Doug and Loras First Time Bi Stories
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Failed Season - Lora's Story free porn video
This story has been 'in the works' for a long time - the oldest files
on my oldest surviving hard-drive say '2001'. One of those naggers that
sit on the hard drive and go "nyah, nyah, can't finish me, nyah". Even
tried to publish it once in 2004, but thought I had a better idea and
pulled it back before final posting to the web. I didn't really have a
better idea, but you never know until you try. Anyway, I've updated it
a bit and am going to put it out.
Permission is granted for Fictionmania, StorySite, Nifty, Big Closet,
Bev's Balcony, and any other FREE site to archive and web publish this
story, unchanged, so long as the site remains free and my authorship
and copyright are acknowledged in the posting. I do not consider so-
called adult-check systems to be free, and thus, these sites do not
have permission to host this story..
Based on the characters and situations presented in "Seasons of Change"
by Joel Lawrence, Copyright 1989. This story is archived in its
entirety here at Fictionmania (go to search by authors and select Joel
Lawrence)
In previous stories, I have alluded to Aunt Jane admitting to two
failures in her long tenure as the Head Mistress of the Jane Thompson
Winsome Girls' School for Wayward Boys. One of those was Donald Madden
(A Carol Christmas and Ken's Barbie) who seems to have been saved by
the love of a good woman (and who keeps nagging me to tell his story so
that he can finally settle down into happily wedded bliss. PATIENCE,
Donna! The muse is working on it!) This is the story of Jane's other
failure, told through the memories of the folks who were there for the
grand opening of the Seasons House Academy.
Failed Season ? Lora's Story
By Tigger
Copyright 2008 All rights reserved.
Part 1
"Allo? This is the Thompson-Philips residence. How may I help you?"
Deputy Sheriff (Sheriff-elect) William Beale closed his eyes on hearing
the gently-accented voice on the other end of the line. "Tante Marie?
This is... this is Willa, I mean, Bill Beale."
"Ah," Marie's tones became warm and welcoming. "Bonjour, mon brave, and
how may the ladies of Seasons House serve our soon- to-be Sheriff this
lovely winter's day, eh?"
"Is Jane home, Marie?"
The ragged, almost clipped tone of Bill's question set warning bells
pealing in the dark-haired French-Canadian's head. "Yes, she is. Bill,
dear, what is the matter?" she asked more quietly.
"Is Art home, too?"
"Non, but Diana is here," was the carefully emphasized reply, "We have
students en residence, mon cheri."
"Damn! Two students? Or just one?"
"Two. Jessica is here, too, Bill," - acting as big sister Marie didn't
have to say, before her voice became stern. "Now, stop dithering and
tell me what's bothering you! Tell your Tante Marie what is the
matter!"
"Ask Jessica if she can watch the junior student on her own for awhile,
Tante Marie, and then go find Diana - tell her.. tell her that I think
Jane will need her. Maybe Darryl or Michael, too, if you can reach
them. Jane is going to... to," Bill's voice caught and broke, and it
was several seconds before he continued. "Oh, hell, Tante Marie, Aunt
Jane's going to need her family around her. Word just came in to me
that Lawrence Michael Patterson just turned up today in Miami."
"Lawrence?" Marie's voice was shrilly surprised. "OUR Lawrence?!?"
"Our Lora, Tante Marie," the deputy affirmed, his voice clearly ragged
with his own emotions. "He's been shot - multiple times. The docs don't
think he's going to make it this time."
"Mon Dieu." Marie closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer for... what?
She wasn't quite sure. Then she sighed. "It was only a matter of time,
mon not-so-petit. I will call Michael and Darryl - gather la famille.
You're coming over now, oui? You want to be the one to break the news
to her?"
"He was - IS - my little sister, Tante Marie." There was an awful
finality in those simple words, and Marie ached as much for him as she
did for her long-time friend and partner, Jane Thompson-Philips. "I'm
on my way as soon as I call Caro and tell her where I'll be."
With great care, Marie's trembling fingers replaced the ornate
telephone receiver back in its scrolled-metal cradle. She'd find Diana,
and then call in their boys.
Only then would she tell Jane that Willa... Bill was coming.
-oOOOo-
Deputy Sheriff Beale was barely halfway up the steps that led to the
front door of Seasons House when a wild-eyed, auburn- tressed Valkyrie
launched herself at him. "Is it Audrey?!" Jane demanded, her hands
clutching at his dress uniform's lapels, "Marie said YOU told her not
to tell me what this is all about - TELL ME NOW! Has something happened
to Gigi? Or to the baby??!?"
Bill reached up and gently took Jane's icy hands in his own. "So far as
I know, Aunt Jane, they are fine. It's Lora - Larry - he's dead, Jane.
He was shot and they couldn't save him."
"I... I see," a suddenly still and colorless Jane replied, softly.
"When?"
"They found him bleeding out in an alley last night and took him to a
trauma center. I got the word that he'd died while I was on my way
here."
"How did.. do you know what happened to him?"
The uniformed deputy shook his head. "Not entirely. I've contacts in
the DEA - they'd been onto him, and were trying to use him as bait to
catch some bigger fish. Best guess is that those fish were sharks, and
they turned on him."
For several moments, Jane said nothing - only the barest quivering of
lashes on tightly shut eyes giving away her inner emotion.
"Damn." she finally muttered, "After Donald Madden's recent turnaround,
I had almost let myself hope that... oh, never mind." Jane shook her
head sadly, and then took Bill's arm in hers to lead him inside.
-oOOOo-
They gathered in the sitting room of Jane's second-floor private
apartment - Marie, Diana, Bill and Jane. "Let me turn on the closed
circuit monitor, Bill," Jane said. "My junior student, Camille, has
been doing very well of late, and has, I believe, made the turn, but I
will feel better if Jessica has back-up should she for any reason need
it."
They watched as one of the room's three television sets flared to life.
Seasons House's combination library and music room filled the glowing
screen. As the digital surveillance camera noiselessly scanned, two
adolescents came into view - a platinum blonde playing Jane's grand
piano, and a strawberry blonde working diligently at the small writing
desk. Both were, by all outward appearances, superb examples of young,
genteel American womanhood from their perfectly coiffed hair to their
shiny and elegant high heeled shoes.
But appearances being deceiving, everyone watching the televised scene
knew that these be-skirted figures were not girls, but rather, boys
undergoing Jane Thompson's Method of rehabilitation; a demanding
variation on Victorian-style petticoat discipline. The strawberry
blonde - Jessica/Jesse - was here because he wanted to help the woman
who had become his Mother in all ways save the matter of his actual
birth, and the Nordic blonde - Camille/Cameron - because her only
alternative to Aunt Jane's program was a long stretch in a juvenile
detention facility.
"Well, they're quiet and apparently productively occupied," Jane
thought aloud before turning back to her visitor, "so, Bill, tell me
everything - from the begi... "
Before she could finish her question, the apartment door opened,
interrupting them. Jane turned, irritated at the unexpected intrusion,
only to find herself engulfed in a double-hug delivered by Michael Nash
and his bubbly wife, Janice. "Oh, Mom," Michael breathed, even as he
held her, "I'm so sorry."
There were tears in Jane's eyes now, "I knew something like this was
probably in the cards," she answered back, her voice thickening with
emotion. "I knew...that this was the most likely ending - it's just
such a damnable waste."
The phone intercom rang. Jane glanced over at the television screen,
but saw that neither student had moved. *As if anything short of World
War III would move Jessica from her school books,* the School Mistress
of Seasons House thought, fondly, *Or Camille from her piano. If ever
music had truly soothed a savage breast.. *
"Yes?" she asked into the receiver.
"Momma-Jane? It's me, Darryl. Audrey and I are in your downstairs
office. Could you folks come down here? I really don't want Audrey
climbing all those stairs just now."
Jane was about to answer when she heard a very annoyed, "Don't you DARE
blame this on me, Darryl Thompson-Philips. I can get up those damned
stairs just FINE, thank-you-very-much! YOU'RE the one having knicker-
fits!" Audrey, Jane thought with a smile, objecting to anything
resembling a feminine gender-specific physical limitation.
Audrey's outburst was followed by a muffled, "Hey, babe, I'm having a
'father-of-the-due-tomorrow-baby' moment here, okay? Give me a break,
won't you?"
Deciding her son would suffer - deservedly so - for that crack later
when Audrey had him back at home, and not wanting him to worry more
than he already was, Jane interceded. "Give us a minute to gather up
Marie's tea-trays, darling, and we'll be right down."
-oOOOo-
"You didn't have to come, dear," Jane told her son, even though the
tightness of the embrace they were sharing put lie to that. "And you
certainly should not have hauled that pregnant child all the way out
here."
"Like I could stop her? She beat me to the car, Mom. Isn't being 8.99
months pregnant supposed to slow a woman down?" he demanded, ruefully.
"It does slow me down, wise guy," Audrey twitted him as she carefully
maneuvered her protruding tummy around Jane's middle for her own hug,
"but I'm still faster than you! I was just taking it easy on you all
those times before."
"Oh, so you finally admit that you really DID want to lose that five
mile race for our wedding ceremony?" Darryl asked.
Audrey's only answer was a growl.
"Well, now we can begin," Jane started, only to again be interrupted by
yet another door opening - this time, the front door of Seasons House.
"What NOW?"
Kenneth and Barbara Anne Roberts came through the door and strode up to
Jane. "We came as soon as we could," Skipper said, embracing Jane
tightly.
"We'd have been here sooner, but Adrienne insisted she needed extra
time to dress properly," Ken put in as he took his turn with his
beloved Momma Jane.
That brought Jane up short. "Adri-ENNE?" she asked, pulling back and
trying to look around Kenneth.
"Adrienne, Aunt Jane," a petite brunette confirmed with a shy smile.
Jane goggled at her former student, decked out in a Laura Ashley frock,
white opaque hosiery with matching pumps, standing with self-assured
grace in the foyer of Seasons House.
"But...but, Adrienne? Why?"
Adrienne smiled, shyly. "When I heard, well, I mean when Ken explained,
I thought you might need another helper for Camille. In case you needed
a little time off, you know? I figured Jessica couldn't be on watch all
the time, and - oh, shoot, Aunt Jane, I thought Adrienne could help out
more than," she hesitated and blushed prettily causing Jane to smile.
"Well, you know."
Tears stinging her eyes all over again, Jane swept the petite brunette
into her arms. "Thank you, dear. That's just lovely of you. I very much
appreciate your generous offer, as will, I'm sure, Jessica. They're in
the library. Go introduce yourself."
-oOOOo-
"Well, I ASSUME, Marie, that everyone is here now?"
"Everyone I could reach," the dark-eyed housekeeper retorted, without
any sign of guilt. "But I did leave messages with several others -
notably Eric and Sylvia."
"I already have a psychologist on hand," Jane retorted, even as she
smiled at her Diana, "Not to mention an-almost done psychiatrist."
"Research psychiatrist, Mom," Michael told her, "I'm the one who asked
Tante Marie to call Erica. Partly for you, but also because I didn't
know where Camille was in the program. Having you upset might upset
her."
"I see," Jane murmured, and then turned back to Bill, "As I was saying
before I was so rudely interrupted - MULTIPLE TIMES - what happened,
and how did you find out so quickly?"
-oOOOo-
"So, you used your contacts in other police agencies to keep track of
him," Jane said, after Bill had finished his recitation of the facts as
he knew them, "even after all these years."
"That's about the size of it," Bill admitted.
"Why were you even bothering to keep tabs on him after all these
years?" Diana asked.
"Because Lora was his little sister, of course," Jane answered
automatically, and then started at the sudden blush she saw coloring
the deputy's face. "Willa?!? Why are you blushing!? What are you trying
to hide?
"I started because of our relationship - thought I might be able to
help him some time - when he was more amenable to being helped. Just
like you said," he finished, clearly hoping Jane would accept that
reply as sufficient.
He should have known better. "Continue, please," the School Mistress
sternly ordered her reluctant student.
"He came back here - twice that I know of - looking to make trouble.
The first time, I just sort of ran into him in town, greeted him like a
long-lost friend. We had a couple of beers, and that was it. Then I saw
his car while I was out on patrol - hidden off the road near Seasons
House. I waited for him and confronted him. He tried to tell me he was
getting up the courage to go see you again. It didn't ring true and I
told him what I'd do if he caused you any grief. I was, ah, pretty
angry."
"Were you pretty or were you angry?" Jane snapped, intentionally trying
to put her old student on the defensive in order to ensure she got the
full story.
"Angry," Bill answered softly, his eyes staring off at a scene only he
could see. "Way beyond just angry, to tell the truth, and Lor..Larry
saw that. I was a lot bigger than him at that point, and besides, I was
the law. He left before anything else happened. I thought that was the
end of it, but I wasn't sure, so I put out feelers on him with some
guys I knew in other agencies."
"And?"
"And I was ready when he came back the next time. He was sneakier that
time around - didn't show up in town, but I knew he was heading this
way and kind of staked out your place as much as I could. I caught him
again. From what I saw in his car, I figured he was planning to break
into Seasons House and steal from you. Things got... a little rough." A
quirk of the famous Thompson brow had Bill rushing on before how little
was little became an issue. "When he, ah, well, when he woke up, I let
him know I had him under surveillance, and that the next time he showed
his face in my town, I'd find some way to lock him up. After that
incident, he never came back - at least to my knowledge. And I made
sure I knew where he was, and made sure he knew that I knew."
"Oh?" Jane put in, "and just how did you do THAT, Willa?"
The sheriff-elect blushed again, flushing bright red all the way to his
military-style hairline. "I - ah - well... "
"Willa!" Teacher ordered sternly, "Organize your thoughts and speak
clearly!"
The familiar order and tone had the expected effect. Bill Beale sat up
ramrod straight in his seat, took a deep breath and all but shouted. "I
sent him little reminders every two or three weeks - letters,
postcards, telegrams, even emails - to where ever he was living at the
time."
"Just to let him know you knew his current whereabouts," Diana said,
admiringly.
"And so he'd realize I'd know the instant he moved in Jane's direction
again," Bill finished.
"Thank you," Art Thompson-Philips' voice breathed fervently.
"I would have liked to have seen him one more time," Jane murmured
sadly. "Just to see if... "
"He was too far gone, Aunt Jane. This isn't Star Wars and he wasn't
ever Anakin Skywalker. The Dark Force hadn't seduced him. He LIVED the
Dark Force. He wasn't going to turn himself around because he liked
being what he was too much." Bill's voice became quiet, almost
reflective. "In some of the letters.. "
"WHAT letters?" Jane pounced.
"Damn!" Bill growled, angry at himself.
"What letters, William?" Jane repeated, saying each syllable with
distinct emphasis.
"He answered some of my little love notes, okay? Let's just say that if
I could have proven he had really done any of the things in those
notes, he'd be a 3-time loser many times over by now. He liked being
Jane Thompson's single failure, and the more glaring he could make that
failure seem, the better he liked it. Thought it made him special
instead of pitiful. That seemed to motivate him to get deeper and
deeper into the underworld, always proving just how little your program
had done to turn him around."
Jane nodded, and then reached down into her desk. She withdrew a thick
notebook-style portfolio, bound in black leather. "My Rogues' Gallery,"
she said with a sad smile. "Or perhaps, the school yearbook for the
Jane Thompson Winsome Girls' School for Wayward Boys."
"Hey," Audrey interjected, "I'm a graduate, and I am not a boy. Aren't
I in that thing?"
"Wayward Boys and Tomboys," Jane retorted, her smile a little brighter
from the joke. "And you are most DEFINITELY in this - filed right
alongside my other particularly hard cases."
"Well, I like that!" the pregnant brunette sniffed in an unconscious
mimicry of her teacher.
"Good," Darryl put in, picking up the banter, "Because the shoe
definitely fits, love of my life, and quite beautifully, too."
Jane let their loving if transparent attempts at lightening the mood
wash over her. This was her family, she thought, even as she thumbed
through the many-paged scrapbook.
This was HER family, and they loved her. That was just so, so marvelous
- particularly since she'd almost despaired of ever having one, after
that damned illness had forever stolen her womb's promise from her more
than a quarter of a century ago.
She glanced down at her Rogue's Gallery, and saw the memento preserved
on the opened page, and grinned. "Bill?" she said, her voice suddenly
sweet and coy, "I think you might remember this."
Bill rose from his seat and went over to Jane's desk, an 'aw shucks'
smile on his face. "What is this? You figure to blackmail the local law
enforcement officer with my debutante picture, Aunt Jane?"
"Hardly," Jane retorted, her lips curled into the smile that had struck
terror in over a hundred cross-dressed males' hearts.
It still worked, too. "Oh my GOD!" Bill yelped, "Where did you get
THAT!?! I could have sworn I got that safely into the trash."
Incredulity warred with dismay on the deputy sheriff's face.
"Ve haff our vays," Jane mugged, before turning the book up toward the
rest of the now-very-curious onlookers.
An eight by ten pencil sketch had been taped to that particular page of
Jane's scrapbook. The mood of the piece was eerily surreal, in large
part due its perspective and the charcoal- pencil medium. The subject
was obviously a much younger Jane Thompson, or at least, her demonic
twin sister. Her face filled most of the page, her flashing eyes fixed
on the observers', as if she were looming over him or her from the
page. The wickedly grinning visage had a vampire's sharp fangs and a
devil's horns peaking out from her tightly drawn-back coiffure. In the
lower left hand portion of the sketch, she held the corner of a paper
between two sharp clawed fingers, a huge underscored 'D-minus'
dominating the page.
"You drew that, Bill?" Michael asked wonderingly, "and LIVED?!?"
"It had been a very bad day," Bill said reflectively, his eyes fixed on
the book, but clearly seeing something else entirely. "I was the only
student here at the time. I'd worked hard on that paper - at least I
thought I had. I was even proud of it."
"Aunt Jane DOES 'haff her vays'," Audrey filled in, "especially of the
sort that help redefine what 'working hard' means for you. Just one of
her great talents."
"You're right about that," Bill smiled at the tall, very pregnant
brunette, "but I hadn't learned that lesson yet - all I knew was that
I'd done the best I knew how and it hadn't been good enough for her."
"I was also very young - very full of myself at that stage," Jane
murmured, seeing that the memory still disturbed Bill, and feeling just
a little ashamed because of it. "I probably held a few unfair
expectations for my students at that time. After all, you'd been with
me less than a week, as I recall."
"Does that mean I should have gotten a better grade?" the peace officer
asked, perking up noticeably.
"Oh, a 'D' at least," Jane assured him gravely, and was rewarded with a
burst of shared laughter. "Maybe even a 'D+', but you still would have
gotten petticoated!" she concluded.
"Good likeness," Ken put in. "I remember meeting that woman a time or
two those first couple of days here."
"Amen," Darryl added. "So, Bill, you didn't have a big sister to help
you navigate Aunt Jane's little pastel and chintz obstacle course?"
"No, I didn't."
"Willa was my very first Seasons House student, dear," Jane added.
"He'd been at Eastmore, but only for the last few weeks of my last
spring term as Head Mistress."
"And I was supposed to follow that time up by going immediately to
Eastmore's summer school," Bill told the assembly, then grinned
sheepishly. "But that didn't happen."
"The school's new board chairperson and I could not reach any
accommodation on certain issues - unrelated to students like Willa I
might add - so I had no choice but to leave," Jane said, her eyes fixed
on images from the past only her mind could see. "Still, once I left,
the critical leadership support necessary for the safe continuance of
the petticoat discipline project left, too."
"Gee, Mom," Barbara Anne said, "Is that why you came here to Seasons
House? So you could continue your work with boys in skirts?"
"Not quite, dear," Jane grinned up into the statuesque blonde's curious
eyes. "I was, to put it mildly, a little... annoyed with the whole
educational system at that point in my life, and with Eastmore in
particular. I had no interest in doing anything that reminded me of
that place, and putting unwilling young men into skirts and petticoats
definitely reminded me of Eastmore, not to mention that old biddy on
the school board."
"So, how did you... ?" Barbara Anne pursued, and then blushed. "I'm
sorry. I was prying."
"Oh, it's not a dark family secret, Annie," Jane smiled at her newest
daughter. *She's come so far since meeting Kenneth,* she thought,
remembering her first meeting with Barbara Anne. *She's so confident in
herself now ? just look at her ? sitting tall and at ease with herself
as a woman. Even has her legs crossed proudly when before she'd have
tried to hide their length. Ah, what the love of a good man can do for
a woman, and my Kenneth is one of the best of that species.*
"I came here intending to live off my money, doing nothing more than
loaf, garden, ride my horses. I planned to be, " Jane continued in very
pompous tones, "quite the leisurely lady of the grand manor."
"You?!?" Darryl's disbelief was both comical and heartfelt. Her child,
Jane mused, knew her so very well. "LOAF?!? For about ten seconds ?
TOPS!"
"Actually, I managed to hold out for about ten days before I was bored
silly, and began to look for something to do. I discovered I liked and
was good at playing high finance. That worked for a while - until I got
a call from my past..."
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