Part VI

If you're under 18 or dislike Transgender stories, don't read this.
I would like to thank Anyport for his permission to write this sequel to his story, The Transformation, and use the characters he created.
I would like to thank Tigger for allowing me to include a guest appearance by his character, "Aunt" Jane Thompson. I would especially like to thank Steve Zink for editing such a very long story for me.
(This story is set in the Vaingirls universe.)
©2003 Turn Right Productions

When Lou opened the door and saw Robbie, if she hadn't been wearing shoes, she probably would have jumped out of her socks. As it was, she stood stock still, looked her up and down, looked at Joan, who had a mile wide grin on her face, having just taken a pic, looked back at Robbie, and called out, "Ed, get your luscious buns out here; you've got to see this!!"

Ed turned the corner into the vestibule, and stopped dead in her tracks. "OHMYGAWD! Is this ... ?"

Lou nodded.

Robbie said, "Surprise!" and gave them a twirl.

"How ... ?"

"When ... ?"

"Where ... ?"

"OHMYGAWD, Robbie?!"

"Robbie!?"

Joan stepped forward, and held out both hands palms forward. "Ladies, enough! It seems as though your protégée has anticipated and exceeded your expectations. Come, give her appropriate kisses and hugs." As they did, she took pictures. The photographic story of this evening should prove to make a very effective sales brochure, she thought, dollar signs once again dancing in her head.

As they were, by this time, in the heads of both Lou and Ed. Like Joan, even as they were hugging Robbie they were thinking of her sale, and how much her own actions had added to the price she would bring. It was like Rose times two.

Later, they were seated in the living room, drinks in hand. Joan had a little twinge of concerned premonition when she saw that Robbie was drinking Jack Daniels neat, but it quickly passed. Robbie had explained to them how he had gotten wise to what they were doing, loved it, and upon her friend Stephanie's and Joan's separate urgings, decided to surprise them.

With the end of Robbie's story, the three conspirators noticed that Robbie's speech was becoming a little slurred, and that she was slumping a little in her chair. She opened her purse and took out a hankie. She took a swipe at her forehead, missed, and the hand that held the hankie brushed the top of the back of the couch she was seated upon. She tried again, got it right, and seemed to straighten up a little.

Seeing that she seemed better, Ed urged her to describe her visit to Vaingirls, and to talk about the four girls themselves. She delivered Joyce's conciliatory message. Lou and Ed were a little dubious at first, but when Joan backed her up, they accepted it. Never realizing they, including Joan, were being played for suckers, they were led to believe that Robbie and the Vaingirls were the suckers.

During all this, Robbie once again slumped, this time further down on the couch. Finally, she gave a little moan, fell sideways so her head rested on the pillow at the end of the couch, and passed out.

Joan rushed over and examined her; pulling up her eyelids, she could see that her pupils had rolled up, only the whites were showing. She seemed a bit flushed, but her heart rate and breathing seemed regular. Joan concluded that it was probably just exhaustion, coupled with the liquor. While Robbie had her own room there, Lou and Ed decided to put her on the day bed in their office, because it was closer and they could check on her easier from time to time. She was, after all, a valuable commodity. Once they had laid her on the day bed, Joan gave her one last quick check, and then all three returned to the lounge. If they had stayed a minute more, they might have seen Robbie's eyes flutter as she began to awake much sooner than any of the three anticipated.

All through her youth, Barbara Dahal had been subjected to the culture of feminine beauty. No even remotely masculine toys or playthings for her mother's girl, and only the frilliest and most feminine of outfits to wear. She had been entered in every beauty pageant her mother could afford, and she usually won; she REALLY did look like Barbie. When she entered school, it became apparent that she had brains as well as beauty, a fact that was lost on her mother but not, fortunately, on her father, a police officer with the Chicago Police department. It was he who pulled strings to get her into the gifted magnet schools as she grew, and who encouraged her love of learning. Barbara quickly learned that to most others in the brains/beauty competition, brains lost, and she realized that if she didn't want to end up as a former Miss Something-or- other, grinning brainlessly on Hollywood Squares one day, she would have to be twice as good as the men around her at whatever she chose to be thought half as good. But, like Charlotte Whitton had said, luckily that wasn't difficult. When she reached high school and came into the full flower of her beauty, she went through a phase where she tried to hide it. She quickly found that that was a losing battle; she was a hottie, no matter what.

Then she learned a valuable lesson: The more a man - or woman - underestimated her, the easier they were to deal with in whatever manner she chose; beauty could be a weapon. Her father, much to the disgust of her mother, had made sure that she was trained in conventional weaponry, not only in firearms usage, but in the martial arts as well, and she had several black belts. On her own, she had trained with a variety of other weapons and was an expert with bladed weapons. With beauty added in, Barbara rather fancied herself the American Lara Kroft.

When she turned eighteen, a week after high school graduation, she had packed up all her pageant ball gowns, all her tiaras and trophies, and taken them to Goodwill. From Goodwill, she had gone to the nearest Navy recruiter and joined up. A year later she was a Navy Seal, having completed training with the highest rating up to that time, male or female. (The first day of training, a 6'5", three hundred pound male, one of her classmates, sneeringly stated in a voice loud enough for her and all the other recruits to hear that they'd have to keep the pace slow so "Barbie won't break a nail". Barbara heard later that he ended up in the base hospital for the next month. Her commander, secretly pleased, covered for her and, as soon as he could, promoted her.) Eight years and an amazing number of covert operations later, she decided that she was getting a little too old for the Seals, and anything else the Navy had to offer she felt would seem too tame by comparison. It was time to move on.

It was a fairly easy step into the CIA. After a year of training, she went undercover. For the next four years, she popped up in various trouble spots all over Europe and Asia. With the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union, she felt that the CIA could do without her, and she retired. It was time to have some fun, so she returned to Chicago.

The first thing she did was mend fences with her mother by entering the Miss Chicago pageant, and, at thirty years of age, she won. It's probable that the "accidental" breaking of the host's left leg - he had patted her butt as she began her runway walk - was responsible for her not continuing further; the runner up took her place.

She debated joining the Chicago Police, but, surprisingly, her father urged her not to, telling her that she should be her own boss. Secretly, he was afraid of what havoc his daughter might raise on the still mostly misogynist male CPD. Barbara took his advice to heart, and set herself up as a private investigator.

In the course of an investigation involving a Chicago charitable organization, she uncovered undoubtable evidence that the charity's director, already under indictment, was actually guilty of skimming charity funds into his own Cayman Islands account. She passed the evidence on to the district attorney who, of course, had to pass it on the the man's lawyer, one G.A. Hall.

With the charity in question being one of her own personal causes, she was anxious to see justice done, and attended the accused's trial. She was somewhat perplexed by Mr. Hall's defense of his client. While brilliant on the surface, there were nuances which she felt the jury would view as detrimental to his client; nothing she could really put her finger on, just nuances. Sure enough, the jury found his client guilty. As Mr. Hall was leaving the courtroom, she approached him, introduced herself, and asked if she could buy him lunch. He agreed, if they could go to Billy Goat's for cheeseburgers. She had laughed. 'A man after my own heart,' she had thought, but also, 'there is something unusual about this man.'

As they seated themselves at Billy Goat's with their trays containing the famous cheeseburgers, chips, and "Pepsi, no Coke", she realized what it was that was so unusual. Mr. G.A. Hall was the first man she had met in a long time who had not once let his gaze linger on her breasts! Further, as they had ridden in a cab to Billy Goat's, he had complimented her on her outfit; not just the usual male, "You look really nice," but, "Very nice suit; Ann Taylor, right?" (And he was!) "That scarf and those shoes really add to the outfit, too." And then he had asked her where she bought the shoes! As they started to eat, she wondered if he would ask her where she had her hair done.

At first she thought maybe he was gay, but as they talked, she began to get a different idea. She had disclosed that it was she who had gathered the evidence that had damned his client. He admitted that he had seriously considered just dropping his client when he had first seen that evidence, but that it had occurred to him that a new lawyer and all that that entailed legally might very well result in his client's acquittal. He explained that to him, seeing justice done was his objective, not the acquittal of his client, and that he told his clients that up front. If the two were one and the same, fine; if not, well, she had just seen "if not ...". Had he manipulated the jury? Yes, he had, and what did she think about that? She approved; he was her kind of guy!

But what kind of guy wore mascara? She was CIA trained to be an observer; as she had looked him over, her subconscious was sorting and evaluating everything about his appearance, and had noticed traces of what was certainly mascara on his eyelashes, as well as little patches of skin discoloration which, in light of the mascara, were probably makeup. She looked at his hands; while not overtly feminine, she noticed that his nails were a bit longer than most men's, and much better kept, as was his hair, also. As the lunch was coming to a close, she decided to go for broke. Leaning in close to him, in a voice she believed only he could hear, she said, "You know G.A., you really should use remover on your eyes; that brand of mascara doesn't come off completely with just soap and water."

Instead of reacting with indignation or embarrassment, his face had lit up with a truly lovely smile - a girl's smile, she thought. "Damn, you're good! I tell you what, why don't you join my wife, my sister, and me for dinner tonight at Trader Vic's, our treat. We've been talking mostly about my work, and I really would like to know more about you and your work. I think you'll find a number of questions you must have will be answered, also." As much as the curiosity, the fact that a PI's salary didn't allow for eating at upscale places like Trader Vic's had convinced her to agree. They climbed the stairs from Billy Goat's to North Michigan Ave., and parted, she with the prospect of going home and digging through her closet for something suitable to wear to Trader Vic's. As she got out of the cab that evening, she had to pay particular attention to making sure the cab driver, who HAD stared intently at her chest as she had entered the cab, didn't get a free T & A show. She had opted for a LBD, sexy as only a "That Doll" look alike could be sexy. Strapless and tight to her calves then a spray of chiffon. She'd even gone the above the elbow satin gloves route. She wanted to see if he would be concerned about the designer of this outfit or about ... other things.

As she stood scanning the tables inside Trader Vic's, she was approached by a cute redheaded woman in an electric blue gown. "Are you Ms. Dahal? Barbara?" She nodded. "We're all over here." As she led Barbara toward a table in the back, she introduced herself. "I'm Karen Hall, G.A.'s wife. G.A. said to tell you that something came up, and he couldn't make it tonight, but he sent a replacement and wanted you to have a nice meal anyway." By that time, they had reached the table and the two women seated at it, one blonde, the other raven haired. Karen did the introductions: "This is my husband's sister, Joyce Hall, she runs Vaingirls over on Halsted Street." She indicated the raven haired woman. "And this is my very best girlfriend, Georgieanne Hall." She indicated the blonde.

Joyce was beautiful, a young Elizabeth Taylor, Barbara had thought, same violet eyes. 'And she knows it!' noting that her gown was a matching violet. But the blonde: Stunning! She was dressed in white, but the gown's fabric was clingy and glittery, causing the woman to look anything but virginal - almost a Barbie herself, she noted ruefully, letting herself think the hated name. And there was something about her. As she and Karen were seated by the waiter, she began to put two and two together. Turning to Joyce, she asked, "Vaingirls; what a curious name. What exactly is Vaingirls, Miss Hall?"

Joyce had laughed, and turned to Georgieanne. "She's good. I think she's on the trail, SISTER, dear." She turned to Barbara. "Bluntly?" Barbara had nodded. "We turn boys into various degrees of girls."

Barbara turned to Georgieanne. "Well, MISTER Hall, you certainly are full of surprises! I expected something like this, but I never expected you to look so absolutely drop dead gorgeous. You have an aura of femininity that, before tonight, I would have said was impossible to fake."

"That's because MISTER Hall isn't here," laughed Georgieanne. "We agreed - Joyce can tell you the story; it's quite a tale - that when I'm out, he's in, in the virtual rec room in our mind, that is. I imagine that right now he and his masculinity are lounging in front of the virtual big screen TV with a virtual cold beer in one hand and the virtual remote control in the other, surfing through the virtual sports channels. Oh," she added as Barbara started to interrupt, "he's aware of what's going on, and we share skills and knowledge. He can give me a good shot of testosterone in an emergency, but mostly he stays in the background and enjoys the ride. I do the same when he's out; I thoroughly enjoyed his lunch with you this afternoon, for example, but I'll wager that no one other than yourself would have ever have picked up on those minuscule remnants of me or thought him in any way effeminate."

"True, MISS Hall ..."

"Call me Georgieanne."

"And call me Joyce."

"And me Karen."

"... Okay, Georgieanne, Joyce, and Karen, you can call me Barb or Barbara, anything but ..."

"BARBIE!" the three chorused, in unison.

Barbara put her head in her hands and groaned.

The evening had progressed, and she had found out the whole G.A./Georgieanne story. The four women - and G.A., in absentia - had become fast friends. Later, she and G.A. sort of drifted into an unofficial partnership, working together on several cases. She socialized regularly with the trio, one of whom was about half the time G.A. and the other half Georgieanne. Thus, she was not really surprised when Joyce called her and told her of her suspicions about Ed and Lou.

'Which,' thought Barbara, as she, Steve, and G.A. stood just outside the door to Lou and Ed's Condo, 'Is why I'm here tonight. Time to get the bad guys!'

For those who might be getting confused, here's a

CHARACTER LIST

OUR HERO(INE):

ROSE/ROSS THORN:* Computer geek, shemale slave, proud transsexual woman, and Adain's lover. Wreaker of vengeance, provider of new beginnings, and seeker of closure.

OUR VILLAINS:

LOUISE EDWARDS & EDWINA PORTER:* Ross's employers and his and Rose's false friends and betrayers. Nasty ladies.

DR. JOAN ADKINS:* World famous psychiatrist and sexual reassignment surgeon to the public and mistressmind of a shemale slave auction service in private: A study in yin and yang.

OUR HEROINE'S FRIENDS:

ADAIN/ADAINIA/DAINIE/LITTLE DAINIE BEN HARIESH: Rose's buyer and lover: Handsome gay (?) male Arab multi-billionaire, beautiful woman, beautiful submissive maid, adorable little girl, Adain may well win an Oscar out of all this.

SALIELAH BEN HARIESH: Adain's adopted sister and sidekick and Rose's best friend

JOYCE HALL: Raven haired owner of Vaingirls, Chicago's best transformation salon. beautiful, talented, and a deadly foe of both unbridled testosterone and evil estrogen. Her story is told in "Vaingirls: Joyce's Story"

ELIZABETH/?: Vaingirls' fiery redhead hair expert

BETHANY/?: Vaingirls' brunette nails and makeup expert

JESSICA/JAY: Vaingirls' blonde bombshell seamstress and saleswoman extraordinaire. Former Vaingirl's client, daughter and former son of Steve.

STEVE/STEPHANIE: Reluctant (to begin with) and BIG T-girl, former Vaingirls client, and Jessica's father. Robbie's lover and best girlfriend.

BARBARA DAHAL: Beauty contest winner, Navy SEAL, CIA, private investigator. Looks exactly like "That Doll". Don't ever call her ... well, you know...

G.A./GEORGIEANNE HALL: Joyce's brother/sister, Vaingirls' lawyer, Barbara's unofficial partner. His/her story is told in "Vaingirl's: Joyce's Story"

ROBBIE/ROBERT SAUNDERS: Louise and Edwina's current project, Marine, BIG T-girl. Steve's lover and Stephanie's best girlfriend

KAREN HALL: G.A.'s wife, Georgieanne's best girlfriend

OTHERS:

"AUNT" JANE THOMPSON:** Mistress of Seasons House School for Wayward Boys in New England, Joyce's friend, Dainie's trainer

JACK THOMPSON (no relation to Jane): Joan's friend, Owner of The Whip & Cuff, Chicago's premiere bondage club, secretly loves Stella

STELLA/STAN: Forced by Joan Adkins to be an ugly BIG T-girl and work as a submissive at the Whip & Cuff Club

SAMUEL "MARK" CLEMMENS: Chicago firefighter who helps Robbie

NURSE: Takes care of Ross/Rose in the hospital in Constantinople

MUSTAFA: Cabdriver for Ross/Rose in Constantinople

GABRIELLE & FRIEND: Constantinople librarian and her beautician friend. They help and makeover Ross/Rose, just helping another Chicago "girl" in distress

* -- Anyport's original characters
** - Aunt Jane appears courtesy of and with the permission of Tigger.
/? - Elizabeth and Bethany are T-girls, but even Joyce doesn't know their drab names; they never tell.

FYI:
BLONDES: Rose, Jessica, Barbara, Georgieanne, Robbie
REDHEADS: Elizabeth, Stephanie, Karen, "Aunt" Jane
RAVEN: Joan, Adainia, Salielah, Joyce
BRUNETTE: Bethany, Louise, Edwina

Down on the street, in the back of Karen's black Ford van - a van indistinguishable from thousands of other vans like it, which is why it had been borrowed for tonight - a previously red light on the control panel in front of Joyce changed from red to green. She flipped some switches, and a tape recorder began to run. "Show time!" she said. "Robbie's planted and activated the mic." Rose, seated kitty-corner from Joyce and facing the back of the van, turned and gave her a thumbs up; then her fingers began to dance over a computer console.

Up in the apartment, two things were happening:

1) As they returned to their living room, Lou and Ed were sky high and in a gloating mood. They couldn't believe their good fortune. Joan decided to go home and leave them to it. She'd had a busy week and needed some sleep, and now she knew she'd have sweet dreams. 'Counting dollars instead of sheep!' she thought, and smiled. She promised to stop at the 24 hour Osco and get the evenings pics developed. Once she was gone, Lou and Ed refilled their glasses, relaxed into their recliners, and toasted each other; Ed lit a cigarette. They began to talk about how they would sell Robbie, to whom, and how much money they expected to make from the sale - totally unaware of the tiny, perfectly working microphone Robbie had planted on the back of the couch.

2) Robbie couldn't believe her good fortune; their best case scenario had come true, and she was alone with Lou and Ed's computer. The plan had been to give Lou and Ed enough rope to hang themselves, and record it all. The computer would be a bonus; now, if it was only connected to Transformation System's mainframe. Robbie got up and turned it on; it was! Quickly, she followed the instructions Rose had made her memorize for bypassing Lou and Ed's security, and connecting the mainframe to Rose's computer down in the van. (Since Ross had been the one to install Transformation Systems' security in the first place, this wasn't difficult.)

They expected Robbie, with "his" Marine training, to be able to take care of herself, and G.A. represented the "easy" way of handling the situation. He had a search warrant. When Joyce had asked him how he got it, he had just told her that she didn't want to know. But it was perfectly legal. The arrest warrant in Barbara's pocket wasn't, but Lou and Ed wouldn't know that until it was too late. These would be used if Lou and Ed decided to come quietly; Barbara rather hoped they wouldn't.

Half an hour later, down in the van, Rose tapped Joyce on the shoulder, and she turned. "Okay. Transformation Systems' mainframe, and some extra goodies those two had hidden elsewhere, are all downloaded."

Joyce's cell phone rang. She picked it up, placed it to her ear, listened, and then turned it off. "That was Jess. They've got it all on Vaingirls' computer, and Beth and Liz are making hard copies now. Upstairs, they're rambling, repeating themselves. I think they're three quarters snockered. Let me call G.A. and get a legal opinion as to whether we have enough." She punched a number into her cell phone, and again put it to her ear. "Hey, Bro, you been monitoring all this? Have we got all we need?" She turned back to Rose. "He says okay."

Rose smiled, 'About damn time!' "Let's go get 'em, sis!"

Joyce told G.A. they were coming up, and set the recorder to automatic record, but on a new tape. If things got physical or not strictly legal, she didn't want it on their "legal" tape. Rose was already climbing out of the van, and Joyce followed her. She had seen the feral and predatory smile on Rose's face and shuddered, glad she wasn't in Lou and Ed's place.

When all four were together, three faces turned to Rose; this was her show. The three were dressed identically in nondescript jeans and sweatshirts, chosen for their loose fit allowing freedom of action, but Rose, Rose was different. Rose looked like the dominatrix from Hell. She was in black leather from feet to neck, but black leather for action, not show: boots with low block heels instead of stilettos, slacks instead of short skirt and fishnets, a T instead of a bustier. Her nails were blood red, but action length, her hair in a severe French twist. She was reality, not fantasy. She gave a nod to Barbara, who extracted a lock pick from her pocket, knelt, and went to work. After about thirty seconds, there was a click and they knew the door was unlocked.

"Okay," said G.A., "let's see if the easy way works." He knocked on the door.

The door hinged on his left, and opened inward. Joyce stood on his right against the wall hidden from view; she had Barbara's Webley- Vickers in her hand. Having been raised as a boy by her father, like her brothers she had been taught by him to shoot a handgun. She experienced a rare moment of gratitude toward the man. Rose stood to the left of the door, also hidden from view. Barbara was behind G.A.. She would appear unarmed to Lou or Ed; appearances would, if necessary, be discovered to be quite deceiving.

Inside the apartment, Lou and Ed heard the knock, and Lou waved at Ed, who was closest to the entrance way. "Who the hell would be knocking on our door at 10:30 at night?" complained Ed.

"Maybe it's Joan. Maybe she forgot something." Lou continued waving Ed toward the entrance way. "Go let her in." Both women were MORE than three quarters tipsy.

Ed walked to the door and focused on the peephole. Since G.A, still had his ear speaker in, and was still receiving the broadcast from the mini-mic that Robbie had planted, he had quickly motioned Barbara to get in front of him to see if they could bluff their way in. Thus, what Ed saw in her inebriated condition was a rather blurry female shape that she took to b2 Joan. She opened the door. "Hi Jo-"

Barbara stepped aside, and G.A. entered the apartment. "Ms. Edwina Porter? I-"

Ed turned quickly, and moved toward the living room. "Lou, it's a guy! Watch out!"

'All Right!' thought Barbara, as she swiftly moved around G.A., who prudently moved to get out of her way. She pirouetted and kicked Ed's feet out from under her, then did a leap over her as she collapsed to the ground. When she looked up, Ed found she was looking straight down the barrel of the Webley-Vickers. "Hello, Edwina, nice to see you again," said Joyce, with a wicked grin on her face.

Landing on the other side of Ed, Barbara spun on her left foot around the corner of the entrance way and into the living room, drawing her throwing knife as she did so. Lou was rising from a crouch, pulling a gun from under the sofa cushions, and swinging its barrel toward her. Barbara threw the knife, and it pierced Lou's wrist, causing her to drop the gun to the floor without firing it.

At the same time, Robbie, having stripped for action, dove out of the den doorway behind her in just her bra, panties, garter belt, and hose, did a shoulder roll, and kicked Lou's legs out from under her. Lou was left with the full weight of her torso hanging from her arm, her wrist impaled and stuck to the cabinet of the entertainment center by Barbara's knife.

The knife was a special one, picked just for this possibility. It was more like an ice pick than a cutting knife, so it just held Lou there, and there was very little blood. Sometimes, when the mood struck her, Barbara COULD see the humor in her name. The handle of the knife was pink, and had the famous doll's name and picture on it. It was NOT an official Mattel accessory.

Lou only had time for the barest beginning of a scream, because Robbie finished her roll by grabbing a doily off the coffee table and stuffing it in her mouth.

A second later, Barbara reached Lou, pulled the knife out of the wall, leaving her wrist impaled, and grabbed her right shoulder. Robbie grabbed her left shoulder, and the two hoisted her into a sitting position on the couch. Barbara gave Robbie the once over: "Well, don't you look adorable, Little Miss Easy."

"Hey, I saved your bacon, Bar ... uh, blondie!" ('Discretion is the better part of valor,' she thought, as she changed the name she would use.) The two women stood over Lou, who was in shock, grinned, then high-fived each other, Navy and Marines of one mind, for once.

That's how Joyce and G.A. found them when they entered the living room. Joyce entered first, pushing Ed ahead of her. She had secured Ed's hands behind her with the arms of her own sweatshirt so that Ed was in her skirt and just her lacy pink bra. Joyce held the gun to Ed's temple. When they were close enough to the couch, they pushed Ed down beside Lou. Then they did a double take at Robbie. At the same time, Joyce and G.A. came out with, "Well, don't you look ..."

"DON'T EVEN START!" said Robbie menacingly, but then spoiled it by giggling. "I wonder what my old Marine sergeant would say about this combat gear?"

All four cracked up, while Ed glared and Lou just made little mewing noises while cradling her wrist, the knife still in it. She hadn't even attempted to remove the makeshift gag. Finally, Robbie and Barbara, the ones with combat first aid training, knelt and looked at her wrist. "Clean wound," commented Robbie. "No tendons or major blood vessels cut. Damn, lady, you're good!"

"Occasionally, something our government does turns out well," laughed Barbara; "I'm it." She pulled the knife out, sprayed it with antiseptic from her kit, shoved it back through neatly without additional cutting, and pulled it out again, all before Lou could even respond. Then she field dressed it. "We'll fix it up nicer when we get you two to where we're going," she told Ed, who seemed the only one capable of coherent thought.

Finally, Ed burst out, "Robbie, what is this? Why are you doing this? Why have you brought HER - she spat at Joyce - over here? Who are these people? Why? We're your friends ..."

Robbie interrupted. "Oh, can it, Ed! I know all about your little scheme to sell me, and, frankly, I'm really pissed!" She didn't realize it, but she had slipped into Robert's voice; testosterone time! She yanked Ed to her feet, spun her around and untied her so she could fight back if she chose, and began pushing her toward the entrance way.

"Someone oughta slug you! (push) Yeah, someone oughta slug you! (push - 'McClintock' was one of Robert's favorite movies.) But I'm not gonna do it! (push) No, I'm not gonna do it!" He - she was definitely Robert now - cocked his arm, but found it held. He was moved aside as if he were a feather.

"No. You're not going to do it." The black leather clad figure looked Ed right in the eye. "I am!" With every ounce of strength she possessed, backed by almost four years of anticipating this moment, Rose threw her punch. Ed's jaw snapped up and her neck snapped back. She was literally lifted off the floor, and she crashed back onto the couch into almost the exact same position she had been in when Robbie had yanked her up.

"Christ, Rose, you could have killed her!" said Joyce, as she knelt to examine Ed. Remarkably, Ed was both conscious and apparently not seriously hurt.

"Nah," said Rose, dusting her hands as she came up before the two women. They looked at her wide eyed, recognition dawning. "I know how to pull my punches. Hello, Louise." She stood before them, straight and tall, a vision in black leather from their worst nightmares. "Hello, Edwina." And then Rose smiled a smile to strike terror into their hearts. In her best Arnold Schwarzenegger imitation, she said, "I'm Baaack!"

G.A., who hadn't broken a sweat, stepped smoothly to Rose's side. He looked at her; "may I?" She nodded. "Ladies," he nodded to Ed and Louise, "here's the deal. I have here a search warrant and an arrest warrant." He set his briefcase on the coffee table, snapped it open, and extracted the two documents. He showed them to Ed - Lou was still pretty much out of things - but she made no move to take them. He replaced them in the briefcase. "We have a recording of everything you've said here for the past half hour, plus Robbie broke your computer security codes, so Transformation Systems has no secrets from us. You are looking at a long, long, vacation in scenic Joliet, Illinois, my dears."

Ed and Lou, who was finally coming out of her haze, looked horror stricken. "However, my employer is willing to offer you an alternative proposal that would allow you to avoid incarceration, and even still live in the type of environment you have become used to. You will not be dealt with physically, mentally, or financially beyond what is stated in the papers I will present for your signatures. I suggest you read them, but you need to decide. Right here, right now. You have five minutes."

Ed looked at Lou. Lou looked at Ed, and nodded. Ed said, "No jail." Lou nodded. As teenagers, both girls had watched "Scared Straight" on TV and had believed it; prison life was definitely not for them.

G.A. pulled two sets of documents from his briefcase. He noticed some large books on the coffee table, and indicated that each woman should take one. When they had, he handed each a set of the documents. Pulling two pens from his shirt pocket, he gave one to each. "There are three documents; sign all three by the "X", then trade and sign all three by the "XX" as witnesses to each other's signatures. Miss Hall is a notary public, and will notarize them. The five minutes begin now." He turned to Barbara. "Miss Dahal, will you assist Ms. Edwards if she needs it? We want her signature to appear normal."

Barbara moved to offer help to Lou, but Lou was able to sign without it. Both women exchanged papers, and signed again. As G.A. had expected, neither made any attempt to read what they were signing. They looked up to see Rose and Robbie with identical satisfied but predatory smiles on their faces, and wondered if they hadn't just made the biggest mistakes of their lives.

They had.

G.A. took two small cases out of his briefcase - the briefcase that Lou and Ed were beginning to view as a veritable cornucopia of surprises, most of them likely to be unpleasant. "These are special contact lenses," he explained. He handed the cases to Barbara. "When Miss Dahal inserts them, you will be temporarily blind, but will appear to the world as if you weren't. So much less noticeable than a blindfold. You will let her insert them."

Barbara knelt in front of Lou. Washing each lens in her palm with lens fluid, she then inserted them. She moved, and did the same for Ed. Both ladies seemed in shock; neither made a protest of any kind.

Now they were almost done. Robbie looked around the room for Ed's pack of cigarettes, but noticed there was a cigarette, amazingly, still burning undisturbed in the ashtray on the end table by where Ed had been sitting. She walked over to it and with her fingernail, bumped it just a little; a few seconds later, it fell from the ashtray onto the table and from there rolled onto the floor, it's burning end touching the copy of the Tribune lying there. Barbara had pulled Lou to her feet, and Rose had done the same for Ed. They guided them into the entrance way and out the door held open by G.A., who had gathered their purses.