Skin Deep: The Dance - Chapter 4 free porn video

Chapter 4 Alone At The Dance Detective Marion Callahan, known by some of his compatriots as 'Dirty Mary', of the Rouston, Pennsylvania police department, had found himself with a bit of time on his hands. In fact, those times when Marion didn't have the whole day at his desk were very rare these days. The force tried to make sure this man pushed as much paper across his desk and as many doughnuts past his teeth as possible. Detective Callahan was undoubtedly the worst police office the force had seen in over two hundred years. He hadn't solved a case in over eight years, ever since the undiagnosed effects of advanced syphilis had begun to slowly eat away portions of the man's brain. If given the chance, he would be the first to tell you that the man accused and widely believed to be the murderer of the victim of the case that brought his career to a screeching halt was in fact wrongly accused. Oh, he was more than likely a criminal. A career criminal at that Callahan believed. He was even a murderer maybe, but not guilty of this crime. Not as it had been recorded. The chase in to the water at the Rouston shipyards had closed the case in everyone's mind but Callahan's. Never mind that they never found the body to prove that the man they had chased into the harbor that afternoon was, in fact, dead. That was irrelevant. No body meant the current had taken him away or the molecular displacement of the HOV's jet wash ripped him apart some how underwater. The perp had never resurfaced either on the water or out of it. In the eyes of the public that was enough. The most dubious information was that not so much as a single piece of fiber evidence or fingerprint had ever turned up after his HOV went crashing in to the harbor during a spectacular chase west from the university that linked this man to Vello. For Callahan, it was OK in his mind that a body had never been found in that murder case. He was convinced that there had been two distinct crimes, one a murder the other afterward a cover-up. He believed the murderer was still at large and the robbery scene was a ruse. He looked at the enlargements taken one day some nineteen years ago. Originally, there had been hundreds of them, but Callahan had singled out and neatly filed a dozen taken over a period of about twenty-four hours. Marked on each was a date and time of exposure. Most were of color shots of a funny-dressed girl with auburn colored hair. In the first of the series, this girl about eighteen or nineteen years old was just making the turn from the street down an alley that led behind the dorm building of the victim. Callahan marveled at the quality of the image. The photo had been taken at night, the subject stood bathed in the glow of a sodium vapor lamp on the sidewalk. It was clear she was turning to go in to the alley. The girl was in profile but every feature of her face could be seen clearly. She was beautiful beyond words. Her body was shapely, you could see that even under the sweater and skirt she wore. Her clothes were a bit miss-matched but that had really been the fashion of the day now hadn't it been? Yes, Callahan thought, she was perfect. Certainly any testosterone- pumped male would have fallen easily to her persuasiveness. Would a man fall hard enough for this girl to commit murder? "Yes." He whispered the answer to his own question in the darkened office, a spark of sexual tension jumped in the old detective's pants. He rubbed himself as he thought about the girl. Callahan was completely and utterly insane. His co-workers knew he was strange. Actually, they knew he had been becoming exponentially stranger as time passed. He had two more years to retirement but no one wanted to see him shoved out on the street without it, not in today's economic climate. You either had or you had not. The 'have-not's' literally had not a pot to piss in, no food, no means of getting quality, healthy food; only meat substitutes, bean curd representations of half remembered American staples and healthy doses of rot gut water ale. When Callahan was a young man bullets were still being used-he had taken a few. He had stood between a few officers younger than he and had 'taken one in the neck' so to speak. That could not be forgotten. If they had known about the state of his dementia, they would have rocketed him off the force quicker than a solar flare leaps off the face of the sun but he would have taken none of the benefits he needed to take with him to survive today. He knew who she was now. Had for quite a while in fact. Maybe he could show her that schmuck husband was a killer. Maybe she would see that he was the true hero. Fire grew between his old, fat wrinkled legs. Yes, perhaps she would see that he was a real man, not some pussy fry cook. With his other sweaty hand he palmed the next photo. It showed the girl in the window of the victim's room drawing the shade. The next was an image of the girl emerging from the alley later the next day. The next, was a photo of her crossing the street and then out of site of the bank VID that had taken the images. When the investigation had been conducted into Vello's disappearance, he had looked at the back window and found pieces of flip-flops stuck in the rough surface of the bricks. They were similar to the ones the girl in the picture seemed to be wearing. To Callahan, the images suggested (and was clearly evidence in his mind) that Vello had been porking the girl. The idea disgusted him. Filthy little rock and roll pukes always seemed able to con and deceive the pretty girls into bed with them. Callahan knew how they did it too. Drugs! They drugged them. Why else would a beautiful woman want to sleep with a smelly, longhaired rock puke? All these rock and roll pukes secretly wanted to be women anyway. A new series showed images of the man everyone considered to be the perpetrator. This man was a large Native American, Callahan always referred to him as 'Injun Joe'. His contempt of this man was clear. Callahan felt there was no way he could have perpetrated this crime, the murder that is. No evidence was ever been found in the HOV that linked Vello and 'Injun Joe' at all. Yeah, he'd been seen in the apartment; but Vello was not dead at the point the witness who placed him there had seen him. Vello was on the bed, apparently ill according to the girl who claimed to be Vello's girlfriend at the time.. In Callahan's mind, he could dismiss the fact that this man was with Vello just hours before he was never seen again as long as he could reason that Vello was still alive at that point. It didn't matter how suspicious the fact was-that that Sandy Cochran woman did not recognize this stranger or that no one that knew Vello could put a name to this man, suggesting that he was in fact, unknown to Vello, and shouldn't have been in his room. Forget the fact that this guy might have had motive, if he actually knew about Vello's tuition money, He certainly had opportunity being that he had been placed at the scene of the crime. Forget the fact that he had run from the police. No evidence had ever been found in the HOV when it was pulled from muck of the harbor sixteen weeks later where its displacement jets buried it. The HOVs of that day ran low to the ground and couldn't sustain themselves over displaceable substances like water or mud. So the HOV had just continued to bury itself until the jets clogged and the thing shut off. Everyone thought the guy would be in the HOV when it was pulled up. He was not though. The driver's side door was open and there was no body inside. Did he try to attempt to escape the sinking vehicle? Almost assuredly, yes, albeit an apparently failed one. Most likely his body had been drawn into the displacement jets and destroyed. That one act had allowed the water from the harbor to fill the cockpit and wash out any potential evidence too. The fact that there was no evidence, regardless of the circumstances, was what Callahan glommed onto. No evidence meant 'Injun Joe' was not the perp they were looking for. The perp was Gary Shipley. Anything else was a distraction from the truth that Shipley wanted to be hidden. That truth was that he had killed Vello. What was his justification for that rationale? Her name was Michelle. She had been the motive and Callahan was convinced that she was still completely unaware of that. Oh 'Injun Joe' may have been guilty of robbery, but Shipley was guilty of murder. The images of Michelle going into the alley way and leaving the next day proved in Callahan's mind that she had been seeing Vello. How did he come to that conclusion? She was now married to Vello's best friend, that's how. This other guy-there was no film or digital images of him entering the building. He had been there for a while. Probably waiting for the two of them to leave. She left the back way; there were pictures and physical evidence to that fact. Then as 'Injun Joe' left the building there was another entering, a boy that looked suspiciously like the Shipley kid, but his face was obscured by 'Injun Joe's' shoulder. Callahan knew it was Shipley and his gut told him he was going to confront Vello about this Donavon woman. Shipley may have even found Vello incapacitated by 'Injun Joe' during the robbery. If he did, Shipley may have just finished him off thinking, correctly too, that the public would have believed it to be someone else. Callahan reflected on the fact that Vello's body was never found. Not by the police or anyone else. If that Cochran woman saw them together, then what could 'Injun Joe' have done with Vello's body in the middle of the day? The images from the bank were time stamped. 'Injun Joe' left the dorm building some time around 3:00 p.m. Cochran saw the pair at some time around 11:00 a.m. or so in the early afternoon. There are no other witnesses, photos or other evidence to suggest he ever came back after leaving. It wasn't even found when the Shipley family knocked down the old dorm themselves. No, it meant that Shipley disposed of the body. Not our Native American friend 'Injun Joe'. There are also no images showing the kid that looked like Shipley leaving, but then no one had been looking for Shipley when these photos were pulled. The trail for that day is now recycled, no other images exist. It's likely that Shipley killed Vello and waited until later at night to move and dispose of the body. It was clear that 'Injun Joe' didn't have it in his sock when he left. There was one problem. Shipley's parents were rich and influential. There was a witness who could corroborate where Shipley had been and more witnesses who could verify that the girl had been at the Shipley home None of this made any sense and in large part this is why all the findings from Callahan's portion of the investigation were ignored. Even the fiber and hair evidence he found in the Shipley home was never given serious consideration because of the wild theories. This evidence may very well have turned the tide against Gary and Michelle early on. Fabric fibers from Vello's home matching fibers found in Shipley's residence showed that someone there had been in both places. Some of the fibers were traced back to clothing manufactured there in Rouston. They had come from a sweater that was a popular item with the women of that time period and fibers from a skirt. Others included fibers from a pair of jeans that were found to match those from a pair in Shipley's closet. Nearly everyone felt Callahan was obsessed with the Donavon girl. They were right. He had been ever since his first interview with Shipley about five days after Vello turned up missing from his dorm room. "Wow... I thought we had talked about that already. I saw him Thursday; Marcus Guildy can confirm that. He was at the bar drinking. He invited me to dinner at some fish and chips place and I told him I was having dinner at my folks' place." "The Red Fish?" Asked Callahan. "That's right. Why do I have to answer the same question again and again?" You fucking pudgy bastard, you need to let me the fuck out of here, I've got to find Michelle. "Because I'm waiting for you to fuck up so I can arrest you for the murder of your friend." Gary had laughed at him then. That had been a mistake, a bad mistake. Even the beat cop that had come with Callahan knew that. You didn't want to piss of this Detective. Even if his best days were behind him, he was a cop of the old school. You just didn't mess around with Callahan. Even the Feds didn't like fucking with this crazy bastard. His best days would end this very day. That night Callahan took a hooker who would infect him with the syphilis that would cause him to become the laughing stock of the department-and a charity case until the day he died. He would take this hooker because of a girl he was about to see that would spawn a desire in him he could not suppress. The circle was starting to close and no one was the wiser. "Look, if you can charge me with something then do it. I've been here for over an hour voluntarily. I came down here to get some of Mike's things for his folks, they can't face this place." It was hard enough for Gary to face it. Michelle didn't know it, but he had lain awake and watched her sleep just a few nights ago. Here, next to the chair he sat in, they had shared their first kiss, even if it had seemed like a mistake. Michelle he had enjoyed and even hoped it would happen. He remembered clearly talking to her at that very table in the kitchenette that if they had stayed together there would be trouble. He hated being right. Now out there someplace she was stuck. They had no way to bring Mikey back to being a male and God knew this was not a city were an eighteen-year-old girl could survive on her own for long living on the fringe. Oh God how he loved her. He should have run with her. He should have listened to her after the chase to the harbor, when she had begged him to go with her. She was willing then. But you tried to bring him back. That was your intention... It's not your fault you did know it wasn't going to work. No... But it is your fault that it DIDN'T work. No! No it's not! Yes it is prick boy... and now she's your responsibility. You have to get out there and find her before she gets hurt or worse. "If you don't mind, this is as hard on me as it is for them. I think I want to take these things to Rose and Robert. If you're going to arrest me, then do it. I'm not afraid of you. I didn't kill Mike." Callahan bent and got in Gary's face. "You're ass is mine. I can't prove it... I will though. I can promise you that. I will." "Your breath stinks Callahan. A little personal hygiene wouldn't kill you." The other officer snickered-he simply couldn't help himself. Gary wasn't too concerned about being the focal point of the investigation. If he was then he could feel relatively certain they didn't suspect Michelle of anything. It was questionable if anyone outside their small secret circle even knew that she existed yet. That was good. Callahan grabbed Gary, hoisted him up and out of the chair; grabbed the box of DIGISTILS and personal items and slammed it into Gary's chest. "Humph!" Gary expelled a gust of air as the box landed there. "Get the Hell out of here. Next time I see you, you'll be behind bars asshole." "Kind of optimistic aren't you?" Gary poked. "GET OUT!" Shouted Callahan. Gary had done just that. He had no intention of going to the Vello's home. He had to get with Kit and Frank to see if they had found Michelle yet. Gary bounded down the stairs turned left and took one last quick glance at the widows of a room he knew he would never see again. "Bye Mike. I'm truly sorry..." he was starting to say when he collided with someone on the street. He had not been looking where he was going. "Ouch!" He looked and saw he had knocked down a young lady. "I'm sorry... I, Holy shit! Mike... MICHELLE!" The commotion outside caught the attention of Callahan inside. No one saw him part the shade just the least little bit. He stood there after waving for Officer Jenkins to remain quiet and listened. Outside the window was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Shipley had knocked her down and was now talking to her. He felt he might go out there and help her get away from his clutches but ... they seemed to know each other. Confusion crossed the Detective's face. How is that possible? How could this loser have anything to do with one so lovely? As he listened, it was clear that he did know her and that he had spent the weekend with her. He had an alibi. This one fact made him boil where he stood. Callahan listened for a loophole, a crack he could exploit to his advantage. He listened as Shipley confessed his love for her and argued when she told him it wouldn't work between the two of them. She wanted to leave and he didn't want her to. It was a tremendous tug-of-war between the two of them. Had she just said she had fallen in love with him? NO! Guys like Shipley represented everything he hated in the male youth. They were all wiseacres, smart-asses to the core. Not a one of them knew what was good for them. Not one ever listened to authority. Why the fuck did they think he had this stinking badge? They got everything. This shit head in particular had never appreciated how good he had it. Callahan had run into this guy a couple of times; had studied his file at the precinct and knew Shipley's parents. Nice enough people for spoiled rich assholes. Now he has this girl too. He had been tempted to draw his weapon and shoot the little fucker right then and there; tempted... but not compelled. He withdrew from the window. He did not see the embrace they had shared but he did hear the cheering of the crowd outside. When he looked again, they were walking off together, talking, smiling. Then the pictures had come in and Callahan knew... Shipley had stolen Vello's girl. Callahan didn't see her for several months after that, until the funeral services for the Vello kid. She attended on the arm of the man Callahan considered to be the prime suspect in the case. He believed that Shipley and this Donavon woman had fallen in love on the side and very quickly realized that Vello wasn't going to like it well. He could never get the proof of that he needed to pin Shipley in the case. It never occurred to him that there was simply no true evidence to gather. So he manufactured it. To his amazement, none of it, real or manufactured, was given any credit. In fact, it had the opposite effect on his commanders. It relegated him to a back seat in the investigation. So he watched them and waited for something to happen. "I'm coming Gary. I hope you're not as good at hiding clues, as you seem to be at hiding bodies. I'm gonna put you in a steel box boy!" Callahan said as he scanned the photos. Callahan reached over and grabbed a half-eaten jelly doughnut and shoved it in his mouth and smiled broadly at the idea of putting Shipley away. When he did, purple jelly ran out between his teeth making the detective look possessed. His hard-on for Michelle was total. He would finally have her and she would want to be with him. He convulsed as he rubbed himself under his desk. He stopped once to look around after he heard a noise outside on the street below his office window. Then he forgot what he had stopped for when the image of Michelle's face drifted back into his mind and went back to rubbing himself. -*- William heard them leave. He was alone in the house. He had never felt more alone in his life. Hell, HE wasn't even there with himself. He was alone with a stranger and there was only one person in the house! William sat and tried to be patient. He sat at the end of his large, double, mahogany four-poster bed. The thing had a regal appearance to it and was very masculine. So was the rest of William's room. It had been done at his request in the fashion of a Victorian Tudor style wood-paneled room. In one corner was an overstuffed leather recliner and a small fireplace that burned gas logs not far from it against the north wall. The room itself had a western exposure looking out over the business district of the city. On the southern wall was a door to a common bathroom shared with Erin, but Erin had claimed that room long ago and usually kept it locked unless William complained. Even then it was not a room he wanted to use. It was scattered with feminine products and stunk with perfume. It used to amuse William that his rough around the edges sister wore perfume. To the left of that door were Williams books lined up like little soldiers neat and orderly and in alphabetical order. Scattered in seemingly random fashion among the books were his sports trophies. Most were for baseball but there were a dozen or so for football and one or two for soccer. His bed was surrounded by the bookcases and sat on a large beige museum quality Persian run with ornate scroll work woven deep in to the fibers with purple, red, gold and blue patterns snaking their way around the edges of the rug. On the east wall was his study module and VID Center, there his work-study area; entertainment and study chips were stored there as well as his cheatchips and homework that he had gotten Randy and the girls in his class to do for him. The surroundings of this room closed in on him. He was not comfortable here. These things didn't make him feel comfortable as they had before. Just yesterday, he had been able to sit in that overstuffed chair and let the room ease his trouble away. Now, he not only didn't want to sit in that chair he found it ugly and grotesque. It was a monster that would swallow his now slight frame if he dared to sit in it. "Arrrrgggggghh" screamed the girl; "God! I'm going crazy!" She pulled at her hair oblivious to the pain. Many strands of fine yellow golden hair came out in her fists as they fell away from her head. She wept, hyperventilated and after the feeling that she might pass out had gone, she wept again. There was nothing she could do to escape the finality of her condition. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts and fears. She wanted to run, to hide, and to peel this thing off of her. The whole thing was too much like some freakish costume. But there was no zipper, no catch to release it. How many times now had she searched the thing only to find one continuous piece of flesh? Not fair! Not fair! This is not fucking fair. I'm not spending another minute as a girl! But another minute passed and nothing had changed. She dropped to her knees in the middle of her room. I can't believe people pay to make this happen to them! At this point William was ready to embezzle all his parents' money to find someone, anyone who could get him OUT! The mounds on her chest bounced and shook inside the sling her mother had put on her. She had long since stopped trying to make them stop. She passed in front of the mirror. She looked, saw no one she recognized and threw herself on the bed in shame and wept some more. A terrible idea occurred to her. She lifted her head off the covers and said the evil thought out loud, "What if no one can help me?" The thought made her tremble. "How long would I have to live like this?" She knew the answer to that question and she refused to let that one see the light of day. The clock on the mantle of the small fireplace clicked the seconds off into minutes. They passed without even so much as a hint of change for William. It was as if this girl always had been and would remain. Nauseating fear gripped the girl when the idea that no one might be able to help her. It manifested itself into sheer, paralyzing, doe-in-the- headlights panic. Pressure from her bladder bought on a new sensation she had not experienced before. There was a spasmodic rhythm deep in her groin. The messages to her brain that told her that she would soon need to relieve that pressure were being sent by muscles that had not been there earlier. She could press her legs together to restrict the impending flow and could feel the absence of a penis. In is place was the ability to control and flex muscles that were unfamiliar. This was more of a confirmation of just how deep the changes had been. This was not just some costume that she could shed and be done with, she was a girl until such a time that her parents or someone could figure out how to end this nightmare.. The indignity of the prospect had not yet been realized however. She had made up her mind that she would refuse the urge to go. There was no way that she was ever going to touch this body, not for any reason, not beyond the fist pounding or physical abuse of hair pulling that she could inflict on her jailer. Yes, if she could hurt the girl that held her prisoner, would she not eventually release her? The unexpected draw back to this was that William in fact was the one experiencing the punishment, the pain of the beatings. It only added to her sense of helplessness. She turned on the mirror violently and screamed, "Let me go you bitch! You let me fucking go!" The water was back on now too. She covered her face and wept and once again slunk slowly to her knees and moaned, "Please... p p p p please let me go." She sobbed. As the minutes went by, so did another stage of urine urgency. It wasn't long before she understood that she was going to have to do this. One way or another, on the toilet or on the floor, she was going to pee. She bent against the pressure in bladder, her forehead against the Persian carpet, her hands folded between her legs. God, if I could just get out of this thing before I have to pee, I would do just about anything. She waited for an answer to her prayer. None came. She moaned a pitiful moan and straightened to a kneeling position. "OK... I'll go. If I have to, I'll go." She said begrudgingly. William went to the door of the common bathroom. An adjoining room that Erin continuously hogged. It was littered with makeup and perfumes. There were baskets of crap everywhere. The void under the sink was piled with sanitary napkins, a bottle of douche, and three refills of birth control patches. There was crap in there he couldn't even identify. He rattled the door handle. It was locked. "CRAP!" Screamed the girl. She pounded her hands on her legs under the peasant dress she wore in frustration. She was going to have to use the one down by the media room at the end of the hall. She cracked the door open and peeked down both directions of the hall. No one there, not that it mattered if there was, her temper tantrum about the door being locked would have sent up enough signals to get her busted. She slammed the heel of her hand into her forehead at the act of stupidity. Before long she could take it no longer. The pressure in her bladder was approaching pain. She didn't know if her current equipment was capable of holding in pee for long. If she didn't hurry she was afraid she was going to find out what that limit was. She quietly tiptoed down the hall, paused when she got to Erin's room and offered a sideways glance into her room. Empty! Whew! She slipped past Erin's door and in to the bathroom. She eased the door closed. Click! The girl relaxed a little. Leaning against the door of the roomy bathroom she exhaled in a long drawn out breath. Then the pressure in her made itself known to her again. Her hands worked the skirt off and then the underwear. She stood fumbling for just a second for a penis that was no longer there. Up to now she had been careful to avoid touching the more sensitive parts of this alien body. These parts, after all, were not hers to touch. It was too much like unwillingly being fondled by a stranger, but as she fumbled for what she now realized with a strangling horror had been taken from her she made contact with a strange appliance on her body. Something she had never felt there before. It was more than she was ready for. The fear that gripped her caused her bladder to let go. "Oh shit!" Once she got going she couldn't turn off the water works, she had simply waited too long and her body was in rebellion over the abuse of being forced to wait to pee. She was peeing on the skirt and undies crumpled at her feet. She scooted over the bowl as best she could and tried to thrust her hips over the opening. "Crap! CRAP! CRAP! CRAP! CRAP! CRAP!" The ole' thrust and scoot just couldn't quite get the flow over the bowl. The skirt, now wet in places was lodged against the foot of the bowl preventing her from getting any further over the bowl. She stood peeing on the floor, finally in a last ditch effort to get some of it in the bowl, she put her fingers between her legs and tried to manipulate her lips to point to the bowl and wound up spraying her thighs, fingers and hands with urine. "Oh GODDDDD!" Eventually the flow stopped but the damage was done. "This is fucking stupid!" the girl declared. She kicked off the skirt and panties in a frustrated huff and they landed in a corner of the bathroom with a splat. She felt wet between her legs and pull off some paper from the roll and gingerly dabbed her self dry, she held the paper between thumb and forefinger afraid to get too close to the thing between her legs, as if it had teeth and might bite her. She shivered at the feeling of missing member. The evidence of her eyes hadn't been enough. 'It's really gone!' was all she could come up with. Once dried she washed her hands and then turned to try to find something to cover up with and once again, caught her image in the mirror, this time she was startled at the appearance of a stranger in the room with her. A stranger naked from the waist down at that! She jumped and squeaked slapping her hand over her mouth, partly out of fear partly to keep the noise down. Then she recognized the girl starting back at her, also with her mouth covered but with the opposite hand. The girl once again sighed a sigh of relief. "Holy shit, I peed again!" she said and laughed at the idea of being fooled at her own reflection. It's a phenomenon her mother could have told her much about. She acknowledged that it felt good to allow humor to sneak in. Then, without warning, sadness filled her heart. A tear slipped from the corner of one eye, but she quickly wiped it away and refused to give in to the fear and the emotion. A line from a Frank Herbert novel came to mind, "I must not fear, fear is the mind killer". Yes, she couldn't give in to the fear. If she did she might as well just give up any hope of being William again. She would not be able to work the problem if she panicked. Soon the thoughts that if she couldn't get herself out of this; then who could began to swallow all reason, and fear overtook her. She sat on the toilet, her face buried in her hands, and wept. She cried as quietly as could. If she couldn't stave off the emotion then she could at least wrestle with it for some level of control. -*- Erin left the music supply store around 9:20 p.m. The store, Penn Music, was located on the north face of the park and split the distance between the Shipley's building west and the Fenton's brownstone to the east. She pushed open the old antique door, the chime above the door rung and the boy behind the counter looked, smiled and said goodbye. She stepped out into the dark cool Pennsylvania night. To the east, an ambulance and a fire rescue HOV were entering the square near where a crowd of people stood looking at something interesting on the ground; a mugging perhaps? There goes the neighborhood. Erin thought, pleased with the idea. She had nothing but contempt for the people who lived here. "Fat rich bastards." She would call them when she was trying to be kind, the kind of people that success came easy to. What did any of the people know about what it was to struggle to get yourself recognized? Not her parents that was for sure. She clanked out into the night with her steel coated leather boots, black leggings, a black scarf shawl for a blouse a black leather collar and unevenly cut died black hair. The padlocks on her boots rattled against the hard steel outer-coating as she trod along the street in the direction of her home. Her contempt had once been a thing of awe and reverent respect. Her mother had been recording at that time, not making the band hang on her every whim and desire. She had been in the studio with her mother for a few of those days. She watched as her mother recorded flawlessly eight songs, two against tracks that the band had put down the day before she arrived and six with the band it self. If there was a retake it was because someone on instruments miscued. Her mother was flawless. "Mom?" she asked during one of the breaks. "Don't you ever mess up?" Michelle was a little embarrassed by the comment. "Of course I do baby..." she tried to whisper to her daughter. Her attempted failed however and the room was quickly filled with the sounds of raspberries, Bronx Cheers, laughter and balls of wadded paper and balled up paper cups being thrown in her direction. Erin should have been frightened, after only a few seconds however she scooped up a wad of paper and tossed it at her mother. "Wait!" Michelle pleaded. "I do mess up ... all the time..." she cried shielding herself from the onslaught. That only increased the fury of the paper cup attack. Michelle covered her head and squealed and cups and paper wads rained down upon her head. "STOOOOOOOOP!" she cried but she couldn't keep from laughing. Finally the cups stopped. She cautiously looked up and everyone was sitting around the mixing room staring at her. "Did you all get that out of your system?" she asked straightening up? Everyone looked over at Erin who had a silly, mischievous look on her face. Toby the bass guitarist asked, "Did we Erin?" Her mother gave her a warning look. "Errrriiinnnn?" She questioned. "No!" Erin Squealed and the cups flew again. "Oh no... STOOOOOP! Please!" Michelle tried to cover up on the couch and wound up falling off the arm of the chair she had been sitting on. Erin raced over to her and tickled her mother as the cups pelted the both of them. Already proficient at piano for many years, Erin was allowed to do a duet on the keyboards with Jimmy Satterwhite on the title track of the album. She was not given official credit; union regulations and Michelle didn't want her daughter joining the Recording Artists Union at the age of thirteen. That didn't really matter however, when the album when gold, Erin got an autographed copy of her own. She got one more when it went triple platinum. To this day they hung on her wall. Also encased within the frames were Digistills of Erin and Satterwhite playing their duet. It had been a good day with her mother. It seemed that the bands success would go on forever. It didn't however. Her mother never really quit the band; and Island Records never allowed the band to replace her until recently. Everyone seemed to believe in the past that if Tidewater was going to do anything else it was going to need its meal ticket, Michelle Shipley. From that moment on Erin knew what it was she wanted to do. She wanted to make music. She wanted to be important like her mother. She wanted for people to idolize her like they did her mother. To her, Michelle was a Goddess, some magical supernatural being from Greek lore. She could almost see her sitting upon a throne on a cloud overlooking Mt. Olympus. It was her mother's perspective of her own status that drove the wedge between mother and daughter and poured the foundation for the house of resentment where Erin's heart now resided. She watched as, year after year, Michelle refused to tour, refused to go back to the studio. Instead, opting to work as a waitress in the restaurant, what she called the 'Family business'. But the family business was music, MUSIC! Why couldn't she see that? Erin had learned guitar, drums, bass; she taught herself sitar and banjo and then at the age of sixteen began recruiting members for a band. Unconsciously, she picked people with lesser talents than she. It was easier to direct their actions if they felt somehow inferior to her. Each band failed as a result. It was never a team effort but more an exercise in frustration for Erin. It's not that she was in short supply for band members. As she got older she discovered that almost anyone was willing to work with her, not because of her talents, rather because of her lineage. She was the daughter of Michelle Shipley. This further widened the gap between mother and daughter. Erin's desire was to make a name for herself and not ride in the hem of her mother's skirt. It was becoming increasingly hard to escape her mother's shadow, as she got older. There were expectations from prospective band members, studios where she proposed recording demos and from agents she talked to about representation. Everyone wanted a piece of 'Michelle pie' as Erin very disrespectfully referred to this phenomenon. Band members wanted to publicize the name to make bank on it. They wanted the perks that using the 'Michelle pie' would almost surely get them. Girls for the boys... boys for the girls... cyber drugs and electro- hypnotics that everyone was after but only the rich could afford. Everyone else wanted to try go cash in on the name. It was not only dejecting that she couldn't get by on her talent, it wasn't bad enough that the band members didn't care about how they made it but this ... leaching of her mother, no, she would have none of it. There may have been an ocean between them, but this was her mother's hard earned work... she wasn't about to go stealing from her own mother. So in the end, she had changed her appearance, her hair and her attitude in an attempt to change the fact that she was her mother's daughter, that she idolized her mother so, and that her mother had been the inspiration behind what Erin wanted to be. She clanked her way across Allison Ave, shoved her thumb in the security port and the door buzzed open. Erin stomped upstairs. A light under the bathroom door caught her attention. William... Good the little turd finally figured out that my bathroom is off limits. She threw her door open and tossed her guitar on her bed. On her dresser was a copy of the Somebody Save Me resonance chip. It still had the original, tattered paper insert, which was the cover for the album. It was also the only cover her Mother had ever posed for. It featured Michelle standing on a group of three uneven pilings in the harbor between Rouston, PA and Easton, MD the rest of the band members being swept out to sea in a rowboat on a huge wave. Michelle's pose was dramatic and silver screenish in its campy exaggeration of a damsel in distress. Her mother had been dressed in a black lace skirt and blouse, barefoot on the pilings. She had been facing the east when the photo was taken, the sun setting behind her. Erin remembered the angry phone calls from her mother to the publicist. It seemed the DIGISTIL showed much too much of her body through the lace. Erin had always guessed that this was also part of the reason within the last three years she had only decided to help the band out on a couple of covers and an album tentatively called History. In the end the album went out as is. It was only a silhouette under the skirt, her father had argued. "Let them stare at you and drool. You're mine. I don't intend on letting you go, unless someone offers me the right amount of ..." There had been the sound of a light slap and a giggle as a thirteen- year-old Erin listened from the top of the stairs. "OK... OK... No amount of money!" Her father quickly back peddled, then said in a serious tone, "But maybe an Island..." "GARY?" her Mother had cried, but Erin could tell that her Mother was smiling. "Just kidding baby..." she had heard her father say. The next sound she heard was her mother cooing in her father's arms... It was a gross and disgusting thing they did frequently. Grown ups, Yuck! Erin went to bed and dreamed of being a star like her mother. She touched the album's surface lovingly. Why did her mother turn her back on something Erin would have killed to have? No matter, her mother was a loser. That was the end of the story. Erin would show her how it was meant to be done; she would rise to the highest peak and rule there from on high. If William's room was uncharacteristically clean for that of a teenage boy, Erin's room was on the other extreme of that spectrum. Her clothes hung out of drawers or were draped over furniture. Drafts of sheet music were dropped here and there. Clean socks, hose and panties littered the floor where she had tossed and forgotten them in furious and hurried attempts to find just the right clubbing outfit. Now it was out of control and it had to be remedied. She quietly went about cleaning. Her concentration was singular. When she was performing a task it consumed her, her music, schoolwork, cooking and yes even cleaning were all acts of dedication to her. She did not hum or sing or whistle when she worked. She was silent and diligent. Then there was a sound. It was a miracle she had heard it at all. It sounded like...weeping! She stopped and cocked her head to listen more closely. It sounded a bit like a female voice weeping Her Mom and Dad were not here. Dad was probably at The Red Fish deep in the menu for tonight's crowd. Her mother was probably here doing her waitressing thing. "I'm a hostess hon." Michelle had corrected the last time it came up. "Whatever!" "There is a difference, you know." "As I said before, whatever." Erin turned and said, "Supposed for just a second I care. What would the difference be?" "Well..." Michelle started, but Erin interrupted. "I mean... do you even take their order?" "No, but..." Michelle said; she was being put on the defensive. "So you just show then to their table and look good. Kind of like eye candy for the single male horn-dogs that come in with week long hardons, is that a fair description?" "That's enough young lady. You don't have to be vulgar. I happen to like my work and my job is important to the business." Erin stood there as if waiting for something. In time she indeed told Michelle that was exactly what she was doing, waiting on her to reply. "Yes?" "What?" Michelle asked flustered. "Your job is important... how?" Erin said with the worst attitude she could muster. It made Michelle want to slap her and then she instantly felt guilty, as if someone had accused her of being a bad or abusive mother. Now Michelle could not think of a reason her job was important. There had once been a reason, Karen, her mother-in-law had explained it to her, but that explanation was long gone. Michelle blushed before her daughter, she was being dominated and bullied by her own daughter. She blushed harder at the thought. Could she feel any smaller? Michelle didn't think so. "I thought so. Look it's OK: you want to waste your life. It's still a free country; what's left of it anyway." Erin had left her mother beaten in and emotionally crushed in the kitchen. After that, Michelle no longer pressed for her to come to family night. Erin was always invited but after that exchange, never expected. Her thoughts turned back to the sound of the crying. With her mother at The Red Fish as she suspected, she supposed that the crying was probably coming from the apartment above their two floors of flats. As she considered this idea the subtle sobbing stopped. Erin went about picking up pieces of sheet music here and there on the floor. She would put the stuff on in a pile on her dresser next to the door of her room. She set the next pile of papers in the same place when a young blonde girl with a towel wrapped around her waist passed by right in front of her bedroom door. -*- The girl with no real name or identity finally wrestled the fear back down and stopped crying. She took a towel from the rack next to the tub and wrapped it around her waist. Carefully she stuck her head out the door and looked around. The coast was clear. She moved off down the hall toward the room that belonged to the only male child of the household. The more she thought about William Shipley the more disconnected she began to feel. After only a few hours it was like thinking about someone else. That was a scary feeling. The idea came to her that this is what it must feel like to be possessed. To have someone swallow you but not kill you. You could only watch the world through the eyes of the one that had you trapped with in their body. She shuddered at the idea of being held captive like this. What if she couldn't get this off, what then? She had felt she couldn't live like this but could she really commit suicide? If not that meant that if this for some reason couldn't be removed... Her insides turned to soft warm mush. Surly that can't happen. But there are all those stories. Her mind whispered to her. Stop it! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! She strolled past her sister's room. It was the gasp of surprise that caught her attention so violently her blood ran cold. She ran off toward her room to hide. As she ran she chanted "Oh God... Oh God... Oh God..." -*- Erin gasped with surprise and fright. When she did the girls head snapped around and the two stared at each other for just a second, frozen in horror. Then each girl ran in opposite directions screaming at the tops of their vocal cords. A light of reason clicked on that the intruder was just as frightened as intrudee and Erin turned, her massive metal boots slamming on the hard wood floors. It occurred to her that she should have unlocked them when she got home, oh well... too late now! THUD! THUD! THUD! She pursued the stranger. Down the hall she could hear the blonde mumble "Oh God... Oh God..." -*- Behind her the blonde-headed girl could hear her sister yelling at her, "Hey you.... Come back here. Hey!", those ridiculous steel boots slamming on the wood floor. The girl was afraid to look behind her. It sounded as if some sort of monster was after her. She knew that her sister was athletic. Even when she had been male her sister was capable of outrunning her. The girl could hear her sister gaining ground on her, "Hey, I said to stop! STOP GODDAMN IT! I only want to talk...." SLAM! She closed the door and quickly punched the key code to lock it. Now, behind the closed and locked door of her room she breathed hard, her breast heaving with the force of her lungs, her back against the door as if to ensure that her sister couldn't break in or defeat the lock on the door. Safe for now, at least I'm safe for now. BANG! BANG! BANG! The sound of the explosive knocking was so sudden and shocking that the girl jumped and squeaked a little when it started. She could feel the vibrations of the poundings from the other side of the door resonate through her back. "What are you doing in there?" came her sister's voice after the pounding on the door had stopped. "Come the hell out of there. What are you doing in my house?" a pause and then another assault, "Hey... I'm talking to you! Where the hell is my brother?" Man, do I have to listen to that worn out song again? 'Where's William...' Spare me! "Go away!" she cried out. "Go away? Oh ... OK, why didn't you just say that to begin with?" there was a pause and then... BANG! BANG! BANG! "You come the Hell out here right now you bitch! William? You'd better not be in there. I can guarantee you this will not hold well with Mom and Dad." Erin shouted through the door. "What the hell would you know about it Erin?" She was sorry the minute the words left her mouth. She slammed her hand over her mouth but of course it was too late for that now. On the other side of the door there was silence. The girl understood the slip and muttered under her breath. "Shit, shit, shit!" "How do you know my name?" came the quite question from the hall. "Please go away. I don't want to talk about it." The girl pleaded. "Can't do that! Where is my brother?" Erin demanded. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." The girl assured her. "Is he hurt? You'd better not have hurt him." Oh please! Like you really care if I were hurt or not. "Please Erin." "Ok... I'm calling the cops." "NO! OH GOD, DON'T DO THAT!" The girl opened the door a crack and Erin rushed it. The door flew open and flung the girl off the door and across the floor. She landed on her butt and she slid across the floor the hardwood floor and only came to a stop when she hit the throw rug in the center of the room that the bed sat on. "Oooffffff!" "Where's William?" Erin said. William noticed that she seemed much taller and so much more imposing than before. The towel she had covered herself with hung loosely and was no longer secured around her waist but still covered her. She made no move to re-secure it satisfied that at least she was not exposed to the world. "He's... Not here!" "Wrong answer! That's means you're trespassing." "I'm not trespassing!" Whined William. Erin raised her eyebrows at that comment. "What do you call inviting yourself into a house that does not belong to you?" The girl was starting to cry. "I can't keep doing this." She lamented. She paused, wiped a tear away and said, "It's me Erin." "It's me Erin who?" Erin demanded, hands on hips and a stern look on her face. From behind her the sound of her Mothers voice, angry and upset jolted her attention away from the crying girl on the floor. "Erin!" "Mom, Dad! Thank God.... This girl here broke in to our house. I caught her as she was...." "She didn't break in.", her father corrected. "Huh?" Erin turned around in surprise and face Gary. "Dad, William isn't answering and I doubt he's here." Michelle stepped between her daughter and husband and took over the conversation, sensitive to William's situation. "Take it into the hall. Gary," Michelle turned to her daughter, "You too young lady." She turned back to the child covered with the towel, "Hon, what happened to the skirt I gave you?" Gary took Erin by the elbow and moved her gently to the hall where he partially closed the door to William's room. Gary and Erin moved out into the hall where Erin began to protest again. "Daaaaaad..." "Don't Erin. For once, please trust me when I say this is not something for you to be involved with. Nor do I want you to get involved in it." "OK, then explain it to me and I'll leave it alone." She insisted. Michelle came out and closed the door behind her. "I have to get her some fresh clothes." She turned to Erin who gawked at her Mother. "Please, stay out of this one Erin. Michelle moved off to her room and to get a fresh skirt and panties for William when Erin piped up. "There's a stranger in my our house and you two are playing this cloak and dagger espionage crap and you want me to just say, 'OK, sure what ever you say is fine with me' and I have no clue about where this person came from or if they're safe or have you drugged or what? I have to know what's going on... I think that's in my best interest." Michelle was about to turn around when she caught Gary's eye. He motioned her to go and do what she had to do and she left the hall. Gary then turned to his daughter, he bent close to her and whispered, "There are things and situations in this world you really don't want to be exposed to, nor do you want too much information about. It makes you vulnerable. This is one of those situations." Her father's dark insistence scared Erin like she had never been scared before. The stoic look and grave eyes of her father's face would have driven her mad if she had been forced to look at it much longer. It seemed to her that he had summoned some black knowledge from the Necronomicon itself. Were it not for seven years of typically bad teenage attitude she would have dropped the subject right there. But she felt compelled to save some face on this issue. She didn't protest or push the limits of the mandate right away. She would, however, find a time to insert the dagger. Michelle returned with a similar skirt similar to the one soiled in the bathroom and fresh underwear, knocked on the door and waited. The door cracked open, a small, feminine hand came out, felt around, found the fabric and Poof, they were gone and the door was slammed shut again. Erin could hear the lock being set from the keypad inside. Michelle turned to Erin, "I'm going to ask you to go to your room for now." Erin's eyes narrowed and she looked annoyed with her mother. "Wait a minute. I try to protect our home and you're going to punish me?" "Oh Erin," Michelle said exasperated with Erin, "it's not punishment. Please just let us handle this." From behind the door came the voice of the girl. "Yeah, Erin just let Mom and Dad handle it you idiot!" Now Erin had heard the entire sentence William had shouted through the door Unfortunately, she latched on to the last part of the phrase because in her mind it seemed to make the most sense. That phrase was, 'Dad handle it..." Now why is this stranger calling my Dad, Dad? Erin thought. There could only be one answer. Anger so thick it clogged her lungs began to rise in her. The silence was so thick none of them could move through it. The three of them stood there looking in each other with blank faces. Michelle guessed that William, on the other side of the door, was frozen in a state of disbelief at what she'd just let slip out. Then they all heard a whispered "Damn it!" Finally Erin asked. "What did she say?" her face was a study of accusation directed to her father. Michelle could see where that was going right a way, "It's not what you're thinking Erin." "Mom, you don't have defend him!" she protested. "If he really did this then there are things you can do." She turned on her father, "Like a divorce for instance! You have another daughter?" "What?" Gary exclaimed. The look of shock in his eyes was only off set by the look pain in Erin's. "Oh Erin, I understand this is confusing but your Father did nothing wrong. Please... you're just making this harder. Please go to your room." "No Mom... how else do you explain ... " it dawned on Erin that the girl had said 'Mom and Dad' not just Dad. Her accusation of infidelity collapsed and she felt ashamed. "What did she mean by Mom and Dad?" The two of them stood side by side. The looked at each other, Michelle drew a deep breath. Both could see in the eyes of the other that each felt backed into a corner. It was all but said now. Each shrugged and said at the same time, "The girl in that room is your brother William." From the other side of the door came a whine. "That's what you call handling it? Jeazzzzzzzee!" Michelle pushed past her older daughter and went to the door. She pressed her face to the door and pleaded with her son. "William, we have to talk about a few things. Please understand that your father and I are doing everything we can to make things right." A memory came to her, from long ago. It was comforting but it brought tears to her eyes to use it now. She had no choice. "We're trying to make things as right as we can, honey. Please come out. We have to talk." Erin was staring at her Mother in stunned disbelief. Was she for real? Did her mother really expect Erin to believe such a tale? Surly not. It had to be a joke. But if her Mother was acting, She was doing a damned fine job of it. The very idea however, that this girl was indeed her brother William. No, she wasn't going to get sucked into this. They were trying to play her for a fool. Soon someone would break and they would all have a great laugh at her expense. She indented to deprive them of their good time. She would pry the information out of her father. She looked at her father who showed no sign of giving the plot of this little act away. He looked as serious and stoic as she could ever remember seeing him. She turned back to the door as it was slowly cracked open. The girl's eyes appeared behind the crack, peering out with trepidation. "Mom?" the girl behind the door asked. "Yes baby?" Michelle answered back sweetly. "Did you find them?" the girl asked. "No honey, they weren't home." Michelle answered back pitifully. SLAM! "We're working on it!" Michelle shouted through the door. The desperation for something positive for the girl was clear. She wanted to feel like she had offered the child something good. "You guys are serious?" Erin asked. It was a question; not a statement, it demanded an answer. Erin was in such disbelief she couldn't approach the issue any other way, logic had flown out the window. In most cases Erin would have simply walked away, deeming the situation unworthy of her time or the effort it would take to comprehend it. This situation was so utterly incredible that not getting answers to the millions of questions flying through her head was inconceivable. Her father touched her shoulder and said, "Do we look like we're joking?" "But Dad..." Erin started "Erin... This is a bad situation. Please...try to work with us." OK, I'll help you play out your little fools drama... But I'm not going to be your fool. Instead, I think I'll make a fool of your hired help here. My... brother, yeah right! She stopped and thought for a second. The she walked to the door of her brother's room. She took her mother's wrist and gently moved her aside. Michelle resisted at first and then she relented with apprehension. "Billy?" she questioned through the door. No answer. "Is that you Billy?" she asked again. After a pause she was about to ask again when the word "Yes." filtered though the door. A shiver went through Erin at the sound of the sweet girlish voice from the other side. "Why don't you come out?" "NO!" exclaimed the girl. "Please, I don't know what's happened, but let me help." " I know you Erin. You want to trick me." "Really, let me try to help." Erin pleaded. There was a pause and then the door opened up a crack and Erin could see two blue eyes peering out. "You won't make fun of me?" "What's to make fun of? That you seem to be a girl? I'm a girl too if you hadn't noticed. I don't find it worthy of making fun of thank you very much." She looked intensely into the eyes of the young girl. "Come on." she said soothingly. The door opened a bit more and then the girl was standing in full view of her family. She had dressed in the skirt Michelle had given her. She acted shy and embarrassed to be standing there. Her movements were clumsy and she acted as if she didn't' know what to do with her arms and hands. The girl tried crossing them over her chest; seemed self- conscious after some exasperation on her part she finally allowed her arms to flop at her sides. "Come on out." Erin said and held out her hand. The girl took it hesitantly and allowed her self to be lead out. Once William was out, Erin fumbled with the door lock keypad for a second and then closed the door to her brother's room grinning secretly to herself for just a second. Michelle came over and hugged the child. Gary stood close by waiting if needed but clearly cautious and uncertain. Erin slipped up behind her brother. She gave the girl a few pokes in the shoulder and William looked over at her confused and annoyed. Erin asked, "So that's really you under all that girl?" Her brother burned her with a glare that would have turned a strong man to stone. Erin was nonplused by the attitude. "OK Erin. Don't turn sour now" admonished Michelle. To Erin, it was impossible to conceive that her parents were still trying to play such and elaborate joke on her. What could they be hoping to gain by getting her to believe such a wild story? She knew her parents never did anything without a reason. It just wasn't in their nature. Erin turned to her Mom, "It's just impossible to believe. How do you expect me, or anyone for that fact, to believe that?" No one had said 'Skin' because they just assumed that Erin would understand that this is the only way something like this could have happened. But as the light of realization spread over her face, the other three understood that up to this point, Erin had still been believing that the three of them where putting her on. She turned to William, "Where did you get it?" she asked with awe and wonder. William knew just what she was talking about. "I didn't get it. Someone, Carrie Fenton, did this to me." "Riiiiight!" "She did!" insisted the girl. "She just wrestled you to the ground and put it on you right. Stripped you naked and slipped you inside it? Is that what you're expecting us to believe?" The girl's lip was trembling. "No!" pouted Erin. "I don't remember what happened." Behind them Erin snickered and smugly said, "Yeah right. Billy boy, if I had known you were a frustrated cross-dresser I would have gladly loaned you some of my clothes." A pathetic embarrassed cry escaped the girl who turned and charged the door of her room. She grabbed the handle and forced her body against the door to open it and wound up hitting the door face first instead of going through the open door. The girl bounced back with a surprised wail of pain and anger, holding her face with one hand and trying to open the door with the other. The handled appeared to be locked from the inside. "ERIN!" shouted her father. "You will leave your sister..." "DATH!" came a muffled cry from the girl with her hand over her face. "Brother... you will leave your brother alone. She's, err... he's going through a difficult time." Gary blushed a brighter shade of red with each vocal stumble. "I just see this as an opportunity to get even for all the shit he's done to me just because he was bigger and stronger. I've got a lot of catching up to do, Dad." "No. Do I have to remind you that the HOV you pilot is registered to me? That in six weeks, I'm supposed to start paying rent for you on campus? Those things can go away." "You wouldn't" Erin glared at her father. "No he probably wouldn't Erin, but I would!" her mother said from behind her. "I honestly don't know what's gotten into you recently, but it stops here. William is in a dangerous situation here. We have to keep this quiet until your father and I can figure out a way to remove this thing. If it gets out, then all of us are in danger... even Shelly." They were serious. This was real. A new realization came to her. It was one of Shelly in a foster home. Shelly loved everyone and was the bright spot in her family for Erin. Her contempt of her families success and her deeply hidden admiration of her mother's talents were all dwarfed by the great joy Shelly's innocence gave her when the young girl would appear at her door and want to listen to her play her guitar or ask Erin to join a pretend tea party. A horrified sort of look came to Erin's eyes. She was realizing, maybe for the first time that now, as an adult with information she now no longer wanted but had pressed so hard for she had been put in the squarely in the center of fray. She had gotten exactly what she wanted, the realization