By Cindy and Walt
I suppressed the urge to run to her and begin nursing on her heavy breast. Instead I just said, “Nice.”
“Not as nice as yours. I had breasts like those when I was 16, but it’s been downhill ever since,” she admitted.
“Joan, yours are bigger than mine and they are heavier and softer right now,” I said.
“It’s called sloppy and saggy. You are sitting there as a model and I’m here with a pencil in my hand,” she said. She took a deep breath then added, “Now turn and look out the window for me.” I did then she ordered, “Turn your head a little more. That’s right.”
I allowed her to draw for over an hour before I said, “That’s about all I can stand for one day.”
“You did remarkably well,” she said. “Most models start bitching after fifteen minutes.”
“Well after about fifteen minutes I began thinking about your body,” I said with a leer. “That helped me to endure staying in one place.”
“You do know you are a terrible flirt,” Joan said.
“Yeah, but only with you. You are like a bird Joan, easily frightened off,” I said.
“You are right. Now it’s time for me to put my clothes back on, and pack up my pencils for the day,” she said.
“How about packing first and dress just before you walk out the door,” I said.
“You are worse than any man I ever dated,” she said.
“No honey, I’m better,” I said. She actually giggled like a school girl.
After a few more minutes she replaced her bra and top then said, “You know this was a lot more pleasant that I thought it would be. You are aggressive but in a cute way.”
“Well, I tend to get more bold on the second date,” I said.
“Oh is that what this was?” she asked. I just smiled. “If it was then you are a cheap date.”
“I don’t know, do I get the drawing?” I asked.
“Not just yet, it isn’t finished but you will get to see it,” she said.
When I looked at the drawing it was me, but it was also better. A victim would recognize me but someone on the street most likely wouldn’t. “It’s a little too good,” I said. “You promised it wouldn’t be that close a likeness.”
“The one I finally keep for my portfolio won’t be. Here you can burn this one,” she said.
“No I won’t burn it, but I will keep it safe,” I said. Then I pulled her to me and gave her a real lover’s kiss. She pulled away without returning it and ran for the door. “Call me.” Then she was gone.
After Joan left I had a cup of coffee and worked on my plan for the rest of the afternoon. Since the Voice on the Phone had pretty much told me to hold off on Marcus Black till the package came, I had no real plan. Without a plan to invade his turf I was at a loss. I checked the email drop and found a message from Morris.
‘Sorry to inform you we can find nothing helpful for Rachael Rankin. I suggest you drop it, so as not to bring attention to yourself. As to Jeremy and Alice, we can find nothing in their background from Interpol. That does not mean they are clear, just that under those ID’s they have no record.
The Controller couldn’t find out anything with all their resources. That created a nagging thought. Maybe I wasn’t really working for the SBI. I was learning more about the people and structure of the operation and I found it a little iffy.
I wasn’t positive of course, but it was possible that the information they gave me, any good hacker might be able to come up with.
Still they did get me out the joint, so I had to give them some credit for that. I just wasn’t sure how reliable my Controller was.
Was it possible that we were all working in a gray vacuum? It was possible that we would all be disowned at the drop of a hat. If that were the case was there anything I could do to save myself, I wondered?
Of course the only entity I knew capable of any help at all was Church Camp, or whatever it really was.
Fuck it, I thought. I would just have to play it by ear. All the best laid plans of mice and men etc. I was neither a mouse nor a man. I was just a convict who no longer existed as Rachel would have said, if she had known the real me. Then of course, I wonder who the real me was these days.
I had no idea what I was waiting for, but I was determined to play it cool for a couple of days then figure out how to fuck Marcus Black. He knew what I wanted to know I was pretty sure.
I tried to forget all about Rachael for a while since there was nothing I could do. Instead I turned my mind to dinner. I had begun eating dinner at home, since it was just easier. It was breakfast out, no lunch, and dinner from a can or from the freezer.
My kitchen had no real stove or ordinary appliances. It was a true galley kitchen. Everything was compact. The cabinets with doors below the shelves were filled with small appliances, as well as dishes.
I had a toaster oven for toasting bread, and it could heat a can of corn, or a pile of tater tots. Then there was the small low watt microwave. It held a smaller bowl and had to cook everything longer, but it was a fucking microwave, so what. Of course I also had a George Foreman, so I could do a steak up in a hurry.
Carlos had managed to make the counter, on the wall across from the shelves, a place I could use for the preparation of food, and also a place to eat.
One more funky thing about the galley kitchen was its lack of water. The bathroom was right next door so I could step into it where Carlos’s brother had replaced the small hand sink with a plastic janitor’s sink. It had plenty of depth to wash dishes. It wasn’t the perfect arrangement but it was just quirky enough that I loved it.
On a really cold day, I could always cook in the living room on top of the wood stove. It was how I disposed of my paper packaging, paper napkins, plates and other unwanted papers as well. They made very little ash and that was my big concern. Shoveling out the ashes hardly seemed lady like. It was also a lot of work, since I had a kind of natural gully on the property. I used it to dispose of the ashes. It seemed to work pretty well, but it was about thirty yards from the back door.
That night I chose a frozen Mac & Cheese dinner along with a pre-made hamburger patty ala George Foreman. It actually was pretty good. Even it the fancy hamburger bun had come from the deep freeze. I really preferred the burger from McDonalds, but hell mine was a lot less trouble.
After dinner I had a George Foreman to clean and a couple of forks and knives. I didn’t mind using the paper plates, but I drew the line at plastic forks and the like.
After dinner I went back onto the net and began to research all the people I had met. I pulled up the google clipping files on Morris and Mission. It was hard to believe they were using their real name for the operation. It reinforced the idea that they were the amateur hour of spies.
I would bet my ass that the Church Camp guys would never use their real names. I was beginning to think the people at Church Camp might be the better allies.
After 10 PM I tried to clear my mind by going into a chat room. I pretended to be a club dancer and offered to sell a video of a pole dance for twenty bucks. I knew no one would bite, but the back and forth was fun. Since going inside I had some kind of sex or I masturbated daily. That night I took care of what Joan left boiling inside me by finding a man who thought he was some kind of bad assed alpha male.
I lay in my in my bed after the diversion and laughed my head off when I thought about it. He tried to bully a woman who had murdered two gun thugs. Of course he didn’t know I had stabbed them with a pointed stick and then threw them overboard. It was actually laughable, so I laughed again. It also made me sad for some reason. Before I made myself completely depressed, I fell asleep.
When I awoke at 6 AM, I really was in no condition to go out. Not only was I shaky from lack of sleep but the house was cold. I had not gotten into the habit of stoking the fire before I went to bed, simply because it hadn’t been cold up until that point.
I found the fire had burned completely out overnight. I found some kindling. I had it because I always collected and saved small twigs and scraps from Carlos’s work around the place. I could use a small hatchet to split the factory wood and if necessary I could chop a little kindling from the split logs I bought from one of the local men.
That morning I used a paper plate as the fire starter and some split factory wood to feed it. Finally I added the split logs slowly so they wouldn’t overwhelm the struggling fire. I told myself that starting a fire in a wood stove was a dying art and I was preserving it. Truth is getting the right shit was about all there was to it.
When I finally got warm I put on the fleece outfit over my sleep outfit then I bypassed the designer jeans for some Walmart work jeans. They were baggy enough to allow room for the fleece and thick enough to cut the wind.
I had pulled the long sleeve fleece top on over the short sleeve thermal weave tee shirt I recently purchased. On mornings like the one I was working with that day, I had planned to just add layers to my body covering.
After the fleece top I added a nylon parka to repel the wind. Once I was dressed like the Pillsbury Doughboy I waddled out the door and mounted my bicycle, which I kept under a tarp on the rear deck.
I really wanted to go to Helen’s for breakfast, but I had promised myself to never eat there again. That being the case I headed off to the plaza.
The plaza was a longer ride, but it was a matter of principle. Okay if it had been a few more miles, I might have forsaken my principles.
There were several places from which to choose at the plaza. I made the absolute wrong choice that morning. I went to one of those chrome and glass places. They claimed that they were famous for their waffles, so I ordered one.
The waffle came out undercooked. I had no idea that was even possible, but there it was. The inside of the waffle was nothing but raw dough.
I didn’t send it back. I just left the half eaten waffle and paid my bill. I did remove them from my list of breakfast possibilities.
When I got home I found the house pleasantly warm, even though I hadn’t built a roaring fire in the stove. The water was also hot, so I stripped off all the layers and stepped under the shower with nothing but a bar of soap.
After the shower I climbed the stairs that were almost a ladder to the loft. Once I was up the steep stairs, I found some clean panties and a long sleeve, but light weight tee shirt. The baggy jeans had been left hanging on a nail in the living room. Those I replaced with the much classier fitted ones from a department store.
Since it wasn’t even 9 AM, I took time to check all my secret mail. After I finished with that I went to the Leonardo site to read all about their software.
I quickly found that it was a site, and a system for institutions. A big corporation or a college could afford one of their set ups, but no one else could. Okay, someone rich as hell maybe, certainly not me.
The heart of the Leonardo system was the creative pad. It had to be the most sensitive tough screen in the universe.
If you were lucky enough to have one, you could attach it to your computer and rework any portrait with it. You could change the portrait from a photograph to a line drawing and use the pad to change the features.
Leonardo had settings for all kinds of things from caricature to formal portraits. The owner of it could change the background, but not just photo shop style, the operator could draw in the background by hand and do it just as if she were working on canvas.
It also had a printer that allowed the owner to print on any paper or cloth stock as well as engrave on all but the hardest metals. Leonardo was a fucking genius. It was a genius, but way above of my price point.
Shortly after my lunch time cup of black coffee, the Fed Ex man arrived with my overnight package. I signed for it then opened the cardboard box that was about twice the size of a brief case. Just as the phone sex lady had said, I found a DVD and some smaller boxes fitted inside the larger one.
I put the DVD into my laptop computer. It immediately began to play. It opened with a unlit figure sitting in front of a bright light. I had to admit phone lady had a flair for the dramatic. The voice was a heavily disguised male voice. I couldn’t tell his age, race, or even his weight from the DVD.
“Good morning Violet,” the voice on the tape began. “Get yourself a device capable of sending email and not known to the SBI Controller. It is how we will communicate. Trust me I will protect myself and you should learn to do the same. Since at the moment you are a low level operative and not one likely to be on the big time surveillance screen, we will try this for a while.
You already have a Wilson Cell Phone Cloner and have been told how to use it, so we will discuss it only briefly. When it has done its job the information will be encrypted so that you must get it to me or someone like me. I believe you have instructions for that. There is one other thing the Wilson Cloner does. It turns the cell phone into a continuously broadcasting microphone. All you need is a cheap disposable cell phone to listen to the feed.” The DVD went on to explain exactly how that worked.
After I cloned it I would have to call it to establish the link. After the link had been established it was going to transmit continuously. A flash drive was included in the box. That drive had a computer monitoring program that should not be put on any computer the SBI knew about, since it would be monitored for sure. The amount of information she gave me was mind boggling. So much that I didn’t understand it past the clone thing.
I understood it and remembered my name for this will be Violet. I had to wait until nightfall to go to the club where Marcus might be. I would be very lucky if I found him the first day. Even more lucky if I could get his phone cloned without having to pay for it. Payment would be in some kind of sexual act for him or one of his lieutenants. I didn’t mind doing it, but I sure would pass on the act at the drop of a hat.
I spent the afternoon practicing how I would clone the phone. The written instructions told me that the Wilson device would clone every phone within five feet making the file unusable. So I needed to Isolate Marcus for two minutes while he was on the phone. It sounded almost impossible. I was sure there was one way but it was a long drawn out process. I had to pretend to be his girlfriend, if I could convince him that I wanted him it would make getting him alone easier.
It would be much easier for a junkie to do that. Men on the fringes of crime were used to girls who would do anything for their drugs. I didn’t mind playing a junkie, but I did mind the idea of taking drugs. I didn’t even like the idea of pretending to take them. Too much could go wrong when you got around them.
If I had to do, it I would choose coke any day, but I preferred not to even fool with it. I could substitute it for a placebo, but most often the guy would set up the line he wanted you to do. I was determined to get in and out without having to take any drugs. As phone sex lady said, I knew I could come up with some lie that would work. It’s what I did.
It was mid afternoon when I felt comfortable enough to move on to other things. First thing I did was to call Joan at school. “Hey professor how are you?” I asked.
“I’m just fine how are you?” she asked as a reply.
“I’m fine, just wanted to check in with you to be sure you were still running,” I said with a laugh.
“Don’t make fun of me, I was really traumatized,” Joan said.
“I know hon, I just thought it might have passed by now,” I stated.
“I have to admit it’s better. Now it’s an equal amount terrorized and ashamed of my behavior,” she said.
“No need at all to be ashamed,” I said. “It’s a natural reaction to the situation the first time. I remember my first time with a woman quite well.” I didn’t go into how it had happened to me. It was in lockup and totally against my will. About a month was all I could hold out before I began going along to get along. Then it was all the sex I had so I relaxed and enjoyed it after a while.
“Well I am sorry I ran off,” Joan said.
“Well we could try it again. You did say the portrait wasn’t finished and you want to finish it,” I reminded her.
“I know but I need to be sure this time. I don’t want to be a tease,” she said.
“Oh hell honey teasing with and by you is great fun. I don’t need you to lay down, you can just flirt while you draw,” I said.
“Do I still have to take my clothes off?” she asked.
“Of course you do that is non negotiable,” I said.
Her reply was a simple, “Good, now I have to go. Can we finish the drawing soon?” she asked.
“I can make myself available pretty much anytime,” I admitted.
“Then I will call you tomorrow when I know when my lab time is going to be this week,” she said. “Oh can I finish that one drawing before I have to find a place?”
“Sure instead of one session we will make it one drawing,” I said. In the back of my mind I could still see her with those big heavy boobs sagging and swaying when she move around. It was a very erotic sight. I was beginning to turn on. Not enough to do anything, but I had that warm felling and my mind was getting fuzzy.
“I have to go Rose,” she said and then she was just gone.
I almost laughed. She either got interrupted or I scared her off again. I did think she would return no matter what happened at that moment.
I looked at the big electric clock that I had found in a yard sale while Carlos was working on the living room. It had been in the yard sale held by a member of the owner’s family. She had owned if for years. She never found a good spot for it she told me. When the girl found that I had bought the old country store and turned it into a home, she insisted I buy the clock. On the face of the clock the advertisement read, Farmer’s Grove Butcher Shop around the top half of the face. The bottom half had an image of a cow with dotted lines showing where each cut came from. I probably should have hung it in the kitchen but it just looked so cool I wanted it to be seen.
From my butcher shop clock I learned that it was 3:15 PM. I had plenty of time to make a house call before I went looking for Marcus. I drove the pick up truck about half a mile to Jeremy and Alice’s fancy house. When Alice opened the door, I was afraid she planned to rape me.
“Damn it is good to see you,” she said hugging me hard. I could feel her body pressed against me. She wasn’t nearly as big as me or Joan, but she was probably a respectable size. Probably, hell I knew she was. After all we had seen each other nude at her party.
“Thanks I’m glad to be back. So how have things been in the neighborhood?” I asked.
“As always things are fine. Jeremy has gone to Campbell to see about some land he wants to buy,” she said.
“Oh you thinking of moving?” I asked.
“Oh no the owner lives there. His father left it to him. The land is right down the road. Jeremy wants to start a summer camp for nudist,” she said.
I bit my tongue so as not to make any reference to Church Camp. “Oh I am headed over to Roaring Gap later to go to a dance club. I came by to see if you and Jeremy had any interest. Even if Jeremy isn’t here would you be interested?” I asked. That was one of the lies the phone sex lady said I was good at. I had no intention to invite the two of them to go along.
“It is much too early for a dance club,” she said.
“Yes I had planned to pick you up at seven and take you to dinner to pay you back for the party,” I said.
“Oh you need not pay me back for anything, but I am tired of sitting home already. Jeremy has been gone only two days and I’m bored already. So yes I will go with you,” she said.
“I must warn you it may be a gang hangout,” I said.
“Oh my, then I will have to wear my jeans and chopper sweat shirt,” she said with a laugh.
“Very well then I’ll be back at six thirty, just to give you time to get all girlie,” I said. This is going to be fun. Alice leaned to the prim side of normal, I thought.
When I returned at 6:30 PM, I was wearing a short skirt, a gold reflective blouse cut almost to my navel panties and stockings. I was also wearing four inch skinny heels. In other words I appeared to be one step up from a cheap hooker.
Alice took one look at me and said, “Oh shit, I should have dressed more slutty.”
“Hey I’m slutty enough for us both,” I said with a laugh.
“Oh no, I am not going to allow you to have all the fun. You might have the best body, but I can still dress to impress.” With those words she disappeared into a different room. She return within fifteen minutes wearing a silk blouse that was almost see through. She also had on a short skirt and stockings. She looked very unlike the Alice who seemed so dowdy around Jeremy.
“Well I’m sure as hell impressed,” I said looking the well made up and skimpily dressed Alice. My first impressions of her had been that she was dowdy. Then at the nudist party where she seemed more at home, but tonight she was a knockout and it wasn’t just the strong push up bra. It was the way she carried herself as well.