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               Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season!
                            Part 21
                              -*-
      Copyright 1999, 2012 by either Joel Lawrence or Ellen Hayes


Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual
persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when
used for satirical purposes.

This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and
possibly sex.  If you are legally not allowed to read materials
containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading
this.  I am not responsible.
Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it
in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally
allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish,
state, and country.

All rights reserved.  See the bottom for distribution rights.

***


     "Where did the fruit go?" Darryl complained.  "We got more than
this last night!"  Though they'd gotten a LOT last night, there wasn't
as much as there had been.  "And we didn't eat THAT much at breakfast!"

     Tucker sighed through his nose as the tart-sweet goo stuck citric
needles into his salivary glands, as he swallowed a very little bit of
the smoothie a very large number of times.
     "Which one did you make?" Ms. Bishop asked.
     Eventually, Tucker cleared his mouth buffer and answered,
"Strawberry, peach, banana, and orange juice."  *Roughage in a
bottle...*
     "Oooh," she smiled in approval.  "Listen, we might need to switch
you to a different schedule for the one-on-one lessons."
     Tucker rolled his eyes.  "Talk to Miz Thompson about it; _I_ am not
in control of my life here.  Oh, but thanks for the heads-up," he told
her.  "They don't always tell me what's going on.  Yesterday, I found
out I had a makeup class at four, at like ten in the morning."
     "Oh, that's-  Oh, wait, makeup class?  Is it at a hair salon?"
     "Oh, yeah, Wednesdays from three to four- I guess," he said.
"That's when it was yesterday.  It's a continuing thing?"
     "I thought it was...  Ellen's been bothering me so she could go.
My daughter," she said before Tucker could ask.  "Alto, rolls her eyes
at me a lot, bl-"
     "Oh that one, yeah," Tucker nodded.  He'd wondered why she was in
the choir if she hated it that bad.

     Doyle would've been enjoying a covert cigarette before choir,
except Ellen had caught up with her and was complaining, again.  Now
Doyle was just having a cigarette, not enjoying it.
     "God I hate her," Ellen complained to Doyle, again.
     And Doyle was sick of hearing about it.  "If you hate her that bad,
drop out of choir!"
     "She won't let me!" Ellen whined.
     "Oh, bullshit," Doyle said.  "What's she going to do, put a collar
on you and DRAG you in there?  Look," she sighed, and inhaled, and held
it for a while before she blew the smoke out, upwards so it wouldn't
catch Ellen in the face.  "Seriously, if you don't like choir, th-"
     "That's not it!"
     "It's her?"
     "YESSS!" Ellen shrieked.  "I've been fucking TELLING you th-"
     "Okay okay okay!  Let me think about it-  Oh, hey Nila," she said
as she tapped her way towards the two of them.
     "Lover's spat?" Nila asked with a smirk.
     "Bite me bitch!" Ellen snapped before she stomped off.
     Doyle sighed.  "She's..."
     "Her mom, right?"
     "Yeah, how'd you guess?"
     Nila shrugged and said, "You could see it in her face," and both of
them laughed.  "You really need to stop smoking."
     "Fuck you," Doyle commented, and had another hit.  "How would you
know where I was if I didn't?"
     "I'd just listen for Ellen complaining about her mom," Nila said.

     Art had laughed so hard, the nurse had come in to see what was
setting off his machines.
     "Darla was right, this is an EVIL book," he chuckled to himself.
"WHERE did Valerie find this?" he asked as he looked at the covers.  He
wasn't much into science fiction, but this was vastly different than the
Heinlein and Bradbury he'd read in college.  "Walter Jon Williams," he
said, because he wanted to remember the author.

     Tucker was still sipping at his own smoothie, out of his new
thermos, when girls started arriving.  "Oh hey Nila," he said as she
came in with Doyle.
     "Who is that?" Nila asked towards him.
     Tucker said, "It's Valer-"
     "Red hair today?" Doyle asked.  "She was blonde yesterday.  She's
wearing like wigs all the time."
     Nila asked, somehow in his general direction, "Why?"
     Tucker had a momentary urge to show her, but realized before he
even started to move that A, it wouldn't work, and B, he'd look like a
really oblivious asshole if he even showed a hint of a sign that the
idea had crossed his mind.  "We had a difference in opinion on my hair
color."
     "She said that yesterday in makeup class!" Doyle crowed.  "Then she
just pulled it off!  I thought I was going to die!"
     "A wig?" Nila questioned.
     "Yeah..." Tucker admitted.  "Want to see-  Wait, can I say that?"
he wondered.  "Or is that rude, to you?"
     "It's okay," Nila said casually.  "And yeah, I'd like to examine it
if I could.  Could you take it off?"
     "Is this another expensive one?" Doyle asked.
     "Yes it's expensive, and no I can't take it off," Tucker said.

     "Again?" Missy asked nobody in particular as she came in.  "Hey
Nila, it's Missy.  Is Valerie showing you her wig today?"
     "It's red," Doyle told her.
     "I caught that," Missy assured Doyle.  It was hard to miss.
     "It's an interesting idea," Nila said.  "It goes around your
hairline?"
     "Yeah, it goes-  Can I grab your hand?" Valerie asked.
     "Can I grab your wig?" Missy asked.
     "Yes," Nila agreed, as Valerie turned to Missy and said, "No."

     "Do when?" Tucker asked, accidentally.
     "The Fourth and Fifth of July," Ms. Bishop repeated, as everyone
glared at him, even Nila-the-Blind.
     *Oh man, I HATE doing anything in public...*

     "No, I can stay here..." Charlie admitted.  He didn't really want
to go to the hospital and see Diana.  Or Art, or whatever.  Nor did he
want to help check her out of the hospital, whatever that involved, and
bring her home.  "You're not taking Miss Marie, are you?"
     "No," Darla answered.  "We thought that, since she's sick..."  She
stopped, because Charlie was nodding because that was exactly what he'd
been thinking.  "And when Valerie gets back, just..."  She sighed.
     "Start cooking for tonight?  Or tea?" Charlie guessed.
     "And see if you can review her on gestures, if you could," Darla
begged.  "She really needs it."
     "I know," he sighed.  "I'll try."
     "You'll do great!" she smiled at him.
     He wasn't so sure; he hadn't had much luck in slowing Valerie down
so far.

     "No," Tucker said, "I lived in Rochester, which is like the deaf
capital of the United States, so I know all kinds of deaf technology.
What really sucks," he mentioned, "is that you've got text to speech,
but there's no way to do speech to text.  Not really a good way," he
amended.
     "Why not?" Nila asked.  "It doesn't seem like it would be that
hard."
     "It is, apparently.  I mean, you can sort of get it, but not nearly
good enough for normal people.  But, you know, one of the things about
being disabled, you h-"
     "'Differently abled'," Doyle said, and sniggered, as did Nila.
     "Yeah, right," Tucker said; apparently they thought the same thing
about the PC-speak as he did.
     Then he stopped, as Nila said something, because someone was coming
up behind him.  He wasn't blind, and so his hearing wasn't THAT good;
but he'd sort of specialized in detecting people sneaking up behind him.
*And this is why I had Darla pin the wig down like hell today.*  He put
his bags down in front of his feet as he said, "Yeah, it's like you have
to specialize in dealing with normal people, helping THEM cope.  Like, I
don't know about blind-people etiquette, so I have to ask you; but
EVERYONE asks you, and so you have to tell every-"
     The jerk he was expecting pulled his head back; he grabbed the hand
that was grabbing his wig with his left hand, and squatted a bit as he
whirled right and used the other hand to smack Lisa's elbow the wrong
way - not hard enough to break it - before snaking his arm under hers
and up to her face while hooking his right foot behind her right knee
and then throwing her to the ground where he could follow up with some
footwork, like into her face, if necessary.
     Lisa screamed as she fell like he'd actually broken something, and
for a moment he wondered if he'd misjudged his strikes.  "WHAT THE HELL
ARE YOU DOING?!" she screeched as she bounded back up, her tits bouncing
an AWFUL lot.  She slapped at his face, badly enough he could parry the
swipe; the jingling from the multiple bracelets on his arms made him
think this whole scene was somehow bizarrely feminine.
     "Keeping you from messi-"
     "Do you know how much this cost?!  If you messed it up you are
PAYING for it!" she screamed before she turned and stomped away.
     *What, the tits?  Oh, no,* he realized, *she was talking about her
clothes.*  Any clothes that couldn't handle a simple tumble like that
one deserved to die, in Tucker's opinion.
     "...Just threw her on the ground," Doyle was saying to Nila as
Tucker turned back around to make sure they weren't screwing with his
stuff.  "Where'd you learn that?" she asked him.
     "Oh, preschool," he lied, to be different.  "We had to fight our
way past the other kids to get the school lunch."  Doyle looked
skeptical, which was fine with him; he'd have told a different lie if he
wanted to be believed.
     "What'd you do to Lisa?" Missy asked as she came up.  "She's saying
she's gonna kill you?"
     Tucker laughed.  *Yeah, right...*  Since it didn't seem like any of
her friends were interested in helping her, he didn't think he had to
worry; he was better at things like knives than she would be, if she was
that crazy.  *Still,* he thought as he turned to make sure he could see
where she'd gone.  People rarely thought to circle around and come back
from an unexpected direction, for some reason.
     "Could you show me how to do that?" Doyle asked.  "If someone
grabbed my hair?"
     "Not right now," Tucker had to tell her.  "I'm waiting-"
     "Plleeeeease," she begged.

     Kenneth had been just a few minutes late, and as he walked
hurriedly towards the building he'd left her in, he was alternately
imagining the worst imaginable things that Valerie could do in five
minutes, and telling himself he was being alarmist.  And then imagining
something else.
     When he got close to the cluster of girls that contained her,
though, he saw her wheel and strike at one of the girls, who fell to the
ground.
     *Oh no,* he groaned silently, and sped up.
     But when he got around the minivan in his way and could see the
girls again, all four of them were standing up, and they didn't seem
angry or upset.
     He slowed down.

     "Yeah, so-  Oh man," Tucker sighed as he spotted Kenneth looking
grim and coming his way.  "Assistant zookeeper coming to pick me up, and
I bet he saw that..."
     "Can you show me how to do it?" Nila asked.
     "Seriously NOT now," Tucker told her.
     "I think I got it," Missy said.  "We could try it at home or
something...  I've got voice coaching at two, though."
     "Valerie," Kenneth said, and he did sound pissed.
     "Mister...  Wait."  He stopped.  "Argh!  Which one has priority,
younger-to-older first or male-to-female first?!  Doing introductions!"
he snarled at Kenneth, who had caused this by coming over and forcing
him to try and interpret the bad programming.
     "ALWAYS introduce a man to a lady first," Missy said, sounding,
remarkably, between Jane and Darla in her snottiness.
     *Whatever,* he thought, but he had to do something.  So even if it
was wrong, he jumped, "Ladies, this is Kenneth Roberts, Darla's fiance.
Kenneth, these are Doyle, Missy, and Nila," as he pointed to each one.
"Nila is a lady of differently abled vision."
     As the other two exchanged social SYNs and ACKs, Nila snorted and
commented, "You forget 'challenged'."
     "Differently challenged vision?" Tucker tried.  "But then I can't
cram in 'abled'."
     "And you already introduced Doyle and I yesterday," Missy said to
Tucker.  "You don't need to do it twice."
     "Oh.  Like I can remember these things?"  He was lucky to remember
names-
     "You HAVE to remember 'these things'," Doyle assured him.
     "We've been trying to convince her," Kenneth commented.
     Tucker sighed.  It was looking less and less likely that Jane Et Al
were child porn-slavers, but evidence was accumulating that she'd sucked
the entire town into a conspiracy of Proper Manners.  *Or maybe they're
all pods.  Bizarrely upper-class English pods.*
     "And could you possibly be so good as to explain why you hit one of
the girls after I arrived?" Kenneth demanded, and Tucker winced, because
he didn't think he could, not and be believed.
     "Oh," Doyle said cheerfully, "Lisa Watters- not 'Waters'," she
added, "came over and thought it'd be funny to pull Valerie's wig off,
but I guess she had it pinned down really-"
     "After yesterday?" Tucker interjected.  "I KNEW someone was going
to try it!"
     Doyle continued, "So when she grabbed it, Valerie turned around and
did, like..."
     Tucker almost grabbed her and showed everyone again, but managed to
stop himself.
     Missy did it instead, to Doyle, making Doyle yelp as she did the
countermove except for the throw.  "And she was showing us how to do
it," Missy finished as she got out of the tangle.
     "Could she show me how to do it, Mister Roberts?" Nila asked.
"Please?" she begged.
     When Kenneth looked at her and hesitated, Tucker threw in, "Blind
girls need self-defence reflexes more than ANYone."
     "Seriously," Nila nodded, looking serious.
     "But you don't have any hair to grab," Missy pointed out.  Which
was true; Nila's nearly black hair was almost a buzz cut.
     "I could grow it!" Nila protested.  "Or I could get a wig like
Valerie's-  Where did you get it, anyway?" she asked.

     "MORE than ready," Art assured his wife and his most-of-the-time-
daughter.

     Kenneth had been conscious the entire time, but he STILL wasn't
sure how Valerie and the other girls had managed to keep him there for
almost twenty minutes giving an impromptu lesson in self-defense.  And
although he hadn't found a T-shirt printing shop for her, one of the
girls had known where one was, and given them directions.  Which Valerie
had written down, of course.
     "Oh," Valerie mentioned, "I need to run a couple of errands before
we go home."
     "I RAN errands-"
     "Yeah, I know, and I REALLY appreciate it," she told him, "but
there's a few things I have to do in person."
     Kenneth sighed, but Jane had said they would pick Art up during
lunchtime, and that he needed to keep Valerie out of the house until at
least one.  *Or two,* remembering what Valerie had said at breakfast.

     "Oh, man," Doyle sighed.  It had been fun, but now they looked like
they'd been fighting.  Which they had, sort of, but-  "Nila, if we don't
get you cleaned up before your mom sees you, she'll have a cow."  Nila's
mom seemed to think that blind people were somehow made out of fine
china.
     "Oh," Nila groaned.  "I hate her..."
     "Keep that up and someone might mistake you for Ellen," Doyle
warned.  "C'mon.  Can you call her?" Doyle asked; Nila had a cellphone
in her bag, usually.  "We could go to my house, and clean you up there."

     "A DENTIST?" Kenneth questioned.
     "Just for a few minutes, please?" Valerie begged.

     "Just us girls again," Charlie said to Marie as they set just the
barest necessities for lunch on the table.  "Are you feeling better?"
     "Much, yes," she smiled at him.  Then wrinkled her nose at him.
"And you said Valerie made cookies AGAIN, this morning?"
     "Yes, she did..."  He wouldn't mind eating a dozen or so.  "But I
think we have to eat regular food first."
     "We must," she sighed.  "But what have you made?"

     "Yeah, it's for a dental- um..."  Tucker didn't remember how to say
it.  "For a costume, like-"
     The clerk guessed, "Prosthetic?"
     "Y-  I don't know if that's the right word," Tucker admitted to the
clerk.  "Something like that.  It's just temporary- I mean, what I was
going to get is just temporary, but I need a dental impression to send
to the special effects guy."
     "Well, you'd need to make an appointment," the clerk said.

     "Tuesday- next Tuesday," Valerie told Kenneth as she piled back
into the car, "one o'clock."
     "And were you going to tell Miz Thompson?  Or do you have your own
dental insurance?" Kenneth questioned.
     "Of course I have my own dental!  I had to memorize all the policy
numbers and names and everything before I left!" she whined.  "What, you
want me to recite everything?  Oh, and I've got it on the laptop if I
get brain damaged or something.  And Miz Thompson should have it too."
     "Alright.  Could you tell me what the problem is?" Kenneth asked,
because Jane would want to know.
     "No.  Classified," she said, and stopped, like that was all she
could possibly need to say on the matter.

     "What is TAKING so long?" Jane fumed.
     "Maybe they've lost him in the hospital somewhere," Darla ventured.
     "Darla!"
     "It was a joke, Mom!"
     "I am NOT in the mood," Jane seethed.

     "Oh hey!" Tucker said to Pauline, who was at the counter of the T-
shirt shop.  "I didn't know you worked here."
     "I didn't know you were still in town," she said.  "So it worked
out?"
     "Yep.  I'm here for a while, until I learn manners and so on.
Which could be years," he said, though he planned to be the hell out of
here by mid-summer if he could manage it.  Pauline sniggered.  "But
don't talk about the weekend, it's still secret.  Anyway, I have some
T-shirts and I need to have stuff printed on them.  Can this place do
it?"
     "Well, we have a lot of designs," she said, as Kenneth finally came
in.
     "Yeah," he interrupted, "but I have some of my own, stuff that you
won't have, an-"
     "How do you know we won't have it?" she challenged.
     "I'm real sure."  Corporate promotional T-shirts for Tupolev,
Weyland-Yutani, Pratt & Whitney, Yoyodyne Propulsion Systems, Ares
Macrotechnology, Genom Corporation, or Shimago-Dominguez were not
exactly in demand by the unwashed masses; nor was the inscription for
the One Ring, the Banzai Institute school logo, the Strategic Air
Command logo, or the seal of the Regency of Deneb.  And those were the
ones Dan hadn't completely invented.
     "So, do you like have these-  Mister Russell?" she asked as she
turned.  Tucker turned too, and watched the apparent Mr. Russell alert
and come over.  "She wanted some custom designs, she says she has
them..."
     "On computer," Tucker said as he hoisted his laptop bag.  "And I
can convert them to most graphics formats."  He was pretty sure he could
convert them to anything reasonable, and some unreasonable; but
commercial systems for ANYTHING (like printing T-shirts) tended to be
malignantly closed and proprietary.
     "You have them on disk?" he asked.
     "I can put them on a disk," he said.  "Or whatever."
     "Well...  Come into the office," he said.

     "So, come here often?" Kenneth tried as Valerie disappeared into
the office with the manager.
     The black-haired glasses-wearing counter girl snickered.  "Uh,
yeah?  Since I work here?  Are you with her?" she asked, pointing
towards the manager's door.
     "Unfortunately."
     She snickered again.  "Sounds like my sister."

     "One each, but you can keep the image files," Tucker said.  Most of
them he was pretty sure couldn't be copyrighted or trademarked, since
they were fictional.  And as for the Russian ones, Russian companies had
about as much right to complain about copyright violations as American
industrialists did about capitalist oppression.  "And I have the
shirts..."  He offered the two packs he'd gotten from the Cotton Spott,
one each of T-shirt and tank top.  Black, of course.
     "Oh, I like this one," Mr. Russell said, about the Pratt & Whitney
logo.
     "And they can all be yours...  IF the price is right," Tucker
quoted.

     "Let's go home," Art said into Jane's ear, after several minutes of
pure embrace.
     "Actually," Darla said apologetically, "we need to go to the
pharmacy first."
     Art did NOT want to go to the pharmacy, because they would have
drugs there for him, that he would have to take, for a very long time if
not the rest of his life.
     "Art," Jane said sternly as she pulled back.  "Don't argue, you're
going to get them and take them."  He sighed.  "Art."
     "You could argue with her," Darla commented, "but you'll just
lose."
     Art pulled Jane close again and whispered in her ear, "And what
would the punishment be if I argued and lost, hmmm?"

     "Sweet!" Tucker agreed as Pauline held up the tank top with its
fresh logo.
     "Weyland-Yutani?" Kenneth asked.
     "You've never heard of WEYLAND-YUTANI?!" Tucker gasped, faking
shock.  "My god, they're like HUGE!"

     "Where is Miskatonic University?"  Pauline had never heard of it.
Kenneth - the dark-haired hunk Valerie had come in with - had, though.
     "Oh, somewhere in Massachusetts," Valerie said.
     "Can I have that one?" Kenneth asked.
     Valerie shot back, "Twenty bucks," instantly.
     "Twent-  You didn't even buy these-"
     She interrupted, "Replacement costs.  Twenty bucks!"
     Kenneth looked at the shirt again, and Pauline could see he was
going to buy it before he said, "Okay, twenty."
     When Valerie rubbed her fingers, Kenneth sighed and reached for his
wallet.
     "Do you want another one of those?" Pauline asked.
     "Not right now...  I'll let him wear that one for... at least a
week," she decided.
     "It's an XL, right?" he confirmed.
     "Of course!" Valerie said like it was the only possible size.

     XL was the only possible size to get a T-shirt in, Tucker knew; if
he ever made the mistake of buying a logo T-shirt based on FIT, he'd get
beaten by SOMEONE later on because they couldn't wear it.  If it wasn't
Mike or George or Dan, it'd be Dad or Susan or once in a while even Mom.
And now he could add Debbie and Kim to the list, at least.

     "But I might starve to death!" Valerie whimpered.
     "You can hold out until tea," Kenneth assured her.
     "I'm getting weak..."  She staggered to the trunk of his car.
"Quick!  Open it..."
     Sighing, Kenneth opened the trunk so she could stash her shirts.
She did that, but then reached into her pack and pulled out a pink
plastic lunchbox which, he was surprised to see, had a Barbie graphic on
the side.
     It was half full of cookies, sealed into a large Ziploc.
     "Salvation!" she gasped.
     "May I ha-"
     "NO!  You were the one that wanted me to starve," she said.
     He glared at her, then backed her nearly into the trunk with his
body presence alone, before dropping to one knee.  "I beg of you, miss,
endow this poor gentleman with the delicious and delectable fruits of
your labors."

     "Oh my god, he's proposing to her?!" Pauline gasped.
     "What?  No way," Mr. Russell said as he turned towards the window.
As did the customers.

     "Well, if you put it like that," Tucker changed his mind.  *Just
don't kiss me again,* he thought.  But he knew enough not to say that
out loud, because he didn't want to get kissed again.  "How many?"
     "Mmmmm..." he said as he got up.  "Three.  We COULD be home soon,"
he reminded Tucker.  "And then we're supposed to have tea at four."
     Tucker checked his watch, then handed out the requested three
cookies to Kenneth, and started pulling one for himself.  "Well, it's
about one-twenty now..."  *What else do I need to do?*  "Wanna go dress
shopping?"
     "No."
     *Surprise surprise.*
     "These are good," Kenneth said.
     "Mmm?  Oh, thanks.  Old family recipe."
     "You're from the Nestle family?"
     Apparently he recognized the iconic Nestle Tollhouse Cookies, by
taste.  "On my mom's side," Tucker lied with a smile.  "That's why I'm
so sweet!"
     Kenneth did not snort cookie crumbs out his nose, which was mildly
disappointing; he just gave Tucker a very skeptical look.  If Tucker had
actually thought the lie would be believed, he'd have been disappointed.
     "Well, do you have anywhere else to go?" Tucker asked.

     "Art."
     Art glared sideways at Jane, but she was glaring right back at him,
so he sighed and threw the pills into his mouth.

     "Oh lord," Tucker sighed as he really looked at the dry-cleaning
that now had to be transferred from car to house.  "You know," he said
to Kenneth, "if we didn't have to change like three times a day, we
wouldn't have so much that needed cleaning."
     "True," he agreed, but Tucker noted he failed to say something like
'I'll bring that up with Jane as a sanity issue, next chance I get'.

     "Of course," Jane assured her spouse.  "Darla's getting them now."
     "And no hanky-panky," Darla chimed in as she shut Caro's back door
behind her before presenting the paper shopping bags in a curtsey to
Art.
     "I do NOT commit 'hanky panky'," Jane sniffed, stretching the
phrase out for humorous effect.
     "Not in other peoples' houses," Art corrected.

     "So do I have a sewing lesson, or what?" Tucker asked Charlene.
     "Darla said to review you on feminine gestures?" Charlene asked.
     *No, she's telling me that.  DAMN I hate it when girls do that,*
Tucker sighed.  "Well, what about supper?"
     "Tea first," she said.  "And that doesn't take much, really."
     "Doesn't take much?" Tucker repeated, disbelieving.

     Charlie had a feeling that they weren't going to get to the
gestures today; there was too much cooking and other stuff to do.
     "And, Kenneth?" Valerie said to him.  "Can you work a drill?"
     He just looked at her.
     "Because we need to start putting in the smoke detectors, heat
detectors, fire extinguishers, escape ladders, first aid kids, C.O.
detectors-"
     "Alright alright..."
     "So, here's the notes I made on where to put everything," she said
as she handed Kenneth a stack of index cards.  "And, here's the drill,
with the bits," she said as she handed him the cordless drill she'd
gotten Tuesday.  Charlie guessed she'd charged it in her room.  "And the
spare batt-"
     "Wha-  Where did you get THIS?"
     "Hardware store?" she asked him back.  "So, can you put stuff up?
Do you need a ladder?  I didn't get a ladder," she said disgustedly.
     Charlie mentioned, "I think there was one out in the barn..."

     Tucker wondered just what kind of woman he was supposed to be.
Apparently, his parents didn't want him to be trained here like they'd
trained Susan at home; they wanted him to be the sort of mindless
fashion-slave that his sister had WANTED to be.
     *Oh, well, maybe that's it,* he realized.  *She's already going too
far that way, so she needs to go the other way; _I_ am practical
already...*  'Practically insane' was the joke at home, though it was
usually applied by someone else to Tucker's entire family.  *So they
need to teach me how to act like an airhead or fashionista or
something.*
     *Debbie's not an airhead,* he argued.
     *No, but she sells to airheads.  Hey!  No arguing with me, me!*

     "Oh good, they're back," Charlie said to Valerie.
     "Did they get Miz Philips?" Valerie asked as she put down whatever
she was doing and turned to face the garage door.
     "I think they did-  Well, I don't know," he realized.
     "Think we should help?  With whatever?"
     At that point the door opened, and Diana came in, looking vastly
better than she had in Miz Franson's shop.  "Miz Philips!"
     "Welcome back, Miz Philips," Valerie said.  "We'll have tea ready
in about an hour and a half.  Miz Thompson," she said as Jane came in.
     "Good afternoon, girls," Diana said, smiling at them.
     "Are you okay?" Charlie felt he had to ask.
     "Better than new," Diana smiled larger.

     *Jeez, glad you're so sneaky and covert about it,* Tucker growled,
watching the little hearts flow back and forth between Jane and Diana.
*No one could possibly tell that you two are shacking up or anything.*

     Jane had gathered Kenneth - who was being astonishingly handy, with
a new cordless drill and other Valerie-purchased items - and the others
except Charlene into her upper office for a review.
     "You kissed her?" Darla spoke up.  "You kissed someone else?  But I
thought we were engaged!" she whimpered, sounding remarkably upset.
     "Well, that's what YOU thought," Kenneth told her.

     Tucker wasn't pleased with all of them being upstairs and closeted
like that; it smelled like a board meeting, and he wasn't a voting
member.
     And he didn't have any surveillance equipment mounted in the house.
*Well, shit...*
     "And we have to change for tea, in a while," Charlene warned him.
     "Life just gets better and better every moment," Tucker sighed.  At
least they didn't have to try and make the pastries for tea; Jane had
returned with a few bakery boxes.

     "But she did come with a laptop," Jane mentioned.
     "But she couldn't have brought it with her to the salon!" Darla
complained.  "Maybe she borrowed one?  But from who?" she argued with
herself.
     "She's only got one now, right?" Diana asked.
     "Ah.  I hadn't checked..." Jane admitted.  "But there's no easy way
to get her backpack away from her now and look in it."
     "Is the laptop she's using now, the same one she had when she got
here?" Kenneth asked.
     "How would I know?"
     "They do look different," Kenneth mentioned.
     "Not to me, they don't."  She couldn't have missed Kenneth and
Darla exchanging a look.  "Don't you even THINK about starting THAT."
     "Either way," Darla said, "she...  She's not running Windows on it,
and it's not a Mac; and it's loaded with software, like that recipe
thing."
     "She said she got them from the Internet," Marie contributed.
     "Yeah, but I think I saw her enter in the number of people here,
to get quantities for ingredients," Darla replied, "so she's not just
reading something like an email."
     "Computers can do that?" Marie questioned.
     Darla and Kenneth exchanged That Look again.

     Since one of them had to watch the food every minute, Charlie was
finishing up the tea trolley while Valerie had gone upstairs to change.
     "Do you think this'll work?" she asked as she bopped back into the
kitchen.
     When he looked, she was wearing one of the dresses from the Cotton
Spott, this one black, and she'd fluffed the skirt with a full slip or a
petti or two; it went down to her ankles.  She had black pumps on, and a
black cocktail hat pinned into the short red wig she'd worn that
morning, and had long black cotton gloves on.
     "Kind of... black, isn't it?  I think Miz Thompson would prefer
something more colorful," Charlie told her.
     She looked, pained and questioning at the same time, at Charlie;
and Charlie had to nod, meaning, 'yes, you have to change clothes.'
     "D-d-d-"
     "Darnit," Charlie supplied.
     "Isn't there anything stronger I can use?" Valerie begged.
     "No."  He'd have used it up by now, before she even got here.

     "I hope she likes this one," Tucker sighed.  'This one' was the
blue-green version of the six-pack of identical cotton crinkle gauze
dresses from the Cotton Spott, which he was REALLY starting to like
because they were cool - maybe 'un-insulated' would be a better term;
though he thought they were also cool in the non-temperature sense of
the word - they were really non-constricting, Jane didn't bitch about
them being unfeminine, and they had pockets.  Although he knew he
couldn't PUT anything in the pockets, not around Jane, just the latent
capability made him feel better.
     He'd switched to a blonde wig, a very wide-brimmed white hat to
keep the hair under control, white gloves, white belt, and white shoes,
on Charlene's quick advice to keep to one color of accessory.  He didn't
have any white jewelry except the pearls he was already wearing, but he
hoped that Jane wouldn't mind.  "Oh, and purse," he sighed again,
because he didn't like switching purses.  "Still, the rest of it looks
pretty good," he said, checking in the mirror.  "I think.  I hope?"

     "Oh, Kenneth?" Valerie said as Kenneth came out of his and Darla's
room.  "Could I borrow you for a minute?"  She looked more elegant than
usual, with a white picture hat and short heeled sandals at either end,
so to speak, of a blue-green dress.
     "Why?" he asked as he made way for Darla to come out.
     "To help me down the stairs?" she asked.
     "I could just carry you," he suggested facetiously.
     Her eyes flickered to Darla as she said, "Ah, no."

     This time, Jane was somewhat pleased to note, Valerie was eating,
though not much.  She'd apparently picked her own outfit and accessories
again, since it was nothing like Jane or Darla would have chosen, and
Jane didn't think Charlene had the experience or eye to deviate from her
teachings like Valerie had done.  "And did you practice your feminine
gestures?" Jane asked before she sipped at her tea.
     "No ma'am," Valerie said.  "There wasn't really time."
     "I'm very disappointed, Valerie, that you haven't," Jane said, and
watched the girl's face as it twitched.
     "We were cooking this afternoon," she threw out as an excuse.
     "Still.  Are you needed for supper preparations?"
     She looked at Charlene.  "I think I can handle it from now,"
Charlene offered.
     "Kenneth," Jane said, "would you mind helping Charlene?  I could
use Darla to help with Valerie."
     "That would be fine," Kenneth said.
     Valerie objected, "Well, but, he was working on the fire safety
stuff, putting it up."
     "That can wait," Jane said.
     "No it can't!" she burst out.
     "Valerie!"
     "I'm sorry, Miz Thompson, but it's important!" she said anxiously.
"That's why I got them in the first place!  Maybe Miss Marie could help
Charlene, if she uses gloves and one of the paper masks we got?" she
offered, looking at Marie.  "Please, Miz Thompson," she begged as she
looked back at Jane.
     "Maybe you'd sleep better if they were installed?" Darla offered.
Both Darla and Kenneth had mentioned Valerie's falling asleep in their
cars, yesterday and today.
     "I might," she agreed.  "It wouldn't hurt.  I mean, Kenneth, if you
don't mind doing it?" she asked.  "I could do it if you-"
     "No," Jane interrupted.  "Valerie, it is VITAL that you practice
your elegant gestures today.  You've spent far too much time doing other
things, and you are WEEKS behind where you should be."
     Kenneth said, "If Miss Marie is up to working in the kitchen..."
When Marie nodded at him, he finished, "I could do the rest of the
installation work easily."
     "Okay," Valerie said, looking relieved.  "Than-  Thank you SO
much," she said to Kenneth. "Just have someone check on you every so
often, if you're on the ladder.  Like every fifteen or twenty minutes,"
she added.  "Or maybe Miz Philips could stay and watch."
     "Why?"
     "In case you fall or the ladder breaks or something," Valerie
explained, with just a hint of incredulity.  "You really DON'T want to
be laying somewhere, where nobody can hear you, screaming for two
hours."
     "Where do you come up with all these ideas?" Diana asked as she
leaned forward.  "You're amazingly safety-conscious for a girl your
age."
     "Wha-  Standard procedures," Valerie answered cautiously.  More
boldly, she asserted, "If people don't know this kind of thing, they
ought to."
     "But where did YOU learn it?" Diana asked.
     Valerie's mouth opened, but she didn't say anything.

     *Why is she asking me this?* Tucker wondered.  He finally said,
"I... just... pick it up, I guess," figuring that his usual flip lie
would get him into trouble.  "There's a lot of stuff that can kill you,
like ladders and power tools and things like that, and I don't want to
die in a stupid accident."  Dad's missing toes were a shining example of
how not to do things; and Tucker, as well as his parents, had been
inspired from a very young age (of Tucker, anyway) by the anti-example.
"Or get maimed or crippled," he added.

     Jane looked over at Diana, and she seemed to have picked up the
same thing Jane did; most children, even to Darla's age and beyond,
weren't as cognizant of danger and safety as Valerie seemed to be.
*Selective, unfortunately,* Jane realized, *but still, far more than
average.*
     The more data they seemed to get from Valerie, the less it seemed
to add up.

     "I think, Valerie, that you shouldn't change this time," Jane told
Tucker as the nerve-wracking interrogation and manners-practice of tea
seemed to end.
     "Change?" he asked, then squinted and almost rubbed his eyes as she
whited out momentarily, along with the rest of the room.  *Tired...* he
decided, since everything came back, which meant it wasn't a nuclear
flash.
     "To practice," she said, which didn't make any sense at all.

     Kenneth hoped that Diana would remember that he was on a ladder and
working with a drill, because she was occasionally laughing so hard she
choked.  *Maybe _I_ should be watching HER,* he thought.

     "And now, sit again," Jane directed, and Valerie pulled her skirt
forward with both hands as she sat down.  "Better."

     Tucker had been trying to follow the instructions, but with Jane
AND Darla sitting on either side of him, judging everything he did or
DIDN'T, he was almost glad when his intestines signaled a non-maskable
interrupt.  "Excuse me, Miz Thompson, I have- Ohhh," he interrupted
himself as rusty spikes tore through his lower abdomen.  He couldn't
help looking down, and was glad not to see either spikes or the bright
red of blood and/or guts splashing on the floor.
     "Please excuse me," he restarted when he could talk.  "I need to...
to powder my nose."
     "Very well.  Come back when you're finished," Jane said.
     He got out an, "Aye aye ma'am," before the next wave of ironmongery
ripped through him; when that finished, he could walk, so he did, to the
door where he picked up his laptop case, and then to the hall bathroom.
Quickly.

     Darla came back into the parlor, looking discomfited, after
discreetly listening in the hallway near the bathroom.  Jane asked,
"Well?"
     "She's crying."
     "Oh... dear."  Darla could handle anger, but others' tears caused
her an unusual amount of distress.  "Was she saying anything?"
     She shook her head.
     "Come here," Jane said as she stood up, and gathered Darla into her
arms.

     "Miz Thompson," Tucker said from the doorway.  "My makeup's all...
I ruined it, in the bathroom.  Should I go up and fix it now?"
     "Come in for a moment before you do," she ordered, and so he came
in, deposited his laptop bag near the door, and shut the door.  "Darla
was in the hall and heard you crying."
     *Fink.*
     "She was quite upset," Jane lied with a gentle voice, "and I would
like to know why."
     "I don't know why she was upset, Miz Thompson."
     "I meant, Valerie, why you were crying in the bathroom."

     Jane watched as Valerie's hands fisted and her jaw tensed.  "I
meant," she said hurriedly, "if you were in physical pain."
     "Yes ma'am," she said, as her hands unclenched, partially.
     "Does this have to do," Jane guessed, "with why you've been using
and buying menstrual pads?"  They never HAD gotten an explanation for
those.  "And why there was blood on them?"
     Eventually, Valerie said, "Yes ma'am.  I'd advise you not to ask
any more questions."
     "Why not?"
     She moved her lips in a sick and weak expression that wasn't really
a grin or smile.  "Because if you ask, I'll tell you; and I don't think
you want to know."
     "Valerie, if you're bleeding, that is VITAL for me to know.  How
can I keep you safe - which I promised both you AND your mother I would
do - if you hide this sort of information from me?"
     "Miz Thompson, there's nothing anyone can do about it," she said
calmly.
     "I think you'd better let me be the judge of that, young lady!  Now
tell me what is going on!"
     She sighed.  "I..."  Then she sighed again.  "When I'm constipated
enough, it builds- the feces, it builds up and the water is sucked out
of it, so it gets harder and bigger."  She stopped until Jane nodded.
"So, there's only so big the- the hole can handle."
     Jane forced herself to gentle her tone as she said, "Valerie,
please use the proper anatomical terms.  I believe you meant 'anus'?"
     "Yes ma'am.  So, I overstretched it, and it's a little bloody."
     "A LITTLE bloody?!"
     "Yes ma'am, I've been checking it," she said calmly.  "I've had it
before, and the only treatment is to keep the, the feces?  The feces
soft, so it has a chance to heal.  And the area clean of course-"
     Jane was aghast.  "But, an open wound- and THERE of all places!"
     Valerie looked a bit ill herself as she nodded.  "Yes ma'am, but
there's nothing else to do.  Antibiotic creams just get scraped off, uh,
in use."  Jane decided to let that vocal faux pas pass; this was hard
enough on Valerie.  "I have to eat, because if I don't, I get the same
problem again, too-hard and too large feces."
     "Couldn't you take antibiotic pills, at least?" Darla asked.
     "What?" Valerie asked back, sounding angered.  "Are you NUTS?"
     Jane exclaimed, "Valerie!  You will NOT speak that way, that
disrespectfully, to ANYONE."  Valerie tensed up, but managed to control
herself and restrain any further outbursts.  "What is wrong with her
suggestion?"
     "Ask ANY competent doctor or medic," Valerie said contemptuously.
"Or biologist.  That's the best way to breed antibiotic-immune
infectious diseases.  Prof-  Prof-  Taking in-case-of-"
     "Prophylactic?" Jane guessed.
     "That's it," she agreed.  "Prophylactic," she said carefully,
"antibiotics are a bad idea, most of the time.  And trust me, if I get
infected there, I'm gonna know.  Then we get to go see a doctor," she
said sourly.  Then winced.
     "So, the pads are..."
     "For a wound dressing," Valerie said.  "It's not that good, but
it's the best I think anyone could come up with.  Miz Thompson, Darla's
looking like she'd like to change the subject," she mentioned.  As Jane
looked - and Darla was indeed looking uncomfortable - she suggested, "I
or we could go up and work on makeup?"
     "Very well," Jane allowed.  She checked her watch; it was half past
six o'clock.  "Valerie, I want to see you in something nice, again, for
supper; Darla, have her in a semi-formal outfit.  Valerie, can you wear
a corset, or would that be too painful?"
     She thought about it.  "I'm not sure.  Can I try one, and then take
it off if it doesn't work?"
     "Yes you may."  Jane left off the grammar correction for the
moment.  "Dinner shall be at eight o'clock, ladies."
     "Yes ma'am," Darla said as she got up.  "Come along," she said to
Valerie, who started to follow her out.
     "Miz Thompson?" Valerie said as she turned around.  "How long would
it take Charlene to change for supper?  I mean, eating supper?  If I get
done by then, then I could come down and relieve her, she could go up
and change, and then I wouldn't have to worry about the food," she said.
     "Oh, very well," Jane agreed, tiredly.  "Come down about seven-
twenty."
     "Yes ma'am," she said and turned.
     "You need to curtsey before you leave," Jane reminded her.
     She sighed, but turned back around and performed a moderately
acceptable curtsey as she repeated, "Yes ma'am."
     "That's better.  You're excused."
     "Thank you Miz Thompson," Valerie said as she repeated the curtsey,
before turning, picking her bags up, and leaving.

     "Oh, no," Tucker sighed, and prepared for the dangerous trek
upwards.
     "Oh no what?" Darla asked from ahead of him.
     "Stairs.  Oh, and that reminds me, I need to do something with the
shoes.  I got some inner tubes, and some-"
     "INNER TUBES?"
     "To put real rubber soles on the shoes?  So maybe I can get some
traction, and not fall?" Tucker explained.  *She is such a 'tard...*
     "Not now...  Let's work on makeup, then get you changed.  I don't
think you have to go out tomorrow until your dance class; maybe we can
do it tomorrow."
     *Why did I want-*  "Oh, could we maybe go to the vintage clothing
store tomorrow?  They had more stuff that I didn't get, and I REALLY
like the look.  Please?" he pleaded.
     She turned and looked at him incredulously.
     "What?"

     "You WANT to go shopping, for new DRESSES?" Darryl asked, not
entirely able to keep his voice level.
     She looked down and sighed, as her face flushed reddish.  "Yes."
Then she said, "It's not like I get to get out of wearing them, or stuff
like them, right?  Not here.  And for the more formal look, I think they
look... better than a lot of stuff I've worn here."

     Tucker was VERY glad he'd remembered to insert the 'here' in time
to make it seem natural.  Though Debbie had never made him dress this
formal ALL the time; just when he was going to dances and things.

     Darryl put a smile on his face, and a happy tone in his voice as he
said, "That is just so wonderful!  That you're wanting to look pretty."
     Valerie flushed deeper, and her hands clenched into fists by her
side, but she DIDN'T contradict him.
     "You know," Darryl said conspiratorially, as he took a step towards
her, "Momma-Jane said that if you could act more grown-up, she'd want
you to dress more grown-up."
     "Grown up and female," Valerie revised.
     "Well, yes," Darryl admitted.  "Of course!  But, I guess you prefer
the more mature dresses, to the little girly ones?"
     "Oh yeah," she agreed fervently.
     *No question about THAT,* Darryl agreed silently; he disliked the
little-girl frillies himself.  "So," he said with another smile, "if you
can be good tonight, and keep your manners up, I'll ask if we can go
tomorrow."
     "Alright," Valerie agreed.

     "And I think I do the kitchen ones tomorrow," Kenneth said to Diana
as he folded the ladder.  He was rather dusty - or perhaps 'sawdusty'
was a better term, though he didn't think it was a word - but he'd
gotten almost all of the devices installed, with their batteries, and
tested them one at a time.
     "Don't forget to give the drill and the batteries back to Valerie,"
Diana reminded him.  "And how- WHY did she get a drill anyway?"
     "Well, you either didn't have one or she didn't know about it,"
Kenneth pointed out.  "And I couldn't find one either."
     "Probably Jane has it locked up, to keep it away from the
students," Diana guessed.
     Kenneth agreed, "I would if I were her."

     Tucker didn't quite trust Darla's enthusiasm; she'd been rather
nasty on Tuesday at lunch, so her happy act now didn't really fit.
*Maybe she was on HER period,* he mused.
     But she did know what she was talking about, apparently, when it
came to makeup, because while it had taken him almost all the extra time
he'd THOUGHT he'd have, she'd managed to teach him most of the tricks -
well, at least half of them - to do the 'invisible makeup' she'd done
that morning.  It involved a ghastly number of products, and too much
time, but Tucker had to admit that it looked really good, really
professional, and subtle.
     "And how about this to go with it?" Darla said as she selected a
wig in reddish gold, with about two feet of curls.  Tucker almost said
something, but she was too fast, and she quickly had it on his head and
was pinning it in place.  The curls went down past his nipples.  *Well,
so much for subtle...*

     Darryl watched as Valerie twisted her head back and forth, staring
at herself in the vanity mirror.
     "So?" he finally asked.  "_I_ think it makes you look GREAT."
     She sighed, and her eyes met his in the mirror.  "I think it's too
much," she said.
     "Oh, no," Darryl told her as he took another look.  But she was
partially right; with that much hair, that flamboyant, she would really
do better with a more subtle dress for the evening.  "Let me go look...
You need a SPECIAL dress to go with that," he told her before he left.

     "Why do I think 'special dress' means 'corset'?" Tucker sighed.
*No hope for it,* he realized, so he got up and started undoing the
buttons on his current dress.  *Oh, wait-  Well, I said I'd TRY, so I
gotta.  Damnit.*
     *Fuck, I'm so tired...*

     Valerie had put on some bike shorts for modesty's sake when Darryl
got back with the perfect dress on a hanger; her legs were a patchwork
of colors, to the point Darryl had to look to find any skin that was
actually skin colored.  *NOT wearing shorts outside any time soon,* he
thought.
     "Could you do the corset up?" she asked, sounding tired.
     Darryl said, "Sure...  Let me show you how to do it, though."
     Her torso was a mass of bruises too.

     Tucker looked in the mirror, and had to admit that even the
'lesser' corset, which didn't compress that much before it ran out of
adjustment, did a lot to make his hips look wider.  *Like I need that,*
he thought, but it did make him look older as well as thinner.  It also
hurt, but not too much; and he was beginning to think that Pain was the
natural condition of fashionable women.  *Which would explain a lot...*
     "See?  Not too hard, was it?" Darla pushed.
     Tucker lied, "No, I guess not."  He now was sure that one reason
corsets had fallen out of favor was that they were such a pain in the
ass to put on.  And Darla had ASSURED him that a corset wouldn't work
right if it was designed any other way.  "What time..."
     "Let's hurry," Darla said as Tucker looked at the bed clock - she
had insisted he take his watch off - and saw it was seven-sixteen, about
forty-five minutes until eight, which meant he had to hurry if he wanted
Charlene to have enough time to change.

     "Your turn," Valerie announced, and Charlie turned to her voice.
     "Wow," he said, because she looked spectacular.  The red-gold hair
which he hadn't seen her wear yet was complemented by the green velvet
dress, and while she'd skipped a hat, the white gloves, pumps, and purse
made her look sort of vintage anyway.
     "Yeahyeahyeah," she said with a tired grin.  "Anyway, if you hurry,
you can go up and change."
     "Okay..."  He looked to Marie, who nodded, and then took off the
apron he was wearing and handed it to her.  "Don't forget to take the
gloves off," he reminded her.
     "While eating drinking smoking OR cooking?" she asked, then grinned
at him.  "So go already.  And THANKS, I really appreciate it," she
smiled as she put the apron strap over her head.

     Mike concentrated, *I must not fear.  Fear is the mind-kill-*
     "Good afternoon," said Debbie in a very professional sounding
voice, "and thank you for coming!"
     *-Fear is the little-death that brings total obliter-*
     "Now," she continued, walking around a little, "I know that Mary
Kay is sort of a big joke to everybody, but they really do produce some
superior products, in my opinion.  And since my boyfriend is out of 
town, I brought HIS best friend so I could prove it to you!"
     The women laughed, Debbie smiled, and Mike prayed.

     Tucker was tired enough that he had to concentrate on walking, but
Charlene had changed in record time and was helping serve.  Miss Marie
had had gloves - latex, not fashion or whatever - and a mask on when he
came into the kitchen, too, though she apparently disliked wearing them.
Not like he could blame her - latex gloves were a pain when you were
used to bare skin - but it was better than her infecting the entire
household.

     "What is this?" Kenneth asked as Valerie tonged salad - of some
kind - into his salad bowl.
     "Spinach, fresh peaches, walnuts, cheese, and a vinaigrette
dressing," she said.  "It's'a good for you," she added in a bad Italian
accent.  "And heart healthy," she said to Diana.

     "Well, thank you for thinking of me," Art smiled in his best
feminine manner, as he wondered just what sort of culinary experimental
hell he'd fallen into.
     "I've made it before," Marie said with a too-straight face.  "It's
quite good."

     "Well, that's it," Debbie said to the room, and pulled the drop
cloth off Mike in one swoop.  "Stand up!  There you have it, ladies!"
     Mike stood up, glad he didn't have to look at himself, and managed
to force his face into something pleasant.
     The room applauded.
     "So, do I get kissed?" he asked Debbie.
     She gave him a huge smile and replied, quietly but brightly, "Fuck
no."

     "Momma-Jane," Darla piped up as Charlie was cutting into his pot
roast, "Valerie asked if we could go dress shopping again?  She wanted
to get some more of the vintage dresses, wherever she went last time."
     Charlie looked at Valerie, who was nodding reluctantly.
     "Valerie, speak up, don't just gesture," Jane admonished.  "Would
you like to go there again?"
     "Yes ma'am," she said out loud.  "If I can.  There was a...  I
THOUGHT there was a lot there," she said, looking at Charlie for some
reason.  Then she asked Charlie, "Right?"
     "Well, there was, but I didn't think you wanted all of it," he
said.  Nearly a dozen dresses had, he thought, been more than enough.
"And not all of it would fit you."
     "Not ALL of it, just a few-  Ahhh, who'm I kidding," she said in a
more relaxed attitude.  "I think we need to clean out her hat
collection, for one thing."
     "Hats?" Jane asked.
     "Like," Valerie said as her hands went up to her hair and
fluttered, "like what I'm NOT wearing."
     Charlie snickered, and he thought even Jane had to clamp on her
face to keep from smiling.
     "While I do enjoy you in a proper hat," Jane said instead, and in a
totally unamused voice, "that hair is sufficiently glorious that a hat
would be overkill."
     "Okay, but, I know a few women had hair like this back then,"
Valerie said, almost excitedly.  "So what- I mean, they- every-"
     "Calm down," Jane commanded, "order your thoughts, then speak."
     Valerie huffed a sigh.  "At one time, it was required, I think?
That women wore hats, at least when they went out.  So, if someone had
hair like this, what did they do for a hat?"
     "Well," Jane answered, before coughing - not politely, it was a
real cough - into her hand, before answering, "for one thing, they
didn't go to such lengths to curl it.  For another, it is rather teased
up; if wearing a hat, it would have been left down, as it were..."

     Tucker wasn't really happy about doing cleanup, but Charlene had
done most of the cooking work - her and Miss Marie, anyway - and so he'd
had to do cleanup.  *At least I get paid for it,* he'd thought as he did
it.  Though, checking the chore sign-off sheet had told him he was
REALLY behind in the moneymaking.
     Now, though, he was looking for something else to do.  *I could
check in early,* he realized.

     Mike was aghast at just how much money Debbie had made tonight, and
with her making several appointments to do one-on-one makeovers later,
this was only the beginning.
     *She's supernatural.  That's the only explanation for-*
     "Mike?"
     "Ah!" he said, unhappy that he'd managed to inadvertently summon
her by thinking about her.  *Why doesn't telepathy do what I WANT?!*
     "You can go wash your face now," she smiled at him.  Then she
twisted her head a little sideways and down, and looked at him through
lowered (false) lashes, and murmured, "Or we could go out..."
     "I KNOW what happens when you do that," he told her as he stood up.
"Isn't Tuck enough for you?"
     "Do you see him sitting around?" she countered.
     Mike made his willpower roll and didn't look for Tuck.
     Debbie grinned and said, "No, seriously, go wash your face and get
cleaned up, and we'll go out to eat.  Dutch," she warned.  "Or I can
take your meal out of your pay."
     "Done."  Credit, in this case, was at least as good as cash.

     "Valerie?" Darryl asked when he saw the glow from her laptop
lighting SOMEone's face in the darkened kitchen.  "What are you doing?"
     "Oh, just..."  She shook her head.
     "It's nearly eleven; shouldn't you be in bed?" he suggested.
     "What?  Oh, um-  Da-  Urgh!"
     Darryl had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at her irritation.
"Seriously, though.  Didn't Kenneth finish installing everything?"
     "Except the kitchen, yeah," she admitted.
     "Is that what's bothering you?"
     "No...  I don't-  Oh," she said.
     Darryl waited, but she didn't say anything else.  "Do you want to
talk about it?" he asked.
     "Oh... no, it's fine," she said, which he thought was a lie.
     "So, maybe you could go to bed, instead of sitting here in the dark
on your computer?  Would you like some help getting undressed?" he
offered, thinking that maybe that was it.  *But she's gotten out of a
corset plenty of-*
     "No, thank you," she said politely.  "I guess I should..."  She
sighed, then did something to her laptop which made the screen darken.
     Then it was too dark to see, in the kitchen.
     "Valerie?" Darryl said when he remembered why he'd come downstairs
in the first place.  "I need to turn on a light, so I can set the alarm
for the night."
     "Oh, alright," she said distractedly.
     Not surprisingly - irritatingly, but not surprisingly - she had her
sunglasses on when Darryl flicked the kitchen lights on.  And she didn't
even look up from her unplugging and re-coiling of assorted wires.

     *Not done yet,* Tucker thought as he spat mint into the sink.  *Why
not?  I brushed, flossed, mouthwashed...*
     "Oh, right," Tucker said as he noticed, and remembered why, he had
the H2O2 bottle and cotton swabs right next to his toothcare stuff.
*Don't need earlobe zits.  Or abscesses.*
     Cleaning the new piercings hurt, but he did it carefully anyway.
*Still oozing blood,* he noticed; luckily, dried blood, or smears of
fresh, didn't bother him nearly as much as a significant amount would.
     "Oh, no..."  That had reminded him of some other wound care he
ought to be doing.

     "Huh?"  *It's past eleven,* Charlie realized.  *Nobody would-*
     Someone tapped at his door again.
     When whoever-it-was tapped a third time, Charlie realized it had to
be Valerie; nobody else would be that annoying.  "Coming," he grumbled
as he got out of bed and went to the door.  "What do you want?" he asked
Valerie.  *Oh, wait, the door's not locked-*
     She was standing in the hallway, in a peignoir and gown, holding
the shoulder straps of her backpack, though it was resting on the floor.
"I, ah, I wondered, if I could ask you a really big favor?"
     *This is not going to be good,* Charlie thought.  "What?"
     She stuttered, "C-could I sleep with you tonight?"
     He couldn't have heard that right.  "What?"
     Her arm - the one not holding the straps - tightened around her
middle as she stared at Charlie's feet, or his painted toenails.  "I,
I'm not sleeping well, and the longer I go without- or not sleeping
well, the worse it gets.  I thought, I slept really well with you, in
the nursery those couple times, so, so I was, uh, if I could-"
     Charlie was getting more awake.  "Wait," he said, and she stopped.
"You want to sleep, in the bed with me?"
     "Yeah?" she almost whimpered.  "Please?  I SWEAR I won't do
anything like molest you or anything, I just- I just-  I need sleep!"
     "Wait."  She shut up, thankfully.  *Okay, if she gets low on sleep,
she gets bitchy, which I don't want.*  His shoulders tightened up at the
memory of Tuesday lunch, or the previous Friday.  *Okay, so...  But I
need something like a girdle, in case...*  "Stay out here for a minute,"
he told her, and shut the door.

     "Thanks," Tucker said to Charlene as he went to the other side of
the bed.  "I really appreciate it."
     "Okay, okay already," she mumbled.  "Just go to sleep, okay?"
     *That was the idea,* Tucker thought but didn't say.  Instead, he
pulled the robe off, flipped the sheets back, and slithered into bed.
     *I hope this works...*

***


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+ @>--,--'-----   Ellen Hayes   o===[--------      __      vicki .sig  +
                  -=[1990]=-                       \/      virus 12.3
+      http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes     PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) +




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