Sapphire's Place - Valerie Hope's " Music of Change "

Music of Change #2:

The Bonus

By Valerie Hope

"I swear to God, if I hear one more industry buzzword, I’m going to climb the clock tower with a high-powered rifle," Gary said between his teeth, trying to look interested and busy as he doodled on his legal pad. The meeting had been going strong for an hour and a half easily, and showed no signs of deteriorating before rush hour had started in earnest. Sales meetings were always like this – no one liked the sounds of their own voices more than salesmen. They’d been yakking non-stop, and Gary – as assistant to the VP of Sales for North America, David Watson, was obliged to keep notes and transcripts of the whole damn ordeal.

Vic Landers, his friend and co-worker, nodded almost imperceptibly. The hired help wasn’t usually allowed to express itself in these meetings. He was running the video-conference for the affinity partners on the East Coast, a job technical enough to keep from being as mind-numbing as the one Gary had. Vic and Gary were old friends from high school, burned out by 21 and working together as corporate lackeys for Synerprise, a huge B2B web portal. They’d each opted for two years at community college instead of the four-year plan that their parents had urged them to, spending a two-year vacation barely passing their classes and staying buzzed on beer and weed in their two-man party central apartment. But when the time came to graduate, and the bills started to come in, they both found themselves personae non gratae in the corporate sector. At least they’d found places in a somewhat respectable firm, even if they were only secretaries and office errand-runners. It was that or they would be pumping gas somewhere. Gary tried hard to count his blessings, but the simple fact was that his job was shit.

And they received no end of shit from their buddies about their occupations, and the joke never seemed to get old. Remarks about taking ‘dick’-tation for the boss and gifts of nail files and tampons were never-ending.

Finally, like a blessing from God on High, the meeting drew to a close. It devolved into a lot of chit-chat between the sales reps as Gary and Vic tried to get the place cleaned up and get back to their desks to watch the clock for an hour to fill out the time card.

"Feel like a beer?" Vic asked him as they carried the projection equipment back to storage.

Gary only grunted. They usually wound up drowning their miseries at Jorge’ s, a little cantina just down the street from their apartment. Why should this Tuesday evening be any different from any of their other Tuesday evenings?

* * *

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Hawthorne," David Watson said, gesturing to a chair while flashing her his best "hard-sell" smile. Conscious of the sexual-harassment awareness in the workplace, he kept back some of the choicer things he wanted to say to the absolutely incredible redhead who took a luxurious leather chair across his desk. Her little pinstriped linen skirt rode up just high enough to offer him a teasing glimpse of the lacy tops of her black stockings and her magnificent breasts nearly spilled from the top of the cream-colored satin blouse she wore under her pinstriped blazer.

She greeted his smile coolly, but with a hint of sexual hunger. It nearly drove David crazy. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice."

"No problem," he said. "Can I get you something?"

She shook her head, sending shimmering ripples through the long, straight, lustrous red hair which hung over her shoulders. "My employer, Corporate Rewards, has received notice that you were looking for something nice for your assistants to reward their hard work through the last year."

"They’re a great couple of guys," Watson said. "Real troopers. The rest of the sales team wanted to pitch in and see what we could do for them to say ‘thanks.’"

"That’s really generous. We have several very nice packages to offer, each one guaranteed to show a change in the employee’s health, mindset and attitude."

"Guaranteed?" Watson asked.

"With a full refund," Jenna Hawthorne said.

"I’m interested," he told her.

She opened her slim attaché case and withdrew a package of promotional materials.

* * *

Gary stumbled into work feeling awful that morning – one beer at Jorge’s had turned into two, then four, then he’d lost count as he threw darts with Vic, bitching ceaselessly about their jobs and cursing their former stupidity in not attending college. Neither of them was unintelligent or unambitious. They felt trapped by their situation, and remained by and large miserable, regretting their youthful decisions which had led them to where they were now.

Gary had just started to dig into his morning ritual – going through sales reports and figures, culling the long list of numbers and regions down to only the areas that David Watson really needed to have brought to his attention. It was his real skill, everyone said – to concentrate on one task to the exclusion of everything else for long, long hours at a clip and not let his attention wander.

Unless, of course, Vic interrupted him, like he did this morning.

"Hey," he said, brandishing an envelope. "Did you get one of these?"

Gary looked around at his desk. He’d been so absorbed in his morning reports that he’d not even noticed the blue envelope tucked underneath his telephone. "Yeah, I did," he said with some small surprise. "What is it?"

Vic snorted. "A bonus," he said derisively.

"Money?" Gary asked.

"Not fucking hardly," Vic said. "The Old Man bought us a day at this glitzy corporate retreat downtown."

Gary shrugged. "A day off isn’t bad. That’s kinda nice of David to do that."

"What I wanted was some cash," Vic said. "But I guess you’re right. It’s scheduled for Friday, so at least we get to miss the quarterly executive staff meeting."

Gary looked at the card inside the envelope. Report Friday at 9 a.m. and at 9 p.m. they’d be free to go – still time to go out afterwards and do a little weekend partying. Someplace called Corporate Rewards – Gary had never heard of it. He hoped there was a pool. It had been too cold of late to use the pool at their apartment complex, and he missed swimming… it was his only real exercise anymore, since he’d lost interest in running and weights. It was no use trying to keep up with Vic anyway – the man had one of those freak metabolisms. He could eat nothing but red meat and cheese and grease, wash it down with dark beer, and never gain an ounce. Just once Gary would like to see his friend with a beer gut, so he could see how the other half lived.

"Do we need to pack for this?" Gary asked.

"Nah," Vic said. "Everything’s supposed to be included."

* * *

Friday morning was clear and cold, and it was a real treat just to be able to sleep in until 9 a.m. for a change. They wouldn’t even have to mess with downtown traffic – the retreat was sending a limousine to take them. All they had to have was their envelopes and some form of identification. Gary did think to stuff his swim trunks inside the pocket of his jacket, just in case they did have a pool. Sure, they’d probably have swimsuits there, but Gary wasn’t hot on the idea of wearing someone else’s swimwear.

The limo driver was a big, beefy fellow, wearing mirrored shades and communicating only in grunts and nods. Shrugging, Vic and Gary climbed in the black stretch-job and eased down on the luxurious leather seats. Gary helped himself to a cup of steaming coffee provided and settled back for the ride.

Neither of them saw the delivery truck pull up outside their apartment right behind them and the team get out and walk into their apartment.

* * *

David Watson was leaning against the side of his doorway, looking out on the empty seats where his assistants, Gary and Vic, usually sat. He sipped his coffee, wondering if the guys were having fun or whether the corporate retreat was just a big waste of time. Sure, it was unusual to have two male secretaries – but David Watson was both cognizant of sexual harassment (he’d barely escaped charges two years ago for telling a dirty joke to a friend of his where one of the female employees overheard it) and also a firm believer in running a tight ship. Both Gary and Vic would have been long since promoted in the company if only they’d had college degrees or some kind of decent work experience. He hoped they were having a good time at the retreat… all the brochures had shown it as a really unique experience.

He walked back into his office and sat down at his computer. The email Inbox showed several new messages, one sent to all the employees in the building from the CEO himself, marked "Important." David didn’t question – attached was an audio file which he played without hesitation.

Organic-sounding music filled his office. Haunting one moment and then calm and soothing, dissonant in one heartbeat and resolved in the next. David’s mouth fell open and his eyes glazed over just a little bit.

A warm, deep voice rose out of the music, but it was impossible to know whether the voice was not a part of the music or simply a deeper part. "Let ’s talk for a moment about two Synerprise employees," the voice said. "Victor Landers and Gary Owens."

* * *

Vic and Gary were dropped off in a huge wood-and-marble appointed lobby, greeted by a very attractive receptionist behind a granite counter. She smiled broadly at them, her nose wrinkling a little as she unconsciously primped her curly blonde hair. "Hi, you two must be Victor and Gary. Welcome to Corporate Rewards," she said. "I’m Heather. If you need anything at all, you just give me a shout, okay?"

I know something I need from you, Gary thought fondly, trying to tear his gaze away from the huge breasts which rode high as a teenager’s on the blonde’s chest. But I can’t say it out loud.

"Thanks," Vic grunted, obviously thinking the same thing about Heather as he was.

"Do you have your invitations?" she asked brightly.

They passed over the blue invitations they’d found on their desks on Wednesday morning. She looked them over, running them through a little card-reader and then asking for I.D. After checking their bona fides, she smiled brightly and motioned them to a room behind the lobby.

"There’s food and drinks on the side table," she said. "The first thing is to get you two relaxed, so it’s the steam baths and massages first. If you wouldn’t mind getting undressed, there are robes and slippers in the closets behind you. And if you’d like to pass me your valuables, then I’ll make sure they’re put into the safe for the duration of your stay."

Vic and Gary weren’t sure why they so readily trusted the gorgeous blonde woman – something about the place was so soothing, from the plush carpets to the soft lighting to the organic-sounding, lush music that played gently in the background in the room. They passed her over their keys, wallets, watches, rings and other jewelry without blinking, and each retreated behind a screen to remove their clothes and cover themselves with robes and slip their feet into sandals.

Heather led them down a short hallway and into an open, airy atrium. A waterfall burbled happily nearby and lush, sweet-smelling plants covered the walls and floor in several elegant, terraced planters. Two comfortable-looking chairs sat facing the water and two large, well-muscled masseurs waited nearby, towels over their thick arms.

"These are Lance and Danny," Heather said. "They’ll be taking care of you."

"Hi," Gary said dreamily.

They smiled and answered them in a flurry of hands and gestures.

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you," Heather said. "They’re both deaf. You can communicate just fine, though – they both read lips very well."

"Why both deaf?" Vic asked.

"No reason, they just happened to be two of the best, so we hired them," Heather explained, her wide blue eyes seeming to be hiding something, but Vic and Gary couldn’t care less. They took their seats readily, slipping out of their robes without any hesitation. Lance and Danny started in on their shoulders and necks without any further hesitation.

Seeing them suitably distracted, Heather slipped out back into the anteroom. A very swarthy, Mediterranean-looking man waited casually inside, sitting on a table.

Heather fished in a humidor and came out with a long, slender cigar which she touched alight from a gas-light in a wall sconce. Blowing the cloud of sweet-smelling blue smoke over the man’s head, she handed him the zippered bags containing Gary’s and Vic’s valuables.

"Ready for processing, Arturo," she told the man.

He took the bags with a grin. "Two more worthy candidates, bellezza mia?"

"That depends on how you define worthy, Arturo," she replied.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"They’re both uneducated and totally without real ambition," Heather said sadly. "Aspirations towards something more and absolutely no skills or real desire to do anything about it except complain."

"You just described half the country, darling," he said acerbically.

"They’re miserable," Heather continued, taking a sensuous pull from the slender, feminine cigar. "Near suicidal at points, and never a second goes by that they’re not consumed by regret for the bad choices they made as young men. We can’t change their lot in life, Arturo. We can’t give them a college education or even a new job. But we can help them to overcome their misery with their lot in life. We can help them be perfectly happy being right where they are."

Arturo nodded. "I see," he said. "I’ll process the IDs immediately. Will five o’clock be all right?"

Heather smiled. "Impeccable service as always, Arturo. See Michelle at the door and she’ll make sure you’re paid."

* * *

Gary floated in a place that wasn’t quite dreaming yet wasn’t awake, either. Pain, disappointment, worry – it all seemed so very far away from him now. It was then that the music, which cocooned him in cottony softness, took on a deep, resonant voice and began to speak to him with a respect and equality he’d only dreamed about.

"Are you happy, Gary?" it asked.

"No," he answered honestly.

"Why not?"

"Because I could have been so much more."

"You can’t turn back the clock, Gary. You can’t go back in time."

"I know. That’s what’s bothering me."

"You have a life, my friend. You have a place in the world. Have you thought about trying to make what you can out of it?"

"Sure, I’ve thought about it," he said. "Every damn day I think about it."

"What would it take to make you happy with your life?"

"I dunno. Lots of things. More money. Having some real fun every now and again. Not always going about the same damn things day in and day out. A relationship might help. Something to break up the monotony."

"Is it really so monotonous?"

"It’s the same things. The same work, the same workers. Jorge’s bar and weekends on the couch in front of the television. It’s so boring and predictable."

"Whose fault is that, Gary?"

Gary sighed heavily. "Mine."

"You’ve been thinking too much about it, haven’t you?"

"I can’t seem to help it."

The voice seemed focused and intent when it said, "Are you serious about wanting to help it? Stopping the overthinking and analyzing and learning to go with it?"

Gary was near tears. "God, yes."

"Tell me something, Gary. Who was or is the happiest person you know?"

Gary thought a moment, chewing his bottom lip. "Andrea Baumann. In high school. She was the prom queen and on the dance line. She was so happy and giddy all the time, everything was brand new and an adventure. Nothing ever got her down."

"She sounds great," the voice commented.

"She was. I had the biggest crush on her."

"Were you jealous of her?"

Gary nodded. "You better believe I was. She had it all. A constant string of boyfriends, parents who didn’t keep tabs on her like mine did, and she was happy and laughing and surrounded by friends all the time. Vic was as jealous of her as I was. We’d have hated her guts if we both hadn’t wanted to fuck her so bad."

"She was pretty, then?"

Gary snickered. "I used to jerk off looking at her yearbook picture," he said. "She was the most gorgeous girl in school."

The voice seemed intent and focused again. "Would you change places with her if you could? To swap her life for yours, even if it meant you wouldn’t be a man anymore?"

Gary thought for a long while. "Yes. If I could be happy like that, then I ’d gladly give it all up for her life. Except – "

"Except what?"

"I wouldn’t want to doom her to my life. I wouldn’t wish my life on anybody, really, much less someone who was as happy and sweet and carefree as she was. So I guess, no. I wouldn’t trade with her. I couldn’t do that to her."

The voice positively beamed with kindness and pride. "That’s exceptional of you, Gary. I’m very pleased to hear you say that. You’re a very special person."

"Thanks," Gary said.

"Gary, I think I can help you," the voice said. "Victor, too. If you’ll let me. You have to trust me, and believe in me. Do you want me to help? It’s very important that I hear you say it. Do you want me to help you?"

Gary didn’t hesitate. "Yes."

"Good," the voice said happily. "Now, I want you to get a clear picture of Andrea Baumann in your mind now. Picture her just like you remember her. Tell me all about her."

* * *

"What next?" Joshua Madison asked his mentor, Dr. Karl Renfro, watching the two men in the Atrium closely on the closed-circuit monitors. They were smiling blissfully, eyes closed, waiting for the next input from the Music of Change. He’d worked with Dr. Renfro for just a short time, but the man’s genius and insight, and the good work he was doing in his late daughter’s name, had won him over instantly. And the tender ministrations of Renfro’s oversexed, bombshell wife hadn’t hurt either.

"I think we should begin the transition process," Dr. Renfro said, checking a few things in his notebook and scribbling a few more notes. "Perhaps the five rooms?"

"We haven’t used that one yet on an actual subject," Joshua said.

Renfro smiled, a crinkled and merry affair. "No better time than the present, eh?"

Joshua returned the grin. "Indeed."

* * *

Gary snapped out of the reverie he’d known. Lance and Danny, the deaf masseurs, had disappeared, just letting him and Vic sit there in the relaxed rapture for a long while.

"Hey, Vic," he said.

Vic blinked his eyes once or twice, as if waking from some kind of a trance. He looked around for a moment before stretching his arms above his head.

"Helluva massage," he said. "What now?"

"What’s in there?" Gary asked, pointing to an open door in the far wall of the little garden paradise in the atrium.

"Wanna find out?" Vic asked.

* * *

The room was dark and had two more seats, these in front of small desks occupied by computer keyboards. The music in here was different, somehow, but no less soothing or natural. They took chairs in front of the keyboards and waited.

The door slid shut with a soft hiss and the room was completely dark. Then, in a blast of color, a video game of sorts appeared on a large screen in front of each of them. Suddenly spoiling for the challenge, both Vic and Gary sank themselves into the game with a chuckle of delight.

It was a difficult game. Sort of like ‘Tetris,’ but more complex. It was in three dimensions, and they could add blocks to the array themselves to meet the falling blocks. They had an assortment of blocks of their own, some Vic’s and some Gary’s, and they had to use their blocks in concert to keep the pile from rising too quickly. At first they worked well with it, but the blocks kept falling quicker and quicker and their own arrays of blocks became much more intricate and complex. The falling blocks could be rotated in any of three ways – roll, pitch or yaw – as they fell, as could the ones at their disposal. And then little pop-up overlays began to spring up here and there, asking them trivia questions or math equations to press the button corresponding to a color or number.

"Jesus," Gary said, trying to keep it all straight in his head.

"I can’t keep up," Vic said, sweating. "It’s too hard."

The music was always there, ever-present. It seemed to be telling them something, beckoning them. It was so calm and unruffled, so placid and content. And here Vic and Gary sat sweating and jumping over a game. A fucking game.

"Here," Gary said. "Use that red one of yours."

Vic listened to the message of the music. "Why?"

Gary blinked. "Because it’ll match the hole on that one there and… dammit!" Another pop-up, asking him what twelve times eight was.

"That’s just it, Gary. It’s a game, man. Forget about it."

Gary clung on doggedly. "But I want to win."

"Why? What do you get if you win?" Vic asked as the music crescendoed. "What difference will it make?"

Gary looked at the game intently, listening to the music. "You’re right. You’re absolutely right."

Seizing a wild hair, he stabbed at a button on his console. A blue block appeared out of his array in mid-air. "Give me one of yours. I want to try and write my name."

"Cool," Vic said, floating on the music. "Here. Look at this one. It looks like a duck."

Gary giggled. "Or a dick and balls."

The game buzzed – they’d lost. The pile had stacked too high and they’d failed, but somehow it didn’t matter to either of them. They just busied themselves playing with trying to write their names with the blocks or answering the pop-ups with humorous answers or just typing in "who cares, don’t bother us."

They collapsed together, giggling and laughing like… like…

Like schoolgirls.

The music swelled.

* * *

Joshua rubbed his forehead. "Amazing," he breathed. "They’re acting like…"

"… like airheads. Ditzes," Dr. Renfro said. "But what else do you notice about them, Joshua? What’s different about them than anything you’ve seen from them today or from the week we studied them in their lives?"

Joshua knew it without thinking. "They’re smiling and laughing," he said. "They’re happy."

"Exactly," Dr. Renfro said. "They’re not fighting their lives anymore. They’re starting to make the best of them, to find the fun and the happiness in the day-to-day. That’s all a bubblehead really is, Joshua. Someone who finds childlike delight in the humdrum. It’s a path to happiness, one usually frowned upon by those who call themselves feminists but very real and very successful."

"You say ‘feminists’ like it’s a dirty word," Joshua commented.

"Of course it’s not," Dr. Renfro replied. "But I believe that being feminist means first and foremost being a woman, which is something that most feminists I know don’t know anything about. Physiology only determines ‘male’ or ‘female.’ Being a ‘man’ or a ‘woman’ is something different. It’ s determined by the path you choose to take to happiness."

"Shall we proceed them to the next room?" Joshua asked.

"By all means."

* * *

Gary and Vic walked into the next darkened room still chuckling from their game. The next room was similar to the first, unadorned except for two chairs and a large video screen. A tray of refreshments – including some bottles of very expensive imported beer. Vic flopped into the comfortable chair on the left and popped a beer, taking a generous sip and smiling in happiness.

"The Old Man scored," he said. "This is the life."

Gary took his seat next, selecting a different brand of beer and helping himself to a slice of really good summer sausage. Once they were both comfortable, the door shut behind them, sealing them into the room, and the video screen flicked to life.

Somehow the images that flashed on the screen meshed flawlessly with the music that flowed out of hidden speakers around them. Pictures of youth, happiness, joy and contentment bombarded their eyes. Gary couldn’t help but think of Andrea Baumann, with her waist-length chestnut hair and her nose-wrinkling, ‘Mary Lou Retton’ smile.

Suddenly, the focus of the video shifted. Long stretches of people working in boring jobs, sweating for the check. People slogging through bad lives or bad situations. Gary saw himself in so many of the pictures that his eyes began to sting with tears.

"I don’t like this," Vic said.

"I don’t want to think about it anymore," Gary said. "I don’t want to think about it."

Vic’s grin was a little vapid, but genuine. "So don’t," he said.

Gary blinked. "You’re right," he said suddenly, feeling himself brighten immediately. "What are you going to do this weekend?"

Vic shrugged. "Probably the same thing you’re doing."

"Let’s do something different," Gary said. "I’m sick of doing the same old things."

"Hey, I know! We can go to Fun World. I haven’t been there since I was twelve."

Gary laughed. "That sounds like fun," he said. "I haven’t been on a roller coaster in, like, forever."

"Yeah," Vic giggled. Above them, the pictures had reverted to the happy, joyous flashes. Soon they returned to the scenes of the long, boring, dismal stretches, but usually as soon as they did Vic and Gary turned to one another and began chatting back and forth about what they planned to do later that evening or on the weekend.

"Amazing," Joshua said, clicking his stopwatch.

"The Music has proved very useful in conjunction with images," Dr. Renfro said. "And with the addition of some mild hypnotics in the food and beer, the effects are visible in a much smaller timeframe. Where are they now?"

Joshua showed the doctor the stopwatch. "Their attention spans have been lowered to about five minutes. It’s remarkable, doctor."

"That should be enough," Renfro said. "We don’t want to actually regress them."

"The next room, then?"

Dr. Renfro nodded. "Yes. And we’ll see what comes out of the third room."

* * *

Gary and Vic were a little headachy after the video screen, so they were quite relieved when a door opened across from the one they entered. Standing a little weakly, they took a moment to steady themselves before walking.

"How are you doing?" Vic asked his friend.

"I’m okay," Gary said. "You?"

"I feel funny," Vic said. "Not bad, just funny."

"Me, too," Gary replied. "Are you ready?"

"For what?"

"To go to the next room."

Vic giggled. "Oh," he said. "Yeah. Let’s go. If you’re ready."

"I guess I can," Gary said. "Should we, like, take some beer with us?"

Vic grabbed a couple of bottles. "Sure."

Slowly and carefully, they made their way into the next chamber. It was dark like the two previous, but this time it was cluttered. Gary and Vic paused in the doorway.

"What is this?" Vic asked. "What do we do in here?"

"I dunno," Gary giggled. "I bet we’ll find out if we go in."

"Hey, Gary," Vic said suddenly. "Do you remember Lisa Wensley from high school?"

Gary nodded. She was on the kick line that danced at all the football and basketball games, a long-legged blonde with a knockout body and the most beautiful blue eyes Gary had ever seen. She ran a close second to Andrea Baumann for sexual fantasy in Gary’s puberty.

"Yeah, why?"

Vic shook his head. "I dunno," he mumbled. "I can’t, like, quit thinking about her."

Gary scratched his forehead. "I know. I can’t get Andrea Baumann out of my head."

"Oh, my God, she was so pretty," Vic gushed, grabbing Gary’s arm with both hands. "I totally can’t believe we’re remembering girls from high school."

Gary jumped a little. Something wasn’t right. Why was he acting like this? Why was Vic? Why couldn’t he seem to concentrate, and why didn’t he seem to want to?

"Are you okay?" Vic asked.

Gary blinked his eyes. "I guess so," he said. "I just felt weird for a second."

"I know what you mean," Vic said. "Should we go in?"

Gary tried to rebel, tried to say no, but something in his heart or his mind wouldn’t let him do it, wouldn’t let him turn back. Instead, he giggled and took his friend’s arm, leading him through as the door swung shut behind them.

"Oh my God, look at this place," Vic said as the lights came up and the music swelled comfortably around them. The walls of the octagonal room were solid closets full to bursting with clothes of all shapes and sizes, colors and styles. There were mirrors everywhere and tables groaning under the weight of the latest pictures and fashion magazines. Televisions recessed into the walls played tapes of runway fashion shows.

Gary was puzzled at the feeling of delight that was swelling in his heart. "What are we supposed to do here?" he asked.

Vic didn’t answer, he stood transfixed looking at a strange tank which dominated the center of the octagonal room. A woman was taking shape inside it, a beautiful woman with piercing blue eyes and a look of disapproval on her face.

Gary looked down at himself and discovered his nudity, forgotten in the past two rooms. Diving for a closet, he grabbed the first thing he touched – a long pink satin blouse, and tried to cover himself. The woman in the tank looked at him, scowled, and shook her head.

Puzzled, Gary reached for another article of clothing, a little brown suede miniskirt. The woman’s expression lightened, became a little more cheerful. Gary took it down from its place on the rack.

Vic had grabbed a pair of lacy beige panties from a shelf in the closet and was sliding it up his legs. As he strained to get the scanty garment over his generous penis, he watched the observing woman in the tank and pointed.

"Look at her," he told Gary. "She’s smiling. And…"

"And what?" Gary prompted.

"It’s turning her on."

Vic was right. The woman’s eyes had narrowed sensuously and one of her fingers was tracing an idle circle around the nipple of her left breast. That gesture cut right to the souls of the two men, bypassing all their fears and hopes and thoughts that something out of the ordinary was happening. It reached into the spaces behind their hearts and ignited a passionate excitement in them that neither man had felt since the first confused days of their puberty. Unable to control their desire or their excitement, each man tore through the racks of women’s clothes, sliding them onto their bodies as best they could in order to further delight the silent woman who was watching over them.

Slowly, too slowly for them to recognize what was happening, each man began to project the image of their ‘dream girl’ onto the woman. Soon they both saw the images of their women – Andrea Baumann for Gary and Lisa Wensley for Vic – in the place of the woman they’d originally seen, watching them both with desire and excitement, rubbing her body sensuously at the sight of them in their clothes.

"They’re well into Phase One," Joshua announced happily, reading psychometrics from both men and adjusting the Music of Change to keep pace with the adapting mentalities which the men were exhibiting.

Dr. Renfro nodded, making a few quick notes. "Excellent. These men are very receptive to what they’re becoming. Initiate Phase Two."

Joshua typed a long sequence into his computer terminal. "I’ve never seen Phase Two in action, Doctor. Is it as remarkable as your journals have said it is?"

Renfro smiled a very satisfied smile. "Watch and see."

In the octagonal room, the men were shedding outfit after outfit and getting into others as quickly as they were able. They would pause occasionally, watching the fashion shows or leafing through the magazines to find a new ‘look’ which might excite their observer.

In the background, the music began to take on more of a substance and a form, taking on a rhythm and a beat which was very like some of the techno tracks they’d heard through the door of Apocalypse, the dance club which stood across the street from Jorge’s, their favorite cantina.

Giggling and laughing with the sheer excitement and fun of it all, Vic started to dance to the music, moving his body to the irresistible beat. Gary, laughing out loud at the fun he was having, began to dance too. They danced apart, they danced together, pulling their clothes off and putting on new ones. The woman in the tank laughed as well with their joy but remained as aroused as she was at first.

Slowly – oh, so slowly, the woman began to change. Gary saw Andrea’s heart-shaped face slowly lengthen, her jaw became a little more defined. Vic watched Lisa’s shoulders widen and her hips narrow out. All so slowly that they never noticed. And it didn’t matter – it was all too much fun and too exciting to stop now. Which made it no shock at all when they looked up from their dressing and dancing to see that the tank didn’t contain a woman any more. For Vic, he saw Chad Bennett, a young man from Development at Synerprise who was generally considered by the other secretaries to be the prime cut of beef at the company. He was gazing at him with big blue eyes, smiling his little-boy smile and his right hand was reaching between his muscular legs…

And it inflamed Vic like nothing ever had before.

Gary saw Brian Rutherford, a friend of his from an older job who was a real hit with the ladies. He kept his head shaved and wore only a Van Dyke-style goatee. He was smiling his own smile, one hand caressing his six-pack abdomen and the other reaching down between his legs.

Gary and Vic collapsed together on one of the low tables which held the fashion magazines, fanning themselves and trying to find a comfortable position, since the tight clothing they were wearing was cutting them off and binding back their roaring erections. Both of them teetered in platform heels which were cutting red lines into their feet, which were several sizes too large for them.

"I am so totally horny," Vic breathed.

"Oh my God," Gary said. "I am too."

"Is there, like, a bathroom or something around here?" Vic asked.

"Too bad there’s not a shower," Gary said. "I could go play in the waterfall."

They both giggled.

Across from them, a door opened on a long, antiseptic-looking hallway.

"Should we go?" Vic asked.

Gary stood up, trying to keep balance on the spike-heeled platforms. "I hate to leave this place behind."

"Maybe we can come back," Vic said. "Ouch! These shoes are so tight!"

"Wanna ditch ‘em?" Gary asked.

"No way," Vic giggled. "They’re too cute to not wear."

"Let’s go," Gary said, starting for the hall.

* * *

"Incredible," Joshua said. "Their speech, their inflection, their mannerisms, even their body language is all feminine."

Dr. Renfro’s knowing smile widened. "Not nearly so incredible as what you’ re about to see, son," he said kindly. "Begin Phase Three."

* * *

The hall was long, and made that much longer by the fact that neither Vic nor Gary could walk effectively in the skyscraper heels they’d chosen. Their clothes were cutting deep into their skins and pinching their erect genitals roughly, and were too tight to even take a decent step.

Gary tottered a short step when the music took on a voice once more and spoke to him kindly, once again as an equal. "You look uncomfortable," it said.

"I am," Gary said. "My clothes don’t fit me."

The voice seemed amused. "It seems more like you don’t fit your clothes. Don’t you feel sexy and beautiful?"

"I do."

"Did you like teasing the man in the last room?"

Gary’s voice was nearly a purr. "God, yes."

"Has today been fun?"

Gary blinked back tears. "More fun than I’ve ever had in my life. I never want it to end."

"It never has to, Gary. Just believe. Listen to me, and walk."

Step. Gary suddenly found that he could breathe a little easier. The little leather miniskirt he was wearing seemed to fit much better around the waist and hips.

Step. Vic looked down. It wasn’t quite so hard as he’d thought, walking in these heels. If he pushed out his chest a little and stuck out his butt, gave his walk a little strut, they were quite easy. The shoes seemed more comfortable immediately.

Step. Gary sighed as he felt a little more space open up in the sexy little bolero jacket he wore. It wasn’t digging into his shoulders nearly as badly.

Step. The squeaking of the tight vinyl pants wasn’t nearly as bad on Vic when he walked with a little sway in his hips. It seemed like maybe his hips had widened a little bit, too, making it a little easier to walk without rubbing the insides of his thighs together.

Step. Gary nearly swooned with relief – the high-leg panties he was wearing were getting a little looser, not cutting into his waist and pinching his balls.

Step. Vic felt a rush, something akin to bravado but more confident, more self-assured. He raised his chin and felt a strange tickle behind his ears and on the back of his neck.

Step. Gary nearly stumbled and reached out for Vic’s hand. His friend’s hand was so soft it was unbelievable, and the little rasp of Vic’s long fingernails against his palm was nice. Gary tried not to squeeze too hard, so that his own long fingernails didn’t dig into his friend’s hand too hard.

Step. Vic felt a strange little bounce on his chest as he walked, but the motion was delicious. He put even more sway in his walk, his butt tracing a figure-eight in the air behind him, and his chest began to jiggle in the most lovely way.

Step. Gary felt the bra he wore stop cutting into his shoulders and his back, but there was a strange void in the cups which was slowly diminishing. Slowly they were filled with soft, sensitive flesh which bounced sexily in the straining cups. The support of the bra and the firm weight on the chest made Gary thrust his shoulders back and strut proudly.

Step. Vic blinked his eyes and felt a tickle on his cheeks. Half-closing his eyes, he regarded the hallway through a lush dark fan of eyelashes.

Step. Gary’s little heart pendant settled into the sweet cleft on his chest which peeked from the top of the plunging neckline of his little pink rib-knit sweater. A lovely draft embraced his flat belly in a cool embrace under the midriff-baring hem.

Step. The little ribbon choker around Vic’s neck eased nicely, not cutting into the flesh. If he didn’t know better, it was almost as if his neck had lengthened and his Adam’s apple disappeared… but that was ridiculous.

Step. The four-inch strip of bare skin above the hem of Gary’s skirt flinched from the strange soft tickle in the small of his back.

Step. Vic licked dry lips which seemed a bit fuller or thicker somehow.

Step. Gary stopped swinging his arms nearly as much as he had before – it seemed unsuited to the walk he was using. They stayed low, near his waist and it made the pouty little strut he was using that much more natural.

Step. Vic sighed in utter relief as the tension and pinching between his legs subsided totally. He still had a raging hard-on, it seemed, but there seemed more than enough room in his cotton thong panty to accommodate it now.

Step. Gary let a similar sigh as his own high-cut panties quit pinching so viciously. There was only a lingering, pleasant warmth and dampness where before there had been only discomfort.

The door beckoned.

* * *

Heather was waiting in the final room as the two newborn women came strolling through. They were dressed in club clothes and strutting proudly, with good reason.

Gary stopped in the new room, twirling a soft strand of chestnut-brown hair around one long-nailed finger. Her wide, guileless blue eyes twinkled from a heart-shaped face framed by long tendrils. Full lips stretched across a toothy, warm smile which wrinkled her nose and turned her wide eyes into half-moons. She stood proudly, wearing a little pink sleeveless midriff-baring sweater and a cute pink bolero jacket which strained over her generous breasts and a black leather miniskirt with a belt of huge round silver links. Her legs were still very hairy – an oversight of the Music, obviously – but the Lucite-heeled six-inch platforms gave them an incredibly sexy shape.

Vic was almost a mirror image, body-wise, only a little taller and with fuller, rounder breasts which almost overfilled the cups of her tight studded-leather bustier. An adorable little bellybutton peeked out the underside of the garment, nestled in a flat-as-a-plank expanse of very pale stomach. Second-skin vinyl pants shone and shimmered as they followed the luscious curves of her hips, ass and legs. She perched on her six-inch black stiletto platforms – stripper shoes, Heather knew, she owned several pair herself – as if she’d been born in them. She was looking around with her childlike green eyes and her full, sensuous mouth in an ‘O’ of wonder as she fluffed out a handful of her thick, champagne blonde mane with long-nailed fingers.

"Hello, guys," Heather said warmly. "How are you feeling?"

Vic’s smile was instantaneous and completely genuine. "I’m great," he said in a breathy, little-girl soprano which screamed ‘airhead.’ "How are you? That is such a cute blazer."

"Thanks," Heather said, smiling back. "I picked it up at Foley’s. Gary? You okay?"

Gary nodded happily and said, "I’m super, but I would totally kill for a cigarette."

Vic turned in shock. "When did you start smoking again?"

Gary tried to answer. He used to smoke, briefly, when he’d first graduated high school, but he quit a year afterwards and never picked it up again. He tried to concentrate, but the thoughts were elusive and slippery, and he only saw brief images of Andrea Baumann in her cheerleading letterman’s jacket, huddled behind the auto shop sharing a cigarette with her friends and it seemed answer enough.

"I didn’t start, I just, like, want one," she said by way of explanation. Miraculously, that seemed answer enough for the normally contrary Vic, who only smiled.

"So, like, if I asked for one too would you show me how?" he said.

Gary giggled happily. "I guess so," he said. "It’s a totally nasty habit, though."

"I know," Vic said. "But it’s kinda sexy, y’know? I’ve, like, always wished I knew how so I could look like Rita Hayworth." Vic struck a sexy, 40’s movie-star pose and vamped for a moment before collapsing in a fit of giggles with her friend.

Heather cleared her throat. "I’ll send someone for cigarettes," she said, suppressing a chuckle at the way the two sour, disillusioned ‘men’ were acting. "But in the meantime, welcome to the salon and spa. Take your time, enjoy everything. Diane, over there, will give you facials, makeovers, whatever you like. Ellen, there, is our manicurist and pedicurist. Simone and Amanda, over there, run the spa – I can’t tell you how nice one of our mud-baths feels. I’ll send someone to fetch you some cigarettes and a little afternoon snack, how’s that."

"You are so sweet," Gary said happily, nearly dragging Vic by the hand towards the makeover/facial station.

* * *

Jenna rushed into the back room, carrying a large manila envelope under one arm. She was wearing her workout togs – she’d just come from her dance rehearsal for the weekend basketball game and was on her way to a calendar shoot for the dance squad and for a charity run to the local children’s hospital. Arturo walked in behind her.

Jenna looked over the documents in the envelope carefully, using a jeweler’s loupe in some instances, before dropping them to the table and saying, "Excellent work as always, Arturo. Thank you very much."

He decided against trying to make any romantic sorties with Jenna Hawthorne – he’d both heard of her reputation as a man-eater and also had seen with his own eyes the passionate kisses she’d exchanged with Heather, the buxom blonde who shared her apartment.

She passed over a thick envelope of her own. He checked it by eye – his fee, all in cash in fifties and hundreds. "A pleasure," he said.

"I hate to be rude, Arturo darling, but I simply must run," she said, standing. "I’m almost late for another appointment."

"I understand," Arturo said. "I only wanted to ask you one question."

Jenna waited, one eyebrow raised.

"I would like to inquire about the possibility of someday meeting the mysterious Dr. Renfro," he said. "It’s very strange to me not to know the face of my benefactor."

"Dr. Renfro is a very private man," Jenna explained. "He doesn’t normally take visitors. I’ll certainly pass his request along, Arturo, but I wouldn’ t get my hopes up." To punctuate her sentence, she opened the door and waited for him to move.

He stepped through the door graciously, saying, "I see. Thank you for your candor."

Jenna closed the door and locked it, hurrying back towards the parking lot and her car. Arturo loitered a moment, by the outer door, slipping a slender phone from his jacket pocket. He touched a few buttons and the high-speed tone sequence of a speed-dial sang next to his cheek as he pressed it to his ear.

"Did you succeed?" a deep voice asked.

"Perhaps," Arturo answered. "They are reluctant to admit me to Dr. Renfro."

"I don’t care about that, Mr. LaPaglia. I’m not interested in your difficulties. I pay you for results."

"I understand, Signor. It will be a few more days before I’m able to come face-to-face with the man. It’s in both of our best interests to be subtle about this, no?"

"Agreed."

"I have planted several listening devices in the administrative offices, which should give me some more information."

"I don’t care if you have to volunteer for the process, Mr. LaPaglia. I want you to find Karl Renfro no matter what you do, and I want you to make sure he doesn’t survive the encounter. Is that understood?"

"It is," Arturo replied. "I’ll contact you again when I have more to report, Signor Michaelis. It won’t be long now."

"It had better not be," the deep voice replied.

* * *

Dr. Renfro leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head of silver hair. "Excellent work, Joshua. I am very impressed with your thoroughness."

Joshua nearly beamed. "I’m glad you approve of my work."

"More than approve, I applaud it," Renfro corrected. "I’m so very glad that Heather and Jenna brought you to me. I’m an old man, Joshua. It’s in my best interests – and in the interests of people like Victor Landers and Gary Owens the world over – to pass the torch along to a younger man who can carry on the work."

"You mean…"

Renfro nodded as he pressed a button on his intercom next to the computer terminal. "Claudette, dear, could you bring in the champagne I asked for?"

"Doctor Renfro – Karl – I don’t know how to thank you."

Renfro held up a hand. "Please, don’t. Just promise me that you’ll continue to perfect the process and turn no one away that needs your help."

"I promise, sir."

Claudette, the doctor’s bombshell wife, came in the room happily, dressed in a skintight cowl-necked sweater and a very expensive cashmere skirt and matching knee-high boots. She carried a bottle of Cristal wrapped in a towel and two glasses. She set them down in front of the two doctors and popped the cork. She paused to run her tongue over thick, glossy pink lips and narrow her eyes sexily at Joshua, whom she’d taken quite a liking to. Or maybe it was his abnormally large cock that she’d become fond of – it was hard to tell with a woman like Claudette. Joshua enjoyed her for the most part – she was sexually insatiable and nothing was taboo to the woman – but her single-minded devotion to sex did wear thin after a while. Not only did Dr. Renfro not mind about his wife’s extramarital activities, he seemed to encourage them, and his approval of Joshua was also apparent in the delight he took in his wife’s enjoyment of the younger man.

They clinked their glasses together as Claudette ran a long-nailed hand through Joshua’s thick sandy curls and left to resume her duties as Renfro’s executive assistant.

"To our two latest victories," Joshua toasted.

"Indeed, and to my new protégé," Renfro added. "Now, my boy, if you’d care to indulge an old man, I’d very much like to see you fly solo through the last part of the process."

"You want me to awaken their identities?" Joshua asked.

"I’ll watch and help you if you need," he said, "but I doubt you’ll need my assistance. You’re as talented a psychoanalyst as I’ve seen in a long time, son. You’ll do fine. I just want to see what you’ve got, so to speak. Would you?"

Joshua set down the champagne flute and set his fingers to the keyboard. "Absolutely."

* * *

Gary was luxuriating in the pedicure as Vic admired the new French tips on his long fingernails. Even the bikini wax hadn’t been nearly as bad as Gary had thought, and the nice slim delta which adorned his little vaginal mound was really cute and sexy.

The music took a shape again, different from before but not unpleasantly so. The voice seemed stronger, more vibrant, more… attractive somehow. Gary liked the change.

"How do you feel?" it asked.

"Incredible," Gary answered in his perky mezzo voice. "I never knew I could feel so good. I’m relaxed, I feel confident and sexy and happy. Thank you."

The voice was warm. "You’re welcome. Is anything missing?"

Gary shut his eyes. "I don’t know. Something. Like, in the back of my head."

"Could I guess?" the voice asked. Gary nodded.

"You like who you are, right?"

Gary nodded again, enthusiastically.

"And you didn’t like who you were."

"I was, like, a total loser," Gary said. "I never want to be that way again."

"But people who knew your name are still going to think you’re that loser, Gary. Do you really want people to remember you the way you were, or do you prefer a fresh start?"

"My daddy said there weren’t second chances," Gary protested.

"There aren’t," the voice replied. "This is a first chance."

"So you’re talking about like, pretending to be someone else?"

"Not pretending, Gary. I’m talking about actually being someone else. Having a new mind, a new heart and a new soul to match your new look."

Gary’s pretty face screwed up in thought. "That would be cool."

"Do you have any preconceptions about your new identity?" the voice asked.

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry. Do you have any ideas who you want to be?"

"No," Gary said. "I’m happy just the way I am."

"Very well," the voice said. "Just close your eyes, then, and trust me. You do trust me, don’t you, Gary?"

Gary smiled dreamily. "Yeah," she said guilelessly.

"Then I’ll help you, if you let me."

Gary’s smile widened. "You’ve already helped me so much. But okay."

"Look up, Gary, tell me what you see."

Gary stared at the ceiling and looked at the reflection in the mirrored ceiling. In the chair a beautiful woman reclined, her large breasts resting on her chest and her pubic hair trimmed down to a narrow little feather like the girls in Playboy. Long, hairless legs and petite feet, being worked on diligently by the pedicurist. Long, brunette hair hung in soft, shiny waves around her slender shoulders.

"I see a beautiful woman," he said.

"And is that you?" the voice pressed.

"Yes," Gary said.

"So what does that mean, Gary?"

"It means… uh… like, it means that I’m a beautiful woman?"

The voice was amused. "It does. You, my dear, are a beautiful woman."

"Wow," Gary said.

"And what does that mean to you, Gary?"

"That men want me," Gary said.

"Do you like that idea, Gary?"

Gary thought a second. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I really like that idea."

"What happens if you find a man who wants you that you want as well?"

Gary smiled sultrily, unable to look away from the vision in the mirror. "It means that he’d get fucked long and hard by a beautiful woman. I’d come all over him, and scream like a little slut. I’d suck his cock and drink him dry."

"I’m impressed. You sound like you’ve thought about it a bit."

Gary giggled. "Not really," he said. "It’s what hot women do. They fuck men and scream when they come and suck dicks."

"They do all this?"

Gary giggled again. "I mean, like, we do. We do that stuff."

* * *

Heather came back into the spa and snapped Gary and Vic from their trance-like reverie. The music had stopped, but it was all right – somehow the music was inside them, and it would be with them forever.

"It’s 9 o’clock, gentlemen," Heather announced, holding an envelope out to each of them.

"Gentlemen?" Vic giggled. "You need some glasses, girlfriend."

Heather smiled. "All right then, ladies. Time to pack up and head for home."

Vic tore open the proffered envelope and pulled out her purse, a little patent-leather clutch. Gary’s woven ecru shoulderbag came out of the other envelope.

"We’re sending home some of the clothes you chose," Heather announced. "A little parting gift, so to speak."

Gary fished in her purse and found that all her money, credit cards, makeup, hairbrush and cigarettes were undisturbed. Apparently Vic’s handbag passed muster as well.

"This was so much fun," Vic gushed to Heather. "I’m totally going to like, tell all of my friends about his place."

"Oh my God, I had so much fun too," Gary said. "I don’t want it to be over."

Vic gasped in sudden recollection. "Do you want to come clubbing tonight with me and Keri?" she asked Heather.

"What did you call me?" Gary asked.

Vic let out her breath in an exasperated puff. "I called you by your name, Keri, the same one you’ve always had. God, you are such a featherhead sometimes. Look on your driver’s license if you don’t believe me."

Gary did. It said Keri Alison Owens. The same way it always had. Why had it sounded so strange to her? She giggled and tapped herself on the forehead. "I just kinda zone out sometimes," she explained to Heather. "But yeah – you should totally come out clubbing tonight with me and Vikki."

If Vic seemed surprised that the name she’d been born with was Victoria Katherine Landers, she didn’t show it. But then, she was as bubbleheaded as Keri could be sometimes. Not that it bothered either of them. Guys like dumb girls.

Heather looked at her watch. "Can we wait a little while for my girlfriend?"

"Oh my God," Vikki cried. "You’re gay?"

"Bi," Heather said. "That doesn’t bother you, does it?"

Keri waved her hands in dismissal. "Oh God, no. It’s totally cool. Just surprising."

"Yeah," Vikki added.

"All right, then," Heather said. "Jenna is going to call me around 10 or so and we can meet you someplace."

"Cool," Vikki said. "We’ll meet you at Apocalypse on 37 th Street. We always go there. The bartenders are like, really cute there. It’s a good time."

"Yeah," Keri concurred.

* * *

The girls took the limo back to the apartment, still raving about what a great time they’d had at the spa retreat. Their apartment was just like they’d left it – furnished well but sparsely with cozy, plush furniture that kept them warm during chilly nights and was great to fuck on. Their pictures – being girls together, cheerleaders and summer trips to Fun World – were still stuck up on the corkboard. The sink was still piled high with dirty dishes and the fridge was still packed with lo-cal food, like the leftovers of the salad Keri had made for dinner last night, and the bottle of white wine they kept around. The pile of movies was still on top of the VCR – Pretty Woman, The Little Mermaid, Dirty Dancing, Mallrats, Unzipped, Vikki’s Abs of Steel – where they’d left them. The dry-erase board still had each girl’s share of the bills written out in Keri’s bubbly, rounded handwriting. Their bedrooms were cozy and cluttered with pictures, stuffed animals, and their closets stuffed to bursting with clothes – comfy clothes, work clothes and club clothes. Enough clothes for any three women, but it was still fun to borrow from each other like they were sisters, which they basically were. And since the only difference between them was height – Vikki was 5’-8" to Keri’s 5’-6" – and bra size – Vikki had a firm 36DD to Keri’s 36D – they could swap clothes basically at will. They even smoked the same brand of cigarettes – Marlboro Ultra Lights 100s. They loved their apartment, they loved their cars – Keri’s little red Cabrio and Vikki’s little Echo – their job, their fun time.

It was a very happy life.

* * *

It had been a great weekend – Friday they’d club hopped with Heather and Jenna until nearly dawn, Saturday they’d gone to Fun World and rode all the rides and flirted with lots of the cute guys there, Sunday was spent making brownies, watching rented movies and waiting for calls from the cute guys they’d met at the clubs. They’d gone to Walgreen’s drugstore to get some home-highlighting kits and done each others’ highlights. Then Monday morning it was time for work – it sucked to get up at 6, but they had to have the time to get themselves looking good for work. There were two board meetings this week, and they had to look professional, but the tight tailored suits and short skirts with the high heels were enough to make them look plenty sexy as well – Vikki was trying real hard to get the attention of Chad Bennett over in Development and the tight turtleneck she wore under her blazer was helping her case.

Keri totally hoped she got him – it had been a while for Vikki, and going too long without cock wasn’t good for a girl.

David Watson was waiting when they arrived, sipping coffee and running his eyes covetously over their curves. If only for that wedding ring on his finger, Keri thought as she eyed his trim stomach and nice legs. But then again, it was only a ring…

"Did you girls like the trip to the spa?" he asked brightly.

"It was so cool," Keri gushed. "Thank you so much, David." She brushed her breasts along his forearm as she gripped his hand, just to let him know that she wasn’t afraid of that gold band if he wasn’t. Vikki saw what she was doing and giggled.

"Well, I had to do something nice for you two girls," he said. "You’re the best hire I ever made."

They knew he was lying, but it was okay. They got distracted sometimes and forgot to write things down, and sometimes just flat out forgot about things, but he was always patient and sweet to them both. They thanked him again as they sat at their desks.

"Are you going to work tonight?" Vikki asked, sitting down.

"Shh," Keri said. "Nobody’s supposed to know."

Vikki giggled, hoisting her ‘gym’ bag. "That you have platforms and a g-string in here and you dance topless for extra money?" she said loudly, giggling.

Keri snatched her bag back down and pouted. "You evil little bitch," she said without venom. "Oh my God, you are so bad sometimes."

"So, are you?"

"Huh?" Keri said.

"Working," Vikki said impatiently. "You are so blonde."

"Yeah," Keri said offhandedly. "I’m supposed to dance at seven."

Vikki whispered. "Are you serious about getting me that job there?"

"You want one? All you have to do is go audition," Keri said. "I’ll introduce you to Mike, the manager. He’s really cool."

Vikki squeezed her hand. "I really need the money."

"It’s no problem, baby girl. I think it would be cool as hell if we danced together, too."

"Cool," Vikki said, turning back to her computer and smiling. "Why do these things, like, take so long to start up? I hate computers."

Keri nodded in agreement. "But if something goes wrong, we can always call Chad over and see if he’ll help."

Vikki licked her glossy red lips with a pink tongue. "Oh, yeah," she purred.

* * *

Heather didn’t want to leave the soft tangle of her lover in the bed, but she had to go by Corporate Rewards and still be on shift at the restaurant by ten a.m.. She showered quickly and slipped on a push-up bra and a pair of white satin panties. Sitting on a little dressing stool by the vanity, she slipped on her pantyhose, loving as always the feel of the nylon slithering like an embrace over her freshly depilated legs. She followed up by sliding into her little white tank with the Hooters Owl across the front, straining over her ample breasts and showing a long line of very tempting cleavage. With a deft, practiced motion she knotted it in the small of her back to stretch it even tighter across her chest and thereby increasing her tips for the day by a good twenty percent. Over this she snugged her tight little shiny orange short-shorts. Twenty minutes was all it took for her to get her long blonde hair arranged and to get her makeup on. She pulled up a pair of baggy overalls over her uniform and pulled on white socks and white sneakers to finish. Grabbing her purse and sunglasses, she gave her sleeping wife a tender kiss on the forehead and left as quietly as she could.

She pulled her little Miata into her reserved parking slip in front of Corporate Rewards and trotted into the administration offices, buzzing her way past the front two doors with her passcard. Doctor Renfro and Joshua, his abominably cute assistant were in the testing room, going over the charts they’d compiled on Vikki Landers and Keri Owens.

"Heather, my dear," Renfro said, opening his arms wide. She hugged him tightly – if not for this man she and Jenna would have been destined for misery and divorce, and because of him Jenna had been able to overcome a lifetime of fear and repression to achieve the happiness she had now. Not to mention the wonders he’d performed for Heather herself.

"You rang?" she said brightly.

"I did," Renfro said. "We have files on two very promising candidates, Heather, and I’d like you and Jenna to get started on researching them as soon as you’re able."

"We’ll have something for you by tonight, then," Heather said, taking the two file folders from the doctor’s hand. "Should I have Jenna make contact?"

"Not yet," Renfro said. "I want Joshua to get acquainted with the process for these. Show him how you do your research, the methods you use to gather information and determine readiness. I very much want him to be able to author the process by himself, so every aspect of the selection process should be familiar to him."

Heather gave Joshua a smile which was equal parts suggestion and warmth. "Me and Jenna will break him in, don’t worry."

Joshua took the bait. "I look forward to it."

She kissed Dr. Renfro’s cheek. "I have to get to work, Karl. I’ll give you a call this evening once Jenna and I have found something."

"I’ll talk to you then," he said, turning back to his never-ending work. Heather exchanged one more laden glance with Joshua, undressing him deftly with her eyes, before turning on her heel with a girlish bounce and leaving the office.

She stopped outside the door and pulled her slender little cellphone from her purse. Jenna would want to get the files as soon as possible, and Vikki and Keri were planning on coming by Hooters that afternoon for lunch. As she pressed the phone to her ear and began rummaging in her purse for her cigarettes, she felt a viciously strong grip around her slender throat and on one of her arms.

"Hang up now," the voice said roughly.

Trying to maintain a calm she didn’t feel, Heather pressed the "End" key and lowered her phone. The hands pulled her roughly back, and she felt him take her purse from her shoulder and heard heavy footsteps running. She turned, screaming for help, and saw a tall man in a dark jacket and slacks sprinting around the corner of the building.

As she reached the corner behind him, breasts bouncing, she saw a dark Ford sedan squealing its tires out of the parking lot and into traffic. She ran closer, trying to make out a license plate number, but stumbled over her purse where it lay in the center of the access way. Picking it up, she found that her wallet was still there, and the credit cards and cash were undisturbed.

She rummaged further, trying to find what the man had been after, dialing Dr. Renfro at the same time. Nothing seemed to be missing at all, not even Renfro’s file folders. Nothing, except…

… except her passcard.

The End of Part Two