Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 pt 4 of?

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place, (http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Your constructive criticism and advice continues to help. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-201208.

Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. There is also some adult content written by a middle-age juvenile mind. You were warned.

Timeout 4, Chapter 12, part 4

That makes this Timeout 4 Chapter 12.4 if you count in software releases.

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homonymphone herding by Holly Hart
Um, that means they proofed it &/or otherwise saved you from me.

Chapter 12, Sitting Pretty, V a c a t i o n

* * * *

That evening, I phoned my BET producer telling him where I was, and that I thought I was familiar with the arrangements he’d sent.

"Ready when you are, Joanie.”

"Anytime this week, preferably, Al.”

"I have a gap between concerts and other duties. I could have the band and equipment out in Iowa and set up by late this Wednesday.”

"That’s fast.”

"I AM the best, Baby,” he said in an overly masculine tone

"You’d better be, Mister,” I cooed back.

"Women worship me. I do play the world’s sexist instrument, the accordion.”

I started laughing and could not stop.

"It is sexy, all that squeezing in and out turns women on.”

"Then you live in fear a bagpiper will steal your woman.”

Maybe that explains my dream about a crazed Scotsman battling the Loch Ness Accordion.

* * * *

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

I got up early to run and was met by Eric as I tried to sneak out of the fourth floor family quarters.

"What are you doing up so early?”

"I rigged a sensor to my computer to set off an alarm when you got out of bed I wanted time alone with you.” He smiled and my spirit soared.

"Eric, we can’t, not that I don’t want to.”

"I wanted to talk and work out with you.”

"What? I am NOT that kind of a girl.” I acted shocked and hurt.

"I meant I want to exercise with you, go on your morning run, I didn’t mean s-sex.”

"You look so *hot,* when you blush, Eric.” I giggled and bounced a bit, inducing some eye-catching jiggles in my anatomy. I was not playing nice at all. I knew what it was like to be a boy at his age, not quite a man but no longer a child and at the mercy of your hormones.

"I ... I ...” The poor boy was at a loss for words. Other parts of his body knew exactly what they wanted. I must admit, I took a long look at his *predicament.*

~~Ghods, that is so …That has got to hurt and it’s all because of me? How sweet.~~ I’m lovesick and irrational, when it comes to Eric, you can tell. I was flattered and tempted, so very tempted. I'm a bad girl, I am, or at least I hope to be.

"Let’s go for a run and work off all this, um, tension. Sorry to tease you, Eric, I promise I will make it up to you once you’re ... legal. I’ll be ever so grateful.”

I licked my lips ... and took a really deep breath. I was merciless in my provocation. Every male statue within a 300-mile radius must have been sporting a raging… you know. His control impressed the hell out of me, and at that age I know how hard that is -- pun intended. It's not that he didn't, um rise to the occasion --- not that *I* was looking -- but that he remained a total gentleman in spite of his physical desires.

I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "If you can stand up to all that teasing, I know we’ll make it. And don’t think you don’t affect me just as hard ... I mean much! See what I mean? I can hardly think straight in your presence." I nearly pulled of my top to expose my swollen nipples, hell I was moments from ripping off all our clothes, Only knowing what it would do to us, the harm I would cause him, kept me in check. Fortunately my moods are as mercurial as the breeze and my playful side won out.. "Now lead on ... Lover.” ~~This teasing game is fun.~~

We trotted downstairs, quietly, and told the State Patrol we were going out for a run. After a few loops around the grounds I got bored, Eric was too.

"Eric, you know the neighborhood; let’s go for a tour.”

We ran out past the guard shack. "We’re going out for a morning run, no more than thirty minutes, bye!” I smiled and waved, but we did not stop. They immediately radioed what we were doing. We’d gone a couple blocks when a State Patrol unmarked car caught up with us.

"Cheese it, the cops!” I said in a great James Cagney, if Cagney was female and had a voice that made Lauren Bacall sound like a nun.

"This way, Joanie! They’ll never catch us!” He turned up a public staircase on a hillside.

The officer was not pleased, when she caught up. She'd had to drive several blocks to get to the top with us out of her sight much of the time. She was plain-spoken in her displeasure with us.

"Are you two crazy? If anything happens to you, your parents would kill me, Eric.”

"Sorry, officer, we were having fun and forgot.”

"And you should know better, Ms. Brown; you’re an adult.” 'Or so I was told,' was implied in her tone. She was not a happy camper and justifiably so,

"Sorry, I promise to be a good little girl.” I pouted, curtsied and blew a raspberry. I was in a really good mood and skipped for a while. Eric laughed and we ran back to Terrace Hill, staying well in sight of the officer who gave me the strangest looks whenever I looked her way. To be honest, I didn't so much run as bounce.

The State Patrol supervisor gave us a tongue lashing when we got back, sort of, as we had an ace in the hole. "But we told the desk officer that we were going out for a run. We even told the gatehouse.”

"Um, yes, you did do that, but a security detail can’t be put together without some notice. Luckily, it was quiet, and there was an officer to spare.”

"I admit we didn’t give you much time, but Eric was safe with me. I am in training for security and police work. I’m technically an Army National Guard MP specializing in mutants. I promise we’ll give you at least five or more minutes notice in future so you can say 'yea or nay' depending.”

I felt bad; I realized I'd put us at risk. The people behind the X-amine-like mutant transformations knew of my intervention. Someday, they might try for vengeance. I was tougher than most suspected, but would Eric survive an attack on me? Would any innocent passers-by? I owed someone a personal apology.

"And Officer Borges,” she was the officer in the car we’d given a hard time, "I’m sorry I was trouble for you and flippant with you. I put Eric and your lives at risk because of my thoughtlessness. You were a very good sport about it. Forgive me?”

"Me too; I’ve been a politician’s kid long enough to know the drill, sorry.” Eric offered his hand, and she shook it.

I offered my hand to her. She pulled me into an enthusiastic hug that ended with her whispering, "Call me Maridza, and I *like* girls.” She squeezed my butt playfully, broke the hug and laughed.

I forgot to add Maridza was in her mid to upper twenties, tops, no sign of an engagement or wedding ring, fiercely fit -- an obvious body builder -- and a looker. As a man I was a sucker for caramel-skinned Hispanic women ... or exotic Eurasians, sexy African Americans, delicate featured Japanese ... oh hell, attractive young woman of any ethnicity, even pale leggy Nordic blondes with prominent breasts got John’s attention -- especially that last one ... except for all the others. If it was female, young and attractive, John was interested, but so is Joan. Officer Maridza Borges was a most attractive woman. Did I add she was tall with these oh so kissable lips? Then again, when you think of it, would you put an unattractive officer on the Governor’s security detail?

~~Is she getting back for my teasing her earlier or ...? Maybe I should put her in touch with Big Red?~~ The thought of those two *together* was ... was ... it had my motor racing.

* * * *

We finished apologizing for our *escape attempt*, showered and got dressed. I silently thanked the people of Iowa for that wonderful pulse spray in my shower. Well, not all THAT silently; I'd made a little noise, It wasn't like my ears were ringing afterwards, not for long, anyways. I exited the shower relaxed and clean -- okay, VERY relaxed and clean.

I dried off and dressed myself in a nice conservative summer skirt and blouse. Oh yeah, like *I* would dress like that. The message recorded in my cell phone had a lot to do with my choice of clothing. My producer for the BET inspired recording was in town and ready for me, so with luck we would get a good start on the album today. I hoped -- no, make that *had* -- to finish within the week. The following week I had dedicated to my friends, Eric and Mel in particular, and after that I would be in Wales for several weeks. It had to be done now to be ready before the mid-July BET summer concert, if my little *prank* was to work as intended. I walked to the fourth floor kitchen. The family was all seated and eating.

"’Morning! What’s for breakfast? Sorry I’m late; you can blame that addictive shower of yours. It felt so good after our run. I’m ashamed I got Eric in trouble with security; I should have known better ... why are you all staring? ”

"You plan on wearing that today?”

"This little old thing, Babs? I’m thinking of wearing it to church. What, no laugh? I’m off to a local studio to record for an album so I need to get into character. You don’t think this is too conservative for Joanie?” It was one of my leather outfits and very comfortable on a hot day; in other words there wasn’t a lot of fabric or leather in it. It wasn’t a thong bikini, but it wasn’t far off. To be fair, a lot of female joggers wear as little or less.

"That could never be called conservative. Maybe on a Las Vegas showgirl in a topless revue, but normally, no,” Babs said.

Bob swallowed wrong and started coughing. Eric and Mel laughed, while Babs sat there absolutely calm. That broke me up, and Babs cracked a smile.

"Y-you little ... I don’t know what, it is but you are one, Babs.”

* * * *

I drove my friends to school. This time the press was ready, but so were we. Eric had me drop him off a block or so from school, out of sight of the press. Mel and I drove on. At the high school, they’d staked out an area by the main loading area, but I'd been informed there were several lesser used entrances to the school and grounds. I had this inside *source*, a young woman ... hint hint.

"Joanie, don’t turn where you normally do. Go two more blocks then turn left and drop me off on the back side. I can enter by the school office and save a lot of trouble.”

"Smart girl! Where did you learn to be so sneaky?”

"Mom and Dad. Sometimes, they need to avoid the press too. Pity, I’d bet they’d love that outfit of yours; my brother did.”

* * * *

It was a modest drive in my immodest clothes to the small recording studio. It was near the same state university system campus where I attended the broadcast of A Prairie Home Companion back on Easter weekend. I got lost for a while, as Des Moines is not that familiar to me. I found the place, eventually. I parked, grabbed my *ax* and walked on in.

"I’m here to practice and record an album. Has Al made it in, um, Brandy?”

She stared at me,

"Your name-tag. I'm Joanie. I sorry, I probably should be wearing one too." I offered her my hand. She remained a statute. "So is Al here?"

"H-h-e’s w-waiting for you. I’ll ...” she stuttered and pressed an intercom.

"S-she’s here.”

Moments later, my producer for the BET project walked up.

"It’s an honor to meet you, Ms Brown. You don’t know what a pleasure this is for me to work with a living legend.” I saw his eyes when he shook my hand; the man was in awe of me, I’ve seen the look before. I intimidated him. Let's face it, I'm as intimidating as soggy corn flakes from a threat perspective. Your first thought on seeing me is not going to be 'Danger!' unless you have a morbid fear of breasts. This put me off my guard.

"Huh?” I was real articulate.

How can I describe him? Hair, I noticed his hair. He has a lot of it, it’s long, curly and ... he has hair. Al is close to my chronological age, fit, trim and ... normal. And he has all this hair.

~~The guy does mostly parodies of songs or song styles for a living; he plays the accordion for-crying-out-loud, and he’s ... normal? Compared to him I’m the freak, the mutant .... ~~ I broke into a laugh.

He soon was laughing too. "W-w-what’s so f-funny?”

"I just realized that you’re the *normal one* here.”

"I’ll have you know, I’m considered quite mainstream.”

"A rock-and-roll accordion player that does song parodies is mainstream?” I snickered, "Compared to me, I guess you are. I was a middle aged man less than a year ago, and now I’m this Barbie doll look-alike, a chart topping singer and next month’s Playboy Centerfold.”

"I know, why do you think I took the job, Ba-by?” The look and tone he gave me was pure lust, until he started laughing. "Had you going for a moment, didn’t I? I know your record producer, and I respect him; plus to work with a top talent and pull off a stunt of epic proportions....”

"A top talent, where?” I whipped my head back and forth.

"I knew I’d like working with you, Joanie. I can call you Joanie?”

"Well, duh! Nearly everybody calls me Joanie.”

"Joanie?”

"Yes?”

"Would you sign my copy of Playboy?”

"Aaaaaah!!”

<~~I have got to find a way to handle *that*. Maybe a can of mace? Or Nerf Balls soaked in Crazy Glue?... Nair in his hair gel?~~

We moved into the actual recording studios and got to work.

* * * *

I’d diligently practiced the arrangements he’d sent me and was confident we could record after only a few days rehearsal. Most of the band was there, except for two people.

"Two of the session musicians had problems with a connecting flight and are delayed, but we can practice without them for now.”

He introduced me, and I noticed several were nervous. This required decisive action. ~~This is a job for Super ... Nah that’s under copyright ... This is a job for a blonde! Needs work, but it will do for now.~~

"Okay, I’m ready ... Um like what am I here for, yah know?” I asked real sing-song, yet sexy, with just the right touch of bimbo. I'm frighteningly good at it ... DAMN ! I knew I should have had brought some bubble-gum!

"To record an album?” one of the musicians asked tentatively.

"Like, whatever. Oooooh, love your nails!”

We all relaxed after we stopped laughing.

* * * *

The day flew by; Al's augmented band was professional and well prepared. We broke several times to rest and listen to what we’d recorded. I got a strange compliment during one such break.

"Joanie, I’ve been in the business most of my life” -- Al was fast approaching middle-age though he didn't look it -- "but I can’t ever remember meeting an artist like you.”

"Mutants are something like one in a couple hundred thousand people, so I’m not surprised you’ve not worked with one before.”

"No, Joanie, I mean you are a chameleon. It’s amazing!”

"I blend into the background? You think I look like a lizard?" I faked indignation .. breathy, sexy indignation. Then I wet my lips with my tongue... slowly. I have my image to uphold.

"No, I mean you sound different on different tunes. It’s as if you are different people. And it’s not like a forced accent or ... How can I put it ... You become as one with the music.”

"But honorable Master, I don’t feel any different; I just do it." I do a terrible David Carradine / Kung-Fu accent, but he smiled anyway. "That bad, huh?" He nodded. "I suppose I sound different on different styles of music, but that’s because the music needs to be sung that way; it’s nothing conscious. I remember how previous artists interpreted it, and I try to do justice to the versions I like.”

"Most of the time that’s a good thing, but promise me you’ll never do a William Shatner tribute.”

"So Tiny Tim is okay by you, Al?”

"Now there was an artist!”

"You’re a loony! I love it!" And I gave him a hug. Well, I gave everybody a hug. I was in a good mood.

* * * *

We worked though most of the proposed tunes, plus a couple more I suggested at the last moment. By midafternoon, we were pleased with the results. We broke for a break and an early dinner.

"I have to run some errands. I'll be back before the break is over, Scout's honor!"

"You were a Girl Scout?" the drummer asked.

"No, a Boy Scout; don't you know my background""

"Must have been one damned happy scout troop!"."

"I was a boy then, you pervert!" I got some hard stares. I continued.

"Well duh! It's a well known fact all rock drummers are like, totally perverts. It says so on that Wiki/Googly thingy. Would they lie? Ghods!" I left for my truck. They were still laughing, as the door closed behind me.

I have no idea why people don't take me seriously.

* * * *

My first errand was to pick up Eric and Mel from school. This time I couldn’t dodge the press, they were waiting and ready for me. I pulled up in the loading zone at the middle school and opened the windows.

"Joanie. What are you in town for?”

"Joanie, where are you. staying?”

"Is it true about you and Eric Johnson?”

"What?” I exclaimed. This was a very dangerous question.

As I wondered what to say, Eric walked up and got in despite the microphones and cameras. "What are you doing, trying to scare off my ride?”

"Are you and Joanie seeing each other?”

"We have eyes, of course we can *see* each other." He made big quote marks with his arms and even the reporter laughed.

"I’m only fourteen; I’m too young for a girlfriend. Heck, I’m too busy trying to stay awake in algebra; my teacher is really boorring. Please don't tell him that, okay?” Some of press laughed. "I’m glad Joanie’s our friend, she’s so bright and funny. The whole family loves her. As to her and me, when I’m older who knows? Maybe, if I’m very lucky and some Hollywood star hasn't snapped her up? You all really thought she was my girlfriend? Me? Wow! I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Me and Joanie? Wow! In my dreams maybe. Excuse me, but my sister’s waiting for us; we’re her ride home, sorry. Oh, vote for my dad and grandpa next election. They're really good guys."”

The press backed off, and we drove away. His handling of the press made me imagine him as a future President of the United States with this really sexy, tall, mutant wife ... and their seventeen kids. GOTCHA !

~~ Seventeen? -- shudder -- ~~

* * * *

There was a lesser press presence at her school. As Mel met us at that same door closest to the school offices, we slipped away unnoticed.

"The rest of the week, maybe a State Patrol cruiser should pick you up. I don’t like the idea of the press hounding you, and it seems unsafe. There were so many today, I worried.”

"Having the press around may make things safer. Who would be fool enough to try something with all those cameras around?”

"There is truth in that, Eric, unless they want to be caught for political reasons like some terrorists/martyrs, take your pick. Remember Jack Ruby.”

"Jack who?" Eric asked then laughed. "The man who shot Lee Harvey Oswald while the Dallas police were parading him before the camera. I think he owned a restaurant. Mom and Dad insist we know history."

"Well, I'm impressed," and I was."Still, it didn't do me much good to have the press around when I was kidnapped last Halloween. Crowds are a both boon and a risk I'm afraid. I'm not sure it's safe to be around me in public."

Eric wasn't put off in the least by my statement. "Joanie, could you visit my school? We’re done with exams after tomorrow morning, so it’s mostly doing fun stuff the rest of the week. We take a class field trip on Friday and have a graduation early in the evening, around seven.”

"We're done the same day too, but our graduation is more of a picnic on the school grounds that afternoon. Could you come, Joanie? Pleeeeease?"

"I have to finish recording that album, Eric. Mel, but we made good progress today, and we’re working on it tonight until late. I can't promise but I’ll try ... for both of you.”

* * * *

I took them home, freshened up and apologized that I’d be gone that evening rehearsing and recording.

Babs wasn’t the least upset. "Joanie, you have to earn a living too, even if it is a grossly excessive living, Mzzz Money Bags.”

"Thank you for yooor support.”

"We’ll leave a light on.”

"Ghods, quoting Tom Bodett, the sage of Homer Alaska. We’ve both watched too much radio and listened to too much television, Babs. It's turned our minds to Jell-o,” I said, walking away.

"But there's always room for Jell-o."

"Aaaaaaaah! No more, please, have pity!" It took a good half an hour before I didn't start giggling at the slightest thing.

* * * *

To paraphrase Napoleon, a band travels on its stomach. They, Napoleon's army that is, didn't actually march on their stomachs. Besides being slow, it's very hard on the uniforms, and this was in the days before washer-dryer combos. And for prewash? Leaving it in a stream overnight. Like, they didn't even have fabric softener, eeegads!

I'm practicing my blonde; pretty good, eh? I sound like a Canadian!? That's it! We're not going anywhere until the joker fesses up. Come on, I'm waiting. I can wait all day...

As I was saying. With that in mind, I purchased munchies on the way to the studio. I picked up an assortment of subs from a sandwich shop, along with cups, napkins and a cardboard box full of cold, two-liter soda bottles. I got a nice discount, too, from the manager ... the twenty-ish, male manager -- Greg, I think his name was. I’ve his phone number, somewhere. He had these deep blue eyes and a great ass. Hey, I didn’t deliberately unbutton my top! Who do you think I am? Okay, I did, but not that much; it wasn’t like my nipples were showing ... for the most part.

I got couple bags of ice and some several cheap Styrofoam coolers at a supermarket. I’d also picked up some cold beer, wine and a little hard stuff, but that was necessary for my *cunning plan.* I hid that in some additional throw-away foam coolers under my truck bed under cover. I soon arrived at the studio.

"Guys, ladies” -- there were a few females among the bunch -- "could you help unload my truck? I brought food and drink for everybody, as I figured this could go late tonight. If it isn’t enough, I’ll order in pizza or Chinese.”

I opened the crew cab doors, and they quickly had the munchies inside. "That’s everything, unless there is something in the truck bed.”

"There is, but that’s for later.”

"A surprise? I like surprises,” a young backup singer called out. I hoped they were all 21 or older. We set the food up on tables outside the recording room. We moved to the actual studio and settled in.

We were about to play, when I noticed two people I didn’t recognize from earlier. ~~Those must be the musicians with the flight problems.~~ They couldn’t see me, as we had switched into smaller recording booths to isolate us for mixing and overdubbing purposes. Through our headsets, we could hear the mixed *product* and adjust our performances as needed. At times Al or the mixer techs had us performing separately, particularly me, whenever they wanted a cleaner sample of my singing or to act as one of my own backup singers. I am proud to say they did NOT use Autotune on me. I DID overdub myself but that was it.
By eight-something o’clock, we’d run through all of the tunes and had done a couple of test recordings. We took a food break and listened to the tests... the rehearsals, ...um, tests. Whatever!. I was still in my booth, as they need a few more bits from me. Al and the studio techs running the mixing boards looked pleased by break’s end. They played back a possible finished mix of several songs. I went to get a sub and soda; the new guys still hadn’t seen me.

"Gang, that was great. The test recordings are good enough to use for the release tracks. With luck we can wrap this up soon. I know you all are enjoying working together, but she has a tight schedule so the sooner we finish....”

"Al, who are we recording with? You never did tell me, but we know you, and when you asked, we jumped on the first flight out here.”

"Same here, Al; I didn’t bother to ask who it was. Knowing that you were producing, it had to be interesting.”

"Who do you think it is then?” Al was having some fun.

"The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place her. She's damned good, whoever she is. Reminds me some of Pink or Christina Aguilera, though she’s more of a Beyonce with a touch of Aretha Franklin at her peak. I’m stumped.”

"Who was that gal on American Idol a while back, the young mother? She’s a lot like her, but more so.” The other man said in turn.

"So you’re saying she’s, um, ethnic?” Al asked.

"Has to be. The phrasing, the style, and the tone scream it. Plus I overheard one of the staff saying she’s invited to perform on the BET summer special, and that’s why she’s doing this album.”

"Are you sure?”

"As sure as I can be.”

"Me too, she’s just gotta be a sista’.”

"Are you sure? I thought I was more the Nordic Barbie doll type.” I couldn’t resist.

"You!?”

"Damn, I thought I recognized the voice but I never ...”

"Was I any good? I’m kinda new to the business.”

They stared at me slack jawed.

I grinned in triumph. If I could fool industry insiders, I could pull this off.

"The BET invitation was a computer goof, but I figured, why not. I mean, there are gonna be some great artists on the show I‘d love to meet; what talents! And I vehemently support equal opportunity. I’m not doing this to make fun of BET or anybody whose skin differs from me. I may be a strawberry-blonde Barbie doll, but I’m also mutant; can you imagine how many people would discriminate against me, if they could?”

After some embarrassing moments, we settled down and got ready to return to work. It was time I played my trump card.

"Everybody -- and I mean everybody, performers or not -- I brought some more *refreshing* refreshments. Nothing illegal, sorry. Plus, Bongs R Us was closed.” That got some laughs, as musicians have a rep for being drug users. I sniffed a couple of the musicians in an obvious manner. "This group seems clean to me." That got a bigger laugh. "I have beer and wine chilling and will gladly party with you all when, that’s the key, when we finish the recordings to Al and my satisfaction. Um, you’re all 21 or older, right?”

I bounced and did a few of my better dance moves to give the guys and gals a few gratuitous jiggles in all my better places. Hey, it worked on the sub sandwich manager. Most of the guys smiled or looked at me with hunger in their eyes. Two of the women licked their lips, when I looked their way.

"Oh my, I hope I haven’t gone too far?” I pouted guiltily, then giggled. Poor Al looked ready to burst from laughter but kept his cool.

"And I don’t want anyone to feel left out. If you think something could be done better, speak up. Don't let me intimidate you; just think of me as a fellow musician. I’ve been at this music business less than a year, I can benefit from your experience. Heck, I've only been a girl a little longer. I want this session to be fun and memorable. I want you all to be able to say long after, ‘I did my best on Joanie ... ‘s album. Okay?” I teased them blatantly, but I wanted to get this over fast -- not that I didn’t enjoy it. I enjoyed my time with the Johnsons more and wanted all I could get.

* * * *

They worked their hearts out, after my pep talk. It was a grind; we didn’t finish until well after midnight. The party after is a blur. We drank, danced and in general made fools of ourselves, as we listened to the completed tracks. They would need some post-production work, but Al assured me he had everything he needed to finish the album and then some.

Everyone wanted to talk with me, hug me, kiss me, have photos taken with me, and they got *friendlier,* after they’d all had a few. We danced together and took increasingly candid pictures. They’d worked hard so I didn’t begrudge them a little fun. Eventually things wound down, and the sober ones drove the less sober ones to their hotel.

I left the studios a *souvenir* and drove back to Terrace Hill in a happy, bouncy mood. We’d finished much sooner than I’d hoped. The music sounded great and would only sound better after post-production. And my bra was hanging in the studio as a good-luck talisman. I did say we got a little wild at the party. Somebody suggested a game of poker, and this bass player was about to win with a full house.

"Read-'em and weep guys, um, and Joanie. Can anybody beat a full house?”

"I can!”

"With what?” he looked surprised.

"A pair.” I took off my bra. I won. They never looked at my cards. I kept my top on the whole time, I’ll have you know. They looked disappointed.

* * * *

The officers on duty at Terrace Hill got an eyeful when I returned as I jiggled and wobbled my way to bed. ~~Regen or not I really do need a bra. Oh those stairs!~~

Thursday June 07, 2007

I woke to the smell of hot bacon and waffles, literally. Mel held a plate under my nose, as Eric stood by with a large coffee. "We heard that you got in real late, THIS morning,” Mel said in an accusatory tone. Then she giggled, "And we figured you’d need help getting up. As my brother here didn’t trust himself to restrict it to just tickling and shaking you to wake you, we decided on using your breakfast instead.”

They fed me breakfast like I was a patient recuperating from an operation on my hands. I didn’t strictly need the coffee, as drugs are burnt up quickly by my mutant metabolism, and I can get by on little sleep, being a regen. Still the smell and taste of it perked me up, and I appreciated their kind and silly gesture. I finished and got out of bed.

"I’ll take a shower and be dressed in ten minutes or less; time me.” I said walking to the shower as I stripped off my clothes. Behind me I heard…

"Eric, stop it! You’re coming with me.”

I looked back over my shoulder and saw Mel dragging a reluctant Eric out of my room. Apparently, he’d been watching as I stripped… He only saw me from behind, and I was fully covered -- from behind anyway. ~~ I am such a tease!~~

* * * *

I brought my guitar and amp along, as I planned to honor Mel’s request that I visit her school. The commute to Eric’s school was easy, but once we got there I was concerned. The press was getting smarter and surrounded Eric’s school; apparently, I was still big news. We brazened it out and several of Eric’s friends, including that boy Pinky had kissed back on Easter, helped run interference. I made a mental note to ask Eric about him for Pinky. It would do her good to have a boy to talk with other than at Whateley. We drove on to Mel’s school, after running the press gauntlet out of Eric’s.

* * * *

I parked in a visitor’s space at Mel’s school and followed her in. She escorted me to the office then hurried off to class. I walked up to the receptionist/ office worker. She was busy typing something into a PC.

”Could you help me? I’m a friend of Melissa Johnson, one of your students, and she invited me to visit her school. I was hoping I could sit in and observe her classes, or maybe assist a teacher? I’m a part-time teacher in New Hampshire, mostly history and gym. People say I’m a fair musician and singer.”

"One moment, I’m busy wi…” She looked up for a moment while speaking and her voice trailed off. ~~You don’t suppose she recognized me?~~

An intercom buzzed. "Jessica? Where’s the new lunch program budget proposal? I need it for the board meeting tonight.”

She didn’t answer.

"Jessica?”

"Jessica, are you there?”

I heard a door open and someone walking fast in hard-soled shoes on the institutional terrazzo floor. I turned to look.

"Jessica, are you okaaaaay ...”

--- Crash --

The man walked into a desk and toppled over it, proof positive whatever *it* was, I had *It* today. Jessica snapped out of it and rushed to his side.

"Frank, are you okay? Speak to me!”

I got the feeling they were close friends; very close friends, if you know what I mean. Her hugging him, which changed to kissing him when he opened his eyes, seemed proof of that. They made a lovely couple. ~~Why did I think that? Because you’re all hot and bothered for Eric-snookums.~~ My internal voice was being a snot-nosed bitch.

After some embarrassing moments -- I told them, privately, I was happy they were in love, and I wouldn’t tell anyone -- I was given a visitor’s pass and the Principal escorted me to Mel’s classroom.

* * * *

They were covering American history, just for fun, as the semester was all but over. The teacher gave them suggestions of places to visit or books to read to be better prepared for next fall.

"Ms Phillips, Ms Brown will be sitting in on your class for a while today. She’s a part-time teacher and student at a prestigious private school out east. Feel free to take advantage of the opportunity.”

"Sure.”

She turned to see me and almost lost her cool -- almost. "Wel-welcome to my classroom, Ms Brown. I was suggesting to the class ways they could make any summer trips both fun and educational. Maybe you could start off; are you doing anything ... special this summer?”

"I’m on summer break at the moment. The school I’m at has a different schedule from most. I have to be back by the beginning of July for the one month summer session. As my dear friend Mel here has likely told you time and time and time again....” The class laughed, and Mel blushed. "I am new at being a girl which is why I am a student as well as teacher. No, that's not quite right. I'm a student because I am a mutant and need specialized instruction due to powers I acquired, Being a girl is just a complication, a very pleasant one. As for doing something special, besides spending time with Mel and her family, I’m spending the last two weeks of June in Wales, in Great Britain. I’m doing a television show for BBC Wales, honest.”

"What show?”

"Is it famous?”

"Can we see it?” various kids asked.

"It’s a top rated show in England, and it’s fairly popular here, too, but I’m not allowed to talk about it yet. I promise, I’ll let Mel know right before the official announcement, so you’ll have a jump on everyone else; is that fair?”

"Are you planning to visit any historic sites in Wales?”

"That’s a good question, Ms Philips. There is a chance my great-great-grandfather was from Wales, though he may have come from Yorkshire ... or someplace else in England. He’s the one immigrant ancestor my father hasn’t tracked down yet, but record keeping of births, deaths, marriages and residents back in the 1800’s was haphazard at best. At a minimum, I hope to do some research on him, and I want to see Caernarfon castle. It’s where they invest the Prince of Wales.”

"Invest?”

"That’s when they officially give a royal their title, and they swear allegiance to the Crown and such.”

"Exactly, Ms Phillips. So what are you kids doing this summer? We traveled a lot by car each summer, when I was your age, so I might have some suggestions.”

Some were going to camp; some were staying in town and taking enrichment courses: swimming, auto shop, computers and the like. And a few were road tripping, yeah!

To be fair to the rest of her school, I visited several other classes and hung around the cafeteria during lunch to greet any who were interested. I spent a pleasant hour there softly playing my guitar and talking with students and staff. The principal had made an announcement, so the kids were well behaved. Mel hung with me as long as her classes allowed, grinning her head off and basking in the attention.

I left before classes were over to avoid problems with the press endangering the kids.

* * * *

I arrived at the middle school well before they let out for the day. I parked several blocks away to avoid the press. If they were going to play games with the safety of the students in their zeal to get a *scoop*, it was only fair I play games too. I wore a baseball cap and tucked my hair inside my blouse. In my blouse, skort and boots I looked like someone’s older sister ... if their older sister was a Playboy Centerfold. I walked past the reporters without any problems; they were busy readying their cameras, practicing their intros, touching up their make-up and expensive hair-dos. The female reporters were almost as bad. They were expecting me in my crew cab; a tall girl on foot elicited no interest. I walked to the school office and asked to speak with the principal.

"I was told you wish to speak with me?” She looked at me, the gears in her head spinning.

"Let's save time. I’m Joanie, the part time singer and full time mutant. I’m visiting the Johnsons -- the Governor and his family. I’m Eric’s ride home, and I was worried about the press. They are getting increasingly aggressive, and I fear for the safety of the other students and staff. I also wish to offer my services for your school tomorrow. I could attend some classes, give a speech, meet and greet any who are interested -- whatever you think best. I want to thank the people of Iowa for accepting me so openly.”

We moved into her office, where we agreed to a visit tomorrow. In the interest of the student’s safety, she sent a secretary to fetch Eric.

"Ms Brown…”

"Joanie.”

"Yes, Joanie, may I ask about your relationship to Eric? I remember you from the school dance, and you seemed to fit in surprisingly well.”

"In what way do you mean that?” Alarm bells went off in my head. ~~Ah-OOOOO-GA!~~

"I know your official *history*, that you were in your forties and a man before your mutation. How is it you seemed to fit in so easily as a young woman?”

”I don’t know for sure. Much of it is due to my new body, I guess. I'm a female of seventeen, medically, and therefore my brain is female and seventeen despite all those years of male memories. The night of the dance was a chance to experience life as if I had been born female, and I liked it. Everyone I met treated me so nicely, and the Johnsons were like my favorite aunt and uncle or best friend's parents. I assure you that any relationship I have with Eric is platonic, one of friendship and an abiding respect for him and his family." So I lied, sue me!

The school let Eric out early, but then classes were all but over for the semester. We snuck out a door near their loading dock and got to my truck unnoticed. I felt like a spy who’d just sneaked over the border. I called Mel’s school; they let her out a seldom used side door, and we avoided any problems.

During supper we, the whole family that is, discussed matters, and I reluctantly agreed to let a State Patrol car take them to school the rest of my visit.

Later, I checked in with Whateley and asked my friends to research international laws regarding familiars and sorceresses. I was sure the magic department had familiarity -- get it familiarity? -- with any relevant laws or international treaties. I had no intention of taking Miki with me, but I wanted to be scrupulously fair with her and not let any lingering male attitudes about the *delicacy* of pregnant women to cloud my decision. 'Any creature that has lived as long as her, and defeated as many of the possessed as her, is not delicate.' I keep telling myself that, then I picture the pregnant cutie in my mind and get all protective.

* * * *

To be continued soon.

John in Wauwtosa

Please continue to comment. It is valued and has the virtue of shutting me up for a while.

-- GRIN --