very top fashion model in the business. Did I get that right?" she concluded. Nita replied, "This is Adrienne Cameron, known professionally as just Adrienne. And she is the very best." With a warm smile she continued, "When Adrienne says 'jackpot, ' that's all there is to say." Then she continued, "I'm Anita Lucas Taylor Johnson, but I guess I'm better known as Nita Lucas—" "The most famous and influential fashion authority in the nation!" Donna breathed. That ended the discussion. Jim Washington told Deann, "Honey, Ed Brennan says that Mrs. Barnes is one of the great ones. My roommate tells me that the only answer to any request from Mrs. Taylor is yes. Your mother tells me that these two beautiful women are the very top fashion model and the very top fashion authority respectively. I think they're giving you the opportunity of a lifetime. So how about it?" For the first time, Deann had an opportunity to speak. "Mrs. Taylor, since receiving Mrs. Brewster's call, I've had a chance to do some checking. What I learned was that you're also a senior executive of PHA Industries. Moreover, I've learned that it's one of the only truly color-blind companies in the nation. You employ people of every race, religion, and so forth. And they're all judged by the same standard. You're the very best! "You and your family have done so much for my people; the least I can do is to try to do something for you. I don't know how it will work out, but I'll give it my best shot. I will be very pleased to go with you to New York." "Before we leave," Adrienne said, "there's something more I would like to say: Mr. and Mrs. Washington, you have the most incredibly beautiful daughters I've ever seen. And you know I work with a great many women whose only stock in trade is their beauty, so that is not an idle statement on my part. All I can say is that, beginning immediately, you're going to be seeing your daughters on covers and on fashion spreads for years to come. And I mean all of your daughters!" Amyann, the youngest Washington daughter at age 11, slowly shook her head. "But, Mrs. Cameron, surely you can't mean me! Deann is both a beauty and a love; the rest of us all adore her. But me... ?" Again she shook her head. The young girl had been sitting on a sofa between her two older sisters. Adrienne asked her to stand and she did. The girl's coloration was identical to Deann's and she was already five feet seven and still growing. Adrienne took her by the hand and drew her to the center of the room. "How old are you, sweetie?" she asked. "I'm 11 years old," the girl bashfully replied. "And you tower over your classmates, don't you?" Adrienne noted kindly. "I know I did when I was your age. And I always felt so out of it! And with all the curves of a straight stick..." Now it was Adrienne's turn to slowly shake her head as she remembered what it was like. "But just look at you now!" the girl exclaimed. "You're the most incredibly beautiful woman I've ever seen! You just glow!" "Thank you honey ... But you're going to be even more beautiful! Believe me, you will. Amyann Washington, you are just plain perfection on two lovely feet." While Deann went to get her things together, Donna Washington took Adrienne into the kitchen to speak to her in private. The woman was just glowing when she said, "Mrs. Cameron—" "Adrienne, please," "Adrienne," Donna began again with a smile, "I can't tell you what you've just done for my family. Poor Amyann has felt like the ugly duckling, and nothing any of us could do or say could change her mind. But you did! You lived through what she's going through and you remembered. To say you've made Amyann's day is the least that can be said." Then Donna cocked her head and continued, "You're all alike, aren't you? All four of you. You're four of the most beautiful women in the world and among the wealthiest, and yet you judge people as Dr. King prayed: by the content of their character, not the color of their skin." Then she tipped Adrienne's face downward, took her in her arms and kissed her. It came as no surprise to Donna that Adrienne pulled her close and enthusiastically returned her kiss. The whole Washington family went out to the curb to see them off. On the flight back to New York, Andy Taylor talked with Deann while Nita, Adrienne, and Jill worked to rearrange the modeling assignments. Adrienne assured them that Deann was the most incredible natural talent she had ever seen. "Unlike poor Charlene, this girl doesn't have a clumsy bone in her body. And smart? This girl's IQ if converted to a temperature would boil water in one hell of a hurry." Then she snapped her fingers and asked Deann to join them. For reasons that were not clear to her at the time, Nita had brought several complete outfits that were to be modeled the next day. Adrienne glanced at her watch and then told Deann to strip to her bikini. Without a word, the girl did. Her near-naked beauty was incredible. "All this and real tits, too?" Adrienne breathed. "I can hardly believe it!" With help from Nita, in no time Deann was fully dressed in the new outfit. Adrienne asked her to move about the cabin and she did, always moving with incredible grace. Then Adrienne told her to take off the outfit she was wearing and put on the next one. The girl did. When she was again fully dressed and moving about the cabin, again Adrienne checked her watch. Her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "I do not believe this! That girl executed a complete change of outfits in less than half the time it takes a top model!" To Jill she said, "Believe it or not, Jill, she could wear as many as half the total number of outfits. That's far too many for anyone, but she could do it! So now your only question is how many do you want her to wear?" While this was going on, Andy was using a telephone to make a number of calls, but she said nothing to anyone else about them. Again the aircraft touched down at LaGuardia. There they were again met by two limousines: one took Andy, Nita and Adrienne, while the other took Jill and Deann. Arriving back at the apartment, Jill used the key Caitie had given her to let themselves in. They found Caitie in the kitchen nursing baby Andy. And like all women, Deann had to coo at the infant. When the baby was back in her crib, Caitie prepared steaks for the three of them. Following dinner, they took Deann into the shower, then the bathtub, and finally to bed. Deann found herself in the most comfortable bed she could imagine. When she realized that she was between Caitie and Jill, she started to giggle. "What's so funny?" Caitie asked. "This situation," Deann replied, still giggling. "I'm the meat between two pieces of white bread." "No, sweetie," Caitie responded, "you're the most beautiful thing that's ever been in this bed!" What Deann did next surprised the other two. First of all, it was late December and the temperature in New York had returned to normal: It was cold, and on the 44th floor the wind was really blowing. And since the sliding door to the pool deck had been opened, the room was already quite cold. Nonetheless, Deann just flipped the covers off the three of them and threw them toward the foot of the bed. Then she looked carefully, one at a time, at the two naked women beside her. "What utter nonsense! You are possibly the two most beautiful women alive." Then she looked deep into Caitie's eyes and then into Jill's. "But as beautiful as your bodies are, it's nothing compared to the beauty of your souls. You both just exude it!" While Jill made a grab to retrieve their covers, Deann kissed Caitie with all of her not-inconsiderable power released. Caitie returned the favor almost rendering the girl unconscious in the process. Even though her head was reeling by this time, Deann turned her attention to Jill and kissed her. When Jill returned her kiss, the combined power of the two were too much; the girl passed out. Caitie just giggled, straightened out Deann's limp body between them, retrieved the bedclothes and turned off the lights. The next morning Deann awakened to a sleepy argument in progress between Caitie and Jill regarding who was going to brave the cold and close the damn door. When Caitie invoked her pregnancy, Jill just stuck out the tip of her tongue, but jumped out of bed, slammed the door closed, and jumped back in. Deann had been sniffing the air and realized that the room was suffused with the combined scents of their three bodies. "One thing is for certain," she announced. "The show today is going to be a smash!" "Why do you say that?" Caitie asked, startled by the girl's assertion. "Because it has to be, is why," the girl replied as if the reason was self-evident. "And why does it have to be?" Caitie persisted. "Because you two are involved, along with Nita and Adrienne. And anything the four of you are involved in — not to mention Mrs. Taylor and Mrs. Harris — must be a success." She paused and then added, "You're just the greatest people alive!" Realizing they had a lot to do and not much time available to do it in, they got out of bed. After brushing their teeth, the three adjourned to the kitchen where Caitie prepared a breakfast feast. Then the three took a shower together amidst constant teasing and tickling, then into the monster bathtub. There they just soaked and Deann first became acquainted with musk oil. Having spent time gently massaging it into the girl's body, Jill announced that she would test it. She kissed the girl soundly while toying with a nipple. As she expected, the girl's body scent was fantastically beautiful. Jill was surprised, though, when Caitie did to her exactly what she had done to Deann, complete with the musk oil massage. And when the two kissed and Caitie pinched her nipple, again the scent was magnificent. No sooner were they out of the tub and dried off than two hairdressers appeared. "Now wait a stinking minute!" Jill protested. "My hair was done yesterday!" "That's right. It was," Caitie responded blandly. "But as you said, that was yesterday. Now it's today." And the two stylists went to work. But no sooner had they begun than manicurists appeared to work on both Deann and Jill's nails and even their toenails. As soon as the hairdressers were finished, they were replaced with make-up experts, both of whom rhetorically asked what they were there for. Deann and Jill were two of the most beautiful women they had ever seen. But finally the work was done. After winking at Jill, Caitie asked Deann to take a look at herself. All the work on her had been done with her back to the mirror wall. The girl looked at her reflection, gasped and exclaimed, "That's me?" "Sweetie," Caitie began, "you heard Adrienne yesterday. She wasn't teasing nor exaggerating. You, Deann Washington, are truly one of the world's great beauties. And you're not near the peak of your beauty yet! As far as Adrienne is concerned, you are the beauty find of the century ... and I think she's dead right." Caitie breathed a silent sigh of relief. Deann's questions had diverted Jill from asking about the reason for her own work-over. And finally they were off to Lincoln Center. Caitie gave them directions to get to the backstage area while she left to greet important guests in the lobby. The two went to the dressing room and found Nita and Adrienne waiting for them in a corner. A glance in their direction revealed to Jill that her friends were standing in front of two rolling racks loaded with swimsuits. Suddenly it all came back to her: Whenever she had brought up the subject of swimwear, they had ended up talking about something else; her questions had never been addressed. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that she had been elected to model swimwear. Moments later, her feeling was confirmed. "But when can we show them?" she protested. "There's no time available." With a little giggle, Adrienne and Nita exchanged looks and the tall model replied, "We lied. You asked how many outfits could be shown in the time we have available. Nita and I reduced the number to allow for the swimwear showings." Jill was stunned when she learned how many swimsuits she would be showing. When they had reset the modeling assignments, they had ended up with Deann showing about twice as many outfits as any other girl. Jill learned that she was to wear an equal number, and the swimwear would be interspersed among the other outfits. And, indeed, she was the only swimwear model. Suddenly the morning's full beauty treatment made sense. "But the time!" Jill protested. "I've got as many as Deann, and you said yourself, Adrienne, that she's about twice as fast changing as the top models. Where does that leave me?" "Oh, pooh!" Adrienne rebutted. "They're changing complete outfits; you're only putting on a few scraps of fabric. And since you're well-practiced in appearing in public stark naked..." End of discussion. Jill wasn't convinced, but there was nothing she could do about it. She was stuck. ------- Chapter 19 Lincoln Center's Symphony Hall was packed when the master of ceremonies came out on stage. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this fashion show being held to benefit the United Negro College Fund, a group of 40 mostly black colleges. First, I want to thank the fashion industry for its outstanding cooperation and support. We received submissions from everyone who's anyone in women's fashions. We regret that the number of outfits submitted far exceeded the time available for showing them, so only a minor fraction of the total will be seen today. "Furthermore, with respect to the models, if you will look in your programs at the list of models who will appear on the runway today, you will see that they are the very tops in the business ... all of them. "Well, not quite all. This show marks the modeling debut of a young woman who is starting at the very top of the profession in her first appearance. Please welcome... Deann!" That was Deann's cue. While the MC retired from view offstage to continue describing the outfit Deann was wearing — its designer, manufacturer, and so forth — her appearance was spectacular. Jill had selected her outfit to start the show with a bang. The girl's carriage and presentation were utterly perfect. She looked like a young queen and behaved like one. As she reached the end of the runway, a position from which she could be clearly seen by the greatest number of people, there were gasps at her beauty. And when she concluded her first presentation, she received a standing ovation. Two more outfits were presented and then it was time for Jill's first appearance. The suit she was wearing was a spandex one-piece that molded itself to her body. It was, by far, the most conservative of the items she would wear. There was another difference: Alone among the models, she was not introduced by name. As she took her first step out on the stage, Jill had butterflies in her stomach. How strange, she thought, I've been appearing stark naked for years, and now I'm dressed, so why... ?" She answered her own rhetorical mental question: In the first place, the audience was at least an order of magnitude larger than any before which she had ever appeared. But second, she realized the truth of the adage that a scantily-dressed woman is usually sexier than one who is stark naked. Her previous modeling experience consisted of having watched Deann and the next two models. Jill's head was up and her shoulders were back as she moved down the runway. When she reached the end, she was astonished to receive an ovation similar to Deann's. Adrienne was personally supervising the dressers working with Deann. For their part, they were astonished at the girl's professionalism. It was as if she had been doing it for years rather than it being her very first time. Checking her watch, Adrienne found that Deann was far faster in her changes than she had been on the plane, the result of working with professional dressers. But, she realized, normally that required some getting used to, but Deann behaved as if she had been dressed by others for years. She certainly looks like a queen, Adrienne thought. Maybe she really is one. Adrienne received a surprise when Nita told her that she was modeling the next-to-last swimsuit. When she protested, Nita imperiously pointed to the suit and ordered, "Put it on!" When it was her turn to appear, the MC announced, "And now we have a surprise! Appearing with us today is Adrienne!" He paused as she appeared and went out on the runway. Then he continued, "These days one sometimes thinks that unwed motherhood is the way to go. Well, Adrienne does not! While we all know her as Adrienne, she is Adrienne Cameron, and she is expecting her second child. She is very happily married to Scott Cameron, a very prominent neurosurgeon here in New York. "And since you're all seeing what I'm seeing, I think we can agree that Adrienne is outrageously beautiful in her pregnancy!" Her presentation of the suit could have been made into an instructional video of how a model should work. She was outstanding. The penultimate item was Jill's last swimsuit. When she put it on, she gasped. It was a white thong bikini. It's single white cord passing between her asscheeks highlighted her perfect buns. In front it molded itself to her labia, barely reaching the top. When she put on the top, she realized that if she didn't have very small areolae, they wouldn't have been completely covered. When she appeared, the MC said, "I think it should be obvious to everyone that this suit cannot be worn by any woman with a less-than-perfect body. It's equally obvious that this woman has a perfect body. "Ladies and gentlemen, this model is Jill. And like Deann, this is her first modeling appearance anywhere. And yet she has perfectly presented all of today's swimwear." As Jill reached the end of the runway, he continued, "Could we have a big round of applause for a truly beautiful woman in her first fashion appearance?" The hall exploded and Jill raised both arms in acknowledgment. That caused the applause to redouble in intensity. Finally, it was Deann. The girl was the first model to appear and also the last. In her final appearance she appeared in a white gown cut down below her navel in front and its back dropping low enough to reveal the beginning of her ass crack. Both sides were slit up to her waist. She was wearing a diamond in her navel, diamond ear studs and a diamond choker. When the models backstage saw Deann in the dress there were gasps and the realization that most of them could not have worn it; they didn't have nearly enough on top and the design precluded any underwear. But, as Adrienne had noted, Deann, along with her incredible beauty, had a pair of real tits. As she swept and turned on the runway, the design of her dress was apparent to everyone. Moreover, at one time or other the perfection of almost her entire body was revealed. This time, Deann received a standing ovation. When she left the stage, the master of ceremonies appeared on stage again. "Folks," he announced, "it's now my great pleasure to introduce the person responsible for the show today. "Please welcome the nation's foremost authority on women's fashions, Nita Lucas!" Nita came out on stage looking magnificent in her little black dress. After being greeted by the MC and exchanging kisses, she took the portable microphone from him. "Thank you all," she began, "but..." She held the pause for a long moment and then continued, "Our master of ceremonies has the wrong person. My name is in the program. The person who did all the work — and that includes selecting the fashions, matching outfits to models ... and even recruiting a replacement for Charlene Davis when she was hospitalized yesterday morning — is today's swimwear model, Jill Barnes! "Jill," she commanded, "get out here!" Jill was still wearing the last swimsuit — the string bikini — since she had wanted to watch Deann's last appearance. Before she could object, other models backstage just shoved her out. Before she could say a word, Nita continued, "I met Jill over a year ago. She, Adrienne, and I have been communicating ever since. And I want to tell you all that the nation's greatest authority on women's fashions is not me! It's Jill." Slowly shaking her head she said, "Many of you out there are in the business. Everyone who's anyone on 7th Avenue is here today, and you know what it's like to put together a show like the one you've just seen. "Well, I want you to know that Jill put this show together — choosing all the outfits and matching outfits to models — in about four hours! Can you believe it? But it's true. And, as our MC said at the outset, we had submissions from everyone and had more than three times as many as could possibly be shown. "And I'll tell you something else: Jill didn't know she was going to model at all today, let alone model all the swimwear, until about ten minutes before showtime. I don't know what you thought, but I thought she was incredibly good in this, her very first modeling appearance. And I must agree with the MC's comment that the suit she's almost wearing right now can only be worn by a woman with a perfect body ... and Jill certainly has one. "Finally, for all of you in the business, Jill is preparing to open a high-fashion dress salon in her hometown, Lexington, Kentucky. And from the fashion knowledge and judgment on display here today, I for one am certain that her shop, Styles of Lexington, will be a magnet for women seeking the latest and greatest in women's wear. "Ladies and gentlemen: Jill Barnes!" Before Jill could utter a word, she was the recipient of the longest and loudest ovation of them all. She was finally able to stammer out her thanks and then disappeared backstage. Finally she was able to get out of the thong bikini, ignoring as she did the throng of people who were starting to appear. Finally back in one of her new outfits, she was led to a room in which a private reception was being held. Her eyes widened when she saw Deann, still wearing her last outfit, surrounded by her entire family along with Clarence (Tank) Brown. "My darling," Jim Washington exclaimed, "you could not have been better! You were utterly exquisite." Then he examined the dress she was wearing at close range. "You know," he mused, "that guy was absolutely right. It takes an incredibly beautiful woman to wear this thing, and, my darling daughter, that is you!" But Deann didn't hear a word. She was in Tank's arms, melting him to the floor with her kiss. Jill saw Andy Taylor standing nearby, just beaming. "This was all you, wasn't it, Andy?" Andy just shrugged and said, "When we were flying up yesterday, it occurred to me that the Washingtons might want to see their daughter's debut. Well, they did, so..." "So you burned more jet fuel sending a plane down to Lexington this morning to bring them up." "And take them back tonight," Andy added. "Like Ed Brennan, as vice principal at Henry Clay, Jim has to work. And while Donna is on vacation too, she has three other daughters she has to get back to." While they were talking, a crowd had been gathering around Deann composed of photographers and fashion designers. Nita had moved close to her side, expecting the obvious question which was not long in coming: "Who represents this gorgeous woman?" Deann's jaw dropped. She was stunned and had no answer. But Nita did: "She's represented by Kristin Harris. Kris is her agent, business manager, and attorney." Her answer was greeted by sounds of dismay. The only saving grace in their eyes was that Kris was so selective with respect to accepting clients. She was known to be the fiercest negotiator in town; whatever her client wanted, Kris got for him or her. No one had ever gotten the best of her. With that, Nita took Deann over to a corner and Adrienne brought Jill over, too. There Nita introduced Deann to a simply beautiful young woman. Deann's eyes widened and she gasped, "I know you! You're the Tiffany woman! You have those simply perfect daughters..." Deann ran down because Kris was grinning but rapidly shaking her head. "That's my twin sister, Jean," Kris said, grimacing. "The bitch! She insists on calling me her baby sister just because she's six stinking minutes older! Can you believe it?" Deann just giggled. "Deann," Nita said, "I can give you my personal assurance that Kris is the very best there is. You heard the sounds of dismay from the people standing around you? When they heard Kris's name, they shuddered. They knew right then that this was a game they couldn't win. But it's your call ... and your parents'. Do you want her?" "Do you represent your sister and nieces?" Deann asked. Kris just nodded and said, "I do now. But why do you ask?" "Because they're the best alive and the most famous. If you're good enough for them, you're certainly good enough for me." With that, the foursome returned to where the vultures were gathered. One of them, John Clark, was possibly the most renowned fashion photographer in the business. He said he had to have Deann, and could use her the next day. Kris felt he would be great for a start and agreed, subject to the usual conditions: $1,000 an hour. Clark immediately agreed. The Washingtons had to leave for their return flight to Lexington and Jill and Deann returned to the Corcoran penthouse. After a dinner for which Jill prepared Southern Fried Chicken using the recipe she had stolen from Mel, and which Deann pronounced superb, they again adjourned to Caitie's palatial bedroom. "Caitie," Jill announced, "do you remember what Deann said last night... ?" "About what?" "About being the meat between two slices of white bread." Caitie giggled and replied, "I guess so ... But so what?" "Caitie, over the last few days we've both been left with all of our body parts detached. And I've always wondered if black girls taste like chocolate, so I was wondering... ?" When both girls stared hungrily at Deann, the girl's eyes widened. "No! I mean ... You can't! I'm ... I'm..." And the girl ran down, unable to complete the thought. "You or me?" Jill asked. Caitie cocked her head and said, "Your turn. I'll just hold her ... and stuff." In no time the girl was stripped as were the other two. Caitie and Jill wrestled her onto the bed. Deann was strong, but not nearly as strong as the older pair. Caitie held the girl with her head against her belly and her back resting on her thighs. Jill lost no time in spreading the girl's thighs and going to work. A part of Deann's preparation for the fashion show had been to shave all but a small tuft of her pubic hair just above her slit. Lifting the girl's legs to her shoulders, Jill lowered her face to the girl's very fragrant pussy, and began kissing and licking. Deann was still trying to struggle, but was losing as Caitie kissed her face all over, nibbled on her ears, and pinched, pulled and twisted her engorged nipples. It was Deann's very first experience with girl-on-girl sex. She was repelled by the idea, but found she adored the feelings the two were creating in her body. Jill knew that Deann was madly in love with Tank Brown and had been his girl forever. So she was surprised when she found that the girl was still an unpenetrated virgin. When she mentioned it to Caitie, Deann gasped, "That's only because I can still run faster than he." Jill did to Deann what had been done to her, with the same result. She took the girl to one orgasm after another with ever-increasing frequency. When the girl could no longer breathe because even her diaphragm was in spasm, Jill eased off to allow the girl to breathe again, but then returned to her work. She found the virgin black girl's love juices to be utterly delicious. Finally, Deann was in the condition the others had been in: It appeared that her arms, legs and head were no longer attached to her spasming body. While she had screamed during her first orgasms, by then she could only make incoherent rasping sounds. Jill took that as a signal to put her all the way out, which she did by biting her clit. The girl's mouth opened but no sound came out; she just crumpled. Gently the two stretched the girl out, then knelt on each side of her torso and just watched. After a while the girl blinked and then her eyes opened part way as she appeared to be taking inventory of her own pieces and parts. Finally, she croaked, "Was all that really necessary? Couldn't you have just given me a goodnight kiss?" "I suppose so," Jill replied blandly, "but this was so much more fun!" Then pretending to glare at the girl she asked, "But why don't you taste like chocolate?" "For the same reason you don't taste like vanilla," the girl replied. She attempted to giggle but the only sound that came out was very strange. Then she attempted to sit up, but her muscles were not yet up to the task. So still lying sprawled on the bed she asked, "Mrs. Barnes—" "For heaven's sake, Deann, is it too much to ask a girl who's had her rug munched to call the muncher, Jill? Sheesh!" Deann grinned and started again, "Jill, why? Why did you do it? You couldn't like it..." "I loved it!" Jill enthusiastically responded. "As to why, you had a very exciting day today with more in line for tomorrow, so I wanted to be sure you were relaxed enough to sleep." With her eyes wide she asked, "Are you relaxed now?" Deann just rolled her eyes. But she was studying Jill carefully and the light in the room was good. She just shook her head slowly and said, "Jill, I just don't understand ... You've got to be in your late thirties, but you don't look much older than I. I just don't understand..." she repeated. "Deann," Jill replied softly, "it relates to your still being a virgin—" "Pretty dumb, isn't it?" the black girl interrupted. "No, sweetie, it's anything but dumb. You're being very wise." Freezing the girl with the intensity of her gaze she continued, "Deann, you're seventeen, aren't you?" When the girl nodded, Jill continued, "When I was seventeen ... my son, Mike, was already four years old!" Then Jill continued, "I know from my son that you've been going with Tank forever. How do you keep him happy?" "I go down on him a lot," the girl replied with a happy smile. Then her face dropped as she continued, "But I end up so horny I can't see straight." "Well, why doesn't Tank... ?" "Because I haven't let him," Deann replied to the unspoken question. "And I haven't let him because he doesn't know what he's supposed to do... and neither do I! It's just awful!" She paused and then continued, "It's a really strange situation: In the first place, Tank isn't just willing to go down on me, he's actually anxious to do it. And as you probably know, that's a pretty rare attitude among black men." Then she grinned and said, "Of course, that doesn't apply to my parents. They do everything and do it often." She giggled and added, "The most familiar sound to my sisters and me is Mom screaming out in another orgasm. Would you believe it? My sisters and I now even place bets on what position Mom was in when she screamed. The next morning, we'll ask to settle the bets and she always tells us." Again she grinned, sat up in bed — finally — and confidentially whispered, "You'll never guess what happened Saturday night!" When her companions shook their heads she continued, "When we asked Sunday morning, Mommy just cocked her head and asked, 'Which time? The first, second, third or fourth?' We were stunned! We had only heard two. I guess they just kept going for most of the night." "Your mother is an exceptionally beautiful woman and your father is a very handsome man. It was apparent to us all that your parents are deeply in love. I guess that makes for a pretty happy home, doesn't it?" "It sure does!" Deann enthusiastically agreed. "But it's more than that. One of the worst thing in the black community is that anyone who wants to do well in school is an Oreo: trying to be white. That's a real no-no. But with the love surrounding us at home, it's easy for us to go against the flow." Changing the subject, Deann said, "But back to my problem: Jill would you or Mrs. Corcoran please show me how to go down on a woman so I can show Tank? Please?" The girl just gasped in amazement as Jill lay back on the bed and then brought her feet up close beside her buttocks, raising up her opened pussy. "It's ... it's so beautiful!" the girl breathed. Then following instructions from both Jill and Caitie, she went to work. Deann was a very smart girl and a very fast study. Never did either woman have to tell her the same thing twice. Moreover, when she got the first sniff of the fragrance pouring from Jill's sex and then got the first taste, Deann found she loved it. And before long, she had Jill in exactly the same condition that she had been in herself just a short time earlier. There was more than a small element of revenge involved, too. The major difference between them, though, was the realization of how much stronger Jill was than Deann herself. Finally it was over and it was Jill who was disjointedly sprawled on the bed. "Well, how was it?" Caitie asked. Instead of replying, Deann gave Caitie an open-mouthed kiss and transferred the last of Jill's spending to Caitie. "You tell me." Caitie savored the taste, then motioned Deann to lie on her back. Then very gently, Caitie savored the black girl's pussy. While she was doing it, Deann was eyeing her fearfully. She was in no condition for another orgasmic array. But then Caitie sat up, cocked her head and announced, "You're essentially the same. Of course, you have a hint of chocolate, while Jill's plain vanilla..." Deann couldn't help herself. She just cracked up. But Caitie continued, "One thing is for damned sure: Tank is going to love munching on your carpet. Girl, you're just plain delicious!" ------- Chapter 20 Deann's first professional modeling session was scheduled for eleven o'clock Friday morning and in the event proved to be remarkable. She was accompanied to the shoot by her brand-new agent and manager, Kristin Harris, and by Jill Barnes, primarily for moral support. John Clark, the photographer, smiled happily when the three arrived precisely on time. To both models and top photographers, time is literally money. Then his eyes widened as he noted the speed with which Deann got into her outfit. His lights and camera were already set up, ready to go. He moved her into position and then moved her arms, head, and torso into the position he wanted ... or thought he wanted. In every case, Deann took and held the precise position in which he had set her, but he wasn't happy. And clearly it was not the model's fault: She was doing everything he asked and doing it instantly. After several minutes of being moved from one position to another, Deann spoke up. "Mr. Clark, perhaps it would speed things up if you just told me exactly what you're looking for." Clark told her. She smiled, changed position and facial expression and asked, "How's this?" He just beamed. "It's absolutely perfect is what it is!" After a couple of adjustments to the lights and reflectors, he started snapping. Then, to the surprise of both Deann and Kris, he asked her to change into another outfit, and was again amazed at the speed of the change. Clark was no dummy. When she was dressed, instead of posing her, he told her what he had in mind for the next shot. Instantly, Deann struck a pose and again he beamed. He admitted to himself that in both cases her pose was both perfect for his assignment and one that it would have taken him days to come up with himself, if, indeed, he ever would. The process was repeated with a third and then a fourth outfit. Finally after two hours they finished. The four pulled up chairs around a small table and started to eat lunch: a sandwich platter Clark had ordered in from a nearby delicatessen. As they ate, John was looking at Polaroids he had taken in advance of his formal shots. Setting them side by side on the table, he asked Jill and Kris to take a look. They did, and Jill said, "They look fine to me, but I'm certainly no expert." Kris did not respond. John slowly shook his head. "They're unbelievable, is what they are. First, please note that each is so different from the other three that there might have been four different models." He paused, again shook his head, and said, "Deann Washington, you are utterly unbelievable!" Then he explained the modeling facts of life to the three women: "The fact is, models are known for different things. When I select a model for an assignment — and with my clients, model fees are not a consideration — I think of the assignment's requirements and select a model accordingly. Each has her strengths ... and weaknesses. For example, in general, you can't use a swimwear model for a formal gown and vice versa." After a pause he continued, "But Deann? This girl is unreal! You don't know this, but I really brought her in this morning for some test shots. I scheduled in an experienced — and top-priced — model on Monday for the real shoot. "But what did I get? I got final shots better than I even hoped for. But is that all? Hell, no! The next three were scheduled over the next ten days. But now they're done and again better than I even dreamed. And you know something else? There were four different models coming in; no single model could handle any two of these outfits ... but Deann did, and did it perfectly!" Turning to the girl he said, "There's one thing I just cannot believe: You must have done this before. No one could possibly be as good as you are right out of the box!" Deann assured him that she had never even thought of modeling until Jill called her at school on Wednesday. Then she snapped her fingers and amended her statement. "That's not quite true. But I haven't thought of modeling since I was about eight years old. Modeling came after I was going to be a movie star when I was seven and before I was going to be a great pop singer like Whitney Houston." Clark just shook his head. Turning to Kris he said, "I have a small bone to pick with you..." "With me?" Kris replied, startled. "Yes, with you!" he emphasized. "What did I do?" "You left a ton of money on the table is what you did." Clark made a clucking sound and then added, "And I thought you were supposed to represent your client's interest, too. And she is a minor, after all." Kris was truly chagrined and didn't know what to say. John Clark looked at his watch and then said, "Look, Kris, I've really laid it all out for you, but let's review the bidding: First, I've already told you that I really invited Deann in her for a couple of hours of test shots. Second, I had previously booked in four top-priced models over the next ten days. But what did I get? I didn't get my test shots. Instead I've completed four assignments, and wholly due to Deann, it's the best work I've ever done. "And for this I'm paying her two-thousand dollars? Get real!" Then to the amazement of all of the women he took out his checkbook and wrote a check to Kris for Deann in the amount of ten-thousand dollars. Kris looked at it and gasped. "But ... but..." she stammered, "this is five-thousand dollars... an hour!" "You're right. It is. And look at all the money I'm saving for my clients. I had those four girls booked in for four hours each ... at a thousand dollars an hour! That's $16,000 in total. Instead, I'm paying Deann $10,000 ... and have results far superior to what I would have gotten from the others, besides. "Okay?" Kris just weakly nodded her head. At that point, Clark excused himself to make a phone call. A few moments later, he was back and said, "Could Deann do another shoot at 2:30? I have my buddy, Kurt Rohmer, on the phone. He's probably Europe's top fashion photographer, but he's working over here for a couple of months. The studio he's using is just around the corner, and he would like to use Deann for a couple of hours." He paused and then dropped a bomb: "I told him what happened here this morning, and he's offered Deann's standard fee: five-thousand dollars an hour." Kris was utterly bewildered, and her head was shaking like a punch-drunk fighter. "John, I just do not understand. Why are you doing this?" "For several reasons," he replied. "In the first place, I'm selfish. The fact is, Kris, that this young woman is literally in a class by herself. She's so damned good that even a hack could produce great work ... if he's smart enough to do what Deann says, that is. But frankly, I don't want to give them a chance. By pricing her at five thousand, she's far out of their reach. "Second, as I said earlier, she's an utterly incredible talent. Aside from her stunning beauty, she imparts an aura to everything she does. It utterly reeks with class! "Third, in just a very short time I've come to appreciate Deann for the woman she is. I honestly cannot believe she's only a junior in high school. But she is. And you know what else? She's madly in love and that shows in the pictures, too." Shaking his head slowly he added, "That Tank Brown is the luckiest guy in the world! "And fourth, relating to number three, it's clear that her education and her high-school years are very important to her. That being the case, clearly her available time will be severely limited. And that being so, anyone wanting to use her is really going to have to pay for the privilege. "Anyway, that's it. What do you think, Kris?" "I think we see Herr Rohmer — at five thousand an hour — is what I think." And the three were off. As John had said, Kurt's studio was just around the corner. They were warmly greeted and learned that he, too, had been at the fashion show the day before. The shoot started off in a fashion similar to the way they had left John Clark: Deann dressed in the designated outfit, then learned from Rohmer the effect he wanted to achieve and just did it. And, like Clark, Rohmer was utterly astonished with the outcomes. The third shot was for BMW. After dressing, they discussed the shot and Deann just shook her head. "This needs a prop..." She thought for a few moments and then suggested, "How about a tiger?" Earlier that morning she had met Pasha and Shari and had fallen in love. "A ... what?" Rohmer exclaimed. Then he just shook his head. He spoke perfect English, albeit with a heavy Germanic accent, but this time he thought his knowledge of the English language — or American English at least — had failed him. He thought he was hearing some new idiomatic usage he had never encountered before. "You know..." Deann explained. "Four legs? Sharp teeth? Very sharp claws? And big! One of those things?" Rohmer's eyes widened. "You can't be serious! You really mean a tiger? A real live tiger?" Deann just rapidly nodded her head. Jill called Caitie at the penthouse and made arrangements for Shari to be sent down to the studio. In the meantime, Deann changed into the outfit for the fourth and last of the shots. They had just finished when Shari appeared accompanied by a chauffeur. The car they were to use for the shoot was a BMW 650i convertible. Deann put on the selected outfit and she and Shari talked about the car. Then Deann snapped her fingers, disappeared into the dressing room for just a few moments and emerged wearing Levi's cut-offs and one of Caitie's near-infinite supply of ragged work shirts. "Utterly perfect!" Rohmer exclaimed. "The contrasts between this magnificent machine, Deann's incredible natural beauty, her ragged attire and then this beautiful Royal Bengal tiger ... It's unreal!" Deann teased Shari, and the tigress mugged for the camera. When Deann told her that the BMW had a smoother ride and was faster than Shari besides, a single large tear trickled down her furry face. Then to the surprise of everyone else, Rohmer produced an electronic video camera and continued shooting. In one scene, Deann was behind the wheel while Shari sat upright in the passenger seat. Fortunately, the top was down permitting this to happen. Rohmer even activated a huge pedestal fan and set it to blow at its top speed right into Shari's face which, of course, was well above the top of the windshield. Finally they wrapped it up. And again the women were stunned. For the two hours, Rohmer paid twenty-five thousand explaining that he had put together a TV commercial, too. Moreover, he explained that, even though he had said nothing earlier, he had shot Kris's twin, Jean Dawson, and her daughters for BMW. Looking at Deann he asked, "Do you really like this car? You certainly seem to." The 645Ci was one of the newest in the BMW line. The unit they had been working with was silver. "Do I like it?" Deann replied with a grin. "You've got to be kidding! Who wouldn't love it?" "Okay," Rohmer said blandly, "it's yours." Then he grinned and said, "Am I correct? You're planning on being here in New York until Sunday evening?" Deann just nodded in the affirmative. "Neat! It will be shipped out of here to Kentucky tonight and I'm almost certain it will be at your home when you get back." He grinned and added, "Personally, I think it's a pretty neat item for a girl to use to get to high school." Deann was stunned. Not only had she earned $35,000 in only a few hours, it appeared that she was getting a new car worth more than double that amount, too. Before she could say another word, though, Rohmer continued, "It's subject to my client's approval, but that's a foregone conclusion. You will be joining the Dawsons in BMW advertising. You'll have the same deal they have: $25,000 a day, all expenses paid on top, with the meter running from door to door. If you can work it in, I would like to have you in Europe for a couple of weeks this summer. How does it sound to you, Deann?" "How does it sound?" she replied dreamily. "It sounds like I never woke up this morning. It sounds better than the very best dream I've ever had in my life!" Then turning to Jill and Kris she asked, "How does it sound to you two?" Then she shook her head as if to clear it and added, "To me it sounds too good to be true." "It's real," Kris said softly. "The fact is I represented my sister in those arrangements and they're working exactly as Kurt represented them." To him he asked, "Will this include the driving school, too?" "Of course!" "What driving school?" Deann asked. "Well, it may cause some scheduling problems, but BMW sent Sandy and soon, Susan, through a 60-day professional race driving course. And you'll be going, too, if we can get the timing to work." "One more thing," Rohmer added. "Could we borrow this beautiful tigress again, too?" Then he snapped his fingers and wrote out a check to Kris for another ten-thousand dollars. "This is for the owner of this great cat." He grinned and added, "As Deann pointed out to Shari during the shoot that while gasoline is very expensive right now, it's still less than the cost of feeding her. Furthermore, unlike the car, Shari has to be fueled whether she's working or not." While the women howled with laughter, Shari stuck out the tip of her tongue. They wrapped it up for the day and Kurt offered refreshments. No sooner had he poured wine for the women and a Coke for Deann when John Clark arrived with a full set of first proofs from the earlier shoot. Kurt had Polaroids and showed the DVD he had made for BMW. John was utterly awestruck. "Isn't there anything this girl can't do? Good grief! I've never seen such natural talent for comedy; the girl is utterly fantastic!" Only then did Kris think to check her cellphone. She had shut off the ringer much earlier in the day so as not to disturb the shootings. She was astonished at the number of voice mails for her. Suddenly, she became aware of the value of being in the presence of two such famous photographers: While she recognized a few of the names, most messages were from people she had never heard of. One by one she reviewed the messages. Interestingly, John and Kurt agreed on most of them, whether the answer was yes or no. Further, they rolled their eyes at the number of also world-renowned talents who had left their most private, answered-at-all-times, numbers. John chuckled, "Kris, you could make more than a few bucks just by selling those phone numbers. Some of those people are the hardest to reach of anyone on the planet. And they're all telling you to call at any time. And they really mean it!" Using the input from her two new friends, in just a few short minutes Kris had booked Deann for six hours each on both Saturday and Sunday. And the rate — without the hint of an objection — was five-thousand dollars an hour. With those arrangements complete, Kristin Harris slowly shook her head. "Honest, guys," she began, "John explained it, but I still don't understand it. How can this girl command such fees?" John repeated what he had earlier told the women. Kurt listened carefully and then said, "There's one more thing: the scarcity factor. It's clear to both of us that Deann's hours are very limited. And guess what? Scarcity has a value of its own." Very diffidently, Deann spoke up. "Uh ... could ... might there be any interest in ... my sisters?" "Sisters?" Kurt almost screamed. "You have sisters?" "Three of them," she replied. "Sueann is fifteen; she's also six feet even, but hasn't quite filled out. Leann is thirteen; she's about five feet ten and still growing. Then there's Amyann; she's about five-eight and growing like a weed. But we all look alike." Before the men could say a word, Jill interjected, "Sweetie, you're forgetting someone..." Deann just looked baffled. "There happens to be another woman who appears to be on the sunny side of thirty named Donna Washington. She happens to be the mother of the four, and it's easy to see where their beauty comes from. She's exquisite!" "When can we come down for some test shots?" the two men asked together. Suddenly it registered in Jill's brain that the Christmas Prom also marked the beginning of the Christmas holidays. School was closed until after New Year's. "How about between Christmas and New Year's?" she suggested. "I think we could make the arrangements by then." Turning to Kris, Kurt asked, "Are you representing the whole family?" "Good question," she replied. "I'll be going back to Lexington with Deann and Jill on Sunday, so why don't I call you on Monday?" And that's the way it was left. Back at the Corcoran penthouse, Shari couldn't wait to tell her mistress that she had earned $10,000 in modeling fees. "And, Mistress, they want to use me again ... In Europe, even!" Mentally Caitie rolled her eyes. The last thing the family needed was more money. Make that the next to last. The last thing was to unnecessarily dampen the tigress's excitement over her achievement. "Shari! How wonderful!" Caitie exclaimed, then hugged and kissed the great cat. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Pasha just beaming with pride. "My cubs have a movie star for their mother! How incredible!" He wasted no time in more directly communicating his love. While Caitie prepared another masterpiece for dinner, Deann was nursing a glass of white wine and musing. Finally she raised a question. "There's one thing I just don't understand: I made $35,000 today, but all Kris would take was $100, plus $10 for gas. Why? I thought that agents worked on a percentage, like 10 percent or something. What gives?" Both Caitie and Jill laughed with Caitie laughing the loudest. "Sweetie, there's something we never told you: Kris Harris is one of the richest women in the world. To ease the admission of her sisters into college, she personally gave the school $500 million, and through her, it received two billion!" She giggled and continued, "It may not be clear to you, but for the last few days you've been associating with very rich people. The least anyone around this table has is north of one-hundred million. "Okay? But to your question, the very last thing in the world Kristin Harris wants is more money!" Deann's eyes were as wide as saucers. And you, Caitie? I know you own Bluegrass Farm, but..." Caitie grimaced. "We're up with the Harris folks. And, for that matter, so is Andy Taylor, my mother. Okay? Happy now?" "You mean..." Deann stammered, "eleven digits in front of the decimal point?" "About that," Caitie admitted casually. Deann just softly whistled. At that instant, a long-held belief of hers — that the richer a person was, the snootier she was — had gone down in flames. These people — all of these people — were the nicest she had ever met. And they were all white, and she realized, ever since she had met them for the first time at her home in Lexington, she had forgotten that she was black! It was an all-time first. How incredibly neat! she thought. That night the three-way lovemaking was the most restrained it had been since Jill arrived on Monday. The two older women realized that it was going to be a long weekend for the girl. Saturday and Sunday were essentially repeats of Friday, but with a few very significant differences. First, the designer of the white dress in which Deann had closed the show had hired a top photographer to shoot it for a full-page ad in Vogue. What he didn't tell anyone was that one of the shots was intended for the cover of Vogue. Then, to her great surprise, at another studio, after shooting Deann, the photographer asked to shoot Jill in the white thong bikini she had closed with. In no time, she was ready to go. Then, taking a leaf from Deann's book, she asked the man what he wanted in his pictures. The photographer, Guy Watkins, would normally have been affronted, but first, he had been told that Deann was exceptional in that regard, and second, he had personally found it to be true. Guy explained what he wanted in the photo, and instantly Jill took a position that captured it precisely. In just a few minutes, he had completed the assignment. "Jill," Guy said, "you, too, are from Lexington. Did you teach Deann how to model?" Jill just laughed. "Far from it! In fact, I had never even spoken to her until I invited her to come up here for the show." Guy looked bewildered. "But if you had never spoken to her, how did you even know she was alive? You're not the same age, and I doubt if you would meet her socially." "That's true," Jill agreed, "but I've seen Deann any number of times. My son is the quarterback and Deann's boyfriend is the running back on the same high-school football team." Now Watkins was truly bewildered. "But ... but that's impossible! Deann is a junior in high school and you're not even close to being 25. How could you possibly have a son playing high-school football?" "First, my son is the starting quarterback, but he's only a freshman. Second, I'm not under 25, I'm 27. Third, I delivered my son, Mike, when I was 13." When she said that, Jill was just looking levelly into his eyes. At the time, Jill was still wearing her thong bikini. For their entire session, Watkins had been impressed with Jill's incredible grace. He blurted, "Would you be willing to pose for me ... nude? Right now?" "Sure, why not?" she agreed. In moments she had stripped off the few strings and was naked. Kicking off the heels she had been wearing, she was all set. "I'm amazed," Guy Watkins commented as he prepared his camera. "Why were you so willing?" He was using a Nikon with a very large magazine and a motor drive. "That's easy. Two reasons: First, I feel less exposed when I'm fully naked than wearing those scraps. Second, I've been an exotic dancer for more than ten years, so being naked is no big deal. In fact, it's been my working uniform. Now, what do you want me to do, and what sort of look do you want me to convey?" He answered her questions and she began to move. It seemed like the strobe lights were flashing constantly as Jill danced and twisted in front of a neutral backdrop. Although she had never had professional training, she — and Mel — had become accomplished dancers. In just a few minutes, Watkins had hundreds of shots, and he was certain he had far more than enough for the show he was planning. When he produced a check for Jill, too, Kris just rolled her eyes. "Sheesh! Am I representing you, too?" "Of course," Jill replied blandly. When she realized that Jill had received three-thousand dollars for less than an hour's work, she giggled, "Well, one thing's for damned sure: Among others, I represent the two highest-paid fashion models in the business." And she really did. ------- The Executive Aviation G-550 just kissed the runway at Blue Grass for another perfect landing. Of course, the pilots, knowing the wife of EA's owner was aboard, felt they had to. A Bluegrass Farm Rolls was waiting to take them immediately to the Washington's home. When they arrived, Deann, who was sitting closest to the door, sprinted up the walk as soon as the security guard had the door open. And there, sitting in the driveway was the silver BMW they had last seen in New York City. Since it then had Kentucky license plates, it had obviously been to the Lexington BMW dealer for a full prep. Although it was Deann's own, it was registered to BMW North America as the owner. As a company-owned car, BMW was taking responsibility for maintenance, insurance and so forth. All Deann needed to do was to pay for the gas; the company took care of everything else. Kristin Harris and Jill Barnes followed Deann up the walk at a more sedate pace. It was just as well since the air was filled with the sounds of happy screams coming from the Washington home as Deann was welcomed back. In spite of the excitement, both Donna and James Washington were at the front door to welcome their guests, while the girls were mobbing their sister. Once inside the home, Donna said quietly, "Girls!" and the uproar immediately ceased. The four girls sat side by side on the sofa arrayed by age with Deann, the eldest, on the left and Amyann, the youngest, on the far right. Seeing the four girls for the first time, Kris murmured, "Absolutely gorgeous! All of them." Jill took the lead by introducing Kris. "Donna and Jim, you're meeting Kristin Harris for the first time. For reasons that will soon be obvious, you should know more about her. "First, she is conceded to be the finest personal agent, business manager, and contract attorney in the country. There is no professional in any line of work who wouldn't accept Kris as his or her agent in a heartbeat. By way of background, she has her law degree and is a member of the bar in New York and in Federal courts. She also has an MBA. "It's fair to say," Jill continued, "that education is very important in her scheme of things as I know it is to your family. Kris also has her Ph.D. in American History and another earned Ph.D. in political science." Jill paused for a moment to let her information sink in. Then she continued, "Kris would like to represent Deann..." After a pregnant pause Jill added, " ... and the rest of your family." At that point Deann spoke up. "Mom and Dad, you have to speak to Mrs. Harris. She's been with me constantly since Friday morning, but all she would accept for all her work is $100!" She grinned and added, "Plus $10 for gas. "It's not fair! She's cheating herself." Before anyone else could respond, Jill interjected, "Kris Harris is also one of the wealthiest people in the world. Her family's net worth is north of one-hundred billion dollars. The reason for her rather modest fee is that the very last thing she needs or wants is more money. Why is Kris offering to represent this family? Because she wants to. She thinks she can be helpful to you ... and I know she can." Then Deann spoke up. "Mom and Dad, I know you've seen the car outside. It costs more than $75,000 ... and it's mine. In addition, I've earned about... $95,000 in modeling fees since Friday morning." The parents' eyes both widened at the number. While the mention of the Harris net worth was a mind-blowing number, $95,000 was an amount they could understand. Jim Washington cocked his head, looked thoughtful and commented, "Golly, Deann, that's even more than you make in a good weekend of babysitting, isn't it?" His crack broke the tension that had been building in the room. Jill and Kris then explained that two of the world's top photographers were planning a trip to Lexington between Christmas and New Year's for test shots of all the Washington women. Finally, Kris asked, "Mr. and Mrs. Washington, may I represent the family?" With his eyes wide Jim Washington replied, "Golly, Kristin, poor Deann has been working her tail off for three whole days ... and only has $95,000 and a $75,000 car to show for it. No! That's not right. You've cost her a full $110 that has to come out of that." His eyes widened still further as he asked, "Couldn't you do better than that?" "Jim Washington, I'm surprised at you! Of course I can do better, and will. After all, five thousand dollars an hour is only Deann's starting rate. She had done no modeling of any kind before Thursday, after all. But with some experience..." Kris then spoiled the whole thing by giggling merrily. Kris then took out a pile of contracts she had in her attaché case, explained their contents, and they were all duly executed and witnessed. The final words as Jill and Kris were preparing to leave were Donna Washington's. "Well, Deann, since you're now sort of employed, you can pay for your own Christmas gifts." Deann woefully conceded that $95,000 would cover a few gifts. ------- The next morning — the second Monday of her Christmas vacation — Deann was the first girl to be up. Going into the kitchen, she found her mother with one eyebrow raised. "What's that for?" "You're just the daughter I want to see," Donna replied. "Just what were all those orgasmic noises keeping your father and me awake most of the night?" "Oh ... that," Deann replied in her blandest possible tone of voice. "Maybe you should take a look." With that the two went upstairs, first going into the room of the younger pair. There were Leann and Amyann sprawled on their respective beds, both looking the way Deann had looked at Caitie's penthouse: Their head and limbs all looked like they were detached from the respective bodies. Going to the room occupied by Deann and Sueann, they found the younger daughter looking better than the two youngest, but not a great deal better. Looking at her mother hopefully, Deann added, "Sueann helped me carry the other two to their beds before she collapsed, too." Returning to the kitchen, Donna tried her best to glare at her eldest daughter. "And just how did your sisters get in that condition?" she demanded. "Oh..." Deann replied vaguely, "I was just showing them some of the things I learned that Yankee women do from time to time." Brightening she added, "They really seemed to like it ... at least at first." Donna could no longer control herself. "You introduced them to the joys of carpet munching, didn't you, you evil thing." "Uh ... I really don't think that's an appropriate term," Deann muttered. "And why not?" "Maybe you didn't notice, Mama, but no carpets." The she just sniffed and added, "They'll need to be bare for modeling, and besides, I didn't want to get hairs caught in my beautiful teeth." Donna just gave her a big hug and smothered her with kisses. "You're an evil woman, Deann Washington, but your father and I love you just the same." Slowly shaking her head she added, "How could we possibly be so lucky as to have a daughter as good as you?" ------- Chapter 21 Christmas was celebrated enthusiastically by everyone. It was Tanya and Tasha's first in the United States. Beyond that, though, they awakened Christmas morning being held in the arms of their lovers, and to make it even better, their mothers were spooned against their backs. The Washingtons had a beautiful Christmas, too, with Deann providing lavish gifts for every member of her family. Two days later, Monday, December 27th, John Clark and Kurt Rohmer arrived in Lexington. They were accompanied on the flight down by Kris Harris. The trio wasted no time in going to the Washington home. There the professionals were astounded at the beauty of Deann's mother and sisters. Incredibly, the whole family, including Amyann, the youngest, had the same ability Deann did: The photographer merely told them what effect they wanted and the relevant woman or girl adopted the perfect pose. Both photographers shot rolls of film. When they were finished and looking at the full collection, Kurt said to John, "I just do not believe this! What an incredible find this family is. They're all spectacular!" Curiously, it was Amyann who was the first one used. Kurt stayed over a day to use her in a shoot for which he had been hunting for the perfect young model for months. Kris blandly announced that, to avoid any jealousy, all the Washington family members were priced at five-thousand dollars an hour. Kurt didn't even raise a question. He had already spent dozens of his own very high-priced hours trying to find a model to fit his assignment and, until meeting Amyann, was on the verge of bailing out. ------- The general contractor working on the rebuild of The Girl Spot and the construction of The Body Shop got the job done. Against Mel's 30-day requirement, the work was completed on the 29th day, and it opened quietly on Tuesday, February 1st. At least it was expected to be a quiet opening. Mel's initial plan was to use it only for The Girl Spot staff so they could get in shape — or get back in shape — before it reopened. So she was amazed to find the parking lot jammed with cars and a line of women snaking around the lot's perimeter from The Body Shop's front door. All of this was in response to a single small-space announcement ad that ran in a single issue of the Lexington Herald-Leader. Mel and the others had ignored two things: First, anything involving the Corcorans or Bluegrass Farm was news in Lexington. Second, construction workers are often very talkative, and the very special circumstances surrounding the construction of The Body Shop provided lots of fodder for conversation. Furthermore, the construction men were not only proud of the work they were doing but were very proud of the quality of the work itself. They told anyone who would listen that, top to bottom and end to end, everything in The Body Shop was the very finest obtainable. The result was the line snaking from the door. Mel made her way through the throng and went inside. There she was thrilled to see the whole administrative staff of The Body Shop, assisted by what appeared to be at least half the staff of The Girl Spot, signing up new members as fast as they could. Her astonishment increased further when, with only about half the women in the line having been processed, the club had already maxed out its membership. But that didn't slow anything down. Almost all of the women still waiting in line stayed to be added to the waiting list. It was possibly the most successful — and least expensive — opening of its kind, ever. As a result, Mel immediately called the GC and the architect. At the same time she mentally patted herself on the back for her foresight — or very good luck — in designing the facility with an eye to expansion. A check of the new waiting list revealed that there were more names on it than there were members, so she planned on doubling the size of The Body Shop. Furthermore, she changed the instructions to the administrative staff who were signing up members and now signing up people on the waiting list. Her original instructions were to limit the number of names on the waiting list to the number of members, but at that point she told them to just keep adding to it. She giggled and then blushed as the people nearby all looked at her, obviously wondering what she had found to be so funny. Her giggle was caused by the thought that she may have established an all-time record for a facility expansion. Already the wheels were turning to double the facility's size when it had only been open for a couple of hours. Only then did Melanie think to look over the membership list. She was pleasantly surprised to see that one of the first names on the list was Liz Dunbar, the young woman from the Department of Revenue. Her eyes widened when she saw immediately below Liz's name were Jill Dunbar, Sharon Dunbar, and Peg Brewer. Mel thought for a moment and then remembered that the name of Liz's boyfriend was Jake Brewer. With that Mel went into the facility itself. Her eyes widened when she realized that all the women were naked. The club's dancers usually worked out nude, but there was no requirement for either them or anyone else to do so. She found Karen Jaffrey, recently hired as the facility's fitness director, talking with Seana Dunphy, the girls' gymnastics coach; both were bare. Looking around at the women working out, her eyes widened as she recognized a number of women whose pictures she had seen on the Herald-Leader's society pages. "What's with the nudity?" she asked the pair. "Oh, well, uh..." Karen began. "It's February, it's cold and most of these women are kind of pale," Seana interjected. "And when the new women saw our girls naked, I told them about the UV lights all over the place. That settled the issue." "There's one more thing, ma'am," Karen said. Mel just glared at her while Seana giggled. "That glare, dear Karen," Seana explained, "is that there are few things Melanie Brewster detests more than being referred to as 'ma'am'. "Of course, that's sort of third-hand news. I got it from Tasha and she got it from Mel's son, Ben, so..." With that the naked woman just shrugged her shoulders. "There's one more thing, Mel..." Karen repeated, appropriately modified. "And that is... ?" "I think we should add a laser hair removal service," the girl blurted. "Oh... ?" Karen began to speak very quickly. It was as if she didn't complete her speech in less than five seconds, she would either forget what she wanted to say, be struck dumb, or both. "It started this morning. It's all the mirrored walls. You should have heard the gasps from the women who shaved themselves but today saw how much they've missed. "And ... and I really want it, too. I'm sure my boyfriend would be a lot happier eating me out if he didn't have to pull hair out of his teeth. And it wouldn't hurt me so much, either. "If we go with it, could ... would ... I get an employee discount?" "No, you would not!" Mel declared firmly. Poor Karen's jaw fell when she heard the words. Then grinning, Mel added, "No discount because the service is free to you and all our employees." Mel then learned that Karen even had an operator in mind who actually liked to do laser hair removal. "In fact," Karen reported, "that's really all she likes to do. But in her present job that's only a small fraction of her work, and she really doesn't like most of the other stuff." Mel told her to see that the girl was hired and arrange to purchase and install the necessary equipment. Then she left the naked pair to see Sam Kramer, the general manager of The Girl Spot. Subsequent to acquiring the establishment and going over its books, Mel had been impressed by the comprehensiveness of his records. Clearly Sam was fully on top of things. Beyond that, though, Sam was the kind of guy who had to keep busy. His basic instinct was reinforced by the fact that, not only was Mel paying him his full salary, she was also paying him his quarterly bonuses at a most generous rate. And then there was a large Christmas bonus on top. Sam really felt he owed Melanie Brewster. Although he was GM of The Girl Spot, because it was not ready to reopen and no one on the staff knew much about the business aspects of a fitness center, Sam was also acting general manager of The Body Shop. While it had been under construction, Sam had been spending countless hours on the Internet researching fitness centers. There were myriad references, but most dealt with the benefits of fitness, exercise routines and the technical operations of the centers. But information on the economics of them and their business practices was very rare. But Sam persevered and eventually got most of what he was seeking. When Mel appeared in his temporary office, he laughed softly. "What's so funny?" she wondered. "I have good news and bad news," Kramer replied with a broadening grin. "Which do you want first?" "How about the good news?" "I really don't know how good it is, but I have to say we're really established here in Lexington." "Oh... ?' "Yep. Guess what? We've already signed up about half the Lexington Junior League to memberships ... and the rest are on our waiting list. Melanie Brewster, The Body Shop is the new place to be in Lexington, Kentucky." "And the bad news... ?" Mel prompted. "Well, it normally wouldn't be bad news, but with the peculiar financial expectations of our backers, I guess it really is..." "Out with it, Sam! What's the news?" "The news is that within six months at the outside, you won't be able to find the premium costs you incurred to build this place so fast. We'll be in the black... with all costs in!" "But how?" Mel protested. "That's ... that's flat impossible!" "No, it's really not," Sam insisted. "And there's more: I still don't know why you insisted on the super-fast work, but it's actually going to pay off. Thinking about it now, opening February 1st is absolutely perfect! The holidays are behind us, we're in the middle of winter, tans are fading and there's not much to do ... except get in shape for the spring and summer. "But to the economics of our operation: Mel, how much have you spent on marketing?" Mel slowly shook her head. "Virtually nothing, Sam, but you know that. There was only that tiny announcement in the Herald-Leader." "Mel, you may know that I've spent a lot of time trying to learn all I can about the business side of fitness centers. Well, I'll tell you what I learned: First, one of the largest on-going expenses is marketing. That includes not only advertising — local papers, magazines, if any, particularly direct mail — but most particularly membership promotions of every kind: free weeks, steeply discounted membership fees, free and discounted special services. The list is endless! "But these are all marketing expenses, whether they're charged as expenses or not. In some cases the membership fees account is credited for the full amount with a marketing charge to offset the discount. In other cases, the membership income is just booked at net. But it's a marketing expense either way. "Then there's the membership level itself: Frankly, I've been unable to find a club anywhere that's shut off its membership rolls. Quite the contrary. As I said earlier, it's a constant expense. And often a club will run in the red for several years until memberships reach the breakeven level. "We're booked up ... in the first couple of hours! Beyond that, the quality of our membership could not be better. "Melanie, as much as it pains me to have to tell you this, we're going to be minting money, net, before the end of this calendar year!" Melanie had dropped into a chair. She was shell-shocked. Sam continued, "It seems that everything you touch turns to gold. For example, you enjoy the finest public relations possible, courtesy of the very large workforce that built this place. And," he chuckled, "even the round-the-clock operations helped. There was always at least one shift of men in the local bars telling anyone who would listen what a beautiful place this was going to be ... and now is. Whenever one was challenged, he would point out features here that are nowhere else. "So anyway..." Because of his demonstrated knowledge of the business side of fitness centers, she asked him to take over the general management of both places permanently. They immediately set out to find assistant managers to provide full coverage for all hours of operation. Having seen through the window a number of cars leaving the central parking lot, Mel thought that things might have settled down in the main exercise room. She smiled to herself because already she could hear the sound of new construction outdoors. It had only been a matter of hours, but already the expansion of The Body Shop was underway. Entering the main exercise room, Mel was intrigued to see Liz and Jill Dunbar deep in conversation with Jackie Jensen, one of her top exotics, while Sharon Dunbar and Peg Brewer were working with Candy Nelson, a top-rated stripper. She joined the group with Jackie Jensen and was startled. She learned that Jill Dunbar, a student at the university, was a student of Jackie's in a philosophy course. It suddenly registered with Mel that Jackie was a TA (teaching assistant) while studying for her doctorate. In fact, she learned, although technically a TA, Jackie taught two courses of her own, was about to defend her doctoral dissertation, and was in line for a tenure-track appointment to the faculty when she received her degree, which almost certainly would be in June. As she joined the group, Jill Dunbar was still shaking her head. "Miss Jensen—" She stopped when Jackie raised an eyebrow, then continued again, "Jackie, I guess it's really a tribute to your professionalism. Until this morning I never realized what a magnificent body you have. You certainly keep the fact well concealed in class." Mel was fascinated as she listened to Jackie going into detail regarding her life as an exotic. When the subject turned to money, Liz Dunbar let out a soft whistle when she learned that Jackie was earning about triple what she was in her job with the state. Moreover, Jackie was just talking about her W-2 earnings, not including the tips she might receive, which Liz knew from personal observation to be substantial. At that point, the group split up with the older women and Jill having to leave for another appointment. When they headed for the showers, Liz glared at Mel and declared, "You've ruined my life!" "Oh? And just how did I do that?" Mel and Liz were moving toward the shower room, too, so Mel offered, "How about having lunch with me? We have a small dining room here, and although it's not officially open yet, I think we can get something." "How can we do that?" Liz asked. "We can do that because I now own the joint." The others had rushed through their showers and were gone, leaving the pair alone. Mel took the opportunity to study Liz's body at close range. With a grin she said, "You know, I was righter than I knew when I said that you have a gorgeous body. I should have insisted that you go on for me that night. You would have been a smash!" "I guess I really should have," Liz admitted. "If I had, none of this might have happened." Mel let Liz's comment alone while they finished their showers, dressed and went to the dining room. They were the only patrons. Again, Liz was amazed to find several complete meals listed on the menu. One was geared to weight loss, another for ingestion following a heavy workout, along with several other specialty menus for other situations. "What's all this?" Liz wondered. "Oh ... this," Mel replied airily. "It seems that our cook, in addition to being a Cordon Bleu chef, is a nutritionist and will get her Ph.D. in the field this June. The bane of her existence, she claims, are all the women who claim to be on diets, yet they load up on truly empty calories." "Empty calories?" "Yes," Mel continued. "Lots of calories with little or no real food value. A woman could actually be gaining weight, not losing it, while suffering from borderline malnutrition. These menus are calorie-controlled while providing maximum nutrition within the appropriate number of calories." Then changing the subject Mel asked, "Now suppose you tell me why you should have performed for me that night." "You cost me my very best friend!" Liz replied accusingly. "Oh? And how did I manage that?" "Jake Brewer has been my very best friend since forever! But after you did that Truth or Dare thing and Jake kissed me, it was all over. While you were doing your last show, Jake was trying to fuck my brains out. And he almost succeeded, too." "Okay, but what about losing your best friend?" Mel pursued. "It sounds like you're even closer now." "But don't you see?" Liz said with her eyes wide. Mel realized the girl was serious. "No, I don't see." "But he's my lover, not my friend anymore!" "There's something you're missing," Mel replied with a warm smile. "My closest friend in the whole world is my twin sister, Jill Barnes. And we've been lovers for almost 14 years. If anything, we're even closer now than ever before." Mel suddenly realized that Liz had been serious. She couldn't believe that a person could be both a lover and a friend. With a note of wonder in her voice, Liz said softly, "You mean Jake can be my lover ... and my friend?" "I sure do!" Then Liz told Mel what had happened the next day at the Dunbar-Brewer homes. "Do you know what I learned? I learned that my little sister, Jill, lost her virginity to Tom Brewer... when she was just 16! And I was still almost a virgin at 23! Is that fair?" With her eyes dancing Mel mused, "Is it fair that you're sort of retarded, Liz? Is that the question?" Liz just stuck out the tip of her tongue and changed the subject. "Mel, do you think I could make it as ... as an exotic?" "I'm certain you could, but why would you want to?" "First, the money. I was shocked when I learned that Jackie's salary is about triple my own. But second, it's my damned job: I'm really fed up!" The girl went on to tell Mel that she was the only person on the staff who did any work. "Would you believe it? In the last two years, we've had five major tax recoveries in our office. The office even received a commendation. But all five were mine! No one else in the office does a damn thing. They come in in the morning, shuffle papers all day — between games of computer Solitaire, that is — and go home. And because of my work, they're actually adding to staff: more people who won't be doing anything." At that point, Mel had an idea, and being the person she was, she wasted no time in airing it. "Liz, what would you think of performing as an exotic on our opening night? For that matter, your sister, Jill, is 19 which is old enough, and she seemed pretty interested, too." Liz brightened and said, "That's not all. On the Saturday following that amazing Friday, I learned a lot about our two families. One thing I learned was that the Dunbars and Brewers have a private nudist colony; the preferred mode of dress at home is nothing." Then she grinned and added, "I don't know if you were looking, but I really think Mom and Mama Brewer both now look to be on the sunny side of 30 ... and they seem to be fascinated by the idea of stripping. "What do you think, Mel?" Mel returned the girl's grin and replied, "I think we should give it a shot, is what I think. And, by the way, what did you think of your lunch?" "The best food in Lexington," Liz replied. "And that's ignoring the nutritional elements. Is your nutritionist around? I would love to congratulate her." Mel just laughed. "As a matter of fact, she and her husband are over in Zermatt learning to ski. And she's about six months gone in her pregnancy, too." Liz's eyes widened. "Learning to ski? When you're six months pregnant? Get real!" "It's true," Mel assured her. "Of course, Jessie's flat as a board — still — so it's not too bad. You only know she's pregnant if you feel her abdomen." "But... ? What about... ?" Jill moved her hands to indicate a beach-ball belly. "Oh," Mel replied airily, "we don't do it that way anymore. It's so ... so last century!" After agreeing that the Dunbar and Brewer women would continue to workout and learn the mechanics of stripping and exotic dancing, they parted. ------- Chapter 22 Because of their very different course schedules, Tanya, Tasha and their lovers really didn't know many of their classmates. Although officially they were still freshmen at Memorial High School, in second semester they were already taking two courses each at the University of Kentucky. Harry Davenport's prediction at the prom had come true: The four were on a track to complete their high school work by June. Starting in the fall, all their classes would be at the university. The result was that, although they were classmates, none of them knew Sueann Washington. But beginning almost as soon as Jill Barnes returned from New York, the Washington girls — and then their mother — began to spend increasing amounts of time at the Farm. Its workout and exercise facilities were the very best in the state since it was equipped with the same gear as The Body Shop. Deann's BMW became a semi-permanent fixture on the Farm's driveway, and most often Deann was accompanied by her 15-year-old sister Sueann. As February gave way to March, the four girls were finishing their workouts with laps in the 50-meter pool. The day was bright and sunny, and there was a corner of the pool deck that was in bright sunlight and sheltered from the wind making it ideal for sunbathing. The four were soaking up rays when Sueann complained about a modeling assignment. It seemed that Kurt Rohmer had a final assignment in the States before returning to Germany. The assignment required the model to be able to do gymnastics. Tanya and Tasha immediately began to work with her on the requisite skills. It was another sunny day when Rohmer appeared. That day the four girls were working out with Seana Dunphy coaching. Rohmer set up in the gym and just watched as the Corcoran girls were concentrating on Sueann. By that time the girl would have been a top high-school gymnast but was still a long way from being world class. Rohmer watched in awe as Tanya went through a routine on the uneven parallel bars with Sueann watching her intently. His eyes widened as he realized how incredibly beautiful Tanya was. He started snapping pictures while talking with Seana. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "That girl is really good!" "She ought to be," Seana remarked blandly. "Last summer she and her sister were one-two when it came to selecting members of the United States Women's Olympic Gymnastics team." "My lord! You mean ... They're truly world class?" "I mean!" Seana emphasized. "Later this year they'll be going out to the Olympic qualifiers. I'm virtually certain they'll both be on the team." The girls finished up and went over to Rohmer. "Mr. Rohmer," Sueann began, "I'm afraid this just isn't going to work. According to Miss Dunphy, I'm very good ... for a high-school gymnast. But that's not what you want or need. You need someone who's really good." Although they had been talking and had been introduced by name, Kurt had no idea who Seana Dunphy was and he said so. Sueann grinned and said, "Seana Dunphy was asked to be the coach of the national gymnastics team, is who she is. You can take her opinion to be that of an expert of the highest order." Turning to Tanya and Tasha, Rohmer asked if they would care to model. While their initial reaction was to demur, he persuaded them to give it a try. The pair then did exactly what the Washington women had done earlier: They asked him to explain what he wanted in his photos and then proceeded to give him exactly that. The result was that Tanya and Tasha became international models right out of the box, and Kris Harris, to her professed disgust, had two new modeling clients. Meanwhile, work on Styles of Lexington had been going forward, and the salon was one of the very finest in the nation. The grand opening was set for the school vacation week in March and models were invited to appear. Adrienne's prediction came true: The week the models appeared at the Farm, spring flowers and flowering trees and shrubs were in bloom and the air was filled with their scent. Publicity for the opening was confined to sending email announcements to the Lexington Herald-Leader and TV stations WKYT, WLEX, and WTVQ. Total cost of publicity: zero. All of the models were excited and Jill Barnes was thrilled. The very first show was set for Monday at noon. To kick it off, that morning full-color blowups of two Vogue covers were placed in windows flanking the store's main entrance. One was perhaps Adrienne's most famous cover, while the other was the cover of the April issue about to hit the newsstands. That cover featured Lexington's own Deann Washington. By noon, a small crowd had gathered, and as more people headed for lunch there was a crowd on the sidewalk. On the hour, an announcer said, "Welcome to Styles! It is my great pleasure to welcome to Lexington perhaps the most famous model in the world... Adrienne!" At that instant, Adrienne stepped out from behind a temporary curtain that shielded the interior of the store from the street and took the identical pose wearing the identical outfit she had worn for the cover. The only difference was that she was far more beautiful then than she had been when the cover was shot. The cover was one from her anorexic period. There was enthusiastic applause from the onlookers and more people stopped to look. At that point the announcer said, "And now it's my great pleasure to introduce the model gracing the cover of the latest issue of Vogue ... Lexington's own... Deann Washington!" Deann stepped out into her own window and emulated Adrienne: She adopted the identical cover pose. But unlike Adrienne, Deann in person was identical to Deann, the cover girl. The applause was even louder — there were more people present — than for Adrienne. Two other former Vogue cover models appeared replicating their covers. Then the real fashion show began. By that time, there was a mob in front of the store and police officers appeared to try to control the crowd while still providing some room for cars to move in the street. They didn't even try to provide space for pedestrians to move in front of the store; pedestrians were told to cross the street and walk on the other side. After the cover replications, there was a one-hour fashion show using the same four models but now wearing fashions that would be on sale at Styles when it opened. Nita Lucas's prediction about the subsequent days also proved to be accurate. On Tuesday the police barricaded the street at both ends of the block and detoured traffic. On Tuesday and throughout the rest of the week the noontime crowds just kept getting bigger. On Monday, the Herald-Leader had a reporter and photographer on the scene, albeit their most junior staffers. The photographer discovered something the TV stations discovered the following day: The windows of Styles were made of polarized glass that was transparent to their cameras' lenses. It was as if there was no glass there at all. In addition to Adrienne and Deann, there were a total of eight models visiting at the Farm. All were top-tier and all had appeared on fashion magazine covers. Adrienne appeared each day matched to a different fashion magazine's — and even a general interest magazine's — cover. Because she was local and because the Vogue issue with her on the cover was now on the newsstands, Deann appeared every day, too. On Tuesday, the mobile unit of WLEX, the NBC outlet in Lexington, appeared. On Wednesday and for the rest of the week WKYT and WTVQ had their mobile units on the scene as well. To try to keep its news lead, on Wednesday WLEX had a local fashion authority along with a staff newswoman on the scene and they broadcast the entire hour live. When the other stations realized they had been wiped out in the ratings for the time period, they did the same thing on the last two days. By opening day the following Monday, Jill had benefitted from priceless publicity at a total cost to herself and the store of zero. But the surprises weren't over. On Friday, the models came to her and asked to be allowed to stay for another week. They even offered to stay at a commercial hotel! Jill wouldn't hear of that, but asked why they wanted to stay. One of the models replied, "Look, Jill, we're getting an incredible vacation. The weather is utterly perfect! (It was sunny and unseasonably warm.) And we're combining our vacation with our other love: women's fashions. You have the finest collection any of us have ever seen in one place, ever!" And so it was settled. Beginning Monday at the store's opening, there were four models and Adrienne at the store, with the other four having the time of their lives at the Farm. Deann was back in school. The models at the store alternated between modeling outfits, talking to customers and shopping for themselves. And they really were shopping. One woman's eyes widened when she saw the size of the charge one of the models had run up on her own credit card. When she asked the girl, she was told in no uncertain terms that the model was paying the same prices the customers were. There were no special discounts. The one thing that no one talked about was price. But one very alert woman noted a particular Gucci handbag that had been featured in a national ad with its price included. Furthermore, the woman — a very knowledgeable and experienced shopper — had seen the bag in a store in Chicago and had noted that it was pre-priced by Gucci at the factory. But at Styles the Gucci price tag wasn't on the item and its Styles price was exactly one-half of the Gucci price. She grabbed it. And she talked about it to her friends. But that wasn't all. The young matrons of Lexington were utterly enthralled to not only be in the presence of, but actually talking with, some of the world's most famous fashion models. But Adrienne's friends did more than merely model. They counseled on makeup and on the selection of outfits. When a woman asked about hair styling, Jill made a decision on the spot: "There will soon be a salon out at The Body Shop, along with manicures, pedicures, massage ... everything." "But how do you know that?" the woman asked. "Because my twin sister owns and operates the place, is how I know." Jill quickly called Mel to ensure that the new facilities would soon be on stream. A few other calls achieved similar results. When the beauty salon opened at The Body Shop, Mel could honestly say that it was under the personal supervision of Henry Hall of Hollywood, and André of Chicago. Moreover, she was able to add that makeup was under the supervision of an Academy-Award winning makeup director, Penny Watts. For the occasion, Henry and Penny were delighted to ship out to Lexington a couple of their Oscars they had gathering dust at their home. Henry continued to use one of his own, though, as a doorstop. In a very short time word was all over town that the best buys in top-end fashions was at Styles. And they were. And the best place for health and beauty was The Body Shop. To the surprise of many people, in the weeks following the opening of Styles top models continued to appear. And this was quickly noticed by the shop-till-you-drop crowd. One particularly astute shopper noted that while Styles might have brought in models for its grand opening, they were unlikely to be continuing to do so. Nevertheless, the models were always there and spending their own money. The woman happened to overhear an exchange between Jill and another top model. Jill noticed the girl's presence and asked when she had arrived in town. The answer was the night before and she was staying at the Hyatt Regency in Lexington ... on her own nickel. Jill asked why she wasn't out at the Farm and was told she hadn't been invited. The eavesdropper was intrigued. When the model's exchange with Jill ended, the woman cornered the model and asked why she had come all the way to Lexington, Kentucky from Los Angeles to shop. The model just looked at the woman and replied, "Look, it's simple: Because of my face and build, there are outfits here I couldn't wear. But if I could wear them, I would buy them in a heartbeat! This is the only store I've ever seen with such a perfect collection of women's fashions. "And it's all because of Jill Barnes. That woman has the most incredible fashion sense I've ever seen or heard of. She is all the top models can talk about! She's never wrong. You can rest assured that if an outfit works with your face and figure, you will be in the height of fashion ... and it's unlikely to be obsolete any time soon, either." The woman just slowly nodded her head. And then she proceeded to spread the word as far as possible. It was in the week following the opening of Styles of Lexington that The Girl Spot was ready for its grand reopening. Mel decided to open for the first time in the evening and did; there was no lunchtime show that first day. But the show was distinctly different from any Girl Spot show before. The first act was Jill Dunbar. As an exotic making her first appearance, she was almost as good as Jackie Jensen who had been doing it for years. Jackie herself had prepared Jill for her appearance applying the girl's makeup and admiring the perfection of her youthful body as she did so. Then Jackie was out front to lead the cheering. To Jackie's great delight — and Mel's — Jill's performance was flawless. The penultimate act stood the customers on their ears. It was Sharon Dunbar and Peg Brewer doing a two-girl strip. The two took turns stripping an item of clothing from the other. And it was sexy as each caressed the other's body during the process and even pulled and twisted the other's nipples. They ended stark naked prancing around the stage to ensure everyone got a good look. They closed their act with a shared loving kiss as the place exploded with applause and cheering. In the featured position, Liz Dunbar made her debut doing Monica/Monique's featured shower act. Although Melanie was standing at the bar, she also had a full-color closed-circuit TV picture of the act so she could see both the full-stage effect and the close-up. Liz was outstanding. At the conclusion of Liz's act, the houselights came up and Mel made her first public appearance as the owner of The Girl Spot. "Folks," she began, "the acts tonight were quite different from what you've seen here in the past. In fact, they're far more different than you know." She motioned backstage and Liz, Jill, Sharon and Peg appeared, with Peg standing slightly apart from the other three. "And what's so different?" Mel asked rhetorically. "Well, I'll tell you. You see, Jillian and Beth (Liz's stage name) are sisters ... And Sharon is their mother!" The four were only wearing white terry robes which they dropped to the floor and then embraced. "And Peg is about to become their mother-in-law." Mel smiled warmly and amended, "That's not quite right, either. Both Jillian and Beth refer to Peg as Mama. They just sniff and add, 'What's wrong with having two?' And I don't have an answer to that question." A spotlight came up highlighting four men in dinner jackets. "And here is the rest of the two families. The older men are the husbands of Sharon and Peg, while the younger two are the fiancés of the others. What do you all think about our family affair?" The cheers were deafening as the four women picked up their robes, slung them over their shoulders and sauntered off the stage giving everyone another look at their perfect buns. The reopening of The Girl Spot was rated a smashing success. ------- Chapter 23 John Murphy, having been hired to replace Florence Zachary as a social studies teacher, started the second semester as assistant principal of Memorial High School. Wonder of wonders, the former assistant, Clarence Edwards who had spent the first semester attending meetings and conferences full time, had actually received a job offer and had accepted it. Ed Brennan might have broken all existing speed records in letting Edwards out of his Memorial contract and accepting his resignation. Although Murphy knew Brennan from the Rangers, unlike Brennan, he had not stayed till retirement. For Murphy, the final straw fell in 1999 when the then-Secretary of the Army stated that the Army's primary mission was to provide career opportunities; national defense ranked second. Murphy was quite different in another respect: Even as a Ranger, he had amassed a tidy fortune. From his parents he had inherited significant money and then invested it. While a great deal of attention has focused on investors who lost their shirts with Enron, World Com, and dot coms, what most people ignored was the fact that for every buyer there had to be a seller, and those were sellers at peak prices. Jack Murphy was one of them. He took the money and ran. Finding himself out of the Army and with a great deal of money, he went back to school. He had always liked working with young people, and teaching seemed like the answer. When he learned that Ed Brennan had been hired as a high-school principal, he contacted him and was hired almost immediately. In addition to being assistant principal, Jack also became an assistant football coach, and it was in this capacity that he found himself on the practice field talking to Ben Brewster. Like Brennan, Jack was amazed at the physical development of Ben Brewster and Mike Barnes over the winter. Both boys had added height, weight and strength. While talking with Ben, Jack looked over to the sidelines where the cheerleaders were practicing. In the same way that Ed Brennan was still performing as football coach, his wife, Brandi, was still coaching the cheerleaders. And Melanie Brewster was assisting that afternoon. Although it was spring practice, there was only a half-day of school, and since it was Friday, the coaches elected to start the short practice at noon figuring the kids could eat lunch a little later than usual that day. Ben Brewster had really come to like Jack Murphy. As a coach he'd provided valuable tips regarding the best way of holding his hands when receiving a pass and how best to carry it after a reception to try to reduce the chance of fumbling. Now he noticed that Jack was really eyeing his mother and Ben was pleased. "Good heavens!" Jack murmured. "Who is that golden goddess over there?" Trying to act blasé, Ben replied casually, "Who do you mean? The tall blonde with the great legs?" "I sure do!" Jack replied enthusiastically. "Good grief, I sure would like to meet her." "You want me to introduce you?" Ben replied as casually as he could manage. "Do you know her?" "Sure do. She lives nearby." That was all it took. The pair walked over to Melanie who was wearing a tank top and a pair of Levi's cut-offs. Jack noted that she had a perfect overall golden tan; he noted that as the straps of her tank top moved and the cut-offs rode up and down, there was not a sign of any suit marks. "On the other hand," he thought, "if she were only wearing a bikini..." Going up to the woman, Ben said brightly, "This is Jack Murphy. He really wanted to meet you." Turning to Jack he said, "Coach Murphy, this is my mom, Melanie Brewster." Jack almost dropped his teeth. He was stunned and his jaw dropped. "But ... but..." he stammered, "you said she lived nearby!" Trying to look as guileless as possible, Ben said, "Mom, down the hall qualifies as 'nearby', doesn't it?" Trying to control her grin, Mel tried to glare at Ben. "Ben-ja-min!" she said in as accusatory a tone as she could muster. "Have you been teasing your coach?" Before Ben could speak, Jack said, "Brewster, I will get even! You can bet on it." Ben just shrugged deprecatingly. Practice had just ended for the day and the rest of the kids were moving toward the locker rooms and Ben joined them, leaving his mother alone with Jack Murphy. With a weak smile, Jack said, "I asked Ben who that golden goddess was. And the golden goddess is you!" Jack had sandy hair and blue eyes. Our kids will all be blue-eyed blondes, Mel thought. Good grief! What am I doing? I'm already having his children and I haven't spoken word one to him yet! But when she first saw him up close, Mel had felt her heart roll over while her stomach was trying to do a somersault. The pair chatted about nothing much for a while and then Jack asked if she was busy that evening. Mel's eyes widened as she realized she was being asked for a date. If that was so, it would be the first real date of her entire life. Her pregnancy had resulted from sex following the first — and only — meeting with her lover at a soda shop. Thinking quickly, she suggested meeting at The Girl Spot. Although Jack had never been there, he had heard about it and knew where it was. They agreed to meet at eight and get a late dinner. Mel wasted no time in returning home to tell Jill what had happened. It was only as she drove up the drive that she remembered that Jill would be at Styles all day. Feeling dejected, she went up to their shared suite and just flopped on the sofa. Snapping her fingers, she had an idea. Suiting her actions to her thoughts, she picked up the phone and punched in the memory code for Caitie in New York. When Caitie answered, Mel wasted no time with pleasantries. "I have to get in touch with Susie right away! Can you contact her for me?" Sounding bored, Caitie responded, "Call her yourself." "But how?" "What an airhead!" Caitie commented. "Sheesh! You contact Susie by calling, 'Susie.' Now that's not too hard, even for a dumb blonde, is it?" "Look, Corcoran!" Mel retorted, "you're a blue-eyed blonde, too, so just shut up!" "But I'm one of the tiny handful of blue-eyed blondes who has a brain," Caitie replied airily as she hung up. Feeling bewildered after hanging up the phone, Mel called out tentatively, "Susie?" Instantly the two-foot tall angel materialized. "You called?" Mel's eyes widened as she looked at the tiny nymph. "I ... I guess I forgot that you're usually pretty small, aren't you?" Susie just grinned, expanded to her full height of five feet six, and flopped on the sofa beside her. "Oh, well..." she murmured. "Since your twin sister has gotten used to the full-sized Susie, I suppose you might as well, too." But then her eyes widened as she added, "But please, please, please don't say a word about it to anyone else other than your sister, Caitie or Bill Corcoran. You're the only ones ever to see the full-sized me." Then with another grin she added, "You had a reason for calling me, maybe? Or did you just want to shoot the shit?" "Susie Sloan!" Mel exclaimed. "Such language! And from an angel of the Lord, too. I ... I'm shocked!" "You are like hell," Susie replied blandly. "Besides ... as your twin probably told you, I'm the most un-angelic angel there ever was! "Now, the reason for this visit... ?" Mel sighed, "Susie, I met the most incredible guy today—" "Jack Murphy," Susie interrupted. "And... ?" "And I'm pretty sure I'm in love. But ... but what about him? Is ... is he okay?" Susie smiled warmly and then kissed Mel passionately. "And no, it's not nearly as powerful as the kisses you and your sister routinely exchange," Susie said, knowing Mel's thoughts. "But in answer to your question, Jack Murphy is more than okay." Susie then folded her arms beneath her tits but refused to add anything more. They chatted a bit about nothing important and then Mel snapped her fingers exclaiming, "Oh, shit!" "Yes, you really should think about having your hair done." With that the sprite disappeared. Again picking up the phone, she punched in the number for Karen Williams' direct line. When it was answered, Mel said, "Karen, it's Mel. How's the salon business today?" "Hectic, as usual," Karen replied. "Mel, we really have to expand! None of us have ever seen anything like it. Would you believe it? We're making day-long appointments for women from Louisville and Cincinnati!" "Okay, we will," Mel responded. "But oh, shit... !" "And what's that mean?" Karen asked. "It means that I was hoping for a quiet day, is what 'oh, shit' means. I ... I sort of wanted..." "Wanted what?" Karen prompted. But then, as if she could read Mel's mind, she continued, "You want the whole nine yards, don't you? Hair styling, massage, manicure ... Everything." "Yes, but ... you can't possibly..." In her most disgusted tone of voice Karen rejoined, "Look, Melanie Brewster, there's one minor fact you may have overlooked: You own the damned joint! For you, anything at any time!" Her voice softened as she added, "You may not know it, Mrs. Brewster, but without a single exception the girls here all love you to pieces! You are just the very greatest! "And you've provided us with equipment and facilities that none of us — and I mean none of us — have ever even dreamed of. "Now how soon can you get your trim little ass in here?" When she was finally finished at The Body Shop, Mel had to go to her office at The Girl Spot to take a nap on the sofa in her private office. And Karen Williams had had to walk along with Mel's arm over her shoulder to keep Mel from falling on her face. Her body was so relaxed after her incredible massage her legs would barely support her weight. Before leaving to go back to the Farm to change, she told Sam Kramer to tell Liz Dunbar that she would be doing the shower number in the first show. By then, Liz was full time as the featured exotic at The Girl Spot, having quit her job with the state. Returning home, Mel found Jill there. Her twin, hearing about Mel's meeting and date, quickly went through her closet to find the perfect outfit for Mel to wear. And since their coloring, size and shape were identical, they could — and did — share their clothing with happy abandon. When Mel left the Farm to return to The Girl Spot, she looked like a million bucks ... at least. The car jocks were all over her car when she drove up. She was still driving the Lexus, although by then it was owned by the Farm. And her twin was driving its twin. The head valet clucked over the car and before Mel could even reach the door had given orders for it to be washed and waxed. Going into the dressing room, Mel was almost mobbed by the other girls. It was going to be her first performance in the rebuilt club and was the first time she was going to use the dressing room. The dressing room was one instance when Mel had put her foot down hard with the architect. His original plan had called for a series of individual dressing rooms with special rooms for the stars. Mel had vetoed that idea. She insisted that there be a communal dressing room, a communal shower room, and massage tables to the side. What she knew was that the dressing room was the girls' social center, and it certainly was. One girl was doing needlepoint, another was working on a quilt, and two others were knitting. But all were simultaneously gossiping about anything and everything. The girls really had fun together. Mel giggled when she realized that Jackie Jensen was in a corner conducting a philosophy class for two of the other girls. Jackie was about to break up her little session and help Mel with her makeup when the senior makeup artist from The Body Shop came in to take over. Although she had been worked on that afternoon, that was street makeup. Now the girl redid it with stage makeup that would work much better under the lights. The show began and one after the other, girls left the dressing room for their appearances on stage. To her amazement, Mel felt butterflies for probably the first time in at least ten years. ------- While all of that had been going on, Jack Murphy had been busy, too. He went to a barber for a trim; he wore his hair quite short, but not with the shaved-on-the-sides look he had had while on active duty. Then he checked a map to learn the town in which The Girl Spot was located and then visited its town clerk's office. When he drove up to The Girl Spot, it was six o'clock, much before his time to meet Mel. He was driving a silver Toyota Camry which, he felt, provided adequate performance while being a car appropriate to an assistant principal. He left the car with a valet and entered the club which had opened for the evening session only a short time before. Following Mel's instructions, when the hostess appeared, he said, "I'm Jack Murphy. I think you have a reservation for me." The girl beamed and then got the attention of an off-duty state trooper. She pointed meaningfully to Jack, then turned and led him to a table that was truly front and center. What Murphy didn't see was the trooper going outside and telling the chief valet that the gentleman who had just entered the club was the one they had been waiting for. While he was waiting for Mel, Jack engaged in conversation with various members of the club's staff. Since the first show had not yet started — unlike many strip clubs, The Girl Spot did not have continuous entertainment — the houselights were up providing him with a far better-than-usual look at the place. From past experience, Jack knew that many similar clubs looked okay as long as the lights were dim but looked terminally tacky if the lights were up so they almost never were, at least not when there were customers present. But not The Girl Spot. Everything in sight was new, very clean and highly polished. It really looked good. When the waitress returned with his drink — he had ordered Maker's Mark on the rocks — he asked her how she liked working there. The girl just rolled her eyes. "I'm one of the luckiest people in the state!" she replied emphatically. He then learned that she had worked at The Girl Spot before it was closed, and she told him how for the full period of its shutdown she had not only received her full salary, but she also got a very generous cash payment on top to cover her lost tips. He also learned she was a senior at University of Kentucky finishing her degree in business administration. Jack slowly shook his head. Not only were all the girls beauties, but they also appeared to be very intelligent besides. The next time he was able to speak to her, she told him about the fun she had working out at The Body Shop and generally helping out over there. Talking with other staff members, all he got was more of the same. He even had a chance to talk to one of the security people and learned he was an off-duty trooper. Moreover, he learned that like Jack himself the guy was a former Army Ranger. After chatting for a while, the trooper shook his head and said, "It's a damned shame..." "What's a shame?" "I'm 99 percent sure we're going to lose Lieutenant Brewer this summer. And he's the best damned officer in the whole State Police, too. "Jake Brewer is finishing his law degree this spring," he said. Then he slowly shook his head and added, "His girlfriend — the love of his life — is now the featured exotic here. And she's all class! She worked for the state, too, and quit because she was the only one in the whole damned office doing anything. Everyone else in that place was just riding on her back. I think there's too much bullshit for Jake, too." Jack just mentally noted the information. Then he learned that the same thing that had been done for the staff had been done for the security force as well. They had been paid for the full time as if they had been working their regular hours. "And that was a real lifesaver, particularly over Christmas," the trooper said. Sheepishly he added, "You know, some of us sort of got used to that second income. Boy, it really hurt when it was shut off. And that was with us being owed for the last weeks we had worked, too." Jack learned something else: The establishment made no secret of the fact that its security staff was comprised of off-duty state troopers. Moreover, to a man, they were death on drunk driving. On too many occasions each of them had been on the scene of the too-often bloody outcomes resulting from driving under the influence. As a result, Jake Brewer had made a suggestion that Mel had immediately and enthusiastically adopted: Any designated driver in a group was on the house. And that meant no bill at all for the individual, regardless of what he or she might order. Jack noted that fact, too. As it came time for the first show to begin, Jack looked around the room and again was surprised. The audience was largely composed of couples; he was amazed at the number of women present. Beyond that, though, the people were far better dressed than he was used to seeing at a strip club, not that he was an expert on them. The surprises continued when the show began. He was used to music that was bold, brassy and with a very heavy beat. But that's not what he heard. Instead he heard classics and jazz. The performers were dramatically different, too. He was used to seeing dancers going through the motions, but not these girls. They seemed to enjoy what they were doing, and Jack noticed the same thing Jake Brewer had noted months before: the highly polished brass rail that encircled the stage, three feet away from it. No way to slip any money in a girl's g-string or twat here, he thought. Beyond the attitude of the girls, there was their undeniable grace of movement. They moved like modern dancers or gymnasts, and, in fact, many were. Jack was surprised at how drawn into the show he found himself. Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to find how much time had passed. Then the off-stage master of ceremonies announced, "And now ... please welcome back the star of The Girl Spot in her first appearance since our grand reopening... Monique!" When his announcement was made, the stage was dark. Then, the lights came up revealing a girl apparently asleep in her bed and he said, "Monique! Time to get up. You have a big date tonight." The girl in the bed stretched and Jack barely controlled a gasp. It was Melanie Brewster, his date! Mel went through an exercise routine and Jack could see that she was really sweating; the exercises were real. Then she moved languidly to the side of the stage and the lights came up revealing a shower. She turned the single control and water started pouring out. The shower was real, too. When Mel got in, she held her face up to the pouring water and reveled in it. Like the water at the Farm, all the water at The Girl Spot and The Body Shop came from a Kentucky spring, which, like the one at the Farm, had once supplied water to a Kentucky distillery. The water was triple-filtered and wonderful. Then she made a production of lathering her body with particular attention to her breasts and vulva. The quiet gasps from the audience were enough to assure her that the people understood what was going on. After washing and conditioning her hair, she left the shower and made a production out of drying off her body. Her hair, shortened that day, was then quickly dried with a powerful blow dryer. When she sat in front of her mirror, mentally she said, Oh, shit! Maybe I shouldn't have had all my hair lasered off after all. Nevertheless, she took her tweezers and made a production of seeking a stray hair to pull, providing a perfect view of her vulva for anyone who cared to look. After applying her makeup, she made another production of putting on thigh-high stockings and ensuring that her seams were perfectly straight and centered on the back of her legs. After slipping on her little black dress, she was all set, just as the doorbell rang. Mel left the stage to thunderous applause and then returned, minus her dress, to take her bows. Throwing kisses to the audience, she left the stage and the house lights came up again. To her surprise, the makeup artist was still in the dressing room waiting for Mel to finish her act. While another girl stripped off her stockings — she was wearing nothing else — the artist redid her makeup to enhance the apparent size of her eyes while it appeared she was wearing no makeup at all. She slipped into another pair of thigh-highs and then the outfit Jill had selected for her. When she left to meet Jack Murphy, the whole dressing process had taken less than five minutes. Jack rose to his feet as Melanie approached the table. With her face impassive she focused on his eyes and said, "Well now you know." Even though he was holding a chair for her, she made no move to sit down. "Know what? And aren't you going to join me?" "You don't really want me to, do you? Now that you know I've been appearing stark naked in public for years." Jack was finally able to get Mel seated and then took his own seat again. "You're incredibly beautiful, Melanie Brewster." Then he looked up and Mel did too. They saw what appeared to be the full complement of performers emerging from backstage to mingle with the audience. Mel's eyes widened and she murmured, "Those bitches! They have a helluva nerve!" Jack looked at them, too, but his reaction was totally different. "They're all so beautiful! And their attire... ! They're magnificent." Her pending tirade about nosy friends having been cut off, Mel noticed their dress for the first time. "Oh, yeah ... That's Jill." "What's Jill?" he asked. Then he added, "And who's Jill?" "Jill is Jill Barnes, my twin sister," Mel replied. "And you know her, or know of her anyway. I'm sure you know Mike Barnes." "Her son?" Mel just nodded. While slowly shaking his head, Jack remarked, "I didn't know, but that's not what I'm trying to recall. It has nothing to do with the team or with school. It's..." Then his eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "It's that new store ... Styles of Lexington, that dominated the news a few weeks ago. That's your sister, isn't it?" "That's she." "Okay, back to my original question, Mel: I commented on the girls' attire and you said, 'That's Jill.' What's Jill?" Mel was studying her hands that were folded on the table in front of her. Then she spoke as if she were thinking out loud, "Look, Jack, let's face facts: To many people nude dancers rank with prostitutes ... and not necessarily higher." Then she grinned and added, "I guess it's sort of funny, really. If we were a modern-dance troupe performing stark naked, we might be getting artistic raves." Then she snapped her fingers when a thought occurred to her. "That's it! Maybe it would be different if we opened with the whole cast dancing on stage naked. If we looked like a modern-dance troupe, maybe we'd be treated like one!" She smiled brightly at her new insight. While they had been talking, Mel was no longer looking at her hands. Instead, she had been watching as the performers, while moving among the tables, were repeatedly stopped. And overwhelmingly, they were being stopped by women, not by the men. "Damn! It really seems to be working!" Then she explained, "You're right, Jack, Jill Barnes owns and operates Styles. She recognized two things: First, our girls are really quite beautiful. Second, almost all of them are veterans of modern dance, gymnastics, or both, so they just naturally move very gracefully." She grinned and continued, "If you knew more about women's fashions, you'd know that my girls are the best-dressed women on the floor. Each is wearing an outfit Jill personally selected for her, and the women in the audience recognize the fact. The men are staring at their bodies while the women are staring at their clothes. And Styles' business is going to take another jump, possibly starting as soon as tomorrow morning." Changing the subject, Mel rose from her seat and said, "Come on, Jack. It's time to get out of here before the vultures descend." She had noticed that the dancers by then had their table surrounded and were moving in from all available directions. Jack was a bit bewildered but followed Mel. But instead of going toward the entrance, she went toward the side, leading the way back to her private office. When she opened the door, Jack Murphy let out a soft whistle. "Simply gorgeous," he murmured. Then looking at Mel he added, "Melanie Brewster, you and this office complement each other." She motioned to the sofa and then took a seat on a leather-upholstered chair beside it. "What are you drinking, Jack?" "Maker's Mark on the rocks." Mel pressed a button on a device sitting on an end table beside them. Instantly, a waitress appeared, and Mel just said, "Two bourbons on the rocks, please, Jane." When Jack was unable to control his miffed expression, Mel just giggled. "I'll let you in on a little secret," she said. "It's a little secret that's not really a secret. But since we haven't been open very long, it seems that very few people have tumbled to it yet." Her smile got even broader as she continued, "You see, our bar bourbon is Maker's Mark. Our house gin is Beefeaters, and so it goes. But the difference is that if a patron orders Maker's Mark, he pays the call-brand price, but if he just orders bourbon, he still gets Maker's Mark, but at the house-brand price. It's true for all our bar liquors: They're all top-selling premium brands. "And the reason I just ordered bourbon on the rocks is 'cause I'm cheap ... or would be." Then she explained, "You see, years ago when Jill and I first started to be responsible for the performers, we instituted a comp policy. Every month each girl gets a certain number of comps she can use at any time, for herself or for others. But the fact is that they're cumulative: if they're not used, they're carried forward. Well, Jill and I both have so many comps from years back, we're never going to use them. I don't think Jill has ever used any, and I've only used two. And from those two, I got the current star of our show, Liz Dunbar." The drinks appeared, and only then did Mel remember that she had invited Jack for dinner and it was getting late. She asked for menus. Jack's eyes widened when he realized that his menu had no prices. It just listed the items available, and although it was a short list, every dish sounded great. The pair ordered and then sipped their drinks. As they did, Mel found herself telling Jack her life story beginning with her seduction at age 12, followed by being thrown out of her house by her parents and the aftermath. As she told it, she noticed Jack's eyes tearing, and before she finished, he was crying unashamedly. She stopped just before the Christmas Prom and their move out to Bluegrass Farm. She finished and just looked at him. "What about your parents now?" Jack asked. "After all, 'To sin is human; to forgive is Divine, ' or something like that. What about it?" "Before a person can forgive, the other must admit he or she did something wrong. As far as I know, to this day my parents are convinced they did the right thing." Jack just slowly shook his head and changed the subject. "You know, I had your son — and the Four Musketeers — for both history and civics for the first semester. That was really something else." "In what way?" Mel asked, puzzled. "Without question, those were the finest classes I've ever conducted. In both, it was a five-way running debate with the rest of the class sitting in utter amazement. The remarkable thing, though, was that the rest of the class actually learned something. At the end of the term, the two classes got the top grades ... and, of course, the Four Musketeers all got grades of A+." Looking into Mel's brilliant blue eyes he continued, "Of course, as you know, this term the kids are taking history at the University. And that's funny, too." "In what way?" Mel repeated. "First, Mel, I'll let you in on a dirty little secret in academia: While many high schools offer Advanced Placement (AP) courses, the reality is that many colleges and universities give the kids only a fraction of the advanced standing that they've really earned. Well, I hear that happened to your son and his friends, too. Or it did for a while, at least. But then the Powers That Be at the University wised up. "After absolutely blowing away both the instructors and their classmates in survey history courses, they were moved into far more advanced courses. I guess it must have been funny. Like so many universities, the basic courses are taught by TAs ... and the kids really chewed them up; they already knew far more about the subject matter than the TAs did." Their dinners appeared and Jack was impressed with its quality and preparation. Mel then explained how the menus had been set up by a graduate nutritionist. "Furthermore, the recipes are hers, too. She's also a diplomate of the Cordon Bleu School in Paris." Jack let out a soft whistle. While they ate, they continued to get acquainted. It was Jack's turn to tell Mel about his life in the Rangers. And, like so many heroes, he made light of the dangers and what he had done. As the topics widened, Jack realized that there was nothing he could bring up that Mel couldn't talk about in depth, whether it be history or professional football. As they finished their dinners, the sounds of the second show were heard coming from a small ceiling speaker. And at the same time, one after another, the on-stage talent knocked and entered ostensibly with a question for Mel that just couldn't wait. Of course the real reason — of which Mel was very much aware— was to meet Jack Murphy. Finally, when the sixth girl entered, a thoroughly exasperated Mel threatened, "If you girls don't leave us alone, I'm going to ask Jack to take you over his knee and spank the hell out of you!" "Honest?" the girl replied, wide-eyed. "Will he really?" Then she beamed and added, "I go on next and it would be so neat to do it with scarlet buns!" With that she made a move to lift her skirt, drop her bikini and lay across Jack's lap. To dissuade the girl, Jack mentioned, "Look, I'm an ex-Ranger, and a spanking will really hurt! Are you really sure you want that?" "You are?" the girl exclaimed. "How neat!" Jack received a reminder of the fact that attitudes toward servicemen and women had undergone a sea change from the unpleasantness of the seventies. His eyes widened as the girl flopped down on the sofa beside him. He was astounded because even though she truly flopped, she still appeared to be so graceful doing it. "Oh, shit," Mel murmured. "I guess I must. Connie Stevens, may I introduce John Murphy. Jack, this ... this thing is Constance Stevens." Then she continued, "Connie is 23 years old, almost five feet six, 115 pounds." Before Jack could even acknowledge the introduction, Connie asked him wide-eyed, "Mr. Murphy, by any chance do you know guy who could possibly be interested in ... Oh, hell, I might as well just show you." With that the girl rose gracefully from the sofa and in just a few moments had stripped bare. She thrust her shoulders back forcing her smallish tits upward. Connie had sun-streaked brown hair and incredible green eyes. Then she turned slowly and moved to fully reveal her perfect body. "Of course," she said sadly, "if the guy likes muff-diving, he's out of luck: No muff. And since I'm lasered down there — all over, in fact — there never will be one." Then, looking even more dejected she added, "Oh, yeah ... I'm a virgin." "A ... a what?" Jack stammered. Mel couldn't control herself. The look on Jack's face was priceless so she had to laugh and did. For that matter, so was the look on Connie's face. She stood there with her hands on her bare hips and demanded, "And what's so damned wrong with being a virgin? Huh? I mean ... it's not like it's contagious or anything." It was Jack who howled with laughter at her retort. While this exchange was in progress, Mel had picked up the phone, punched in a number, spoke a few words and hung up. "But you never answered my question, Mr. Murphy. Do you know anybody?" "Connie, Jack's seen enough. Why don't you get dressed. And have you eaten, by the way?" The girl's eyes widened as she realized what time it was. "I've got to dash!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to be late." "No you're not," Mel assured her. "Carli is going on for you. Now just sit down and answer the question: Have you eaten?" The girl shook her head, so again Mel buzzed for the waitress and ordered a steak for Connie along with a Cardhu on the rocks, along with two more bourbons for Jack and herself. With a shrug she noted, "Connie's a scotch drinker. What can I say?" Then Mel continued, "Jack, you might be surprised at how many of the girls here are virgins. Connie is really sort of a classic case. In June, she'll be receiving her doctorate in political science. I'm sure you've noticed the graceful way she moves. That's a result of taking ballet from the age of four and then shifting to modern dance in college." Mel giggled and continued, "In fact, I mentioned modern-dance groups that perform naked; Connie was in one of them." "Coupled with the fact that I was blind as a bat," Connie picked up. "I guess I was going on the basis that if I couldn't see faces, they couldn't see mine. Pretty dumb, huh?" "You sure don't seem blind to me," Jack noted. Motioning with her thumb toward Mel, Connie said, "That was her, too. Laser surgery that she paid for a couple of months ago." Mel picked up the tale. "As for still being a virgin, aside from hiding behind Coke-bottle glasses, Connie's brains used to scare the hell out of the guys. For a guy to be interested in her, he would have to be pretty smart." She paused and then continued, "There's more: Listening to the other girls talk, although they insisted sex was great, virtually without exception their tales of losing their virginity were a series of horror stories: Slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am in the backseat of some car with the whole thing over in five minutes or less. All the girl got out of it was a royal pain in her cunt and often a sense that there had to be something more." Connie just sadly nodded her head. "What do you think of Melanie?" Jack asked. The girl's eyes widened and she said softly, "I worship the ground she walks on. She is the finest, smartest human being God in his wisdom ever put on this planet!" Then staring into Jack's eyes she added, "And there's another severe handicap I have: two, in fact." "And they are..." Jack prompted. Sitting up as straight as she could on the sofa, she glared at Jack and declared, "I am a Catholic." When Jack remained impassive she added, "And the second is my approach to birth control. It's the same one Mel plans to use, too, along with most of the other girls here, believe it or not." "And it is... ?" Connie just pointed upward with her right thumb. "And that means... ?" "That means I'll carry and bear as many children as God allows me to have," she said simply. Jack slowly shook his head. "Let's review the bidding—" He stopped and snapped his fingers. "That reminds me ... Do you play Bridge?" Mel replied before Connie could. "She'll have her Life Master rating before the end of the year. Is that good enough?" Obviously Jack was thinking of something or someone. "Okay, she plays Bridge. She's beautiful ... exquisitely so." Looking at Mel he added, "Very much in your class ... and that's really saying something." Then back to Connie: "You're Catholic and want a large family." Then he grinned and added, "I'm sure you gathered from my name that there's a bit of Ireland in my background. How about you, Connie?" "That's about all there is," she murmured. "I guess the family on both sides bailed out during the Irish Potato Famine in the 1840s." "Well..." Jack mused, "There's one guy ... Naah, it could never work..." "Why couldn't it work?" Mel asked. "For openers, he's getting his Ph.D. in American history; doesn't care much for political science. In fact, his favorite comment is, 'Where's the science in political science?'" "A question I've often asked myself," Connie interjected. "But that's not all. He's going to ... University of North Carolina! And you just know how much love is lost between the Kentucky Wildcats and the UNC Tarheels. Not!" Again looking at Connie he asked, "Do you like to travel?" "I've done very little, but I love it. Why do you ask?" "Well, the guy I'm thinking of served with me in the Rangers. I got to know him because, like me, he spent most of his spare time on his investments. And so did I. I really don't know if he plans on working or not. I really think he would like to just travel ... and fuck." Jack snapped his fingers, remembering something. "Oh, yeah ... he's Catholic, too ... and wants a large family." "I. Do. Not. Believe it!" Connie said softly and very slowly. "Do you mean to tell me there's actually one of those alive? I can hardly believe it." Then her face fell as she added, "Now tell me he's four feet three, bald, and weighs 240 pounds." "Actually, he's a skosh under six feet, weighs about 180 pounds. Sandy hair like mine, but ... his eyes are blue, not green. He has all his teeth and ... he's an okay guy." "And he likes to fuck?" Connie asked. "He thinks he would," Jack replied. Then he blushed and added, "Like me, he's still a virgin." Connie just shook her head. "That's flat-out impossible! There are no living male virgins in the United States. It's ... it's against the law or something." It was obvious to both Mel and Jack that Jack had described Connie's dream. "His name is Jim McCarthy," Jack finished. Then he shook his head and said, "But Connie, surely you wouldn't want to go through life as Connie McCarthy, would you?" "No more than I would want to go through life as Melanie Murphy," Mel interjected. Connie just rapidly nodded her head and said, "A girl can't have everything, after all. I mean ... We're expected to make some sacrifices for the sake of the marriage. And Constance McCarthy doesn't sound too terrible, does it?" Turning to Melanie, Jack asked, "Could I use my credit card to make a long-distance call?" "You've got to be kidding!" Mel exclaimed. "Use your credit card? In this place? John Murphy, I'm sure in the short time you've been here you've seen that money flows like water." Then glaring at him she demanded, "Just dial 9 and place the damned call!" Because of the location of the phone, Mel and Jack exchanged places. While Jack was talking, the two women were hugging each other with Connie whispering in Mel's ear, "I hope, I hope, I hope..." When he hung up the phone, Jack was muttering, "I do not believe it! I just do not believe it!" "What don't you believe?" Mel asked. "What Jim-the-Nut is doing, is what I don't believe." Connie instantly interrupted. "I'll thank you not to refer to my future husband as a nut, John Murphy!" Mel giggled, "It sounds like it's all over but the shouting. But what is he doing?" Jack glanced at his watch and shook his head. "He's getting into his Porsche 911S and heading for Lexington right now! And it's over 450 road miles, too, and it's already after eleven. Even in that car, it's likely to be about seven hours. The nut's planning on driving all night." To Connie, Jack said, "Since I don't know where you live, I gave him directions to get here. Oh, yeah ... he wants to know if there's an IHOP anywhere around where you could have breakfast." "There are none in Kentucky," Mel replied. "I checked awhile ago." [Author's note: there's one in Lexington now.] Connie asked Mel if she could sleep in the office. But when Melanie realized how keyed up and nervous the girl was, she decided to stay with her, pointing out that the sofa they were sitting on opened out into a bed. Swallowing hard, Jack asked to stay, too, to be available to make the introductions. Since the club was about to close, Mel ordered another round of drinks for themselves with instructions to make them all doubles. They chatted for a while over their drinks, and then the two women opened out the bed, made it, and then went into the full bathroom off the office to shower. When they emerged from the bathroom naked, towel-drying their hair, Mel noticed that Jack was looking at them bug-eyed. "What's the problem?" she asked insouciantly. "You're not seeing anything you haven't seen before." He just shook his head and went into the bathroom himself. Mel told him that there was a full array of toilet articles including brand-new toothbrushes. He showered, but put on his shorts and returned to the now-darkened office where he rested in an easy chair while wrapping himself in a blanket. The women were in close embrace in the bed. They were awakened at 5:30 by the telephone. It was Jim McCarthy calling from his cellphone from the outskirts of Lexington. He estimated his arrival in about 15 minutes. The girls scrambled out of bed and ran into the bathroom, while Jack searched for his clothes. He was utterly astonished when ten minutes later the women emerged, not only fully dressed, but beautifully made-up, too. He just shook his head in bewilderment as he went in to use the facilities and brush his teeth. Although spring had arrived, it was quite chilly so early in the morning. So Mel was wearing the Russian sable coat that Jill had given her on her return from New York, while she had provided a ranch mink for Connie. Jack had the topcoat he had worn to the club. When a Porsche rolled up, Connie raced around to the driver's side. As soon as Jim McCarthy emerged, before Jack could say a word, Connie had wrapped her arms around his neck and announced, "Hi, Jim. I'm Connie Stevens." Then she just melted her lips to his. Standing almost ten feet away, both Jack and Mel could hear the bells and feel the crackle of electricity. Well, I might as well, Mel thought. She wrapped her arms around Jack's neck and said, "Hi, Jack. I'm Melanie Brewster." When she kissed him, the other couple were just easing apart to breathe. So they, too, heard the bells and felt the electricity. Since there were no IHOPs, Mel led the way in her newly-polished Lexus — Jack's Camry had also been detailed the night before — back to the Farm and one of Jessie's fabulous breakfasts. ------- What followed with Jim and Connie was quite funny. In the first place, Jim came and he stayed. He booked himself in at the Marriott Lexington Griffin Gate Resort and stayed there. For her part, Connie insisted over Mel's objections on staying on at The Girl Spot while training her replacement. And every time Connie performed, Jim was up front to lead the cheering. One practice continued from before at The Girl Spot were the envelopes on all the tables used to tip the girls. Jim McCarthy used one of the envelopes to send a three-carat engagement ring to Connie. Of course she knew where it came from, but when she bounced out from backstage after receiving it, she exclaimed, "Look what someone sent me! Golly! It's so nice, it looks almost like a real diamond." In fact it was a perfect three-carat stone and worth about $50,000. Connie put it on her ring finger and refused ever to take it off. And, as John Murphy found guys for more of the girls, it became a Girl Spot tradition: A girl receiving an engagement ring wore it at all times, and even flashed it at the audience while she was performing. Jim attended Connie's graduation, and, courtesy of Executive Aviation and Kris Harris, they both flew back to Chapel Hill for his commencement, too. Jack Murphy was Jim's best man at their June wedding, while Melanie Brewster served as the maid of honor. The McCarthys vowed that their first boy would be John and their first girl would be Melanie. Jack and Mel saw them off as they flew to Ireland on the first stop of their honeymoon. The pair agreed that they would honeymoon until it was close to time for Connie to deliver their first child. ------- Chapter 24 It was late April when Tom Brady entered Styles of Lexington. Of course, it was easy enough since the salon was on the ground floor of the building in which his law firm was located. The purpose of his visit on Thursday was to buy a dress for Marilyn Hodges to wear to the annual formal dinner and dance the Firm was hosting the following night at the top-floor restaurant. Marilyn, as usual, had hemmed and hawed, but finally had accepted Tom's invitation. Offering to buy her a gown at Styles had closed the deal, so there he was. As he looked around the shop, befuddled, a tall blonde strode toward him. He looked and gasped, "Melanie?" Jill Barnes giggled and shook her head. "She's my twin sister," she said kindly. "Although we're not identical, we really are pretty close. I'm Jill Barnes, and what can we do for you?" Tom was about to reply, when he felt the cellphone in his pocket vibrate. Excusing himself, he answered it. It was Marilyn calling to tell him that their date was off. "I'm going with Harrison Carver," she proudly announced. "And he's going to be announced tomorrow night as a junior partner!" Brady just stared at the phone as it went dead. Jill was still standing there as Tom looked at the dead instrument. Then she heard him mutter under his breath, "Oh, shit!" At that moment he felt closer to tears than he had in over 20 years. "What's wrong? What happened?" Jill asked. Obviously, the call had been terribly disturbing. Brady just slumped into a chair and stared off in space. Slowly he shook his head and then found himself spilling his guts to the girl who had taken a seat beside him. "It's the dumb Firm dinner," he explained. It's tomorrow night and attendance is mandatory. It's the time new partners are announced and all that stuff. "Anyway, for reasons that are anything but clear, I asked a girl weeks ago. Worst of all, she didn't give me an answer; she was always on the fence but at the same time encouraging enough that I left the invitation open. Then this place opened and I had the idea to offer to buy her a dress here and that closed the deal. Or it seemed to. But she just called to tell me she's going with someone else. "And now the dumb thing is only about 36 hours away... and I have no date!" he almost wailed. Jill had heard a great deal about Tom Brady from Mel. Her sister had been very impressed, but never felt the spark for Tom that she had instantly felt for Jack. On the other hand, when Jill first saw Tom, she felt her heart roll over. He was very tall at six feet three and ruggedly handsome. Jill amazed herself with her next words: "How about taking me?" she asked. My God! she thought, I'm actually asking him to take me out! Tom slowly shook his head. "You've got to be kidding! Why on earth would a beautiful girl like you even think about going with a clod like me?" He studied the girl sitting beside him and added, "You're even more beautiful than your sister, and that's really saying something." "Is that a strange lawyer's way of saying yes?" Jill asked with a quirky grin. At that instant, Tom had a stunning revelation: Jill was ten times the woman that Marilyn Hodges would ever be ... and she had asked him for a date! "I would love to take you!" he exclaimed. With that Jill rose to go and find something appropriate to wear. "Oh, damn!" he muttered. "I hope she doesn't get in trouble dating a customer." A nearby salesgirl overheard him and giggled. "I don't think she'll get in trouble with either the manager or the owner," the girl told him. "And I'm certain of that because Jill is both. She owns this place." Tom just swallowed hard. At that moment Jill returned wearing the last gown that Deann Washington had worn at the UNCF fashion show. It was white with a neckline that dropped to below her navel and a back that dropped to reveal the start of the crack between her buns. Although it was knee length, it was slit up on both sides to the waist. "How's this look?" she asked. She was standing in front of him with her right leg cocked to the side revealing her golden tanned leg to a point high on her thigh. "Good grief!" Tom murmured. "You're gorgeous!" "Sir, there's something you should know about the dress Jill's wearing," the salesgirl commented. "It can only be worn by the very rare woman with a perfect figure. And, as you can see, Jill is one of those rare women." The date was set. When Tom asked Jill where to pick her up, she told him that the easiest thing would be to just meet her there at the store at six the following evening. And that's what they agreed to do. When he left, Jill repeated what Mel had done before her first date with Jack Murphy: She called Karen Williams at The Body Shop to see if there might have been a cancellation or something. In turn, Karen repeated what she had told Mel: "Look, lady, your sister — your twin sister — owns this dump! That means that you can come in at any time! If you would want to come in at two in the morning, that would be fine. Now are you getting a message? "Now when do you want to come in?" They agreed on Friday morning. On Friday rather than driving her Lexus, Jill was driven in a Farm Rolls-Royce to The Body Shop. Mel had warned her that after one of the Shop's complete work-overs, she really wouldn't be in shape for driving, and that's exactly the way it worked out. She brought everything she would need that night with her. After taking a nap following her full body massage, Jill was not even allowed to dress herself. When the finishing touches were applied — a diamond choker and a three-carat diamond in her navel — Jill asked Karen, "What do you think?" "I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world!" she replied. "That's what I think!" The timing worked perfectly. Jill arrived at Styles a few minutes before six as the store was preparing to close. Mel had told her that Tom Brady was always punctual and he was. Exactly at six he appeared in his dinner jacket. Although it was a warm late-April day, since it was expected to be chilly at night, Jill had a dark Russian sable stole. To Tom, Jill was a vision. Unable to control himself, he took Jill in his arms and kissed her. To Jill it was everything Mel had described: Bells were ringing and there was the crackle of electricity. The girls in the shop just audibly sighed; it was just so lovely. At that instant, it was all over for Tom and Jill. Without a word being said, each knew the other was the person each had been searching for all his or her life. They started moving toward the door when Tom stopped suddenly. "Oh, shit! I've ruined your makeup! I'm so sorry... !" With a grin Jill responded, "You didn't because you can't. First, there isn't very much; most of what you see is just me. Second, most of what there is is around my eyes. Third, the lipstick is guaranteed not to smear." Her grin widened as she asked, "By the way, do you like the flavor? It's raspberry." "I loved the flavor and I love your lips," Tom sighed. "Can I do it again sometime?" "Anytime!" she replied emphatically. The pair took an elevator that was being run express to the top-floor dining room. The restaurant had been closed to the public for the night, which wasn't a difficult thing to do since the Firm owned it. They paused at the entrance, and Tom was pleased to hear the audible gasps as the people already gathered reacted to Jill's revealed beauty. She just stood there while Tom took her stole and gave it to the checkroom girl. While waiting for Tom to return, Jill looked around the room and saw two older gentlemen in close conversation. They did not appear to be happy. When Tom rejoined her, she asked about the pair. Tom's eyes flared and he said, "There's trouble ... I think. The guy on the left is Josh Barrett, the managing partner, and the other is Henry Clay, the some-number-or-other. He's a lineal descendant of the famous Henry Clay, but I can never remember the number that comes after his name." "But where's Braxton? The firm's name is Braxton, Barrett & Clay, isn't it?" "It sure is," Tom agreed, "and that's the problem. Jeremy Braxton is the senior partner ... and it appears he's not here. And from the looks on the faces of the other two, I don't think he's going to be here. And that's not good. At all!" "The partnership split?" "That's the problem," Tom answered. "While I'm not certain, I'm pretty sure it's 40-30-20 among the name partners. The last 10 percent is split with 5 percent going to the other partners and the last 5 among the junior partners. But the problem is that Jeremy Braxton is pushing 70 and the word around is that he's been trying to cash out for a couple of years ... and he's the one with the 40 percent!" "Shall we say hello?" Jill suggested. When they approached the pair, the two beamed in welcome. Whatever they had been discussing was put aside. Their greeting was effusive, with Barrett commenting that Tom had found an exquisitely beautiful woman to accompany him. Jill took the two aback with her first comment. "Gentlemen, while waiting for Tom I couldn't help but notice the two of you in conversation. And both of you appeared to be very worried. Does it concern Jeremy Braxton?" Jill's question appeared to be cathartic. Joshua Barrett nodded sadly and said, "It certainly does." Then he began to unload. "Jeremy has been trying to get rid of his partnership interest for a couple of years now ... with no takers. Recently, he gave Henry and me an ultimatum: Either we buy him out by May 1st, or he'll liquidate the partnership to get his money. End of Braxton, Barrett & Clay." "How much?" Jill asked. "That's the real problem," Barrett replied. "As of the last audit — completed less than a month ago — his share is forty million dollars ... which is about $25 million more than we can raise." Jill thought for a moment and then said, "I have a proposal to make: Would Thomas Brady be acceptable to you as a partner?" "Good grief!" Henry Clay replied, speaking for the first time. "Tom Brady is probably the smartest and best lawyer in the whole damned firm. Of course he would be acceptable! But where could he get the money?" "Before answering, let me ask you another question. Tom tells me that the ownership is split 40-30-20 among the name partners. Is that correct?" The two name partners nodded. "Okay, here's my proposal: Tom will buy out Jeremy Braxton's 40 percent, but ... he would also like to buy 5 percentage points from each of you at the same price: one million dollars a point. Would either of you be interested in getting some cash?" Barrett and Clay exchanged looks and then shook hands without a word. In unison, they both said, "That's a deal!" Then Barrett's face fell as he asked, "But where is the money going to come from?" "That's the easy part," Jill replied with a grin. "Now if there's a table handy..." With the members of the firm gathered near the bar, the tables were essentially empty. The four sat at a nearby table and Jill took out her checkbook. First, she wrote a check for forty million to Jeremy Braxton, and then two more for five million each to Joshua Barrett and Henry Clay. She gave Braxton's check to Barrett along with his own. Snapping her fingers, she said, "Whoops! I'd better call John Hughes and let him know what I've just done." Turning to Tom she asked, "Do you have your cellphone with you?" He did, and passed it to her. For his part, Brady was in a state of shock. A gorgeous girl who he had known for less than 36 hours had just written checks totaling $50 million on his behalf. And apparently he was now the owner of a full 50 percent of the Firm. Along with any other partner, no matter how junior, he had a majority of the partnership votes. Jill had a full array of private phone numbers along with a phenomenal memory for them. She reached Hughes at home. "John," she began, "this is Jill Barnes ... and I've been a bad girl. I just wrote three checks totaling $50 million and there are some people with me who might like to know if they're good ... or just scrap paper. Here's Josh Barrett; I'm pretty sure you know him." With that she passed Barrett the phone. "Hi, Josh," Hughes said warmly, "let me assure you that those checks are good! In fact, they're very good. To indicate how good, you may remember that last winter we certified a blank check for Jill's sister. Is that good enough?" Barrett let out a long sigh of relief. It was as if he had been holding his breath. "That's great news, John! And now I have some news for you: Effective immediately, the Firm is now Brady, Barrett & Clay. Tom Brady is our new senior partner. What do you think?" "Josh, that's the greatest news ever!" Hughes exclaimed. "And because of that, I have some news for you, too. Assuming you're interested, Brady, Barrett & Clay will be our primary law firm. We'll transfer our legal business to you as fast as you can take it. "I'm sure it's not news to you that the situation involving Jeremy Braxton has been of great concern to many of us. It was no secret around town — or around the state, for that matter — that he wanted out! Frankly, we were worried that the firm wouldn't survive. But now you're headed by probably the very top young lawyer in the state, so the firm is set for the foreseeable future. "Now how does that all sound to you?" "John, I can't tell you how happy we are, and we accept your assignment with the greatest pleasure. Thank you so much!" Barrett terminated the call and immediately called Jeremy Braxton at home. Braxton was delighted that he was being bought out, and very relieved that it wouldn't be necessary to dissolve the Firm to make it happen. Moreover, he and his wife, Marge, would be over for the dinner as soon as they could get there. He wanted to welcome Tom Brady as the new senior partner. He didn't say that he also wanted to pick up his check. The surprises weren't over. As soon as Barrett disconnected from Braxton, the cellphone vibrated again. Since it was Tom's, Josh passed it to him and Tom answered it. He was stunned to learn it was from Toyota's vice president and general counsel. He was calling to tell Tom that Brady, Barrett & Clay was being named as Toyota's law firm for all work in Kentucky and as much work outside the state as they could handle. Apparently, John Hughes had wasted no time in spreading the news of Brady, Barrett & Clay. Tom was in a state of shock as he relayed the news to his new partners. Jill gave him what was intended to be a congratulatory kiss but that's not the way it worked out. Instead, the pair seemed to get lost in each other's arms. Joshua Barrett and Henry Clay could not have been more pleased. While Jill and Tom were still locked in their embrace, Henry Clay was looking around the room. It was apparent that everyone present was by then aware of the huddle at their table, as well as the phone calls being exchanged. To Barrett he said, "Josh, I think we had better make an announcement... right now! Everyone here knows that something's up, but they have no idea what it is." "Oh, shit!" Barrett murmured. "You're right. But can't we wait for Jeremy? Shouldn't he be here for the announcement?" That problem was solved as Jeremy Braxton and his wife appeared at the door. The pair had forgotten that, anticipating retirement, the Braxtons had sold their house and purchased a condo apartment only a couple of blocks from their office. While greetings were exchanged, Barrett had the seating at the head table rearranged. Tom and Jill were to be at the center of the head table, but Josh asked them to wait until after the announcement. "Neato!" Jill whispered to Tom. "Now we can get a drink." As they made their way to the bar, everyone else was moving away from it following Josh's request that everyone take their seats for dinner. On the way to the head table Josh had unobtrusively picked up Tom and Jill's place cards. They ordered Maker's Mark on the rocks with Jill cracking, "Have to help keep those great Kentucky distillers in business!" Tom just grinned and raised his glass to her. Seeing that they were alone with the bartender, Jill asked if restaurant carried Dom Pérignon. She was told that they did stock it, but since there were about 100 people present, he doubted they had enough to serve everyone. But he left the bar to check. While he was gone, Tom asked, "Why, Jill?" She knew exactly what he meant, but professed ignorance. "Why, what?" "You know damn well what I mean!" he said with a grin. "Why did you bankroll my partnership?" With her eyes wide she replied, "You really want to know?" "Damn straight!" "To piss off Marilyn Hodges is why," she said with a grin. "By the way, which one is she?" Tom indicated a bleached blonde with her tits overflowing the top of her dress. She was with a rather portly young lawyer who even at a distance seemed to be full of himself. Shaking her head she said, "Tch, tch. Big mistake." After a pause she added, "But her mistake was my gain, so tough shit." Gently, Tom lifted her chin and kissed her again. And it was like the ones before only even better. "By the way," he asked casually, "when are we getting married?" Just as casually she replied, "Gee, I don't know. I don't have my appointment book with me tonight, so I really can't set a firm date." Then she snapped her fingers and added, "Oops! Not so fast ... You'll have to ask my boyfriend first. And if he objects..." She didn't finish the sentence; rather, she just slowly shook her head. Before Tom could say anything more, the bartender returned. They had ten bottles of Dom Pérignon, but that was only about 50 servings. They did have several cases of Mumm's Cordon Rouge, though. She started to tell the bartender to start pouring the Dom Pérignon at the head table and continue until they ran out, then switch to the Mumm's. But Tom stopped her. "Sweetie, are you familiar with RHIP?" Jill just shook her head. "Tch, tch. You ought to be. It's Rank Has Its Privileges. And the translation for tonight is that we'll keep the DP for the head table ... Damn!" "And what's that mean?" "That means I'm driving, is what damn means. And that, in turn, means only one drink." "No, you're not. You're leaving your car in the garage in the basement. I have a limousine at my disposal so ... You're going to meet my boyfriend and ask him ... whatever." So that settled that. By that time, everyone had found their seats. There were some puzzled looks around the room because, although they were all seated, no food had yet appeared, and the wait staff was making no move in that direction. Before they could get too restive, Jeremy Braxton was on his feet pinging his glass with his knife. And for the first time, Jill got a good look at his wife. She appeared to be far younger than he, in her forties. And she was a classic trophy wife. "Folks," he began, "tonight marks the end of an era. I am a founding member of this Firm, but it's time for me to leave. As some of you know, Marge and I have sold our house and bought a condo. From now on, we're going to cruise, vacation, travel, and generally enjoy ourselves." "And it's about time!" his wife yelled out from beside him, engendering laughter from the group. "Well, I'm leaving, so where does that leave the Firm?" Jeremy continued. "I'm delighted to say it leaves the Firm in really great shape. Effective immediately, the Firm's name is changing. From now on it's Brady, Barrett & Clay. I want to welcome Tom Brady as the new senior partner of Brady, Barrett & Clay! "Come on up here, Tom!" This time all eyes were on Jill as she preceded him to the head table. There were audible gasps particularly from the women who better appreciated the body she had to have in order to wear the dress she was wearing. Jeremy Braxton and his wife were the very first to greet Tom and welcome Jill. The other name partners and their wives were right behind. While greetings were being exchanged, Tom told Joshua Barrett that Jill had ordered champagne to be served to everyone immediately following the rest of the introductory remarks. For her part, it was all Jill could do to keep the look of complete triumph from her face. She was looking at Marilyn Hodges who looked like she had eaten something that really didn't agree with her. In other words, the girl looked sick. And it couldn't happen to a nicer bitch! Jill thought. She and Tom took their seats while Josh Barrett remained standing. "Folks, Jeremy has just said it all. But I'll add one thing before introducing our new senior partner: Tom Brady has only been the senior partner for a few minutes, but already it's clear that he's a real rainmaker. Already we have been appointed primary counsel to the biggest bank in town. We have also been named as counsel for the Commonwealth of Kentucky for Toyota. And we can have as much additional Toyota business as we can handle. "How do you like that for his first few minutes in the job? "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the new senior partner of Brady, Barrett & Clay, Tom Brady!" As Tom rose to his feet, so did everyone else in the room to give him a standing ovation. He motioned them to take their seats and then began, "Folks, I'll give you the good news first: There's not going to be any speech. The primary reason for this is that as late as six this evening I had no idea it was going to happen. "With respect to the Firm, though, except for me trying to fill the very big shoes left by Jeremy Braxton, things will be as before. At least I hope they will be." Turning to Josh he said, "Joshua Barrett, I certainly hope you're willing to continue as managing partner. You've done a brilliant job herding all the cats in this place, and I hope you are willing to continue. Will you? Please?" From his demeanor, it was obvious to Jill that a load had been lifted from Josh Barrett. It was clear he wanted to keep his management position and was delighted to do so. Tom continued, "There's one more thing: I gather that it's traditional for the senior partner to be married. But I'm not. At least I'm not yet. I would like you all to meet the love of my life, the girl of my dreams — except I never even had dreams as good as she is — the woman I hope to marry ... Jill Barnes!" Turning toward her he said softly, "Jill, please stand so they all can see you." Jill stood, waved at the people and then went into Tom's arms. The ovation following their searing kiss almost took the roof off the building. While they were still locked in their embrace, the wait staff was flooding through the room serving champagne to everyone. And someone had the presence of mind to wrap the Dom Pérignon bottles being poured at the head table, although they proudly displayed the Cordon Rouge bottles being poured elsewhere. When everyone had been served, it was Henry Clay's turn. Rising to his feet he said, "I would like to offer a toast: To Tom Brady who will provide the leadership for our Firm into the new century, and to Jill Barnes, who I sincerely hope will soon be his wife! "Tom and Jill, we love you!" With that everyone drank the toast and finally the meal got underway. Jill found herself seated between Tom to her left and Josh Barrett to her right. Beyond Josh was his wife, Amy. Leaning across her husband, Amy said, "Jill, never have I seen a woman as perfect as you. How do you do it?" At that point they were between courses, so Jill stood, suggesting it would be easier to talk if they were together rather than talking over Josh. When they rose and moved to a corner, Harriet Clay, Henry's wife, joined them. "You asked about getting in shape," Jill began. "It's really easy. It's The Body Shop." "I've heard about that!" Harriet enthused. But then her face fell as she added, "But I hear they have a waiting list a mile long!" "And they do everything!" Amy Barrett added. "I mean ... they even shave down there!" Jill couldn't control her laughter, but she did manage to keep the volume down. "I guess I might as well lay it all out," she said. "First of all, just for the record, they don't shave, they remove hair with a laser ... and it's permanent. But second, if you don't already know, you will soon enough: Until mid-December I was a featured dancer at The Girl Spot. And I'm totally bare." "Wow!" Harriet exclaimed. "You are? I mean ... what's it feel like?" "Harriet, I've been bare for so long I don't even remember ever having had any pubic hair. So my answer to your question is it feels fine ... normal." "But, you mean you took your clothes off on stage?" Amy asked with her eyes wide. "In public? In front of all of those people?" "No, Amy, I didn't take off my clothes in public. I — and my sister — were exotics. That means we start off naked and just stay that way." Harriet Clay looked thoughtful and then said, "I went to a modern dance recital a year or so ago, and all the women were naked on stage." She looked puzzled as she added, "But that was called art." Jill couldn't control her laughter. "One of our girls, Connie Stevens, might have been in that group. It's really funny as she's the first to admit. Until a short time ago, without her glasses — real Coke bottles — she was blind as a bat. Yet she had the weird idea in her head that if she couldn't see the faces in the audience, they couldn't see hers either. She finally joined us figuring that if she's going to dance naked she might as well get paid for it. "She'll get her doctorate in June and will be married to a really great guy right afterwards. Then they're just going to honeymoon until she's ready to deliver their first child." "Her doctorate?" Amy gasped in amazement. "I guess The Girl Spot really is a bit odd as a strip club," Jill admitted. "Except for my sister Melanie and me, all the dancers have at least one degree or will have one very soon. The fact is that we found that very intelligent girls make the very best entertainers. They just seem to be more aware of their audience." "But The Body Shop?" Amy reminded, getting the conversation back on track. "You're both in starting tomorrow, but there's one condition..." "Which is... ?" Harriet prompted. "You both have to really work at it. None of this an-hour-or-so-a-week nonsense. And it really is work! But if you work at it, we guarantee results." With that they returned to their seats. After the main course was served, again they were waiting when Jill snapped her fingers. "Damn! I nearly forgot. Next weekend is the first Saturday in May, and that means there's activity of some sort or other over at Churchill Downs." "Oh, yeah," Tom responded, playing along. "It has something to do with horses, doesn't it?" "I guess so," Jill admitted. "Anyway, would you folks like to go? My treat." "Unless you want to be in the mob scene," Tom observed, "you have to get tickets years in advance." "That's not necessarily true," Jill replied. "We have dozens of seats ... in the owners' box." Tom just gaped. "Owners' box? You're an owner, Jill?" "I'm not, but our daughters are. And both are riding next Saturday." Josh Barrett and Henry Clay were both listening attentively. Although she was speaking to Tom, Jill was making no effort to keep her voice down, so clearly her conversation wasn't private. Furthermore, while Tom knew next to nothing about horses or racing and had read no stories on the upcoming Derby, the other two had. Speaking very slowly, Henry Clay said, "I was reading a story in the Herald-Leader earlier this week ... It focused on a pair of Lexington horses entered in the Derby. And they're horses from ... Bluegrass Farm!" Looking at his partners he added, "And guess who owns Bluegrass? Our most important client, the Corcorans." Proudly beaming, Jill announced, "My daughter, Tanya, will be riding King of Bluegrass Farm, while Mel's daughter, my niece Natasha, will be riding Black Silk." Clay continued, "The story was pretty interesting. It was written by the paper's turf writer, and he seems to be pretty knowledgeable. While he saw both horses, he neither saw them run nor even ridden. Apparently the rumor is true: The only people those horses will allow on their backs for any reason at all are their owners, Tatiana and Natasha Corcoran. And the girls will be riding them in the Derby. "And that's the primary problem, according to the writer. In the first place, both girls are very young: only 15. Furthermore, not only are the girls not licensed jockeys, they've never ridden in a horse race in their lives. And the Derby being the Derby, they'll be competing against the world's top riders. "But that's not all. Beyond all of that, those horses will be carrying at least 10 pounds more weight than any of the others. Incidentally, the writer checked: It's quite legal for an owner to handicap his own horse with more weight if he chooses." Then he looked at Jill with a question obvious in his eyes. "Henry, everything you just said is absolutely true." Then with a big grin she added, "With all of that being said, I'm offering even money that Bluegrass Farm wins the Derby. Now how much of that check I wrote to you earlier do you want to give back?" Clay and Barrett were both stunned. "You're kidding!" Josh Barrett managed to gasp. "The hell I am!" Jill immediately responded. "In fact, I'll make the same offer to everyone here tonight. Furthermore, I'll cover any amount anyone wants to wager on the same basis." "Even money?" Clay murmured. "Jill Barnes, you can't be serious. The minimum odds I've heard are 50 to 1, and I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to find 100 to 1. But you're offering even money?" "I sure am!" Jill replied emphatically. Then to Josh she said, "You're the managing partner. Do you want to make the announcement?" Then she snapped her fingers and said, "As your new senior partner can attest, my sister had a check certified in blank. And when the other attorney didn't believe it, he called John Hughes at the bank. John confirmed that, indeed, it had been certified in blank. The reason they did it, in his words, was that since my sister was using a personal check, there wasn't enough space on the Amount line for her to write a number too large to be covered. You can tell the people that, too. Regardless of the amount, I'll cover it." Barrett made the announcement and then repeated it slowly because of the stunned amazement with which it was first received. Then there was a near-stampede as the people thronged forward to place their bets. Two of the Firm's executive secretaries were enlisted to record names and the amounts wagered. They did so after first writing down their own names and the amounts of their own bets. What no one knew — or if anyone did know, took no action — was that Jill's offer could have been a license to print money through arbitrage. For every thousand dollars bet with Jill, a forty dollar bet with a bookie at the minimum odds of 50 to 1 on a Bluegrass Farm horse would have guaranteed a thousand-dollar profit. If one of the Bluegrass horses won, he would lose $1,000 to Jill but win $2,000 from the bookie. If they lost, he won $1,000 from Jill offset by the $40 to the book. But no one did ... yet. When all the bets were recorded, Jill noted that both Barrett and Clay had wagered $1,000. But so had Marilyn Hodges, while her date, the new junior partner, Harrison Carver, had bet $50,000. It was by a very wide margin the largest bet booked. When she showed it to Tom, he whispered to her, "I'll lay you any money that that's the money Carver is planning to use to pay for his 0.05 percent interest in the Firm. It's payable by June 1st." With a grin he added, "Want to bet against me on that one?" "Don't be silly, dear," Jill replied loftily. "I don't make sucker bets." Then to Barrett and Clay, she said, "Want to make another private bet with me? I've already bet that a Bluegrass Farm horse wins it. I'll bet you each another hundred dollars that the horse breaks two minutes flat for the distance. Want to bet?" "That race has been run since 1875," Clay replied, "and only one horse ever broke two minutes. And that was Secretariat in 1973 and he was under by only a fraction of a second. Hell yes, I'll take that bet." Barrett jumped on it, too, and the three shook on it. Then Jill said, "Now, about next Saturday ... Don't you guys want to be in Louisville to see your money go down the drain?" They all agreed, with the wives particularly enthusiastic about being able to see such a great race from an owner's box. With the dinner concluded, there was a small orchestra playing for dancing, so with some trepidation Tom asked Jill to dance. What he didn't realize was that she had never danced with a man in her life; her only ballroom dancing had been in the living room of their duplex when she and Mel were teaching their boys to dance. But they went out on the floor and Jill moved in his arms like a weightless dream. In no time the others on the floor had moved aside to give the couple more room. And in her very revealing gown, the perfection of her body was there for all to see. When the music slowed, Jill molded herself to Tom's body. Looking into his eyes, she saw a puzzled expression. Finally he blurted, "Jill, what are you wearing under that gown? I can't figure it out. I can't believe a bra could be made that could reach down below your navel..." "That's easy," she replied with a little grin. "Nothing at all." "N ... nothing?" Tom gasped. "No, nothing," she repeated. "You said it yourself: A bra can't be made to reach down this far. And if you look, you'll see the crack of my ass. I can't even wear a thong. So ... Nothing." Then her grin widened and she added, "That's not strictly true. I'm wearing thigh-high stockings and two-inch heels. You like?" "I like!" Tom replied emphatically. By then it was approaching midnight and again Jill asked to borrow Tom's cellphone. First, she called the Farm and found that Mel was there with Jack Murphy. Jill asked her sister to get the kids up, particularly Mike and Tanya. Then lowering her voice she said, "I'm bringing Tom home with me." After disconnecting, she called for the Rolls. It was waiting out front when they reached the street and whisked them out to the Farm. As they rolled up the drive, they saw the house ablaze with lights. Somewhat to Jill's surprise they found everyone in the seldom-used living room, waiting. Thankfully, Mel had carefully arranged the tableau. She and Jack were sitting on a loveseat, while Tasha and Ben were sitting on one large sofa with Tanya and Mike sitting on another sofa that faced its twin. The sofas were easily wide enough for four, so Jill sat down beside her son, Mike, folding her leg under her and sitting on her ankle facing him. Mike turned to face her and she took both of his hands in hers. Then looking straight into his eyes Jill said softly, "Mike, tonight Tom Brady asked me to marry him. I told him that before I could give him an answer, I would have to ask the love of my life. And that's you, Michael Barnes. "My darling, you are the love of my life. But you have a love of your own, your sister, Tanya. And society still frowns on a mother marrying her son, so..." Mike could feel the trembling in his mother's hands as she waited for his answer. He slowly shook his head and said, "Mom, isn't that really the all-time dumbest question you've ever asked? I don't know if you realize it, but I certainly do: For fifteen years you've sacrificed yourself for me! It began when you allowed me to be born, and it's continued ever since. "Ben and I both know — at least a bit — about the degree to which you and Aunt Mel have constantly sacrificed yourselves for our benefit. Do you seriously believe I could deny you your happiness that's so long overdue?" Slowly shaking his head, Mike continued, "But is that all? For my mother? Of course not! Often you're in our bed when I'm making love with Tanya doing everything in your power to increase our enjoyment and our love for each other. But at the same time, we see you leave our room barely able to walk because of your own unslaked passion ... which we've only just aggravated! "So, Mom, the answer to your question isn't yes... it's hell yes!" Hearing his words, Jill wrapped Mike in her arms and just started to bawl, murmuring, "My son, my darling, loving son..." When Jill calmed down a bit, while still holding her close in his arms, Mike turned to Tom Brady. "Mr. Brady, I'll give you one word of advice. It's going to sound like I'm teasing you, but really I'm not. The advice is get in shape! Believe me when I say that with the exception of my love, Tanya, Mom is the best-conditioned woman on the planet. And her passion has been building for fifteen years! If you're not in good shape, she could accidentally kill you." Mike paused and then continued with tears starting to flow from his eyes. "There's one more thing, sir. After you're married, with your permission, could I call you Dad?" Tom Brady jumped to his feet from the facing sofa, put his hands in Mike's armpits and lifted him bodily to his feet. Then he wrapped him in a bear hug and said, "Michael Barnes, nothing would thrill me more than to have you as my son." Then with a smile he added, "Could I possibly interest you in becoming Michael Brady?" With that the whole room exploded with everyone hugging and kissing everyone else. As a demonstration that the events of the evening were not totally unexpected, Susan Andrews, wearing her maid's uniform, appeared with a tray of champagne flutes. She was followed by Dan and Jessie Johnson, each carrying bottles of Dom Pérignon in ice buckets. Dan gently opened the bottles and poured glasses for everyone. For both Melanie Brewster and Jill Barnes, it was the happiest night of their lives. ------- Chapter 25 "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is Jim Hastings. I'm here with my CBS colleague and turf expert, Jed Clancy. We're here at Churchill Downs in Louisville, Kentucky for this year's Run for the Roses, the Kentucky Derby. Jed, your take?" "Thanks, Jim, and hello to all you turf fans as well as the millions of folks out there for whom this is the only horse race that matters. In my opinion this race, run since 1875, ranks up there in the sports world with the Masters Golf Tournament in Augusta, Georgia. "While this race carries a big purse — one million dollars — it's not the biggest; The Breeder's Cup is purse is larger. [Author's note: In 2005 the Derby purse was increased to $2 million.] Similarly, there are golf tournaments with richer prizes than the Masters. Notwithstanding, there's not a golfer in the world who wouldn't want one of those green jackets. Similarly, there's not a breeder or trainer anywhere who wouldn't want to say that he saddled a Derby winner." "I agree with you, Jed. Folks, that's just our opinion, but I truly believe that it's an opinion that's widely shared. Now, Jed, how about today's race?" "Good question, Jim. All indications are that this will be the closest Derby in modern times, anyway. It's been a very interesting season for this year's three-year-olds. Going back to last year's big two-year-old races and this year's Derby prep races culminating in The Wood Memorial, no horse has won two races. And in The Wood a few weeks ago, believe it or not there were seven horses within less than a single length as the winner crossed the line." Hastings chuckled and said, "Well, what's that say about the Visa Triple Crown prize?" Clancy also chuckled and replied, "Jim, I think Visa's money is safe for another year. For you folks out there who may not know it, for the last few years Visa has offered a five million dollar prize to the winner of horse racing's Triple Crown: the Kentucky Derby, The Preakness, and The Belmont Stakes. Each of those races carries a million-dollar purse, but if a single horse takes them all, Visa adds five million more. "The reason you may not even be aware of the existence of the prize is that it's never been awarded; there has been no Triple Crown winner since it was first announced. In fact, there have been no Triple Crown winners since Affirmed took it in 1978. "The history of the Triple Crown is fascinating," Clancy continued. "Although all three races have been run since 1875, the first Triple Crown winner was Sir Barton in 1919, 44 years later. For that matter, there have only been 11 in history. The odd thing is that there has been only a single pair of back-to-back winners: Seattle Slew in 1977 and then Affirmed in 1978. But he was the last one. We've now gone over 25 years without one." Following was a discussion of the top horses in the race, their stables, trainers and jockeys. Jed Clancy concluded his preview of the 20-horse race by saying, "I'm nearly certain that we're going to see a highly tactical race today. There's going to be a high premium on the jockeys' performance and I really think it's going to be the best rider who wins today. "But the identity of that 'best rider' remains to be seen." "Jed, there are a couple of horses you haven't mentioned yet today: King of Bluegrass Farm and Black Silk. What about them?" "Great question, Jim. First of all, if this were an equine beauty contest, those two would win in a walk. They are two of the most beautiful, handsomely-conformed horses I've ever seen. But it's not a beauty contest; it's a horse race. Furthermore, with a lot of people here today, they're the sentimental favorites; they were raised just up the road in Lexington, the very heart of the Kentucky bluegrass country. But there's more: I saw them work out this morning and there's a very strange thing. As you probably know, in the wild a stallion will try to build his herd of mares to be as large as possible, while other stallions try to steal mares from his herd. But it's as if King of Bluegrass Farm never got the word. Believe me when I say that he only has eyes for Black Silk and she only has eyes for him. As you know, the stables here are loaded with fillies, but as far as King is concerned, they don't exist. And if a stallion tried to take Black Silk, I think she would drive him off before King ever had a chance to. "There's another thing: The word has been around for quite a while that no one else has ever been able to get on King's back, and since her new owner appeared, the same thing is true of Blackie. This morning while the horses were exercising on the track, I watched that pair. In the first place, they're never apart. Beyond that, they're constantly nuzzling each other. Believe it or not, those horses love each other. "But while exercise riders were on the other mounts, King and Blackie were being ridden by their owners. And with their owners aboard, those horses were as proud as punch. And another thing: While I certainly can't be sure, I'm almost certain that the entire time they were out on the track, those horses had free rein. Their riders were aboard, but the horses were doing whatever they wanted to do. All their riders appeared to do was to stroke them, pat them, and talk quietly to them. And the horses seemed to love it. "Which brings me to their riders and the problem in today's race. First, King's rider is Tatiana Corcoran, and Blackie's rider is Natasha Corcoran. The girls are co-owners of both horses. The Corcoran girls are twins and were adopted from a school in Russia. And because the girls are tall — both about five feet ten — those horses will be carrying at least ten more pounds than any other horse in the race. Until the formal weigh-in, we won't know the exact weight handicap, but it's sure to be at least ten pounds. "And ten pounds is a big handicap to give up, particularly in a race as evenly matched as this one with the world's top three-year-olds." Jed paused and then continued, "Let's review the bidding: First, the horses are beautiful and perfectly conformed. And they're both big and strong. But they've never ever raced! The Kentucky Derby will be their very first race. Talk about starting at the very top! Then there are their owner/riders. Neither girl has ever ridden in a race anywhere. They certainly appear to be at home in the saddle, but they'll be competing against the very best jockeys in the world." "Wow!" Jim Hastings exclaimed. "It's their first appearance in public, too." "No, Jim," Jed responded, "that's not true. The fact is that both of those young women — only fifteen years old, by the way — are not making their first appearance before a large audience. First of all, believe it or not, as high-school freshmen, both girls earned varsity letters last fall... in football! Natasha is the punter and Tatiana is the place-kicker and both accounted for a number of scores. Tasha even completed a pass for a two-point conversion to give Memorial High School a last-second one-point victory. "But that's not all. Those two girls led the Memorial High girls' soccer team to win the state championship." "Okay, Jed, I get your point. They've appeared in public." "But there's more, Jim. Last summer those two girls qualified one-two for places on the U.S. Women's Olympic Gymnastics Team. But they turned down the positions. Aside from everything else, they're truly world-class gymnasts." "Wow!" Hastings exclaimed. "But it's time for the race. The horses are about to leave the paddock as the band plays "My Old Kentucky Home." Then there will be the call to the colors and the parade of horses to the starting gate. Let's listen." ------- In the owners' box, Jill and Mel were standing and cheering as the horses began their parade to the starting gate. King wasn't walking, he was prancing with his head held high. And, as usual, Blackie was beside him to his right as they nuzzled each other. But the two horses were in step. As the horses moved past the grandstand, Jill looked at the tote board and saw that #7, the Bluegrass Farm entry, was posted at 99 to 1, but there was a red light shining beside the odds number. "What's that mean?" she asked as a general question. Neither Tom Brady nor Jack Murphy knew the answer, but Josh Barrett did. "That's a very interesting question and in today's computer age I guess the answer is a little odd. You may notice that there's only room on the tote board to post two-digit numbers, so the highest number possible is 99. But when that red light is lighted — as it is now — it means that the real odds are greater than 99 to 1." He chuckled and added, "I guess to a long-shot bettor, it doesn't matter if it's 99 to 1 or 110 to 1; if the horse wins, he's going to have a big payday." Simultaneously, both he and Henry Clay recognized the significance of what he had just said. Calling over a runner, he gave her $40 to put on Number 7 to win. Clay did the same thing, and then the two partners shook hands. They had just ensured a winning day by arbitraging their bet with Jill. If, by some miracle, King or Blackie won, they would win $4,000 at the track. If they lost as expected, they were in Jill's thousand. One thing the group noticed was what appeared to be a stream of bettors going to the low-priced betting windows — most of them were women. It seemed that they were so impressed with the appearance of King and Blackie they decided to take the long odds. ------- Jim Hastings maintained his commentary as the horses reached the starting gate and the starter's assistants started to load them into the gates. He noticed that King and Blackie just stood together, seeming to be above it all. What they did do, though, was to continue to nuzzle each other. Then he was handed a track notice. He read it and passed it to Jed Clancy with a chuckle. Clancy read it, laughed and then spoke into his microphone. "Folks, we've just received some interesting news. You see that the Corcoran twins on the Bluegrass Farm entry are wearing red and white. We've just been advised that they're here today representing Bluegrass Farm... and the Memorial High School Equestrian Team! Memorial High is the school in Lexington, Kentucky where they're both freshmen." "Can you imagine the spring sports awards assembly at Memorial this year?" Hastings commented. "I can see it now: Those two girls, Tanya and Natasha Corcoran receiving varsity letters ... for appearing in the Kentucky Derby. "But as you said, Jed, there's nothing like starting at the very top." When it was time for King to enter the gate, it appeared that Tanya just spoke a word or two to him and in he went with Blackie going as quietly into the gate beside him to his right. There they just stood motionless while most of the rest of the horses appeared to be quite restive as the full field was loaded into gates. "It may be their first race," Clancy commented, "but you would never know it to look at their behavior. They seem far more comfortable in the starting gate than horses that have raced and won a number of times." Hastings took over the announcing. "The horses are all in the gates and ... Wait! I can see what appears to be King and Blackie dropping their hind quarters; they seem to almost be in a crouch." At that, the bell sounded and the gates popped open simultaneously. "And they're off!" Hastings shouted. When the gates opened, both King and Blackie were out as if they had been shot from guns. The girls were forward over their necks and their stirrups were back as they put their weight into them. "Good grief, Jim!" Clancy exclaimed. "I've never seen anything like this in a thoroughbred race. Those two horses broke from the gate like quarterhorses. If you're unfamiliar with the term, quarterhorses were developed from cow ponies, and many actually are. They're smaller than thoroughbreds but much faster in acceleration. Particularly in the West, there are a lot of quarterhorse races ... but they're only for a quarter of a mile. That's where they got the name. "And today's Derby is, of course, a mile and a quarter!" Hastings resumed his commentary. "The Bluegrass Farm entry broke way out in front of the field. King immediately moved in to the rail with Blackie on his shoulder trailing by a head. But she seems to be matching him stride for stride. "But the pace! They can't possibly..." "Jim, it's pretty clear what the Bluegrass strategy is: There's no way those girls can match the other jocks in racing tactics and experience. So they broke way out in front and are setting a blistering pace to try to stay out there." "The leaders are at the quarter pole. And, Jed, that would mark the end of a quarterhorse race." "Of course you're right, Jim. But they're not slowing down!" "As they go into the first turn, it's still King and Blackie, the Bluegrass Farm entry, in the lead. And they appear to be extending it. Jed, they're not fading; if anything it's almost as if they're running faster!" "Jim, I have never seen anything like this in my life! Black Silk is matching King of Bluegrass stride for stride. But she maintains exactly the same position: trailing her stablemate — and lover — by exactly a head." "Jed, there's no question about it: That pair are continuing to open their lead over the rest of the field. And now it appears the other jockeys are aware of what's happening. Andy's Doc has set out in hot pursuit. I guess his rider is afraid of giving away too much of a lead." "Jim, you're right. But look! Andy's Doc is pulling away from the field, but he's not closing on the leaders! They're continuing to extend their lead over him, too." Shaking his head, Jed Clancy added, "But I don't think there's any chance of Andy's Doc being able to sustain his pace." "As they go down the back stretch," Jim Hastings resumed, "it's still King of Bluegrass and Black Silk, and they're still pulling away from the field! And as they go into the clubhouse turn, Andy's Doc is fading. He's really falling back now and will soon be overtaken by the rest of the field. Jed, you certainly called that one right: You didn't think Andy's Doc could maintain his pace and apparently he cannot. The field is overtaking him; he's shot his bolt. "Folks, I do not believe what I'm seeing! As they come out of the clubhouse turn and enter the homestretch, those two horses are still setting a blistering pace." "You sure got that right, Jim. As we discussed before, this race has been run since 1875, and in all that time only one horse has ever broken two minutes, and that was Secretariat who was three-fifths of a second under. But those two are on a pace that won't break the record, it will shatter it!" "Folks, to try to give you some idea of what's happening here at Churchill Downs today, even with our wide-angle lenses, it's impossible for us to show you both the leaders and the next horses behind. Their lead is just too great! And as they approach the finish line, it's exactly the same picture we've seen this entire race: King is leading Blackie by exactly a head as they match stride for stride. "And it's over! King of Bluegrass Farm, first; Black Silk, second, while the rest of the field follows. Folks, at the finish line those two horses were leading by about 200 yards! That's a lead of about 65 lengths! It's incredible! And they've just posted the official time: King of Bluegrass ran the mile and a quarter in one minute, fifty seconds! As Jed Clancy said, he didn't break the record, he shattered it by almost ten full seconds. "And, Jed, would you please look at those two girls? They're doing what they did during the whole race, the only difference being that now they're sitting up on their saddles. But those two are still stroking their mounts and talking to them. The horses? They both shattered the existing Derby record, but honestly they truly appear to be fresh enough to do it again... right now!" In the owner's box, Jill couldn't control her grin as she turned to Bill Corcoran and said, "Golly, Bill, I've got terrible news! We've just picked up about $800,000 for coming in one-two." But before Bill could answer, Caitie airily replied, "That's okay. It'll keep the IRS off our backs for a few more years. They're constantly on the backs of stable owners contending that racing isn't a business, it's a hobby. And guess what? Hobby expenses are not deductible. To be a business, you have to make a profit ... one year in five, I think. And if you don't, you don't just lose the deductions for the fifth year, you lose them for the prior four years, too." With a broad grin and a wink she added, "So thank you, Jill." Jill just stuck out her tongue. Meanwhile, there was a stream of very happy young bettors making their way to the payoff windows. It turned out that the actual odds were 110 to 1, so even a two-dollar bettor collected $220. The amusing thing was that the winning bettors were those who bet on the horses' appearance; the "horse-race experts" who studied The Racing Form with the same attention some devote to The Bible were all losers. Josh Barrett and Henry Clay happily sent off a runner to collect $4,400 each on their $40 bets. With a broad grin Josh asked Jill if she wanted her money on the spot. With an equally wide grin, Jill replied that he didn't have to pay her until Monday. Then Jill and Mel left the box to go down to the winner's circle for the award of the trophy and the prize money. Tanya and Tasha were proudly standing in front of their mounts. The blanket of roses was laying across the necks of both horses, and a CBS reporter, Jan Carver, noticed. Tanya explained that it was done with the permission of the Derby authorities in view of the fact that Black Silk had shattered the previous Derby record herself. Furthermore, both horses were standing proudly while nuzzling their owners when they could, and each other the rest of the time. What the reporter didn't notice was that no one was holding the horses' reins; they were just hanging down in front of them. "Tatiana Corcoran is both the co-owner of King of Bluegrass and his rider today," the CBS reporter said into her mike. "Tanya, what can you tell me about the race?" "It was very simple, Jan," Tanya replied. "It should be obvious to everyone that Tasha and I would have been killed in a tactical race. Without exception, there was not a jockey out there today who hasn't forgotten more about horse race tactics than Tasha or I will ever know. "That being the case, we did the only thing we could do: We tried to break in front and just outrun the field. And I guess that's what happened." "What's next for you girls?" Carver asked. "We'll be at Baltimore's Pimlico for The Preakness in two weeks," Tasha replied. "And we'll see if our loves can do it again. Frankly, I truly believe that they can and they will." "Girls, after seeing what I saw this afternoon, I think you're right," Carver agreed. Then Jan turned to John Andrews. "John, as the man responsible for training King and Black Silk, what did you think of the race?" Andrews smiled and replied, "First, Jan, I want to correct the record. You're right, of course: I am listed as the trainer of record for these two horses. But the reality is I've done absolutely no training with either of them. The story floating around is absolutely correct: Neither horse will allow anyone else on his or her back other than their owners. "I was told that one of the CBS booth announcers made a comment about King and Blackie never getting the word that horses are not supposed to be monogamous. Well, it's true: they really are. But there's another word this pair never got either: That's the fact that horses are supposed to be dumb animals. Well, let me tell you these horses are the smartest dumb animals the world has ever seen. "You asked about training and I said the girls did it all. But that really isn't true either. The fact is that the horses already knew it all when the girls first got on their backs. If there was any training done, it was the horses training the girls in how to ride!" Jan Carver let out a soft whistle and then turned back to the girls. "Do you two have any comments?" This time it was Tasha who responded. "I've been thinking about Tanya's comment about the other jockeys being far more experienced than we are, and that's certainly true. However, we have one advantage over many of the other jockeys: They're professionals and are mostly self-employed. They'll typically ride two or three different mounts each day. "But not us. Tanya and I each only ride a single horse. Now I ask you, Ms. Carver, do you seriously believe a jockey can know his mount after only receiving a few minutes' instruction from the horse's trainer? I don't. With Tanya and me, we know our horses and they know us. During the race I was over Blackie's neck just talking to her. That's all I did." "Thanks so much, girls and John Andrews. I would like to continue but our time is up. Best of luck at The Preakness and The Belmont Stakes. And now we'll send you back to the booth with Jim Hastings and Jed Clancy." In the intervening time both Hastings and Clancy had had a chance to review the tape of the whole race and also to get their thoughts in order. On second viewing, the race was at least as impressive as it was when they watched it live. Hastings chuckled and said, "Jed, you predicted a tactical race with the winner being the best rider. You also said that you thought Visa's money was very safe for another year. What do you think now?" In that closing segment the camera was on the pair. Jed grinned and said, "Jim, for the first, I'm not sure that I wasn't right the first time. Those girls may not have experience, but they certainly know how to handle their horses. And did you notice that neither girl wore spurs and they didn't have whips? All they did was talk to their mounts and what they said sure was convincing. And that's exactly what Tasha Corcoran just said to Jan Carver. "As for the Visa Triple Crown, I think the Visa people should start getting their checkbook out. "Folks, while the camera was down in the Winner's Circle, Jim and I were reviewing a tape of the race. Well, after that review, I really believe Jim's comment was right on the money when after the race he said that it looked like those two horses could do it again right then. Those horses were not tired! "The next race in the Triple Crown series is The Preakness at Pimlico in two weeks. While the Derby is run at a mile and a quarter, The Preakness is a mile and three-sixteenths. That's about 100 yards shorter than the Derby." "Jed, we don't talk about it much, but what about the betting?" "A very good question. The fact is that the word around is that yesterday someone could get 1,000 to 1 against the Bluegrass Farm entry winning the Triple Crown. You know what? Before the sun sets tonight out in Las Vegas, I doubt if a bettor could get even money. Those horses have changed the horse-racing world!" And that's exactly what happened. Furthermore, there was panic among the bookies including the largest casinos, and it wasn't confined to the States by any means. After frantic scrambling, they found that there had been tens of thousands of dollars bet on the Bluegrass Farm entry to take the Triple Crown. Beyond that, though, in every case the establishment booking the bets looked on the wagers as found money; there had been no attempt, let alone any serious effort, to lay off the bets. Many of the casinos and betting establishments had taped the race and subsequently they had reviewed the race over and over. Each time they saw the same thing: Two horses literally running away from the field and finishing the race appearing to be as fresh as they were at the start. One British bookie said it all: "I'm not certain those bloody horses were even running at top speed!" ------- Chapter 26 That night following the Derby there was a massive celebration all over Bluegrass Farm. In the first place, hundreds of thousands of dollars had been won at the track and with bookies around the world. Beyond that, though, there was the promise of a humongous payday when the pair of horses took the remaining two races in the Triple Crown. What had been a dream and a theory appeared to be becoming a reality. There were other changes made immediately at the Farm. First, over the five weeks between the Derby and The Belmont Stakes, Dan Johnson put his entire security team on full alert with half his force on duty at all times. Second, Pasha and Shari, along with their grown offspring, the Jacksons' tigers, Caliph and Princess, were flown down to Lexington. The six tigers were utterly delighted to be able to roam over 16 square miles. For the New York City cats, it was the first time they had ever been able to truly roam, although Pasha and Shari had been able to roam the moors around Prendwick Castle during Bill and Caitie's honeymoon visit. The heightened security resulted from the realization that the world's bookmakers were looking at a multi-million dollar hit, and for a number of them the possibility of violence had not been entirely written out of the script. For that reason, the same personal security firm that had protected the young rape victim, Cassie Fisher, was retained to guard the girls and the horses when they were at Pimlico and Belmont Park. Once again, Dan Johnson was on the phone to Ed Brennan, the principal of Memorial High School. And fortunately Ed's experience as a Ranger helped; security for the horses was obvious but to him so was the personal security of the two girls. He realized that they were the only riders either horse would allow on its back and without riders the horses couldn't race. Monday was a day that the young lovers spent at the high school; the security concerns were allayed, though, because the academic year at University of Kentucky where they were taking most of their classes had ended. When they arrived at school — to their dismay, Dan insisted on driving them in two silver Rolls-Royce — Tanya noticed that there seemed to be far more students hanging around in the halls than normal. Moreover, while the foursome were largely self-contained, she thought she knew most of the other students by sight at least, if not by name. But many of the faces she saw in the hall were new to her. Furthermore, when she looked more closely she realized that, while they were dressed in a fashion similar to the other students, they were actually substantially older than high-school age. Of course, she was correct. The fact was that there were more than twenty agents of the security company prowling Memorial's halls. No sooner had they entered the school than they heard themselves being paged on the school's PA system to report to the principal's office. Ed Brennan's first words to Tanya and Tasha were, "Sheesh! As if you two haven't cost us enough in athletic awards, now you have to go and create an Equestrian Team!" Pretending to be miffed he continued, "Well! Since you two picked up more than $800,000 on Saturday, you can pay for your own dumb varsity letters!" Then he shook his head and added, "And I guess there will have to be a horse's head on the letter, too." Just then his secretary, Mabel Stevens, stuck her head in the office. "Edward Brennan, would you kindly stop berating these young people!" "Why?" Brennan asked as innocently as he could. "For three reasons," she responded. "First, I got a call from the university this morning with the kids' grades: all A+. Second, I made a few thousand dollars Saturday afternoon, courtesy of a now very unhappy bookie—" "Mabel Stevens!" Brennan exclaimed. "You ... you gambled!" "Edward, when a pair of horses win a race by more than 200 yards, it's not gambling! It's ... it's taking candy from a baby," she sniffed. "And finally, through the good offices of those off-shore Internet betting thingies, I'm going to be picking up a few hundred thousand more in a few weeks after the girls take the next two races!" Then pretending to glare at him she concluded, "So, Edward, lay off!" With that she firmly shut the door. Brennan could no longer maintain the charade. He started laughing. He then complimented the girls on their riding and all four for their great work at the university. ------- The Monday following the Derby was also a big day for Jill Barnes and Tom Brady. During the preceding week Jeremy Braxton had cleaned out his office. But before Jill would allow Tom to move in she insisted on looking it over with an eye toward redecorating. The decorator who had redone the girls' suites and the corner suites for Jill and Mel had been retained to redo Tom's office. In the intervening week there had been more news for Brady, Barrett & Clay. It turned out that the situation involving Jeremy Braxton's desire to cash out was far more widely known than anyone had realized. But as the word spread about Tom Brady becoming the senior partner, it was as if a dam had burst: New business was coming in in a flood. This had another effect on the firm. Although the firm occupied the highest office floor in its building, it also held long-term leases on the two floors below and had subleased them. And to add to Josh Barrett's pre-dinner woes, the tenant on the floor below had given notice of his intent not to renew his company's sublease. While previously this was seen as terrible news, in light of the new business flooding in both Tom and Josh agreed that it was a godsend in disguise. The Firm was about to need the space itself. The company occupying the third floor down had indicated its intention to renew its sublease, but, while it was being renewed, it was only being renewed on a short-term basis. Brady, Barrett & Clay would probably need that floor, too, before very long. When the decorator appeared, she sat with Tom and just started to chat. Jill listened for a while and realized that the decorator was a master psychologist. There was no mention of decor at all; rather she talked to him about his lifestyle, likes, dislikes, favorite activities and so forth. Realizing she was just getting in the way, Jill decided to use the time to collect on the wagers from the dinner. Jill left the partners' conference room where Tom and the decorator were meeting and went to Abigail Bentley's desk. Abigail, Josh Barrett's secretary, was one of the two executive secretaries who had recorded the wagers Jill had booked at the dinner. They retired to what would be Tom's new office. Before going in, Abby asked the other secretary to start calling the people on the betting list; it was time to pay up. Before leaving her desk, though, the woman gave Jill her own check for $1,000. Once in the office, Abigail took our her own checkbook and wrote out her check. Surprisingly to Jill, the woman didn't seem to be at all unhappy. She certainly knew that both she and Mel would have been in tears if they had had to write such a check. And being the woman she was Jill asked about it. "Why don't I mind writing you this check?" Abigail repeated. "Actually there are two reasons, and one of them applies to Jane Chambers who just gave you her check. The morning following the dinner, when the effects of the champagne had worn off, she and I contacted a friend of ours who lives in Louisville and works at Churchill Downs. Anyway, we arbitraged our bet: We each sent her $40 to bet on the Bluegrass Farm's entry to win. "So we lost $1,000 to you, but won $4,400 from the track." With a bright smile she added, "We couldn't lose." "You said there were two reasons. What was the other one?" "Mrs. Barnes—" "It's Miss ... unfortunately," Jill interrupted. "But I greatly prefer Jill." Then with a warm smile she asked, "What do you prefer? Abigail? Abby? And may I call you by your first name?" "Mrs. Barnes," Abby repeated with emphasis, "in the last week some of us have learned quite a bit about you ... and your twin sister, Mrs. Brewster. We know you've raised two sons under unbelievably difficult conditions, but they may be the two finest young men in the state." Then with a warm smile of her own she added, "No one has ever called me Abby before, but I find I really love the sound of it. So would you please... ?" "Okay, Abby. But you never told me the second reason." "Jill, I'm from the hill country east of here. So is Jane Chambers, by the way. Anyway, when I made that bet with you at the dance I had forgotten something my granddaddy told me. He said that when someone who isn't stupid offers you what appears to be a sucker bet, it is ... But the sucker is you, not her." With a grin Abby concluded, "I forgot that piece of advice." "Abby, how do you like it here at Brady, Barrett & Clay? I gather you both have been here for quite a while." "For a girl from the hill country, this is absolutely the finest job possible. After all, we really don't have much education." "I'll bet you have more than I do," Jill responded with a smile. "Don't be ridiculous!" Abby retorted. "You have at least a college degree and all Jane and I have are high-school diplomas." "Sorry, Abby. I'm a seventh-grade dropout. That's the extent of my education." Abby just shook her head, but the conversation was broken off as people started to appear to settle their bets. Two of them attracted Jill's attention: Harrison Carver and Marilyn Hodges. Carver gave Jill his check, shook his head and said, "Well, at least I have a lot of company, including two of the three name partners." Jill slowly shook her head and replied, "If you mean that they both paid me $1,000, you're right. But if you mean they lost that much on Saturday's race, you're wrong. They were at the track with us and they each made $4,400 betting on King and Blackie, so they ended $3,400 richer." That information did not make Carver's day. Marilyn Hodges appeared to tell Jill that she didn't have the money yet, but would. Then to Jill's utter shock she offered to go double or nothing on The Preakness. Jill almost couldn't believe her ears, but that's what the girl had said. "I'll do it on one condition," Jill told her. "It's apparent that your bet wasn't very well thought-out. Frankly, I suspect you did it just to show your support for your date. But at any rate, the condition is this: If you lose you owe me $2,000. And if you can't pay, you have to work it off at the rate of ten dollars an hour. That means you will owe me 200 hours, and on the basis of a 40-hour week, that's five full weeks. "Okay?" "But my job..." Hodges protested. "I don't get anything like five weeks vacation, and I can't afford to lose it." Her response caused Jill no problem at all. "That's simple. You'll take all of this year's vacation and we'll cover the rest. Okay?" she repeated. Marilyn Hodges agreed and that was that. By that time all the bets had been settled, so Jill turned her attention to the remaining pressing problem: a secretary for Tom. Since by then she and Abigail Bentley were again alone in the office, she brought up the subject. With a grin she commented, "I guess Clara Barton couldn't face the prospect of having to train a new senior partner." Clara Barton had been Jeremy Braxton's secretary. Abby's eyes were dancing but she professed not to know what Jill was talking about. "Don't give me that, Abby! We both know damned well that a good secretary makes all the wheels turn in the right directions. It's your job to keep your boss from sounding like an idiot ... which is what he would sound like if you allowed some of the trash he writes to get out of the office!" Abby didn't reply. Instead she very cutely stuck out the tip of her tongue and giggled. "Now, what are we going to do for a secretary for Tom?" "Before we get into that, Jill, I just want to say that what you did for Clara was extraordinary! Even though she's got almost three years until she's 65, you've arranged for her to get her full salary until then. And that's complete with all bonuses, 401(k) payments ... the whole nine yards. So thank you! That was truly a wonderful thing you did!" "Me?" Jill protested. "I don't even work here. How could I do that?" Instead of replying, Abigail mused, "Oh, well ... For a girl who could casually write checks for $50 million on her personal checking account, I guess that's really small change, isn't it?" Then it was Jill's turn to stick out her tongue and giggle. "A secretary?" she repeated. Abigail Bentley looked straight into Jill's eyes. Although they were sitting at a conference table in what was to be Tom's office, the pair had pulled their chairs away from the table and were facing each other. From the look in Abby's eyes, Jill could tell that what was to follow was very important to the woman. Abby began slowly. "Jill, as you've probably guessed, the senior secretaries have all been here awhile." Grimacing, she continued, "Some of us have been here as long as there's been a firm." "Okay," Jill prompted. "But what does this mean with respect to getting a secretary for Tom?" "Look, Jill, the way things typically work is on a sort of seniority system. And what that means, in turn, is that if things took their normal course, Tom's secretary would be the next most senior after Jane Chambers and me." Abby paused and then continued, "Frankly, I don't know who the next-most-senior secretary is ... and I don't want to know. Because, whoever she might be, she would be wrong for him. She would be far too old." "And the answer is... ?" Speaking very slowly, Abby replied, "Carolyn Mansfield." "And who's Carolyn Mansfield?" "She's quite young — early 20s — and a college graduate. And she's very smart. I've talked to the other seniors, and we've all had the same experience with her: We are never asked to answer the same question twice. Whatever she's told, she remembers. Furthermore — and this is an incredible asset for a good secretary — she has a truly remarkable memory for names and faces. There's nothing quite like a secretary remembering the name of a client who may not have been in the office for years. But she can. And her standard secretarial skills are top notch." "But the problem is... ?" "What problem?" Abby protested. "Who said she has a problem?" "You did, of course," Jill replied with a little grin. "In that little speech you just gave, there was one thing missing: The word 'but' written in great big capital letters! I may be uneducated, but I'm not a fool!" Abby slowly shook her head and answered, "Jill Barnes, you certainly are no fool. In fact, you're the smartest, most perceptive woman I've ever met." "The problem... ?" Jill repeated. "The problems are twofold: First, she's a rape victim, and I gather it was pretty awful; she cannot have children as a result," Abby said softly. "And, I guess, the second relates to the first: It's her appearance. Although she's only about 23, she looks to be on the shady side of 40." "But the rest of you seniors think she has the makings of a top-flight executive secretary?" Abby rapidly nodded her head, so Jill asked that Carolyn Mansfield be paged to come to their office. The young woman appeared very quickly and Jill found herself in total agreement with Abby's assessment of Carolyn's appearance: Indeed, she did appear to be on the shady side of 40. First, her eyes were hidden behind a pair of large-framed glasses with Coke-bottle lenses. Her brown hair was held back in a shapeless bun and her clothing left her appearing shapeless. Jill estimated that the girl was overweight for her five foot nine inch height, but she could have weighed anywhere from 150 pounds to well north of 200. When the girl was standing close to Jill, she appeared to be on tenterhooks. Jill wasted no time on pleasantries; instead, she started right in. "Would you like to be Tom Brady's executive secretary?" "More than anything in this world!" the girl breathed. "I would do absolutely anything to have the opportunity." "Anything?" Jill repeated skeptically. "Anything!" Carolyn repeated emphatically. "Since you're willing to do anything, for openers why don't you just strip off your clothes? I want to see what's hiding under all that camouflage." Then with a grin she added, "By the way, I'm Jill Barnes, Tom's fiancée ... and in a few weeks I'll be his wife. I'm telling you this so you'll know what my interest is." When Jill mentioned stripping, Carolyn Mansfield's eyes had widened and she began to visibly shake. "Strip? Right here? Right now?" Jill grimaced, rose to her feet, went to the office door and locked it. Returning to her seat she said, "Look ... there's no one here except two other women. Surely you've been naked in the presence of women before?" The girl didn't respond. Instead she just stood there frozen and shaking. "Oh, well..." Jill sighed, "if it will make it easier for you..." With that she quickly stripped bare. To her surprise Jill saw that Abigail Bentley was doing the same thing. When Abby was bare, she started to undress the girl; her hands seemed to be incapable of functioning. When she was naked, Carolyn stood beside the table hunched over with one arm over her breasts while the other hand covered her vulva. One thing Jill noticed was that the girl's crotch was so hairy her hand barely covered half of her pubic hair. On the other hand, Abby's pubes were neatly trimmed. Seeing that she was the object of attention of the other two, Jill rose and stood with her feet apart. "Jill," Abby commented, "you're bare. How does it feel? It certainly looks lovely." With a grin Jill replied, "I'll tell you the same thing I've told others: I've had a hairless crotch for so long, the answer to your question is 'normal.'" While she was speaking, Jill walked around Carolyn examining her from all angles. Without clothing, Jill estimated Carolyn's weight to be between 150 and 160; the girl was overweight but not by nearly as much as she might have been judging from the clothed appearance. Then Jill pulled another chair out from the conference table and set it to form a triangle with Abby's and her own. When they were all seated, Jill turned the discussion to Carolyn's rape. She asked when it had happened and learned it had been three years earlier. "How long did it last?" Jill asked. The question took the girl completely by surprise. "Huh?" "How long did it last?" Jill repeated. Slowly shaking her head Carolyn replied, "I ... I don't really know. Ten minutes... ? Twenty? I really have no idea. But why do you ask?" "Because our rape — my twin sister's and mine — lasted five years," Jill replied calmly. Carolyn Mansfield was utterly stunned. "I ... I do not believe it." "It's true, though," Jill retorted in the same very calm tone of voice. "It ran from when we were thirteen until we were eighteen." Then she added, "Did you have an audience for your raping?" "Don't be ridiculous! Of course not!" "We often did. Once I was raped in the ass with five guys watching." Slowly she shook her head and added, "What a bloody mess that was, too; I damn near bled to death. And the guy just loved it!" Carolyn was just slowly shaking her head with an expression of horror on her face. Finally she was able to speak. "Why are you telling me this?" "Because, Carolyn, you were raped and seriously injured several years ago. But it was only a single event lasting a few minutes. My sister and I were raped repeatedly — at least one of us was forcibly taken every day — and it lasted for five stinking years! Yet we managed to retain our sanity and go on with our lives. But you're still hiding, aren't you?" The girl could only nod her head sadly. When Jill had looked at the girl closely she had noted that her bone structure was good and her tits were nicely shaped although quite flabby. Even though she was only 23 years old, they were already noticeably sagging. But those were things that could be fixed. "Let me ask you a question, Carolyn," Jill began. "Do you really think that your appearance conveys the image appropriate for the executive secretary to the senior partner of Brady, Barrett & Clay?" "Executive secretary... ?" the girl gasped. "Well what the hell did you think we were talking about? That was the first thing I said to you. Now answer my question." "N ... no, ma'am. I'm afraid it does not." Jill had remained focused on Carolyn, so she missed the look on Abby's face when she mentioned appropriate image. And since Abby was by then out of Jill's sight line, Jill didn't notice that she had risen from her seat, gone to the phone on the desk, punched in a number and said a few words. By this time, Jill was sitting with her back to the door so she didn't see Abby pad, still stark naked, to the door and unlock it. A few moments later, her friend, roommate, and fellow executive secretary, Jane Chambers, entered the office, re-locked the door and stripped. While all this was going on, Jill had continued her dialogue with Carolyn Mansfield, and Abby had been paying close attention. "Carolyn," Jill said, "earlier you said you would do anything to get this position as Tom's secretary. Did you mean it?" "Of course I meant it!" the girl declared. "You're sure?" "I'm sure!" Carolyn declared emphatically. "Then it's easy," Jill declared with a smile. "Let's see ... It's early May ... We're going to be married in June. Then with the honeymoon and other stuff—" "What other stuff?" Carolyn interrupted. "We're almost certain to be going to the Olympics at Athens," Jill replied. "Our daughters are almost certain to be on the U.S. Women's Gymnastics Team." "Daughters... ?" Carolyn asked, puzzled. "I thought you just had a son." With a giggle Jill replied, "Mel and I share our two sons. And now we have two daughters to share, too." With a lovely smile she added, "They're the two most brilliant, most beautiful girls in the world, too. They're the ones who rode King and Blackie to victory at Churchill Downs on Saturday." "I apologize for the interruption, ma'am. You were talking about timing." "Well, we have to be back in time for school, but that gives you most of four months. Young lady, you are going to get in shape ... at The Body Shop!" Carolyn turned pale. "I've never been there, but I've heard that most of the women there workout ... nude!" With the last word her eyes grew as big as saucers. "That's true," Jill agreed. "The fact is that it's a 'clothing optional' situation." She paused and then dropped a bomb: "However, you will not have the option. You will be naked at all times! Clear?" Carolyn couldn't speak. She had gone white and appeared to be gulping for air. "And the first thing you'll do," Jill continued, ignoring the girl's reaction, "is to get rid of that hay field you have between your legs!" "But—" "Anything... ?" Jill reminded her. The girl slumped in her chair, utterly defeated and dejected, but managed to say, "Yes, anything." At that point Abigail Bentley came back into the discussion. "Jill, your comment about presenting the proper image really hit home to both Jane Chambers and me. Can anything be done for a pair of superannuated relics?" With that, Jill turned to look at the pair. Her eyes widened when she realized that Jane had joined them and was also naked. She grinned and said, "Well, let's take a look." And she did, looking both women over carefully. Both were tall — about five feet eight — and spare. Both women's basic bone structure was good and unlike many mountain women, neither were heavy-boned. With a grin Jill announced, "You both look like you'll clean up real nice." Then she snapped her fingers and added, "But the first step for all three of you is a trip to the ophthalmologist for a laser treatment to restore your sight — all three of you — to 20/20." Carolyn sadly shook her head. "Restore? That's a laugh. I doubt if I was 20/20 when I was born! I've always worn glasses. The lenses just got thicker as I got older." "Okay, that's done," Jill announced. "Carolyn will be full time at The Body Shop until we get back at the end of the summer." Then looking at Abby and Jane she mused, "Let's see..." Then she snapped her fingers as an idea came to her. "First of all, your situation is going to be easier than Carolyn's. And, since things sort of quiet down in the summer, how about if one of you starts off at The Body Shop first thing and then comes into the office after lunch. The other comes over for lunch and stays the rest of the day. How's that sound?" The senior pair agreed, but then Carolyn made a last-ditch effort to avoid having to work out naked. "But why must I be naked?" she wailed. "Okay, that's a good question," Jill replied. "There are several reasons for it: The most important is that we've found that when women get comfortable with being naked, they just move easier and are more relaxed and less uptight. It's also easier for the staff to ensure that women are using the right muscles the right way when they're working out." Then she grinned and added, "Not to mention the reduced wear and tear on exercise outfits." Then she glared at Carolyn and declared, "Naked!" ------- That night there was a council of war convened in the library after dinner. Dan Johnson was there as well as the agent in charge of the special security detail. The agent introduced himself as Charley without giving a last name. That afternoon Charley had observed the six tigers in action and had watched as Andy and Rachel paced King and Blackie during their afternoon run. He readily conceded that the six tigers were superior to any 40 men he might have. "In fact," he added, "they're better. My men have to sleep, but those creatures sort of sleep with one eye open ... and they can see in the dark, too." The fact was, he conceded, security looked pretty good. The Farm was very secure and the kids only had a few classes at the high school. Finally, they also all agreed that the greatest danger would be in the three weeks between the running of The Preakness and The Belmont Stakes. "After all," Charley said, "while these guys aren't opposed to violence in principle, they avoid it for business reasons unless it's a last resort. With the losses they're looking at if those horses take The Triple Crown, that is their last resort." Furthermore, they had learned that betting had been all but suspended on the two upcoming races. A number of casinos and books had just flat taken the races off their boards; they would not cover any more bets. Dan laughed when he reported one bookmaker who was quoting 1 for 1. "And I don't mean even money," he added. "You bet $1 and if you win, you get back $1! That's all. And the guy justifies it by pointing out that he's incurring all the record-keeping expense." At that point, they got a call from Tanya Harding, again calling from Saint Petersburg with a very interesting idea. Since obviously Tanya and Tasha were fluent in Russian, why not bring over three Russian couples as bodyguards? As she had told the girls a year earlier, almost any Russian would give his right arm to be able to get a Green Card to come to the States. Furthermore, she had identified three couples, all currently with the Ministry of State Security, the successor organization to the KGB. In fact, the Ministry's senior officers were all ex-KGB. All six were highly trained, and all jumped at the chance, no matter how remote they thought it to be. They didn't know of Tanya and Tasha, so as far as they were concerned, obtaining Green Cards immediately was a pipe dream, but ... they were more than willing to dream. The three couples were Sasha and Katya, Misha and Olga, and Vanya and Sonya. Furthermore, she had already cleared it with Bill Corcoran and was just waiting for Dan's agreement. Dan immediately agreed and was told they would arrive in Lexington within 48 hours. All six were, of course, fluent in English. ------- As advertised, an Executive Aviation Gulfstream set down at Blue Grass inbound from Chicago where the six had cleared Customs & Immigration following a trans-Polar flight from Saint Petersburg. It was funny in a way. The six were cycling between feelings of shock and awe which had begun only three days before. Where before each of the three families had lived in tiny apartments and were struggling with inflation's inroads into their government paychecks, they found themselves on one of the most luxurious jets in the air and then were met by no less than three identical Rolls-Royce limousines. Their sense of awe only increased as they passed literally miles of white-painted fence, then through security to their first sight of the mansion itself. The six were wide-eyed as they were ushered into the living room where they were introduced to the girls. To the great surprise of the Americans present, upon being introduced the men dropped to one knee and one after the other, reverently kissed the back of the hand of each girl. Meanwhile, their wives were in the deepest curtsies in spite of wearing blue jeans. When asked why, Sasha, speaking for them all, replied, "But they are princesses! All we did was to show them the proper respect!" The whole group then filed into the dining room for a champagne breakfast the likes of which the Russians had never heard of let alone personally experienced. It was while they were talking at the table that Dan Johnson realized that the six had arrived with an incredible bonus: Misha had not only heard of the global efforts to recruit an assassin, he knew the name of the man who had picked up the contract! Beyond that, he even had a photo of the man, a one-time Security Service officer. Moreover, Misha also knew that Charley and Dan's assessment of the situation was accurate: There would be no attempt made until after The Preakness, and if, by some chance, Bluegrass Farm failed to win, the assassination would be called off but the shooter would receive half his fee anyway. They also learned that in their very brief meetings with Tanya Harding, the subject had never come up. In retrospect, though, the fact that the services of an assassin were being solicited would come to the attention of people in the Russians' former line of work. What this information meant was that, although security would be maintained at its then currently high level, there would be time for everyone to familiarize themselves with their surroundings. Following breakfast, the men were taken on a tour of the Farm while the women were shown to their suites. The first suite they came to would be Sasha and Katya's. When the woman saw how spacious it was, she gasped, "This is far larger than our former apartment!" But when Katya saw the bathroom, she displayed a great sense of humor: "And what's this? It must be the ballroom!" And with that she started to gracefully waltz around on the tiled floor to imaginary music and to the laughter of her friends. After seeing their suites, the three Russian women were taken into Jill and Mel's suite. They showered with the girls and then all seven — Katya, Olga and Sonya along with Tanya, Tasha, Mel and Jill — luxuriated in the baby swimming pool. While the Russian women luxuriated they got to know the Americans. Unlike most Russian women, they shaved their underarms and trimmed their pubic hair but they were not used to seeing women who were completely bare below. When Olga asked about it, Tanya casually explained that it felt great and besides, that way Mike didn't get hair in his teeth when he went down on her. She went on to explain that they were being stretched in all their openings as their men continued to grow. Tasha added with a grin that while some people kept track of the growth of children by making a mark on a door jamb, she kept track of Ben's cock by making marks on the bathroom countertop. Mel professed shock but ruined the whole effect by giggling. With everyone refreshed, the women went off to The Body Shop for complete make-overs and then to Styles where they were to be outfitted. The Russian women were oohing and aahing over the magnificent clothing when Katya happened to glance at a price-tag ... and almost choked. The single dress she was looking at cost more than she and Sasha combined earned in six months. Then she was stunned when Jill casually told her that everything being purchased was a business expense for the Farm. After all, it was essential that everyone fit in with their surroundings, and since they would be attending two of the world's most prestigious horse races... Meanwhile, the Russian men were being similarly outfitted by Josef and his tailors. Their visit started off as a sort of Russian old-home week. Josef proudly served them tea Russian style using the silver glass holders the girls had provided. For the Russian men there was a real appreciation of them. When Misha inquired about Josef's business, they learned that it was almost too good. Jill had wasted no time putting the word out to the well-heeled patrons of Styles about the marvelous menswear the tailors at Josef's produced. In fact, Josef told them, he was desperately in need of more top-flight tailors. At that point, Vanya mentioned that his own father was a master tailor as was his father-in-law, Sonya's father. In fact, he added, that was the way the young couple had first met. "And ... and," he added, "it would be so wonderful to have our parents here so they can see the grandchildren Sonya and I want to present them with." Josef was ecstatic and those wheels began to turn. There was a small problem when the Russian men realized that they were not carrying their weapons and their new jackets needed to be full enough to handle them. Although they were used to using a variety of weapons, Dan surprised them by producing three custom automatics from Skoda Arms AG in Bohemia. They were assured that the weapons were duplicates of one made for Prince Douglas of Bohemia. And there were similar weapons for the wives, too. They all loved them! ------- Chapter 27 It was the third Saturday in May and time for the running of The Preakness at Pimlico in Maryland, and again Jim Hastings and Jed Clancy were on hand for the CBS TV broadcast of the race. In the runup to the race, the live camera was on in the broadcast booth and the two were talking about the upcoming event. "Well, Jed," Hastings commented, "a lot has changed in the last couple of weeks." "I can only say amen to that," Clancy replied. "In the first place, there have been any number of horses that had been nominated for this race that have been withdrawn by their owners. It's one thing to lose a race, but it's something very different to be destroyed. And in the Derby, the other horses were devastated. Apparently their owners don't want a repeat for fear of destroying their mounts' future racing potential. "And there's another major change," Clancy continued. "Normally we don't comment on horse-race betting, but today is different. Pimlico went to the Maryland Racing Commission and got special permission to suspend the minimum payout. As I'm sure many of our viewers know, $2.20 is the minimum payout on a two-dollar bet. But because of what happened in Kentucky, the track officials feared that they could go broke if they had to maintain the minimum." Clancy shook his head in bewilderment. "Jim, this is like no other race I've ever heard of. It's shaping up to be two races in one. It's as if the Bluegrass Farm entry, King of Bluegrass Farm and Black Silk, are being conceded first and second, while there's another race for third- and fourth-place money. "Frankly, what I expect to see are the Bluegrass horses romping around the track while the rest fight out the tactical race for third place we were expecting to see two weeks ago. And in that connection, it appears that there will be far more money bet to Show than there will be on Win and Place combined. And that's a truly wild situation. "In that connection, while we normally don't comment on betting action, this item is truly news. As I'm sure many of the viewers know, two weeks ago at the Kentucky Derby, the tote board at the time of the race showed the Bluegrass Farm entry to be at 99 to 1. However, there was a light showing on the board indicating that the real odds were greater than that. Well, Jim, it's only two weeks later and now the Pimlico tote board shows #1 and #1a, the Bluegrass Farm entry, at 1 to 99! And again the light is showing. If the odds were as shown, the win payoff on the Bluegrass Farm horses would be one dollar on 99 dollars bet. In other words, if you win, you bet 99 dollars and get 100 dollars back. But the light indicates you won't even do that well. And remember, for this race the normal minimum payoff of $2.20 on two dollars does not apply!" "Thanks, Jed," Jim Hastings said. "And now the horses are coming out on the track to parade past the grandstand to the starting gate. Would you look at King and Blackie! They're prancing down the track side by side as if they're in a parade! Have you ever seen two prouder or more beautiful horses?" "You said it all, Jim," Clancy commented. "That pair of horses looks like they're out for a nice Saturday-afternoon ride ... and I really think that's what we're going to see." "And now the horses have reached the starting gate," Hastings continued, "and the Bluegrass Farm entry, carrying numbers 1 and 1a, are doing exactly what they did at the Derby: At a word from their owners, they go into the gates as quietly as you please. And again many of the other horses are restive and causing a small delay. But while that's going on, King and Blackie are just standing as still as statues. "All the horses are in the gate, and again we can see King and Blackie dropping their hindquarters. And... They're off! Again those two black beauties come out of the gate together like they were shot from guns. Only this time, since they have the gates closest to the rail they just keep going straight ahead." "Look at them go, Jim!" Clancy exclaimed. "It's a replay of the Derby: That pair just jumped way out in front, but there's a difference this time. Where in the last race, King led Blackie by a head, today it looks more like a nose. Beyond that, though, just look! They're matched stride for stride as they just run away from the rest of the field!" "And, Jed, it looks like you called this race exactly right. What we're seeing is, as you suspected, a race within a race: The rest of the jockeys are ignoring King and Blackie and are racing against each other. And it's important to remember that in this field are all seven of the horses who finished The Wood Memorial within a single horse length. And, indeed, it's easy to see them jockeying for position. "But in the meantime, King and Blackie just keep doing their thing. And their thing is to just keep extending their lead. It almost appears that that pair gains about a foot on the field with every stride they take." "You're absolutely correct, Jim. But beyond that, I think I saw it in The Times on Monday following the Derby: There was a statement reported to have been made by a British bookmaker to the effect, 'I'm not even sure those bloody horses were even running at top speed.' Well, you know what? I think he might have been correct. And you know something else? Just look at that pair of horses! Do they look like they're straining? I certainly don't think so, but they're running away with it anyway." "As they come into the clubhouse turn, it's just more of the same. Jed, I'm virtually certain we're going to see another record broken here today. The record winning margin at The Preakness is a bit over 11 lengths. I think we're going to see that shattered. And, by the way, the speed record for the race is 1:53.4; I think that's going to go down, too. "Just look at them coming down the homestretch! They are just so incredibly smooth! And they certainly don't appear to be going flat out, either. "Good grief! It looks like another 200-yard winning margin. And the time is coming up on the board: 1:42! That horse took nearly 10 seconds off Secretariat's record in the Derby, and now he's taken more than 11 seconds off The Preakness record. "But, Jed, look at the rest! It's the Wood all over again! As they cross the finish line ... there's the signal: It's a photo finish ... for third place!" Jed Clancy couldn't control his laughter. "Jim, have you ever in your life... ? The Corcoran twins are cantering back toward the winners circle staying as close as they can to the clubhouse rail to stay out of the way of the horses just coming across the line!" "And it's official," Jim Hastings reported. "In third place by a nose is High Angel, with Kate's Pride in fourth. Now we'll take you down to the Winner's Circle where Jan Carver is waiting to talk with the owner/riders of the two Bluegrass Farm horses." "Thanks, guys. This is Jan Carver at the Winner's Circle where again, as at the Derby, King of Bluegrass and his love, Black Silk, today share the blanket of Black-Eyed Susans." Tanya and Tasha had taken off their riding helmets and were shaking out their blonde hair. Only then did Carver realize that no one was holding the horses who were alternating between nuzzling their mistresses and nuzzling each other. To Tanya she asked, "Tatiana Corcoran, who's holding the horses?" The question took the girl by surprise. "Huh? Oh ... No one, I guess. Why do you ask?" The reporter just shook her head. "They're not going anywhere," Tasha noted. "Just look at them! They're very happy to be here in the Winner's Circle, very happy to be with each other, and, I guess, happy to be here with Tanya and me." "Tanya, I don't know if you know it yet, but today you set two records in a race that was first run in 1873. Well, until today the record winning margin was 11 lengths and change. While it's certainly not official, it appears you may have won by 65 lengths! And whatever the official judgment turns out to be, you didn't beat the record, you shattered it! And at the same time you shattered the record for time by more than 11 seconds. So congratulations! What do you have to say?" "Thanks, Jan," Tanya replied. "But there's really not much for me to say. All I did was to stay on King's back and talk to him. And since the only sounds I heard were his hoofbeats and Blackie's beside him, I figured we were sufficiently ahead of the field that I didn't need to look back." "Tanya, you and your sister were so far out in front that you might have strained your neck if you had tried to see the next-closest horse. What a race!" Tanya accepted the trophy and then the twins, as co-owners, accepted checks for first- and second-place money. Once again, in a million-dollar race the twins walked away with more than $800,000. Back up in the broadcast booth, again Jed Clancy and Jim Hastings were talking. "Jim, this has been a wild day. And since we brought up the betting action before the race, it's only fair to tell our viewers how it came out. "Well, it's official: The Bluegrass Farm entry paid $10.01 to win, $20.01 to place, and $4.80 to show! Yes, I know. You're used to hearing payoffs on a $2.00 bet. But in this race, you get a penny on $10.00 to win and a penny on $20.00 to place. If you're betting less than those amounts, you only get your money back. Can you believe it? Folks, that resulted from the extraordinary amount of money bet on third place. And that money was spread among all the other horses. Incidentally, High Angel paid $6.40 to show, so he's the bettors' big winner in today's featured race." "Thanks, Jed. Now what about The Belmont Stakes coming up in three weeks?" "Well, Jim, of course it's the third leg of the Triple Crown. Like the Derby and The Preakness, The Belmont Stakes carries a million-dollar purse. However — and this may come as a surprise to some — not only is it the longest of the three races at a mile and a half, it's also the oldest, having been first run in 1870. Perhaps it's the longer distance, but a number of horses have won the Derby and then The Preakness only to come a cropper in The Belmont Stakes. In fact, ever since Affirmed took the Triple Crown in 1978, there have been about ten horses that won the first two races but then lost in The Belmont." [Author's note: In 2008, Big Brown became the 11th or 12th horse since Affirmed to win the first two and fail to win at Belmont.] "Okay, Jed, but what are your thoughts about The Belmont and the Corcoran twins' prospects?" Clancy slowly shook his head. "Honestly, Jim, if those horses start that race, they're going to win it. It's a quarter-mile longer than the Derby, but as we said at the time, at the end of the Derby — and today too, for that matter — those horses still looked fresh. I don't remember if I said it or you did, but one of us commented that after the Derby, those horses looked like they could do it again right then!" "I have to agree with you, Jed. Incidentally, I guess it's worth saying that at the end of the race the horses that appeared to be most tired were the ones that lost. The winners look to be as fresh as those Black-Eyed Susans they're wearing around their necks." ------- Later that evening, the horses were flown back to Lexington in a chartered jet set up in a combi configuration. The forward portion had luxury seating while the horses rode in splendor aft. On the way back, Tanya's eyes widened as she saw Dan Johnson and their Russian bodyguards check the loads in their automatic pistols. The men were wearing shoulder holsters while the women used special purses that were purses on one side but a holster on the other. From the way the weapons were being handled it was clear that their owners knew how to use them. "There's something you all should know," Dan told the group. "All thanks to Misha and the photo he provided, our contract security people have a 24-hour watch at the airport, bus stations, and you-name-it. With a little bit of luck we'll be able to spot the assassin when he arrives in town." Then to Misha, Dan asked, "There's a question I forgot to ask: How is this guy's English?" Misha thought for a moment before replying. Then he said, "That's a very good question, Dan. It's good, but..." "But what?" Johnson probed. "While I wouldn't care to bet any money on my memory of this, I'm pretty sure it's far more British English than American." Then with a wide grin he added, "If I'm right, that guy is going to stand out. Can you imagine a guy in Kentucky speaking British English with a Russian accent? Because that's exactly what it will sound like... if my memory is accurate." ------- The following week was uneventful. The big event was on Friday. It was the last day of school and it was also the time for the spring sports awards. And once again, Ed Brennan was the principal speaker. Varsity letters were distributed for track, baseball and softball. Tanya and Tasha received special recognition for winning the state girls'tennis doubles championship. It turned out that playing together the twins were unbeatable. The pair played as if they were sharing a single brain. Furthermore, the pair tied for first in singles and refused to play a deciding match. Tanya pointed out that when they played against each other, they only scored points. They were so evenly matched that a deciding match would have taken all day. As they turned to go, Brennan called, "Now don't go away!" To the audience of students, faculty and parents he said, "Can you imagine the nerve of some peoples' children? There I am in my easy chair getting ready to watch the Kentucky Derby. My wife, Brandi, had even made a perfect mint julep for the occasion for me to enjoy. And then what happens? Then I hear that in the Derby we have two horses from Lexington: King of Bluegrass Farm and Black Silk, carrying the colors of Bluegrass Farm... and the Memorial High School Equestrian team! "Now I ask you: Did any of you folks know we had an equestrian team? Huh? Anyone?" Brennan shook his head and concluded, "I didn't think so." He paused and then continued, "But I guess we really do. After all, in its first two outings our equestrian team took the Kentucky Derby and The Preakness. Oh, yeah ... and they picked up about a million six hundred thousand ... for less than four minutes of their time! You want to work that out to an hourly rate? "But anyway, to try to get sort of even, you know what I did? I made the equestrian team members pay for their own letter jackets and letters! Boy, that's gonna put a real dent in their winnings, won't it?" Then with a broad grin he announced, "Now I would like to introduce the members of the Memorial High School Equestrian Team, Tanya and Tasha Corcoran!" The girls were greeted with a standing ovation as Ed Brennan helped them each on with their new letter jackets. And, indeed, there was a horse's head embroidered on the letter M. To the girls he said, "I know you'll be riding in The Belmont Stakes in a couple of weeks. What's coming after that?" The girls were embarrassed, but Tasha replied for them both. "Well, sir, later in July there's the annual Lexington Horse Show and we'll be entering, still riding King and Blackie." Brennan was stunned. "Are you saying that you'll be riding those two young thoroughbreds in a saddle-horse competition?" "Yes, sir," Tanya replied. "And in the jumping, too. King and Blackie just love to jump, and for that matter, they're always showing off to us with their gaits. Aside from running, they're both perfect 5-gaited saddle horses." [Author's note: To repeat, there is no jumping competition in the Junior League of Lexington's Horse Show. But this is fiction, so... ] "And they really do count as equestrian events, sir," Tasha added. Brennan just slowly shook his head. "You know, folks, I thought this whole thing was sort of a joke, but it really isn't. Can you believe it? The Memorial High School Equestrian Team will not only win the Triple Crown, they're going to sweep the biggest horse show in the nation, too! How's that for starting off with a bang?" The girls went back to their places and Brennan held up his hands for quiet. "Folks, this is a sports awards assembly, but there's something else I want to announce. Lest people think that Memorial High School is just the Corcorans, we have another distinction: As a student going into her senior year we have the world's highest-paid fashion model, Deann Washington! Deann, I want you and your small shadow, Tank Brown, to come up here." Of course Deann was sitting with Tank and they both made their way up on the stage to stand beside Brennan. He continued, "It's true. Deann models for ... are you ready... ? Five-thousand dollars ... an hour! And I'm sure you all saw her on the cover of Vogue a couple of months ago. "But that's not the only reason she's here. I can't tell you how proud I am to announce that Deann Washington now academically ranks number one in her class! You may not know it, but her dad is vice principal of Henry Clay High School and her mother is a professor of classics at University of Kentucky. I know how proud of her they must be. "But there's more. I am equally proud to announce that Tank Brown now ranks academically in the top 10 of the junior class. And without telling tales out of school, I will also tell you that both of these young people scored better than 1550 on their SATs. At the fall sports awards I said that Tank is going to be a top high-school recruiting prospect next year, and so will Deann. "Well, it couldn't happen to two finer people than these two! I can't tell you how proud of them both we all are!" While the audience was giving the pair a standing ovation, Tank took Deann into his arms and kissed her while she just molded her body to his. Brennan concluded his remarks by saying, "There's only one thing ... If my daughter, Seana who's 13 learns that Deann gets $5,000 an hour, I'm afraid her babysitting charges will go through the roof. After all, she says, looking pretty for the camera is pretty easy compared to babysitting two brats — her name for her siblings — Caitie, age 11, and Ed, junior, age 8. "You know," he mused, "Seana is always urging me to take Brandi out more. I'm not sure if she cares about our social life or is just anxious to pick up a little more spending money. "Hmm ... I'll have to think about that one." ------- What Brennan didn't know was that elements of that assembly made headlines in the Herald-Leader. The news, headlined on the front page and featured in the sports section, was the announced appearance of King of Bluegrass and Black Silk at The Junior League of Lexington's annual horse show. Normally a very big event in show horse circles, the idea of a possible Triple Crown winner appearing put it over the top. Furthermore, the copyrighted story was put on the AP wire and was instantly picked up nationally. ------- Chapter 28 Tom Brady was meeting with his two principal partners, Josh Barrett and Henry Clay. They were meeting in the building's top-floor restaurant, although it was not yet open for business. The reason for meeting there on the Monday morning following The Preakness was the construction in progress in the partners' area below. Beyond redecorating Tom's corner office, full bathrooms were being added to their three offices and a senior partners' reception area was also being built. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss what was to be done with Harrison Carver who had called Josh at home on Sunday afternoon to tell him what they had all suspected: The $50,000 he had lost to Jill on the Derby had been the money that was supposed to pay for his partnership interest. Because Tom considered himself to be very much the new kid on the block, he wanted his partners to have their say first. Furthermore, Tom had never liked Harrison Carver from their very first meeting. But his dislike was personal not professional, although there were professional matters regarding Carver's law practice he didn't like either. But he didn't want to crater a guy's professional career on personal feelings. Having apprised his partners of his conversation with Carver the day before, Josh concluded by saying, "Frankly, as far as I'm concerned, Harrison Carver is history." "I agree, Josh," Clay said. Then he continued, "Quite honestly, he's been campaigning around the Firm with anyone he can collar regarding trying to build a practice with class-action lawsuits. Frankly, I'm opposed. I have been irritated, to say the very least, with those class actions in which the members of the class end up receiving a lousy discount coupon and the attorneys receive millions of dollars in cash fees." He shook his head and added, "No wonder trial lawyers rank so low in public esteem!" But then he turned to Tom and said, "But you're the boss. It's your call, Tom. What do you think?" "I guess I might as well get it all out on the table: First of all, on the day before our famous Firm dinner, I was really pissed. I was supposed to take Marilyn Hodges, and as an added inducement I promised to buy her a new dress at Styles downstairs. I was in the shop when I got a call from Marilyn calling it off; she was going to go with Harrison instead. 'He's being announced as a junior partner!' she told me very proudly." Then he grinned and shook his head. "So what happened? Instead of going with Marilyn, I get a date with Jill Barnes. And you know what?" His partners just shook their heads. "She asked me! Can you believe it? She really did. But at any rate, it ended up that, because of Harrison, Marilyn did me the greatest service of my life: I met my love! "But back to Harrison: I think he has to go. I'll be honest and tell you both that I disliked the guy from the very first time we met. Furthermore, I agree completely with you, Henry, about staying clear of class actions. Beyond that, though, let's face it: Harrison's continuation in the Firm would be a public embarrassment to us. After all, it was announced that he was named a junior partner in the Firm. What would we do? Issue another statement saying that it was all a mistake? I don't think so. "My vote is that he goes." Josh Barrett's eyes were dancing but he tried his best to sound very serious. "Gee, guys, I just don't know ... I mean ... There are a couple of dozen more partners, and what do they think? I mean ... there's only the three of us after all." "You're absolutely right," Henry Clay responded, also trying valiantly to maintain a straight face. "And, of course, we only have 90 percent of the votes..." With that all three broke into laughter. Changing the subject, Josh asked Tom how his Sunday had been. "Guys, it really could not have been better." He slowly shook his head and continued, "Just a few weeks ago, the idea of getting involved with a woman with a teenage son would have utterly terrified me. And now I find, not only does Jill have a teenage son, she also has a teenage daughter ... who already has won two legs of the Triple Crown. "And you know something else? There couldn't be two better kids on the face of the earth than those two. As you may know, when I asked Jill to marry me, she said she had to ask her boyfriend. Her boyfriend turned out to be her son, Mike. Well, she did ask him later that same night, and I'll never forget what he said: He told her that she had sacrificed her whole life for him and it was about time she did something for herself for a change." Tom paused and his eyes became wet. "Then he came to me and asked if he could call me Dad! I have never been so moved in my life. "Anyway, yesterday Mike and I spent the day together while Jill and Tanya went off to do some girl things. You guys won't believe what Bluegrass Farm is really like. I mean ... When you measure land area by the square mile — and they do — there's everything! There are untouched trout streams and even a lovely little lake loaded with bass. Mike and I spent the day just roaming, talking and fishing. Then we went back to the house and found the women soaking up the sun by the pool." He rolled his eyes and added, "I've got to say, those four women are very easy on the eyes ... particularly when they're naked, and they all were. Then the women put on a barbecue that was out of this world! "Incidentally, I never realized how incredibly smart those kids are! Although they've just nominally completed their freshman year in high school, in reality they've already completed their high-school work. This spring the four of them took some courses at University of Kentucky, and in the fall that's where they'll be taking all their classes." "Changing the subject," Josh said, "how do those horses look? And how's their training going?" He shook his head and added, "They sure looked great up in Baltimore, though." "Training?" Tom responded with a chuckle. "What a joke that is! I've seen the videotape of the Derby broadcast, and an announcer commented that the girls don't wear spurs and never carry a riding crop. But what he didn't mention, though, is that their bridles have no bits. As for training, it's easy: The girls get on the horses' backs and the horses do whatever the hell they feel like doing. I've got to say, though, that the relationship between those two horses and those two girls is really something else. I was with them when they entered the stable yesterday morning. Both horses were just pawing the ground, they were so excited to see their mistresses. And I really don't know who they love more, their mates or their mistresses. "But you asked how they looked. The short answer is they looked great. Beyond that, though, it was obvious that they know something very big is coming up, and they're raring to go. They might not know what The Belmont Stakes is, but I wouldn't bet any money that they don't know, either. And let me tell you, they were really flying around that track!" Meanwhile, Abigail Bentley had the morning turn at The Body Shop and found Marilyn Hodges there when she arrived. Marilyn was starting her workout naked, following instructions Jill had left for her. And in spite of what she had expected, she found she actually liked it. She decided that she had more than a little exhibitionist in her, and when her body was in shape ... Who knows? There were also interesting developments on the security front. First, Corcoran money was being liberally spread around among all the informants in the area. But as they were doing so, the detectives and security people received a big surprise. First, it was clear to everyone that the hit was being sponsored by someone outside of the Lexington area and possibly out of the country. Second, they were surprised at the number of street people who themselves had placed small bets — typically at 1,000 to 1 — on the Bluegrass Farm horses taking the Triple Crown. While they had initially placed the bets in a fashion similar to buying a Powerball ticket, now with two devastating wins behind them, their bets were by then looking more like money in the bank. And they liked the feeling. As the Lexington chief of detectives told Dan Johnson and Charley, the police had virtually everyone in town on the lookout for them. A week later, with two weeks to go till The Belmont, they got a break. The police received a call from the room clerk at a cheap motel that a man answering the description of the Russian assassin had just booked a room. Misha's picture of the man had been copied and spread all over town, and the man matched the photo. No apparent effort had been made to alter his appearance. Moreover, Misha was correct on his speech: He did speak British English with a significant Russian accent. In other words, he stuck out like a sore thumb. When money is no object — and it wasn't — and the security people are well trained — they all were — an individual can be covered like a blanket with surveillance. And he was. In a way it was almost funny. His every move was covered, his phone was tapped, his room was bugged — security booked the rooms on both sides and above — it was as if there was a spotlight on him wherever he went. The assassin was registered as Peter Miller, but they learned that his name was Petya. And it was almost laughable as he was followed around town — and constantly monitored — while he tried to recruit some helpers. And finally he did. He managed to hook up with four of Jumbo Jones' former deputies. In fact, they were the only four not already in prison or headed there. Following Jumbo's suicide, a cursory state investigation revealed the corruption in his Sheriff's Department resulting in all of the former deputies being summarily fired. And, as Kevin Carlisle had previously commented, since about all they were good for was beating up drunks, the former deputies were unemployed. But Petya had to have some guys familiar with the local territory so they made a deal. From the security standpoint it was truly laughable. Every word spoken at every meeting was taped. And since the former deputies were none too bright, Bluegrass Farm security had a better handle on what was planned than most of the perpetrators did. The hit — blowing up and firing the barns and the main house — was planned for the Monday before The Belmont. Incredibly, in view of what had happened to Jumbo's ten deputies who had gone over the fence at the back of the farm, that's exactly what Petya and his minions planned to do again. It was all Dan Johnson could do to keep from laughing out loud as he listened to the tapes of the planning. What it netted out to was that the only thing the former deputies knew of Bluegrass Farm was its location. For example, they didn't know that the back fence — a ten-foot-high chain-link fence with razor wire on top — was also wired. If it were cut, an alarm went off at security headquarters showing exactly where the cut was made. But they didn't know that. Now that their plans were known and all of the perpetrators were under 24-hour surveillance, the question was how to react. There was a very unofficial council of war convened in the library at the Farm. Present were Charley, Dan, the Kentucky State Police chief of detectives and the FBI's Special Agent in Charge. The participation of the police and FBI was strictly off the record. Certain things involved in the surveillance were — to be most charitable — of dubious legality. "So what do we do?" the SAIC asked. "Well ... let's think about it," Dan mused. "In Los Angeles, one of the tigers, King, took on about ten hoodlums at one time. They all ended up without heads. Then in New York, Prince and Princess, along with their very young cubs, Duke and Duchess, put away a whole gang. Then a couple of years ago, Pasha and Shari — who are here with us right now — took out about eight IRA gunmen who were trying to assassinate the Queen of England. For that they were both knighted, by the way. "Now what are we looking at here? There are five guys who are coming after us. But to get to us, they have to get by six — count 'em: six — full-grown tigers. Furthermore, four of them are with the same group that attacked Rachel Jackson's cubs ... and guys, that's a real no-no. A prescription for a long and happy life does not include threatening a tigress's cubs. One might almost say it can be hazardous to one's health. "My vote is to leave the intruders to the tender mercy of six tigers." "And let's see..." the SAIC said, thinking out loud. "The Royal Bengal Tiger is on the endangered species list — the internationally recognized one, that is. So what would be the legal ramifications if trespassers — duly warned with all manner of signs and a 10-foot fence — get in the way of a few tigers out for a quiet evening stroll on a late-spring evening? If the coroner's jury was using its collective head, the finding would be death by suicide, but I guess we would settle for a finding of accidental death." With grins and handshakes all around, the meeting — which had never taken place — broke up. There was one more very humorous note. The international security company had to get involved to provide the plotters with incendiary materials; with post-9/11 security they had been unable to get any on their own. And rather than forcing them to come up with a new plan... The one reasonably intelligent thing Petya and his people came up with — or rather Petya himself did — was to schedule the attack at three o'clock Tuesday morning, the time when security would normally be most lax. The hour arrived, and promptly at three, the chain-link fence was cut and the alarm showing the location went off. Of course, the attackers had been tracked every inch of the way out to the farm, so security knew they were coming and exactly where. The tigers had been told to allow the intruders to get about 200 yards in from the fence, and they did. And then it was all over. If one tiger can take on a dozen, five men have no chance at all against six angry tigers who collectively weighed almost two tons. While morgue wagons were removing the remains, floodlights had been set up to use while the fence was being immediately repaired. The lights also revealed what turned out to be Petya's wallet, which Dan recovered. Remarkably, there was information identifying his employer. It turned out to be a man linked to the Russian Mafia. That particular branch was reputed to be heavily involved in international bookmaking using the Internet. ------- Chapter 29 Finally, it was the second Saturday in June and time for the running of the oldest major stakes race in the United States, The Belmont Stakes. And again Jim Hastings and Jed Clancy were in the broadcast booth to cover the race for CBS. "Welcome, racing fans!" Jim began. "We're here this afternoon for the 136th running of The Belmont Stakes, the last of the Triple Crown races. And, as I'm sure most of you already know, in today's race we have two of the greatest racehorses of all time, King of Bluegrass Farm and Black Silk. Jed Clancy, our expert on horse racing, is with us today as usual. Jed, your thoughts?" "Thank you, Jim," Jed began, "and welcome to all of you out there. "Jim, I think you said it all: We're about to see two of the greatest racehorses of all time. Now why did I say that? Why did he? Because in the only two races of their lives, these two horses have shattered records that have been around forever! As I said three weeks ago at the conclusion of The Preakness, The Belmont Stakes has been the graveyard of a lot of Triple Crown hopes. [Author's note: Most recently when Big Brown failed to win in 2008.] "It's probably its length. At a mile and a half, it's the longest of the three. Furthermore, the Triple Crown starts with the Kentucky Derby at a mile and a quarter, then shortens slightly to The Preakness distance of a mile and three-sixteenths, only to then lengthen out to today's mile and a half. But frankly, having seen King and Blackie run, I really don't think it's going to make a darned bit of difference. "Now, Jim, do you want to introduce today's field?" "Thanks, Jed. Well, for openers, the field for The Belmont has really shrunk. There will be only five horses running, and two of them are the Bluegrass Farm entry. As a result, there will be no Show, or third-place betting. And, as with the Maryland Racing Commission, the New York State Racing Commission has given Belmont Park permission to waive the normal minimum payout of $2.20 for $2. "And looking at the tote board, it's apparent that there's a paucity of regular betting. As at Pimlico, the board shows #2 and #2a, the Bluegrass entry, at 1 to 99 with a light showing that the real odds are not even that good. And keep in mind that at 1 to 99, if a bettor could bet $99, he would end up with only $100 ... if he won. But the light says he won't even do that well. "Now the horses are leaving the paddock and coming out on the track. And, Jed, would you look at that? Again, as in their prior two races, King and Blackie are prancing in step side by side with their owner/riders, the twin sisters Tatiana and Natasha Corcoran up. The girls are wearing red and white, the racing colors of Bluegrass Farm ... and the colors of Lexington's Memorial High School Equestrian Team. Can you believe it? These girls are going into their sophomore year in high school, but they're out on the track today trying to take the third leg of the Triple Crown." "Jim, I remember saying before the Derby was run that those two horses would win any equine beauty contest, but I wondered if they could run. Well, I think they've answered that: They sure as heck can! Both of those horses are very big, very powerful, and very graceful in all of their moves. Moreover, they're under perfect control, but I don't know if the riders are controlling them or if they're controlling their riders. But what I do know is that I have never seen a better match between horse and rider than we're seeing out there." "Thanks, Jed. As you can see, folks, the horses are at the starting gate. The #1 horse, High Angel, the horse that finished third in The Preakness, is causing a little trouble moving into the gate. Meanwhile, King and Blackie just stand there like statues waiting their turn. Now High Angel is in, and King and Blackie just calmly walk in. The last two horses are now in the gates... "And they're off! "And again we saw what we've now seen twice before: An instant before the gates open and the bells ring King and Blackie dropped their hindquarters and come out of the gate like they're rocket-propelled." "Jim, it's looking exactly like The Preakness: The other three horses are just letting them go while they run they're own private race." "Jed, I think we're seeing a big difference today, though! Look at those girls! They're up over their horses' necks and really urging them on. And for the first time ever, I really think we're seeing those two move at full speed. As fast as they were before, we both felt that they really were never going flat out, but today I think they are. But, Jed, it's a long race!" "Good grief, Jim, I think you're right. It's as if the other three horses are standing still! I've never seen horses move as fast as those two! But notice! They're still going stride for stride with King leading by a nose." "And as they come out of the first turn and go into the backstretch, they're still pulling away! And they're not slowing down! What a beautiful stride! Those horses are truly beauty in motion. Meanwhile, in the second race, Kate's Pride has a slight lead over High Angel, with Danny Boy trailing. "Now they're coming out of the clubhouse turn and entering the homestretch. And, folks, I don't have to tell you this: King of Bluegrass is leading his love, Black Silk, by a nose as they match stride for stride. Folks, I really don't know how to say this, but the fact is that the other three — Kate's Pride still leading High Angel by a head and Danny Boy by a couple of lengths — are just entering the clubhouse turn! And the winners are about to cross the line! "And it's official! The winner is King of Bluegrass Farm ... in a winning time of 1:59.6! The previous record was 2:24 and King has taken more than 24 seconds off it! Unbelievable! Jed, your thoughts?" "Jim, I think you said it all. Looking at those horses run, we both thought the same thing: They're really letting it out. Well, I guess they did. And folks, I've got to believe that they've just set a record that will hold for a very long time. "Now, Jim, I have a question for you: From the very first we commented on how much in love those two horses are with each other. We've talked about the way a wild stallion will try to build his herd of mares, but that's not the way these two behave at all. My question to you, sir, is what are the foals of King of Bluegrass and Black Silk going to be like?" With the camera now on him live, Jim Hastings just grinned, rolled his eyes and softly whistled. Then he said, "Jed, I think we're going to be seeing the birth of a new line of super racehorses." Then he grinned and said, "But what about next month's Lexington Horse Show?" Clancy returned his grin and said, "Folks, what Jim is referring to is something you may have missed. According to a copyrighted story from the Lexington Herald-Leader, King and Blackie will be appearing at the Lexington Horse Show, possibly the biggest event for show horses and jumpers in the country. And, according to the story, they'll be competing in both types of events. "There's a story circulating regarding a statement Jim Andrews, nominally their trainer, made about those two horses. Whether it's true or not, I certainly don't know, but he reportedly said, 'About the only thing that pair couldn't do would be to pull a fully-loaded brewery wagon ... but I wouldn't bet any money that they couldn't, either.' Well, you know what? If those two girls asked them to, I'll bet they would pull a fully-loaded brewery wagon!" "Thanks, Jed. Incidentally, folks, once again High Angel nosed out Kate's Pride for third place. "Now we'll go down to Jan Carver who's at the Winner's Circle with — as usual — Tatiana and Natasha Corcoran." A beaming Jan Carver greeted the viewers and then turned to a very happy Tanya Corcoran. "Congratulations to you both! And you've done it! For the first time in more than 25 years, there is a Triple Crown winner, King of Bluegrass Farm. Tanya, how do you feel and what would you like to say?" "I want to say a very fervent 'thank you' to my parents, William and Caitlin Corcoran. Jan, just a little over one year ago, Tasha and I were about to be sold into a lifetime of prostitution and sexual slavery in Russia ... or somewhere. Instead, we were rescued by our new parents and brought here to the United States." Tears were beginning to stream down her cheeks as she continued, "Our new parents took us from Hell and brought us to Heaven. On our first day at Bluegrass Farm, I met King and Tasha met Blackie. It was love at first sight." She stroked King's neck, and he nuzzled her. "I loved King from the very beginning and I think he cares for me, too." What none of the three knew was that Carver's interview had been picked up by Belmont Park and put on the Jumbotron for all the race-goers to see. Seeing Tanya's tribute to her parents, Andy Taylor rose to her feet and started to applaud. Instantly she was joined by her extended family and by the Harris clan. As more people in the grandstand realized what was going on, it was like the ripples from a pebble dropped in a still pond: People in an ever-enlarging circle centered on them rose, faced in their direction, and joined in the applause. An alert CBS cameraman noticed the commotion, zeroed in on its center — Caitie and Bill Corcoran — zoomed in on them and alerted the producer and director back in the control truck. The director in turn alerted Jan Carver. The woman turned a monitor around so the three could see it. Then in her friendliest tone she asked, "Does anyone in this picture look familiar, girls?" With her warmest smile Tasha replied, "Just slightly. That's our mom and dad!" As they watched the screen, they saw ushers and guards approach the owners' box to escort the Corcorans and friends to the Winner's Circle for the presentation of the trophy and the checks. Back in the broadcast booth, Jed Clancy and Jim Hastings continued their dialogue. "Jed, you referred earlier to the offspring of that pair of horses. How about King standing at stud? How about stud fees?" "Good question, Jim. But first a note of caution: There have been any number of great race horses who, for whatever reason, didn't do well at stud. What that means is that their offspring produced only mediocre racing results. So in the case of King of Bluegrass Farm, what I think we're going to see is sky-high stud fees to start, and astronomical fees if his foals do well. [Author's note: Before The Belmont Big Brown was syndicated at stud for $50 million.] "I'll tell you what I expect: I expect his foals to do very well, but I also think they will be dominated on the track — and elsewhere — by King's foals out of Black Silk. I really think we may be seeing the start of a new line of super horses. But that's all in the future." "Thanks, Jed. Now we'll take you back to the Winner's Circle and Jan Carver for the presentation of the trophy and the checks." Jan Carver smoothly picked up the narrative. "Thanks, guys. And now with us is the president of Belmont Park with the winner's trophy and their checks. With him is the CEO of Visa, about to present their check for five million dollars to the very first winner of the Visa Triple Crown prize. "But first, we have here with us now Mr. & Mrs. William Corcoran, the parents of these two girls. Folks, what do you think about these recent events?" Caitie Corcoran answered for both of them. "Thank you, Jan. What do we think? I can't tell you how proud Bill and I are of both these girls. You see, until these two appeared on the scene, we had King of Bluegrass down in Lexington ... but no one had ever been on his back. In that regard he was exactly like his sire, Satan. Satan won everything he ever entered including the Grand National, the British Derby, and the Edinburgh Horse Show. "But there were only three people ever to be on his back. First and foremost, of course, is his owner and mistress, Marion, Duchess of Northumbria. She rode him to all of those wins. The only others to ever be on his back were her daughter, Karla, Queen of Bohemia, and me. I am the Duchess's granddaughter. "At any rate, as you've all seen, King and Tanya make quite a pair. And to this day no one — and I mean no one — has ever been on King's back except Tanya. So without her... ?" Caitie just shook her head. At that point, the president of the track presented first- and second-place checks to the Corcorans and were then followed by the CEO of Visa. And at that point, Caitie stood them on their collective ears. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry, but these checks are improperly made out. The payee is wrong." The named payee was Bluegrass Farm, Inc. The men were stunned. Caitie continued, "While these wonderful horses live and train at Bluegrass Farm, King of Bluegrass and Black Silk are jointly owned by Tatiana and Natasha Corcoran." The men were speechless as Caitie continued, "Had these horses been owned by Bluegrass Farm, they never could have run either today or at the Derby or Preakness either. I'm sure it's obvious to you all that these girls are too young to have jockeys' licenses. The only way they could ride them is the way they did: as owner/riders. If the Farm owned them, we would have had to use licensed jockeys. The only problem with that is that no one else can ride them. If the Farm owned them, they would both still be back in Lexington grazing in their private pasture. They certainly wouldn't be here!" Belmont had issued a single check that combined first- and second-place money. There was a rush to have a new check cut in the names of the two girls. The Visa check would have to wait until Monday when it could be reissued; the CEO had the check in his pocket already made out to Bluegrass Farm, Inc., since if there was to be a first winner of the Visa Triple Crown, it could only have been King. Just as she was about to close out the live interview, the girls saw Jan handling her earpiece and she started to grin. Having received the message she turned to the group and announced, "Folks, I've just learned Black Silk, with Natasha Corcoran up, has achieved something much rarer than King did. While there have been a dozen winners of the Triple Crown, Black Silk has done something only one other horse has ever done: She came in second in all three Triple Crown races. The only other horse to do it was Alydar who came in second to Affirmed, the previous Triple Crown winner, in 1978. "How about that?" Finally, it was all over and the light on the TV camera went off signaling that they were no longer live. But Jan Carver had a hunch so she signaled her cameraman to keep filming to tape. Turning back to the girls she said, "I understand that the next item on your agenda is the horse show in Lexington. Is that right?" Before the girls could answer, Kristin Harris spoke up. "I hope not. Kids, remember Kurt Rohmer and the shoot you did with gymnastics?" The girls just nodded. "Well," Kris continued, "it seems the word has spread. John Clark desperately wants to use you in a shoot tomorrow at your usual rates." "John Clark?" Carver asked. "You mean the world-famous photographer, John Clark?" "The very same," Kris agreed. "Do you mean that these girls have modeled... for him?" "Not yet," Kris explained. "So far they've only modeled for Kurt Rohmer. But John's a friend of Kurt's and they're always sharing professional information." "And who's Kurt Rohmer?" Carver asked. The name had sort of rung a bell, but she couldn't place it. "He's in the same class as John, but most of his work is in Europe." Suspecting there was something more, Carver persisted. "You mentioned 'usual rates.' What are the girls' usual rates?" "Five-thousand dollars ... an hour," Kris replied blandly. Carver almost fell over. "Are ... are you serious?" "Very!" Kris replied. Then she introduced herself as the girls' agent, manager and attorney. Before Carver could speak, Kris had turned to Jill Barnes who was also present along with Tom Brady, Melanie Brewster and Jack Murphy. To Jill she said, "By the way, do you remember the shoot you did with Guy Watkins? The bikini and the nudes?" Jill just nodded her head. "Yes, I do. And... ?" "And his show is opening at a gallery in Soho tomorrow night. And since you're already in New York, he very much hopes you can attend," Kris replied. Then she snapped her fingers and added, "Incidentally, Guy has upped your fee so you can keep up with the girls. You're in their class now, too. "And, as an inducement to try to get you to stay over, Guy's made an offer regarding those nudes he shot. He's offering them for sale in a very limited edition; no more than 15 prints of each shot will be made. He's pricing them at $2,500 apiece ... and he's giving you 10 percent." Jill's eyes widened. "How many shots are there?" "Oh ... about a hundred, I guess," Kris replied casually. Jill did some fast mental arithmetic and then gasped, "Holy shit! If he sells out, that's nearly $400,000 to me!" "It's $375,000, but you're close." Jan Carver was in a state of shock. To Kris she said, "Do you mean to tell me that, along with everything else, these girls — and their families — are some of the world's top models?" "Let's just say they command the world's top prices," Kris responded. "That show you mentioned," Jan pursued. "Do you know where it is going to be? And will the press be welcome?" Kris gave her the gallery's address and then added, "As far as the press is concerned, if you were trying to sell three-million-seven's worth of pictures, wouldn't you like the press? If you were to come, Ms. Carver, I'm certain you would be most welcome." Trying to catch her breath after the shocks she had received, Carver turned back to the girls and said, "I understand you two are now 15 years old and going into your second year of high school." Then she grimaced and added, "It's been so long since I was in high school, I've even forgotten what courses one takes in 10th grade. So what are you two taking next year?" The twins both blushed. Tasha stammered, "Uh ... Ms. Carver, we're really not taking 10th grade courses." "Oh? What are you taking then?" "All our courses next year will be at University of Kentucky, which, fortunately for us, is located in Lexington." Again the reporter was stunned, but she had become pretty good at recovering from the shocks the girls were equally good at causing. With an eyebrow raised she asked, "Just what courses are you going to be taking?" This time Tanya replied and listed the courses. Slowly shaking her head, Carver said, "But those aren't introductory courses. What happened to the basics?" "Oh," Tanya replied casually, "we either took them last semester or were waived out of them." "My gosh!" Jan quietly exclaimed. "Do you mean to say that all the courses you two are taking are at the University and they're all sophomore level or higher?" "I guess that's about right," Tanya quietly agreed. "But you're only fifteen years old!" Carver exclaimed. Then abandoning that line of questioning she asked, "What's coming after the Lexington Horse Show?" This time it was Jill who answered. "First of all, she's going to be the maid of honor at my wedding later this month and her sister will be maid of honor for my sister. Then the twins will be in the qualifying competition for our Olympic gymnastics team. Quite honestly, we expect them to be in Athens this summer winning medals for our team." Again the reporter was stunned. She knew the girls were gymnasts, but she thought it was at the high-school level. And indeed they were, having led Memorial to the state championship. But they were truly world class having qualified one-two for places on the U.S. Olympic team. "And then what?" Jan Carver asked. "Then it's time for soccer — although the girls are only sophomores, they're co-captains of their soccer team — and they'll be defending their state championship. And, of course, there's football..." "Football?" Jan gasped. "You mean ... with guys?" "Oh, sure," Jill replied blandly. "Tasha's the punter and Tanya is the kicker. Both of them won games for Memorial last year and we expect a lot more this season." Carver just rolled her eyes. Then to the girls she asked, "What about your social life?" Sticking out the tips of their tongues in Caitie Corcoran's direction, they replied in unison, "There is none! Mother doesn't believe in girls dating before they're sixteen." "You mean you two have never had a date?" "We did ... but only once," Tanya replied. "We finally beat Mom into submission and she allowed us to go to the Christmas Prom last December. But that was the only time." Tanya felt that being fucked at least twice a day, every day, by Mike really didn't qualify as dating. "Okay, let's review the bidding," Carver began to summarize. "These girls are truly world-class beauties and that's attested to by the top photographers around and supported by $5,000-an-hour modeling fees. "They are truly world-class athletes and win in everything they try. "They're utterly brilliant, taking upper-level college courses while nominally high-school sophomores. "And they're both rich, or will be when they get Visa's five-million dollar check." "That's not quite right," Caitie interjected. "First, I would like all of this strictly off the record. Rich young women make very attractive kidnaping targets. Beyond that, though, both Tanya and Tasha are quite rich. Of course, all the first- and second-place purse money just goes into their own joint account. But beyond that, each of these girls was worth well north of 100 million dollars ... before the first race." "Okay, I give up!" Carver said. "We have here the two most incredible young women in the world. And because of the Corcorans they're now here in the United States. Well all I can say is that our gain is Russia's loss." At that point Seana Dunphy appeared and introduced herself. Then she continued, "What I'm about to tell you is strictly off the record. Okay?" Carver instantly agreed. "First, I have been the girls' full-time gymnastics coach for nearly a year now. And, as you can see, at five feet one, I'm a lot closer to looking like the typical female gymnast, while the girls at five feet ten certainly do not! Furthermore, they have gorgeous figures while the archetypical female gymnast looks like a boy ... as in flat! The fact is that when the girls left the school where they had lived since they were only three years old, the school thought they were selling them into prostitution. "The reason the school had given up was the girls were too tall and were developing lovely figures. That's lovely in terms of beauty but not in terms of gymnastics. Well, I now really believe that the Corcoaran twins are going to really kick some international ass this summer. "What I've found working with them is that if a girl can do the moves — and these girls certainly can — the whole presentation is far more effective if they have the bodies these two do." Carver had been watching the girls while Seana had been speaking. She noticed that the thought of international competition was really turning the girls on. And it was. When Seana concluded, Tasha added, "Quite honestly, for Tanya and me this is going to be payback time. There's one thing we promise you: We're really going to clean some Russian clocks! They didn't think we could ever make it in international competition, but we're going to show them that we sure can." Carver just let out a soft whistle. ------- Chapter 30 After spending a delightful night at the Corcorans, the girls and Jill set out for John Clark's studio. Arriving there, they met Kris Harris and were surprised to find Kurt Rohmer present also. To their surprise, Rohmer started off. "Girls, first of all, although you're here for a shoot with John Clark, this time is on my nickel, not his, for reasons you'll soon learn. It all started with the shoot down in Lexington when I was intending to use Sueann Washington but used you two instead. "A bit of necessary background about models and modeling: Our client gives us a budget for a shot, but the choice of models is ours. Furthermore, typically the client doesn't even know the name of the model, nor cares. All he cares about is the suitability of the finished shot. And the fact is that, while many models have widely recognized faces and figures, few are known by name. Adrienne, of course is an exception, and now Deann is, too. "At any rate, it was only last week when I was finally able to meet with my client and deliver the finished shots. And while I'm sure it was clear to you at the time that I knew next to nothing about gymnastics, that most certainly wasn't the case with my client. When I showed them to him, his eyes widened and he gasped, 'My gosh! Those have to be the Corcoran twins!' "When I asked him how he knew that, he told me it was very simple. First of all, he knows the physical dimensions of the equipment you were using, and scaling off that he concluded that you both were about five feet ten ... at any rate, far taller than any other top female gymnast. And with the moves I had captured on film he knew you were truly world class." Then turning to Kris he said, "As you know, the girls are working with a standard model's contract which precludes the use of the model's name. My client asked permission to use the girls' names, but of course I told him I could not give such permission; he would have to talk to the girls' agent. So he gave me his card and asked me to have you call him. "Then last night I got a call at the hotel where I'm living here in New York. It was my client again. It seems that yesterday afternoon he was attending a party and The Belmont Stakes was on TV. And while he knows a great deal about gymnastics, he knows next to nothing about most other sports, most particularly including horse racing. But since the guests were watching the race, he did, too. "He was delighted to see that you won the Triple Crown, but he was even more impressed with the interview with Jan Carver following the race. Now he desperately wants to use your names." Looking at Kris again, he added, "So... ?" "So I guess I'll call him tomorrow," Kris said while shaking her head. "Sheesh!" she commented to no one in particular, "Just what I need: more work!" With her eyes wide Tanya said blandly, "Mother says that all you have to do is to nurse an infant once in a while, and that's not so much." Kris retorted by sticking out her tongue. Even though they had been talking for less than 30 minutes, Rohmer gave Kris checks for each of the girls in the amount of $5,000, assuring her it would be billed back to his client. Finally they turned to John Clark for the originally scheduled shoot. To their surprise, it was for Levi Strauss, and there were Levi's for the girls to model. The girls exchanged looks and Tanya asked, "Wouldn't it be better in these?" The fact was that both girls were in their usual riding costume: well-worn Levi's along with their riding boots. John Clark just rolled his eyes. "Kids, they sent over these jeans and we'll use them; I'm supposed to. But... ! We're also going to do a series with your jeans that's just going to be great! The fact is there's a look that well-broken-in Levi's develop that no factory treatment can duplicate." Then he looked at the girls and asked, "Are these the jeans you wear riding?" The girls exchanged looks and Tanya replied, "Yes, sir, they are. Aren't we supposed to?" "As far as Levi Strauss is concerned, you certainly are!" Clark exclaimed. Quickly they did the scheduled shoot and were about to redo it wearing their own worn Levi's when Clark snapped his fingers and asked, "When are you returning home?" They told him about attending the gallery showing of Guy Watkins' photos of Jill, but they were returning to Lexington the next morning. "Since you're probably flying in a private jet, by any chance do you have room for one more? And could I impose on you girls for another day's shooting? Possibly Tuesday?" Before the girls and Jill could reply, Kurt Rohmer piped up, "Could you make that two more? I have an idea of what John's thinking about, and I would love to join him." Although both Clark and Rohmer had received invitations to that night's gallery opening of Watkins' show, they had not been planning to go; neither man had realized that it featured Jill Barnes. On learning that she was the star, they immediately planned on attending. As they were getting ready to leave Clark's studio, he asked the girls, "By the way, is this your normal riding attire?" "This time of year?" Tasha asked. When Clark just nodded, she continued, "No, not really." "What is?" he pursued. "This!" both girls exclaimed, stripping off their shirts while still wearing their jeans and boots. "What a stinking shame!" Rohmer murmured. "What's a shame?" Jill asked. "It's a stinking shame that the girls are underage. Their bodies are gorgeous!" "But not in Mama's class," Tanya interjected. "Mama?" Tanya wasted no time in stripping off Jill's top revealing her perfectly-formed tits. Looking puzzled she pulled on one of Jill's nipples. Jill saw the look. "What's wrong, my darling daughter?" Tanya slowly shook her head and said, "Mama, I could have sworn your nipples were brown..." "Of course they are. They've been that way forever. Or ever since I delivered Mike." "Well just look!" Jill did and found that they were pink. Another gift from Susie? she wondered. Ignoring the color, Tanya took Jill in her arms. And since they were the same height, their perky nipples were touching each other. While gently teasing Jill's nipples with her own and causing both pairs to tighten and further elongate with their arousal, they kissed. And it was anything but a mother-daughter kiss. "But I thought Caitlin Corcoran was Tanya's mother?" John Clark mused. "So what's wrong with having two?" Kris asked. Then she explained, "Caitie's here in New York while the girls are in Lexington. Moreover, Caitie has an infant and is expecting another. And to get it all out on the table, Tanya and Mike Barnes, Jill's son, have been lovers for almost six months now." Then she slowly shook her head and added, "The relationship among those people is truly remarkable. To Tanya, Jill is both a mother and an older sister. It's just lovely!" By that time Jill and Tanya had eased apart. Then to Kurt Rohmer, Tanya said, "Do you see what I mean? My mama is simply perfect!" "She's exactly like the way you'll be in just a few years," Rohmer replied. "And you know what else? In a few years you and your mama are going to be identical twins!" But the sight of a half-naked Jill Barnes convinced the two photographers that the Guy Watkins show was a must-see. After a magnificent dinner Caitie served to everyone, they made their way down to limousines waiting to take them all to the gallery. In the elevator, Jack Murphy asked Mel about a babysitter for the Corcoran infant, Andy. "Sweetie," Mel replied, "Andy has the finest babysitter in this world or any other: Susie." "And who's Susie?" "Susie is Saint Susan Sloan, although in fact she's one of God's archangels. And she's baby Andy's guardian angel. Now I ask you: Could a baby possibly get any better care than that? Remember, Susie knows everything. If an infant's mother hears the baby crying because of some physical discomfort, she can only guess at its cause. But Susie not only knows, she knows even before the baby cries ... and fixes it, too." Jack softly whistled and said, "Okay, I'm convinced. The world's best babysitter." When they reached the gallery, recognizing that Jill was the star of the show, the others hung back to allow her to make her entrance. But as she was about to enter the hall, Jill suddenly got cold feet. To Tom she said, "Honey, I hope you're not embarrassed about tonight. But ... but I posed back in December before we ever met." "I'm certainly not embarrassed," Tom replied. "In fact, this is my great opportunity to try to catch up with Jack Murphy." "And what's that mean?" "On their very first date, Melanie did her act at The Girl Spot for him. He's seen Mel totally bare, but I've never seen you." "Oh?" Jill retorted, arching an eyebrow. "On our first date you saw just about everything there is to see with that dress I was almost wearing. And you saw me, the girls and Mel by the pool ... totally bare!" But then she grinned, feeling reassured and said, "Shall we?" As soon as they entered the gallery, Guy Watkins saw her, excused himself from the group he was speaking with, and rushed over to greet her. "How's it going, Guy?" Jill asked. By the time they arrived the show had been underway for a matter of hours already. "It's unbelievable! We're already sold out, and we're open for two more hours tonight as well as for the rest of the week. But everything's already sold!" Kristin Harris had joined them, and hearing Guy's words she said, "I told you so!" Jill looked at Kris and asked, "Told him what?" "I told him that at $2,500 each, he was giving them away. I was thinking of a minimum of $5,000 and possibly as much as $10,000." "And you were right," Watkins admitted dejectedly. "There have already been some secondary sales ... at $10,000." "Damn!" Jill exclaimed. "I really wanted a couple of them but now they're all gone." "And you've got them," Watkins replied. "We've sold fifteen copies of each print, but in every case the fifteenth sale was contingent on your not taking the picture for yourself. Now how many would you like?" Guy then snapped his fingers as he remembered something. "They're free to you, of course." "By the way," Jill asked, "how many pictures are there?" "One hundred and ten." "My gosh!" Jill exclaimed. "You've made more than four million dollars!" "And he could have made as much as sixteen million five!" Kris pointed out. Finally, Jill and Tom made their way around the gallery. Even Jill agreed that the shots were spectacular. For Tom's part, he quietly exclaimed, "The most beautiful woman in the world is going to be my wife." The only problem they faced was trying to choose which pictures they wanted, and how many. Finally they decided on five when Tom had another idea. "Sweetie, where do you want to hang them?" Jill was taken aback. She had no idea and said so. Tom's office was on a corner with Josh Barrett's on one side and Henry Clay's on the other. Although as name partners both Barrett and Clay certainly rated corner offices, too, they preferred to be close together rather than scattered in three corners of the building. Barrett's office was separated from Tom's by the partners' conference room. But Tom's office had a long interior wall which only had the door to the new bathroom. And that was the wall he was thinking about when he said, "How about hanging them on that interior wall?" "What a great idea!" Jill enthused. And that in turn gave her another idea. She had heard from Karen Jaffrey, the chief instructor at The Body Shop, and from Abby Bentley that Carolyn Mansfield's progress had been exceptionally good. At that point, she sought out Guy Watkins, told him the five pictures she and Tom had agreed on and then asked if he would be willing to do a similar shoot in Lexington. He agreed immediately telling Jill that she was responsible for the biggest payday of his life ... by far. The next morning the Lexington contingent returned home accompanied by John Clark and Kurt Rohmer. ------- Incomplete and Inactive ------- Posted: 2008-05-08 Last Modified: 2011-01-27 / 12:28:51 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------