R & D at F.E.M.M.

[teddi]

For Shellie, the day began normally as one would expect for a single mother.  Up before dawn, hurry through an all too quick a shower and then rush to make the obligatory pot of coffee; which now found itself in the throws of being the weakened second-hand grinds of the previous morning.  She was two months behind on rent, strapped for cash and was trying to make the best of it.  Except for some more than generous assistance from Cathy, her neighbor, even placing the daily meal at dinner on the "table" would have been an accomplishment.  Now as had become the morning norm, a slight tear escaped her as she mechanically dropped a thin slice of wheat bread into the toaster and then sat at the counter to wait for the 6 A.M. alarm to wake both of the kids.



It would only be moments when, at the first sound of the waking call, Mark at fourteen and her eldest would make the mad dash to the bathroom.  Of course he would be followed by his younger sister, who, five years younger, would find herself closed out of the place where she most desperately needed to be and with only one bathroom in the small duplex; time for all was of the essence, especially when it came to getting one's morning "business" done.  As her youngest squirmed with knees together, Shellie waited for the inevitable to occur and began her personal ten second countdown, for what had become a race; would her toast be the first to pop up or would the down beating fists upon the bathroom door emerge victorious?  Today, the pounding pre-empted the toasts golden brown appearance with an upward bounce on the down count of four.  Total score for the week, including today:  fists three, toast one.



In concert with the thumping of her daughters fists the pleas to her brother again went unheeded and once more the soft sobbing of her youngest, Kellie, left little doubt as to the cause.  Even locked within the bathroom Marks derisive laughter echoed through the tiny duplex.  As he cracked the door open his mocking remarks to his sister echoed off the walls.  "Look, you pooped your panties again!  You  even peed them!  If you really tried you could've held it all in so don't blame me cause your so damn slow you little skank!"



The last word was for Shellie the last word she would have expected.  It was the last word which hurt her the most.  She thought she had done a better job of raising her son.  Sadly, she was now admitting to herself, she had screwed up; and done so, royally.  Disconsolately, she considered her obvious state of misfortune:  the loss of her once promising career, possible eviction, the looming prospect of public shelter and perhaps even the loss of one or both of her children to the state.  On the verge of a total meltdown the knock on the front door was the last thing she expected.  Exhausted, she had been reduced to a shell and with little fight left in her she silently cursed the insistent knocking under her breath, "Must be the damn bill collector again.  I told that mother he'd have to wait until after I cashed my check on Friday.  Here it is Thursday and he's back again!  Why the hell don't they all just please leave me alone..."



She peered through the peep hole and let the immediate tension ease, it was Cathy.  Cathy Black, her long time high school friend was substantially better off:  if only from the considerable insurance policy that her late husband had left to provide for her.  But her luck was substantially better than Shellie's.  Cathy had somehow managed to stroll into a quick market and on a whim asked the clerk for a lottery quick pick.  The one dollar ticket paid off to the tune of seven hundred and fifty large.  What was the adage?  Good luck knows the path to follow and usually finds the one who is most naturally lucky.  Bad luck or no luck has a way of showing up to find who it's looking for as well.  For Shellie, the barrel had reached bottom:  it was dry and out of luck.



But luck had nothing to do with Cathy as far as her career was concerned.  She had just acquired the dream job in the R & D branch of "Fiber Engineering and Micro-Magnetics."  She now headed the divisions' think tank.  It was the same position Shellie had also applied for but was in turn passed over for due to, "Evident personal problems which would manifest themselves adversely upon R & D at F.E.M.M.  On second thought, maybe there was a certain amount of luck involved with Cathy; her good luck was reflected in her general attitude...she now carried herself well.



She considered to herself...that to be the CEFO (Chief Executive Female Officer) would have been wonderful.  It would have come with great pay, performance bonuses and a bevy of good looking testoterone laden males to hit on or vise-versa.  It was to be her job, the career she went after, but it was the job that Cathy got instead; but she didn't blame her best friend at her own misfortune.  No...she had to admit...in her world...everything was coming apart at the seams.  Personally she would have relished the position if only for the many innovative challenges it presented:  of course there was the unspecified gratuities of control.  All surrounding her, all would be too willing to fall head and heals over themselves to please the boss.  But they were always coming and going-going and coming and always to her...coming...yes...always way to soon.



But Cathy was of the outspoken opinion that most of the males there were pathetic:  both intellectually and physically.  While some had merit in the work place she preferred her males athletic, supple and pliable.  She had always been an alpha female and never passed up the chance to put a willing male through the paces:  either at work or where her libido was concerned.  Actually, she thought it was even more fun if the sad-sack she bedded was a reluctant if not unwilling participant to her intrigues who then broke under her will.  She found the sensation intensely satisfying.  In the past three years she'd been through twenty or more but never found the "right one."  Essentially, none had the one talent with the "stamina" she was searching for.  In part the euphemism, "The Black Widow," was appropriate.  She wore them out then threw them away.



Laughingly she would often describe what she sought, an expert who had an outstanding talent in the field of, "Tongue in groove."  Shellie was now disposed to agree, the next time out she'd be certain to rein in what she knew would be the best of both worlds for her:  a young androgynous good looking boy-toy.  If Cathy had taught her anything it was that at times a talented male was useful:  especially if he were a talented gap lapper who would clean up after himself.  He certainly would be the antithesis of the posing stud muffins who had been awkwardly trying to bed her.  But that was only wishful thinking.  For the moment reality infringed and pushed the thoughtful pleasantries aside.



If only she had decided on that course of action earlier and picked the right one; instead of the dork who was not only a liar but a thieving and conniving slug who left her in this predicament.  Sure the local constabulary had put out APB's; but the sc-um ball had not only cleared out of her life, but also her bank account.  Then cleared out of town.  She was a fool to have willingly co-signed several loans; and several other substantially large promissory notes.  The sweet talking son-of-a-bitch. He had left her on the hook; to deplete her savings and all but ruin her credit. All for him-the loser.  Adding insult to injury, the last thing he did was to cash and max out every one of her credit cards.  The mess he left her in now threatened to tear apart her family.  What was left of it.  She cursed herself further for trusting him.  Except for her late husband, she had always been leery of men.  Now she felt that all males were just that:  despicable and hirsute bipedals whose hanging appendages were best locked away until needed.  Now even her son was becoming a destestable replicant.



Red eyed from tearing and still trying to hold back from breaking up all together she reluctantly opened the door to greet her friend.  She was a mess and knew it.  Halfhearted, if only to minimize how she looked, she forced a smile and opened the door, literally to her best friend and spoke, "Cathy, it's pretty early and I...I wasn't expecting you...sorry for the way I look...it's been a rough morning and...is there anything wrong?  I mean...I think I'm going to be late..again. I'm.."



"Yes," was the interrupting reply, "there is something wrong.  I couldn't help but hear what was going on...again...over here...Mark...is...well...the walls are thin if you know what I mean.  I'm sorry but I heard the whole thing myself...again.  We need to talk...about him...and you and us.  Look, maybe I should've just called you when they're both off and on their way to school.  Shell by the looks of it...yours especially...you look like crap.  Sorry, I didn't want to hurt your feelings but after all, we've shared a lot since high school so why don't you let me help you out of this.  Just keep an open mind.  I promise after what I have to tell you maybe, maybe, you can move out of this dump...along with me and Stacy."



Shellie was not only surprised but brutally honest, "I didn't know about your moving out...of couse with your promotion I can't really blame you...crap...if I'd known that...I wouldn't have moved here myself...but...now it's so much more personal than it was before...I can't control him or his mouth and nothing I seem to do...Cathy...I can't go on like this...this is all getting to be too much and if you leave with Stacy, Kellie will be absolutely devasted.  They get along so well...please...just give me some time to get them out the door and off to school...please?"



Cathy smiled warmly at her long time friend and nodded her head while replying, "Shel baby, it's a little more involved than just Mark and his mouth, just be ready when they're gone and we'll have a serous talk.  Take the morning off, I'll clear it personally.  See ya."



Cathy turned and walked to the adjoining door without looking back.  Shellie closed the door, walked the several steps to the bathroom door and yelled at her son, "Mark Porter, you get your butt out of there right now or else!"  Mark laughed sarcastically at her through the door, "Or else what...mommmie?"  Five minutes later he rushed out the door and ran to his bedroom, slammed the door shut; laughing away while Shellie took Kellie into the bathroom and hurriedly helped her get clean.  Ten minutes later, in the blackest of moods, she grudgingly tossed a bowl of flakes in front of her son without saying a word after which the last of the half-gallon carton of milk thudded to the counter in front of him and almost tipped over.  She managed to control herself otherwise she would have slapped the grin right off of his face and right into the middle of next week.  She knew better and stayed her hand:  otherwise, he'd have lost some teeth.

In that instant of self-control she resolved that if given the chance she'd blister his butt, oh boy would she ever.  She do that...and more...lots more.

[Stephanie]

A very good start to the story with lots of possibilities. I'm intrigued to see how it develops....

[teddi]

The intervening fifteen minutes was an interlude of unvoiced tension broken only when Mark left his cereal bowl on the counter and left for school with little fanfare, but his brusque words, "See ya later mommmiee...oh...and you too skank!" again left no wiggle room for excusable behavior.  Shellie thought him to be a sudden and mean little turd and for the life of her she was at a loss to understand why.  Five minutes later, her humiliated daughter managed a humbled kiss goodbye and gave her mother one aching last look as she walked out the front door and alone to the bus stop.  Shellie peered out the window and made certain she boarded the bus safely.  The expected knock at the door came shortly thereafter.



Cathy was a little less than cordial when she entered, and immediately excused herself to her long time friend by expressing the distaste she felt for having to speak to her about Mark.  But really, there was a major fly in the ointment, that wore on Cathy's mind and that Shellie was not in the least aware of, so the best thing, she reasoned, was to drop the whole damn thing once and for all in her lap.  She decided to start with the worst first and if what followed was considered the best, so be it.  She decided the direct approach was the best, after all, before the day was over the worst, to all, would be common knowledge.



She reasoned that a segue was needed to begin; and it had to be a definite icebreaker, so as gently as possible she asked, "Listen, I know its early but before I start, I ahh...think I need a drink...and maybe...umm...you might just...need one too?  Make mine the usual...Scotch...two fingers, neat."  The understandably pensive and edgy look on Shellie's face spoke volumes as she silently pulled two 8-oz. tumblers along with a full bottle of Dewar's from the faded brown cabinet's shelf over the stove; set them on the tacky harvest gold counter and steadily poured two rounds.  She took one and pushed the second to Cathy; lifted her own in salute to her friend and then downed it without blinking an eye.  She quickly poured herself another round and threw it back as well.



Cathy knew her friend could hold her own, better than any man either had met; she just hoped that now, that the remainder of the bottle wouldn't follow suit just as quick.  Cathy smiled at Shellie and began, "Sweetheart, I know it's been a rough six months; especially for you.  Please listen and for god's sake...stay calm and try to keep a clear mind about everything I have to tell you.  And for Pete's sake...don't even think to long about what I know will be your initial reaction.  What I have to tell you is something you're going to hear about this afternoon...but I...I have to tell you face to face before anyone else knows."  Shellie shook her head and scoffed at Cathy, "You can't be serious!  Why in the hell should anyone else know or give a damn about Mark!  If you're telling me that you're going to screw me over too...in front of every Tom, dic-k and Harry...just because you're hearing him through the walls of this dump then you can just drink up, kiss my butt and get the hell out of here!"



Cathy expected the outburst and forced another smile and promptly replied, "Shellie, Mark is important but he's the least of what I have to talk to you about.  Right now and I mean right now Shellie Porter; your son is only a minor pimple on a butt that needs to be squeezed.  No doubt he's a personal problem, but that, with the proper treatment, together we can solve.  Listen, what I have to tell you first...is that...oh hell...I need another drink...make it a double...your one up on me anyway."  Cathy recognized the scornful look that Shellie shot at her could have melted ice and silently considered that point.  Shellie was a woman who in fact could kick some serious butt...in more ways than one.  Cathy, swallowed the double and with a gasp began, "Look, I had a phone call late yesterday afternoon...from the FAA. They've completed their investigation...and...they'll be arrriving at F.E.M.M. today...1 P.M.  They want to hold a news conference...here...and will issue a simultaneous press release...about their report...Shellie...your David didn't die in an accident.  Did you hear me?  It wasn't an accident and it wasn't your fault.  Their lab reports confirm that...that...it was a total avionic systems failure due to...the flight computers CPU having been tampered with...sabotaged.  Sweetheart...they have the proof...and they know who did it.  So does Larry Binder. All those  APB's he flooded the country with...for you...well...they've stirred up a veritable hornets nest about...your sweet talker...he's wanted for more than just hustling an enterprising woman out of a small fortune.  Shel...Larry had a number of interesting phone calls come his way from some of his past "asssociates" who specialize in a very, very special line of work.  Larry assures me that his ""acquaintances" at some agency he calls A.B.O.I. (Advanced Black Ops Interrogation) are some serious and hardened bad-ass players; and it would seem, that at one time, our local constable was one too.  His former agency wants this slime, and they want him bad.



"Whatever this guy says he is or was, one thing is certain he's a major foreign operator who sidelights as a shill specializing in corporate espionage.  Shell...he's number three on Black Ops' most wanted list; preferably alive, though they're not going to cry if he turns up cold meat.



"As for the name and references he gave you along with all of his other credentials...I gave those to Larry a week ago.  He got hold of me late last night:  they were juiced and forged.  He told me he called in a favor and had Black Ops back-track and trace all of your corroborative calls, e-mails and faxes:  all had been meticulously re-routed several times and wound up at a central hub; a highly guarded process station located in the Middle East.  The little bee hive of sc-um suc-kers there were all waiting on your follow-up calls and due diligence corporate interrogatories.  Honey, you were set up and so was your husband.  He was murdered.  Right now, the difference between the two of us is that I have the job you were supposed to have had and it isn't because you ordered him to take a flight on a whim.  That son-of-a-bitch planned the whole operation to get you and him out of the loop.  But how he got wind of our research is beyond me.  But believe me, we'll get to the bottom of it all and when we do...when we do...god help him."



The silence between the two lasted for several minutes and was broken when Cathy pointed to her empty glass and asked most gently, "Shel, I think I need one more."  Shellie nodded and slammed the bottle down in front of her friend; the result of which forced a small amount of the amber gold to spew up and out of the neck of the bottle.  Before the last drop hit the counter the resulting explosion was, in part, what Cathy had expected.  Shellie's arm cut loose and less than a second later her glass flew across the room, shattering both itself and the mirror hanging on the opposite wall.  The sounds made by the falling shards punctuated the silence.  The girl still had an arm.  Cathy watched on in silence as Shel reached quickly for the neck of the bottle and wondered if it would wind up against the wall as well...musing to herself that that would be a waste of good liquor.  Instead, Shellie poured herself another round, lifted it towards the shattered mirror and silently haled with a salute the falling residue; she then flipped the contents out and on to the dingy cream colored vinyl floor.  She made no comment on the disclosure whatsoever.  She didn't have to.



And Cathy knew better as well.  Inside of her best friend was a demon; which was now plotting and waiting for its moment.  And when it arrived, lord help the son-of-a-bitch if she found him first.  Dispassionately, Shellie broke the silence, "So is that the good news or the bad?  Wait...don't tell me...your going to dump Mark on me next...right?  Saving the best for last are we?  So what is it?  Drugs?  No...couldn't be that...he's not the type.  It has to be his whining...sure...why not...he's a little turd...doing what little boys do, whine; practicing to be a man.  Sooo...best friend...give."



Cathy knew better than to sugar coat her next portion of news...and didn't.  She poured herself another round, downed it then began.  "Shellie, don't interrupt...please...let's just say that Mark has been an inquisitive little boy and for the record...Larry knows what he's done...but I told him that I'm not pressing charges.  You might want to sit?"



Shellie nodded and walked around the counter and plopped herself on to the swivel bar stool; turned to face Cathy and nodded once more.  Cathy knew better than to wast time and didn't.  "Look, for some time, I thought that someone had been going through my personal items, you know, as in clothes, lingerie and some stored packages I kept around for safe keeping.  I thought it was odd that nothing was missing but none-the-less everything just seemed different each time I came home.  Besides, some of the items were not in the same place where I had left them.  Stacey complained about her personal belonging having been rummaged through as well.  I had to do something...so...I asked Larry to come in and set up a couple of spy cams.  He did it a couple of weeks ago and set them up on a timer to run between 8:30 A.M to 5 P.M.  Each was motion sensor activated and each transmitted seperatly when triggered.  The signals were downloaded to the receiver located in Larry's office; then to a master DVD.



He brought it over and told me what was on it...and wanted to know if I wanted to file charges...but he doen't know anything else.  Shel...what it shows is that Mark has been jimmying the rear window of my duplex, crawling through it...then going through every corner and item in the place.  He stopped doing it about five days ago after he found what I had taped to the bottom side of my dresser drawer.  Shel, it was my code number and pass key to the self storage unit we have.  It seems that Stacey had inadvertantly intimated to Mark that there were certain items there that were of "naughty boys" and what happended to them for being so disobedient.  Obviously, some of the photos stored were also filed away and of course quit revealing.  I'm sorry but I believe that Mark has seen...

[teddi]

**

[teddi]

"...more than enough to fuel his budding hormonal imagination."

Cathy let her last words sink in and waited for a reply.  Shellie's insightful response didn't disappoint her.  "So, you think his behavior is a direct result of it and he's pushing me for a reaction...my, my, my...the apple doesn't fall far from the tree does it.  Well, if he's looking for feedback I'm certainly not going to dampen his spirits; and as for his expectations...well...expectations have a way of coming home to roost.  But I'm puzzled...you said Larry looked at the DVD and told you "everything."  I take it you're leaving something else out...aren't you.  And if you're wondering...that wasn't a question, I'm not naive or dumb enough to think that'd be it.  There's more...and I'm waiting."  The prevailing silence of ten seconds ended with an interrogatory, "Well?"

Cathy sheepishly smiled at her friend while answering.  In the meantime, Shellie couldn't help but notice the snigger of a smile and thought it most apropos for her friend, "The Black Widow."  "Shel, there's more.  Larry was...let's say...blushing up a storm when he told me what else was on the DVD.  Crap, I almost broke out laughing and damn it was hard for me to keep a straight face when he danced around the fact that Mark  was trying on some of Stacey's clothes:  but if you're going to ask me if I've looked at the DVD to see your little cross-dresser prancing around in costume; no.  And for the record, Stacey doesn't have a clue, not yet anyway.  Though I have to admit, if we'd had the opportunity to look at it I'm sure we'd both think he'd looked delightful.  Look, it's adolescent male hormones, pure and simple, you know the type, and at that age what else can they do?  They're susceptible to the inevitable.  I'm asking as a friend; why not just let the little horn-dog think he's gotten away with one; at least for a little while?"

Shellie didn't crack a smile as she replied.  "A little while?  Yea.  That's all  he's got is just a little while...when I get through with him...no...when we get through with him...he'll be "prancing" all right...and it won't be in private either.  But I'm curious, why should I let him off the hook?  Don't tell me...there's something else...you said we...that means you want something out of this.  So, am I going to need a crow bar to pry the rest out of you?"

"It can...wait...if you'd like," was her measured reply.

"Wait?  You want me to wait?  Like hell I'll wait...bring it."  Cathy had hoped for that very response and didn't wait nor was she in the mood to mince words with Shellie; which was the best course of action and with an endearing smile laid it on the line.  "Fact:  I'm now the head of R & D.  Fact:  Both you and David were on to something...that is or was important enough...to kill for.  Fact:  at the time your concept was on the verge of a major break out.  Fact:  understandably, you tanked when David wound up on a slab.  Fact:  with everything I've found out I'm going to the board and recommend that you head up the very project you initiated before all this happened.  Because, for some reason, if you were on to something that some jerk-offs wanted deep-sixed then we'd be playing right into their hands by letting that happen.  Sweetie, that dog won't hunt...I'm not gonna let it...neither are you.  Because my dear...I want you to reconstruct your team.  What you were working on before...it's off the shelf and back on the burner...consider it fast tracked.  You'll have full control of your players with unquestioned access to each branch or level of F.E.M.M.  On this matter all deparment heads will answer directly to you and only you.  Whatever you need, logistics, material or personnel; requisition it.  Money's no object.  As of now you have carte-blanche.  And as for your promissory notes...Larry's taken a personal interest...looks like his "associates" are going to put some muscle where it will do the most good; so, before the end of the week, you're not only sparkling clean but you'll have a "taste" of what can be...I assure you...it will be very profitable.  Naturally, in return, they want a piece of the action..."

"Now, if I sound like I'm a shrewish conniving bitch...and we'd both say that maybe I come by it naturally...there is one other thought I'm going to throw at you...that you've no doubt and have already considered; I have my own personal ax to grind...my Stephen was with David when that copter went down...so this is personal...in more ways than one...don't screw it up.  Because, whoever thought that I'd be an ancillary wallflower to deal with by having you shunted...they're in for a surprise...I'm not easy prey.  Capisca? (Understand?)"  Cathy had hoped her best friend would.  She wasn't disappointed with her nod and reply, "Capisca?  Capisco.  Capisco, perfettamente (Understand?  I understand.  I understand, perfectly)."

"Cath, I do have one question...by "piece of the action" your referring to...what...exactly?"

"My dear," came the reply, "they want prototypes...at least one hundred for sure...perhaps as many as five hundred...they figure...if they work...crap...even if they're half way functional...field operations employing enhanced interrogation techniques will take on a whole new meaning...they can't wait!"

The tacit looks exchanged between the two all but sealed their now verbal agreement.  Shellie poured three fingers of Dewar's into Cathy's glass and pushed it to her friend; she took the bottle and raised it speaking but one word, "Salute."  When Shellie lowered the bottle to the counter...half a bottle was left.  She promised herself; the other half would wait:  until later...much later.  She had work to do and was going to start...immediately.  So she began with, "Cathy, the medical division, is Linda Gentry still COS? (Chief of Staff)  The quizzical nod of confirmation brought a smile to Shellie's face.  "Good.  Before you go I want you to listen.  I think you'll...enjoy."

Shellie eased herself off of the bar stool and without hesitation picked up her cell; scrolled down, found the appropriate number, then thumbed the light green button and waited.  She put the call on speaker.  Four rings latter, Linda Gentry, at work early, answered with, "Morning, this is medical, Gentry here."

"Linda...this is Shellie...Shellie Porter...it's been awhile."

"My god...what a surprise...yes it has...its good to hear your voice again."

"Linda, listen, I don't want to start off being rude with you but right now I don't have the time to sit and BS about old times.  Cathy Black is sitting next to me and listening to every word...we're on speaker."  Cathy took the queue and interjected, "Linnnda, Cathy here.  Shellie is back on...whatever she needs or wants from you or anyone else she gets.  But if you had read your morning e-mail you would have known that already."  Cathy couldn't help but grin at her best friend.  She always liked surprises; especially satisfying ones.  She continued on with, "From this moment you and the other department heads are back on it and going balls to the wall.  Right now, there's only one project that merits undivided attention, Shellie's."

"Yes ma'am," was the chastened reply.  "My apologies Ms. Porter, I didn't mean to..."

"Linda, forget about it.  We start fresh.  Listen, I need to know, do you have any basic aniline dye antidote for cyanide poisoning and bacteriological stain on hand and if so how much?"

"Ms. Porter, we have both in bulk...the question is which do you prefer; either the dark green crystals with bronze luster which is bitter to the taste or the crystalline powder?"

"Linda, I don't want a fashion statement or taste test comparison...I want it completely water soluble and undetectable...preferably...I believe I'm leaning towards the heterocyclic aromatic chemical."

"Yes ma'am, I have that...quite a bit in fact...may I ask..."

"Why Linda, of course you can ask.  But I'll explain it all to you fully in person.  What I also need to know as well would be the elapsed time from ingestion to observable results."

"Ms. Porter, elapsed time would be in the neighborhood of two hours...give or take several minutes...given physical conditions."

"Perfect...listen closely...tomorrow at noon...my son Mark is going to have a complete physical...which you're going to administer.  I want blood tests run to verify first that there will be no adverse allergic reaction and secondly, I want his testosterone level checked as well as a genome high density oligonucleotide micro-array analysis done.  Make certain that the micro-array supasses the typical 105,000 comparisons.  After his physical you will make certain that the aromatic chemical is added to your prescribed fluid intake.  If I were you, I would have a nurse or two to assist in a follow up exam...let's say around 2 P.M."

"A follow up?  Ms. Porter...I don't understand..."

"Linda, my son Mark has been particularly troublesome and the time has come for him to learn some manners.  I think you catch my drift?"

"Yes ma'am...I understand...perfectly.  Then may I respectfully suggest that if he has been extremely troublesome; a follow up exam which is somewhat more intrusive be utilized?  Would you be adverse to the use of barium as a means to an end?"

"Linda, I would not in the least be adverse, though he might have a word or two to say about it...but we can talk about that later...in person.  Thank you for your time.  And dear, have the computer run through the blood samples we have stored from our former volunteers.  Genetically mark the dominant and co-dominant genes specific to their respective testosterone levels.  And Linda, use an allozyme to create a genetic map; then offer the comparisons to me by 10 A.M. tomorrow morning."

"Ms. Porter?  Is that all?"

"Linda, are you being sarcastic with me?"

"No ma'am...not in the least.  My staff and I have been toying with the majority of this for some time...with our full attention we can pull it together for you...it will be my, our, pleasure to assist."

"Thank you again.  You've been most kind.  I..we'll...be seeing you tomorrow twelve sharp.  Oh and Linda...make certain that the entire physical from beginning to end...is recorded.  Bye."

[teddi]

So," Cathy quickly followed, "...it would seem you have an agenda?  Pray tell, am I to be privy  or will it all be a surprise?"



Shellie's quick retort of, "Just sit still, be quiet and listen, I'm not finished yet," caught her best friend off guard.  Cathy's mocking quip of "Wellll exscuuuuse meee," was accepted for what it was and nothing more:  after all, it had at one time been resolved and understood, that except for certain instances in the workplace, Cathy, for the most part, knew her place.  Besides, Shellie'd bring her up to speed, as she had often done in the past, but there was another call she had to make before she did.  Her contact book also contained the infrequently called number she now searched for: of course it was filed under one word,  Police.  Scrolling down the alphabetically listed contact selections on her cell and stopping at the appropriate alphabetical entry, she pressed enter and smiled while waiting for the expectant response.  One ring later the concisely anticipated answer of, "Midville Sheriffs Department, Deputy Michelle Spangler speaking, how may I help you?," met her left ear.  Shellie was in no mood to mince words, on this matter, perfunctory short talk or chit-chat be damned; this was business.



"Deputy Spangler, this is Shellie Porter, is the Constable available?"



"Yes Ms. Porter, I'll put you through to him, would you hold please?"  Shellie thought the question merited no reply; and after a momentary period of silence Deputy Spangler's curt and somewhat snippy addendum of "Thank you," gave her pause for thought (Did I sound hard or cold?  No...maybe it's just that time of the month for her.  Too bad.), without another word, she was put on hold.  Five short beeps later, Constable Larry Binder answered.



"Ms. Porter, I honestly hadn't expected to hear from you this morning.  I thought you'd be more concerned over the forthcoming FAA report this afternoon than to bother with me.  Look, if you're calling about your son, let me put your mind at ease, I can assure you, despite my strong concerns and against my better judgment, I am not pressing charges against your son for B & E.  But, you can thank Ms. Black for that...she was quite insistant."



"Larry, thanks for that most generous consideration...the next time I see her I'll be certain to express my appreciation to her as well; but from what I've heard through the grapevine is that, despite my many problems, that you've more than gone out of your way to help me.  I just wanted to especially thank you for all the additional work in my behalf that you've done.  But if I may...I'd like to ask you for a very...personal favor...that is...if I may?"



"Ms. Porter, it's a very small town and we both know the way word gets around, but if I can help, ask; especially, if it's a personal favor, it'd be my pleasure."



Shellie caught his intimation and as she silently mused to herself, "Larry, I'm sure it would be," she continued without missing a beat, by asking, "Larry am I correct in assuming that the age of majority for males as well as females in this state is thirteen years old?"  Her question came from out of the blue and was met at first with thoughtful silence, upon which Larry replied, "Ms. Porter...I'm sorry...I wasn't expecting you to ask me something like that...but...if you're implying as to sexual relations of any type, regardless of gender between of age consenting adults...then the answer is yes.  Shellie, I mean Ms. Porter, excuse me for asking but that's a dam odd question to ask me, so my follow up question is obvious...why the hell would you ask me a question like that and what in Sam-hill does it have to do with doing you a favor?"



As Cathy quietly sat and listened, the sparkle in her eyes let Shellie know that she had an inkling of what was being considered.  She inhaled deeply, held her breath, shook her head from side to side and mouthed one word, "Wonderful."



Shellie coyly shrugged her shoulders at her friend and with a smile continued, "Larry, let me answer your second question first and please let me explain before you go off on me."  She giggled to herself at her double-entendre.  She thought that that may take a while...but eventually...she'd give it some thought...after all...it was a sticky subject.  "I want you to take my son Mark into custody.  In a nut shell, I want you to scare the living hell out of him.  I don't care if you do it in front of  his friends.  I want you to put him in the back of your squad car and drag his butt down to your office.  Of course, I would expect you to fill him in on all of the good things that could happen to him.  Say for instance if he were to wind up at the juvenile facility:  nothing like setting a good example every now and then.  If that doesn't wipe the grin off his face let him know he could be treated as an adult; but especially impress on him what would happen in either if anyone found out about his new found taste in clothes.  If he's the sweet little boy I think he is...he'll be crying...especially for his mommy.  I would expect...that if you're the type of man I think you are...at that point...you'll suddenly find a soft spot in your heart?  And, perhaps express a second thought on the matter?



"That's when I want you to escort him to my office at F.E.M.M. that is, if you can manage it?  Then perhaps after a grand and unannounced entrance you could then plop him down right in front of me.  Say around eleven this morning?  Logically, at some point I would expect a man in your position to espouse his indignation and anger of having to do such a thing: then propose to cut him a deal;  come across that it would go against your better judgment but you would release him into my custody, with certain conditions of course.  After all, you do have better things to do than to waste your time with this.  As you would expect, I'll take it from there and convey my indignant outrage; then I'll make him an offer.  If he knows what's good for him he won't refuse.



"That's the why to the what of the second of your questions.  Now, as to the answer for the first of you're questions...please...listen carefully...it's quite personal and I'm not going to...talk...about it over the phone...in fact...if you'd be kind enough to meet with me at your office, say around 3:30 this afternoon...I'd appreciate it.  I'd offer to meet with you in mine but I'm confident that yours may be a lot cleaner than mine.  Somehow, I've suddenly lost all confidence in our local janitorial sector; but I'd rather keep that on the Q.T.  You know how the locals can be if they think that they're being shifted.  When,  we're alone...perhaps you can recommend some out of town pest control companies that specialize in residential and commercial eradication.  After all...if any of the locals found out that I was looking to contract elsewhere they might take offense."  Shellie hoped he was as sharp as she both now presumed him to be and had been led to believe.  She waited for his come back.



His quick reply of, "Let me see here...my calender...today...at...my office...3:30?  No, that's not a problem and let's see now about...yes...whad'ya know...the first call on the duty roster was...already noted...that means I'm set to pick up your son...expect us both promptly at eleven.  Ms. Porter, it will be my pleasure," merited her previous thought, "I'm sure it will and thank you."



Just before she could hang up there was one other item of note which promptly arose, as Larry quickly countered with, "Uhh...Ms. Porter, please don't hang up...maybe you don't want to thank me right away...I don't think you understand...I agreed not to press charges on the B & E but there is the other issue of petty theft I still have to consider.  Ms. Black, she didn't tell you?"



Shellie understandably was silent and looked at her best friend in puzzlement, it wasn't like Cathy to let something like that go without mention; she put the remainder of the call on speaker then replied.  "Larry, I want you to know that I have Cathy Black with me and that I've put the rest of the call on speaker.  Would you tell both of us, what was taken?"  Shellie understood that Larry was not only shrewd but had heard that he had a tendency to use a verbal two-by-four between the eyes instead of when a pea shooter would have been just as sufficient to drive his point home.  The man had a tendency to engage in overkill.  She surmised it a pleasant thought and expected his sarcastic reply to the obvious; she wasn't disappointed when she heard, "I see...so we're playing it that close to the vest now are we?  So that's the way it is...o.k. we'll play the game your way.



"Ms. Porter, I mentioned that possibility to Ms. Black in passing as an additional pending charge given the odd chance that I simply hadn't concluded a full review.  I didn't pick up on anything else the first time I viewed the evidence.  The second time however it was obvious that...well...that of the four items that were on the floor in the hallway that your son had picked up...only three found their way back to about the same spot...the fourth...which I believe is missing is...a white bikini with pink leg piping.  So, Ms. Porter, have Ms. Black get back with me on the value of the item and by the way...and for the record...the local grapevine...being what it is...all my calls are recorded and are public record.  Oh, and the next time which ever one of you gets the wild hair up her butt to try and manipulate me to make me look like some country time jerk-off that you can twist around her little finger...just sit back and think twice about trying it again.  I don't play the fool well.  Now, Ms. Porter, if you still want to thank me, you better just wait.  I'd hate for word to get around that I was an easy mark and got played for a suc-ker.  In fact the more I think about it...I'm less inclined to be the reasonable man you tried to con."



Interrupting, Cathy didn't misss the opportunity to add her two cents in to fuel the certain fire that she knew was certain to come Marks way, "Larry, if my daughter hasn't missed it yet...then neither have I!  I don't give a royal crap about it and neither does Stacey and just for the record it's the same bottom to the two piece she was wearing to the company picnic three weeks ago and the same one he couldn't take his eyes off of.  You're going to look pretty stupid trying to press some petty theft charge over something that she said she was going to give him anyway!  Do you understand?"



The calm reply only served to underscore the implicit consent of the favor requested.  "Ms. Black, Ms. Porter, I understand everything there is to know about how the word gets around in a small town; especially if it's three in the morning and there's a fox in the henhouse so to speak.  The damn chickens are squawking, the rooster has flown the coop and the farmer is still fast asleep and without a clue of what in the hell is going on.  Ladies, I've always been a light sleeper and for sometime now it's always been with one eye open.  Ms. Porter, I'll see you at eleven this morning...sharp...I hope your not counting on much...I'm not that forgiving a man.  Good-bye."



Before Cathy could say a word Shellie gave her a look that would kill; brought the first finger of her right hand quickly up to her own lips and shook her head from side to side.  Her friend knew better than to say a word.  Shellie tossed her cell onto the counter and reached for the pen and note pad lying nearby and hurriedly scrawled, "Back off and don't say a damn word.  I'll do the talking/just listen/when I nod you slam the door when you leave.  Make it good!  Later/we need to find safe place to talk without...bugs."



Shellie could play the role and so could Cathy.  Each in her own way could at the drop of a hat role-play and each was well practiced.  Furthermore, Shellie understood that the caustic remarks of Constable Binder over the trivial bottom were a necessarily blatant subterfuge:  as the one item which Cathy had specifically mentioned of actually have been recorded as found then lifted was conspicuously excluded from the gist of his outraged sensibilities.  Ergo, there was no sense in alerting anyone else to that bit of information.  The unmentioned key was of far more importance and concern to all than the bottom of a simple two piece bathing suit as it would unlock the preponderance of physical research both she and Cathy had salted away after the crash; which had unexpectedly become the failsafe  trigger mechanism upon which both had agreed to.  That in the event of some "unforeseen event" which could in some way compromise the project, to immediately down load to a seperate hard-drive, all information on Shellie's pet project; then to expunge the computers of F.E.M.M. of all information:  except for general concept(s) and perfunctory research.  All files, photos and results of the project would be wiped from cursory access.  Of course, the presumed event was envisioned to be in the genre of computer espionage or of intense hacking:  in essence a formal and precise cyber attack.  Then later, after the proverbial dust had settled, with additional fire-walls and encrypted programs the project would in time find its way back.  Murder was never considered as an option into the equation.  Now, her son would find himself the obect of the intense study.  Of course, in part, if Cathy was correct; it could be the raging hormones of a teenage boy which could unravel the Rosetta-stone of information which for some time eluded them.  The other portion of the equation however was still open to doubt:  could the item be developed as envisioned  or was it another technique which would find itself considered beyond the boundary of simple interrogation.  Shellie's obvious conclusion was simple:  if someone killed to stop the project...it had merit.

[teddi]

But for now, if anyone else was listening in, she sought to emphasize her frustrations dramatically.  Her next words were indicative of the emotional roller coaster ride of emotions she was on and needed no rehearsing.  "Not that forgiving a man?  What else is next?  And what in the hell are you looking at me for?  You know, I dont't need to listen to any more crap from anyone else today; including you."

While staring stolidly at her friend she noted Cathy's empty glass on the counter.  It would provide the opportunity to seize the moment.  With a sudden reach and quick grab she speedily hoisted it while simultaneously directing a quick half-jerk motion towards the door with it in her right hand and finished her diatribe with, "So why don't you just get the hell out of here?!"  A moment later the empty glass exploded against the stainless steel kitchen sink; a shower of sparkling jagged slivers fell against both sink and floor.  The irregular melodic tinkling concluded its sudden demise.  Cathy, with a smile, took the cue and made straight for the door; gave one last look back at her friend, shook her head, while mouthing one word repeatedly, "Temper..temper...temper."  The slam of the door left little doubt that if anyone was listening in that the exit was intended to be less than cordial.

Shellie stood for the moment to look and wonder as to the obvious:  clean up the remains of what might be an additional seven years of bad luck first or work the kitchen detail.  Silently, she quickly dismissed doing either; her darling son was in part to blame, let him do both.  Besides, she didn't have the time now to mess with the mundane of domestic niceties.  She had other business to tend to and quickly set about doing so.  The first order of business was simple:  to empty a certain closet and dresser drawers of all clothes:  specifically, boy's clothes.  She chuckled to herself that if her new little "Marki" wanted to step out of his and into girls togs who was she to stand in the way.  But that, in the long run, would be the least of what he'd have unknowingly stepped into.  Besides, in the short run, given the project he was about to "volunteer" for, he wouldn't need much in the way of clothes.  At least not for a while anyway.

Quickly, except for one pair of worn green thongs the entire closet, hangers and all, was emptied; it held no surprises.  His dresser  however was a different matter.  There, in the top drawer, neatly folded beneath the last white v-neck t-shirt she found two pairs of laced trimmed panties:  pink and blue.  She couldn't help but notice the obvious:  each was soiled.  The multiple crusted stains which discolored each began at the crotch then inched up to and included the delicate one inch waist bands.  The various layered liquid stains had broadened outward and then apparently had trickled down in an irregular cascade to either of the respective leg openings.  She concluded that he must have been standing.  She shook her head and mused silently, "He might be a sissy but he had potential and plenty of it."  She folded each and replaced them neatly side by side in his top dresser draw.  He'd need some later on and this was as good a way to start as any.  Of course there was one other place to check:  under the mattress.

Amazingly and to her surprise she found one other item which brought both a loving smile to her face and made her laugh out loud.  Close at hand, and within an arms reach and near the head of the bed face up was a magazine:  "Making a Sissy:  Custom Princess Makeovers for Boys."  Of course it was an issue she was well familiar with; after all, the apple certainly hadn't fallen far from the tree.  It was the same issue which was once her required reading gift to her husband.  She once again mused to herself, "If Eve had truly tempted Adam via an apple, how becoming that her budding sissy be tempted on his own then succ-umb to the wiles of the girl next door.  She carefully placed the issue in the top drawer beside his panties.  She did note however that several of the stories as well as illustrations and photos had been dog eared.  Perhaps, in the dead of night they were his favorite wishful reading materials or conceivably each was a special reading assignment; as set to him by her best friend's daughter.  And now he too kept it close and slept with it tucked under the head of his bed. 

It all tied in and made sense.  After David's accident...she paused and corrected herself...after his murder...she had, with Cathy's approval, given it to Stacey as a present.  It was unlikely to have been stashed at the storage unit.  In fact, it was now all too obvious; he had fallen under Stacey's delicate ministries and was well on his way to becoming her own personal sissy.  She chortled to herself, "Lucky boy."

Only minutes later she threw the last of three large black trash bags into the back seat of her car; reasoning that the drop off box for donated clothes on her way to work would offer a most convenient opportunity for her newest little girl to properly come out and into the world.  She made certain to tag each bag as specifically: "Donated by Mark (Marki) Porter."

A quick shower and forty-five minutes later she locked the front door and left for work; stopping first for less than two minutes where, at a certain drop box, she opened the drop chute and shoved into the steel container three bags.  Her second stop was to Evans' Hardware Store on Main Street where she purchased one keyed entry lock.  She selected a simple model, opened the box, then made certain that the box contained but two keys:  one for her and one for Kellie.  She set it on the front counter and waited to be served.  She noted that for the time of day it seemed especially busy.

Patiently, she considered that before the afternoon was over, she would personally remove the bathroom's privacy lock and replace it with this.  She considered it a trite but none-the-less necessary attention grabber.  That except for the mandatory morning washing of the face or the brushing of teeth, her little Marki would never again be able to freely step foot into it alone.  He would have to wait before being allowed in to do either.  He had violated everyone's privacy and would be punished for it. 

Likewise, in the rare instance which might arise for a supervised hot water bath, he would have to wait to be allowed in.  Otherwise, the outside cold water shower would suffice until inclement weather dictated otherwise. 

Of course now the bathroom would be free to both herself and Kellie.  Neither would have to wait on Mark to remove himself from it.  The tables would now be turned and little Marki could simply stand outside the bathroom door and wait; and do it all in his pants.  She quickly corrected herself, her little Marki could do it all in her newest F.E.M.M prototype P.D.P.'s.

After several minutes, she paid a smiling Mr. Evans for the lock and left.

The thought occurred to her to call Linda Gentry but quickly scotched the notion.  If her office or duplex was bugged why would it necessarily of stopped there?  Until she was certain, she trusted no conversation as confidential.  It was best to see her in person and then hand write her request for at least three pairs of the most basic prototypes.  After that things would progress.  When Mark or Marki left her office today he'd truly be well on his way to being a changed boy.  Well...she thought...then again...maybe he won't be changed all that often.  Just the thought made her smile.