Team Spirit: The Second Half Ch. 45-48 free porn video

TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF BY Meps98 CHAPTER FORTY FIVE I would have bet anything that Hanson was dead before she smacked the wall. Hell, before he hit her that third time. The first punch was a right to her jaw, snapping her head around. It would still be twisting if he hadn't followed the right immediately with an equally vicious left. Doc's body was dropping straight down when her chin ran into the uppercut. It was just like a cartoon. She completely left the ground, slamming into the wall behind her, then slumped to the ground. Bob just stood there staring at her...wasn't even breathing hard. Took all of five seconds. After a few moments, Bob walked back to my desk, scooped up all the shit from Honey's locker, stuffed it in the box, and picked it up. "Give me three minutes, then call 911. Call her office after that." What the hell was I going to say ... "No"? He was out the door before I could do anything. I went over to Hanson's body and was shocked when I found a pulse, a strong one too. She's tougher than she looks. I did just as Bob said. Also called one of the cops I pay off. The ambulance showed up in about eight minutes, my cops about two minutes later. Had to make sure I wasn't arrested for this crap. I didn't say anything about Bob, Hanson can if she wants. I ain't gonna cross that guy for all the coke in Columbia. * * ** * ** * ** * * My head and neck are throbbing. From the crown to my chin, one large, pounding, thumping cacophony of pain. I slowly open my eyes and try to move my head to look around but the pain is too great, so I just shift my eyes about. I appear to be in a hospital room, curtains drawn and dimly lit. My upper body is elevated to about 45 degrees. I think that there may be someone sitting in the chair to my left but it hurts too much to turn my head to look. I try to talk but my jaw won't move, so I can only make a useless moaning noise, which attracts the attention of whomever is in the chair. A large, dark body moves in front of me. "Finally awake, eh' Doc." Wonderful. It's Anthony. I try to tell him to get out but can only utter more unintelligible moans. He switches on a light, blinding me for a few seconds. Wonderful bedside manner. "They tell me that your jaw is broken in three places and you've got a monster concussion. Your jaw is wired shut. The nurse left this for you." He holds out a small whiteboard and marker. I slowly reach out with my right hand and take it from him, careful not to move my aching head. I prop the board on my lap and write. "W.h.a.t. H.a.p.p.e.n.e.d.?" "Bob hit you." "W.i.t.h. W.h.a.t.?" He grins. "Just his hands." "N.o.t. P.o.s.s.i.b.l.e." "Oh yeah, very possible Doc. Let me tell you a little story." Oh please stop. "I was watching one of those stupid reality video shows a couple of years ago. This particular video was from London, either a bus or train station surveillance camera, I don't remember which, doesn't matter. The camera was looking at a large waiting area and this big guy, not as big as me but good sized, was walking around, pounding on people. He was probably on drugs of some kind. Just walked up to someone and started wailing on them with his bare hands and kicking them. After a few punches, he'd stop, walk over to somebody else and start pounding them. The guy kept working the room, going from person to person, beating them. Didn't matter if it was a man, woman or kid. No one really fought back, they just ducked and covered up. There wasn't any sound so you don't know if anybody was yelling for help but there weren't any cops around." What is the point of this drivel? "So, as this guy went around the room punching and kicking people, he gradually moved closer to the camera. There was this below-average size guy just in the bottom of the camera's view. The big guy was headed right for him. The little guy took a couple of steps forward. The big guy was almost on top of the little guy when the big guy's head snapped back, his body turned about thirty degrees to the right and he went down like he was shot. The little guy just kept walking, never saw his face. They did a slow motion replay and you could see the little guy hit him square on the jaw with a short jab, got his whole body behind it. No big windup, no big follow through. The punch probably traveled all of twelve inches and knocked the big guy out cold. The little guy knew his business, a pro. Fucking amazing!" I pick up my board. "W.h.a.t. T.h.i.s. D.o. W.i.t.h. M.e.?" "Cause that is exactly what Bob did to you, only three times in about two and a half seconds. Good thing my bookie wasn't there because I would have bet everything I owned that he'd killed you. I called 911, the ambulance came, picked you up and here you are." "H.o.w. L.o.n.g.?" He checks his watch. "Oh, about fourteen hours ago. It's almost 1:00 a.m. The cops came too but it was a couple of guys on my pad. I didn't tell them much, just that you and a guy were talking in my office, I heard a loud thump, came in, found you and called 911. Figured that you would want to tell the story your way." "W.h.e.r.e. B.o.b.?" "Right now? No idea. He left right after knocking you on your ass. Haven't heard from him since." He stands up. "I told Connor that I would wait here until you woke up. She should be here around 8:00 o'clock this morning. I think she's bringing some of your rejuvenation medicine with her. You should be eating solid food in no time." I franticly scribble on the whiteboard. "W.h.a.t. I.f. B.o.b. R.e.t.u.r.n.s.?" "What if he does? He won't do anything while you're in here. Besides, the more I think about it, the more I believe that he pulled his punches. He sent you flying into the wall with no effort at all. If he wanted to kill you, he could have done it and I wouldn't have been able to stop him. You're probably safe here." "P.r.o.b.a.b.l.y.?" "Yeah ... probably." He waves his hand and leaves the room. A nurse enters as he exits. "I have some pain meds for you Doctor Hanson." It's about time. She injects something into my IV line and I quickly fall sleep. CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN When I wake the next time, my head feels better, I can move a little more without pain. The jaw still pulses but the intensity has lessened. I can turn my head far enough to see the clock. It's 5:00 a.m. and the hospital is dead quiet. I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep. "Good morning, Doctor Hanson." Bob! My eyes fly open but I can't see anything. I try to shout but can still barely make any sounds at all. My right arm flails around, trying to find the call buzzer. "Don't bother Doctor." He steps out from the shadows. How long has he been there? The call buzzer dangles from his hand. "I unplugged this to make sure we had a brief time alone." He swings my tray across the bed, stopping it in front of me. Bending down, he picks up a rectangular flat object and places it on the tray, flipping it open. It is a laptop computer. He pushes a button and the screen lights up. After the start up screen, the desktop appears. He reaches across and I involuntarily flinch. He clicks on an icon that I do not recognize. Whatever the program is, it starts and a text entry box appears. "Go on Doctor, type something. Ask me a question then hit 'Enter'." I do. The computer speaks. "Why are you here?" It is Honey's voice, a little stilted and flat but clearly Honey's voice. From what he said, there was only one place where he could have gotten the samples he needed. I type another question. "Did you break into my house?" "I will answer the second question first. Yes I did. I found the tapes. As for your first question, I am here to apologize for striking you. I let my emotions get the better of me and should not have lost control. Before we go any further, I would like to get one question answered. Am I correct in assuming that our arraignment is terminated?" I type and hit "Enter". "Yes." That voice is a little unnerving. "A shame, but perfectly understandable Doctor. I accept your decision. Having said that, there are just a couple of parting thoughts I would like to leave with you." "Do not want to hear it. Leave now." "I would prefer that you not make me insist Doctor. It will only take a few minutes." He fingers my IV line with his left hand. "Point taken. Go on." He may be smiling, it is hard to be sure in this darkened room. "Thank you Doctor. We both need to recover from our respective obsessions with Honey Sweet-Lay. Mine was of much shorter duration and a more positive nature, but we were both obsessed with her or him as the case maybe, and still are, despite her death. If either of us is to have a good future of any kind, each must get past that obsession. I intend to get professional help, if necessary, and I hope you would do the same." Where is he going with this? "On a similar note, I did not destroy the tapes, nor the contents of Honey's locker. They are all at your home. I had a change of heart after cooling off from our meeting at the club. It is true that I intended to destroy all evidence of Honey's existence for every one's protection, but also to piss you off. I knew that you would want to keep everything you could as trophies once Honey died. You bought Josh Thomas's house, kept some of his athletic awards and other personal property, destroying the rest. I assumed you would have done the same thing with Honey's meager possessions. Keeping all that property is dangerous, but it is not my place to make that decision for you. If you are able to give up those items, it would be an indication that you are on the road to recovering from your crippling obsession with all things Josh Thomas." Thank heaven he did not destroy my tapes. "I took care of the problem with Honey's friend Candi, you can speak with Anthony about the cover story. I did not use the computer in front of you. While it is the latest technology available to the general public, it is not quite sophisticated enough to run the voice program. The program on your machine is a simplified version of what I used. With practice, your computer could produce a fairly convincing conversation. I am giving you that computer should the need arise to divert the attention of the authorities once I am gone." "Why you being helpful?" "Because I do not believe you are a lost cause, Doctor. You are a brilliant scientist who has wasted a good portion of her productive years seeking vengeance for an act that occurred many years ago." "Have Nobel Prize. That a waste?" "Do you believe that you have reached your creative peak? That there is nothing more you can accomplish?" "No." "Since winning the Nobel, you have rested on your laurels, spending your time tormenting Honey. Properly developed, your discoveries could change the world for the better if you could come up with a legal way to create your drugs." "Legal?" "The raw material for your treatments is aborted fetuses, more precisely, embryonic stem cells, which you import from Russia, the abortion leader of the world." SHIT, SHIT, SHIT HE KNOWS! So much for reporting him to the police for assaulting me. "I suspected that your treatments were not actually individually tailored to each patient. You were treating more than eighty people, including yourself and staff. That is more than eighty individual DNA patterns. Science does not yet have a complete understanding of how the entire DNA sequence works, so creating eighty individual medications would mean that there would be too many chances for errors, possibly fatal errors. Yet, you had a 100% success rate, which is practically unheard of for any medical treatment, let alone an experimental one. Your only 'failure' was Josh Thomas, which was the one case where you actually did create a unique DNA based drug. The rest of your patients received a drug developed from embryonic stem cells, using their own DNA as the model for their rejuvenation. My suspicions were confirmed when I forced you to change injections at the last moment when we first met at your lab. I know that you had plans to transform me but when that was thwarted, you immediately reached for a different vial. It was extremely unlikely that you would have gone to the trouble of creating two separate and unique drugs, so the one I received was most likely generic, just the same as everyone but Josh received. Once I discovered the source of your regular shipments, everything fell into place. "Whom have you told?" "No one and I do not intend to. Should the authorities become aware of your use of aborted fetuses and embryonic stem cells, the consequences would be quite bad for you. More importantly, should that information become public, there are certain groups with a particular ... shall we say, 'viewpoint' about the use of embryonic stem cells, who would spare no effort to make sure your experiments ceased ... with extreme prejudice." "I am giving you the opportunity to discover other ways to do the same things with legal ingredients. It would make you an incredibly wealthy woman and the world a better place. Just because I personally believe you have done terrible things does not mean that you cannot do good in the world. Honey and I often spoke about karma and redemptive acts. You have great untapped potential Doctor; beyond your already recognized accomplishments. I would hate to see you waste it." "What do you want?" "Nothing Doctor. Your success is all that I require. Should you succeed and your treatments become available to the general public, I will benefit. For now, I intend to restart my original MS drug regimen immediately which should either prevent or reduce my symptoms in the future, assuming your treatments did not cure me. I also found that I enjoyed having female companionship, so I will start looking for Honey's replacement." He is one cold son of a bitch! "Unfortunately Doctor, my original argument for you to stop working for the Wranglers remains. As long as you are involved with that team, you are at risk of exposure. You must get away from them and it needs to be their decision. I suggest that you sabotage the program, that it cease working. There is no need to actually harm anyone, that could lead to a different kind of investigation. Simple failure is all that is necessary. That would help squelch rumors about an illegal advantage the Wranglers have and give them an incentive to terminate your services. Besides, with Honey's death, you have no reason to attend their post Super Bowl parties any longer." "How will I replace the Wrangler's money?" "I can not answer that Doctor. All I can say is that when you start ignoring the correct actions due to concerns about a loss of money, then someone owns you. Do the Wranglers own you Doctor?" "No." "Then do what you should do, money be damned. There is one last thing and I want to make sure you understand that I am serious about it. As I said, you are a brilliant scientist, likely more so than I realize. I believe that, should you put your mind to it, you could clone Honey. You have her DNA at your lab. In a few years, you could have a new person to torture. I hope you understand that this would be completely unreasonable. Just in case you do not, I plan on checking in on you now and then. If I find out that you are attempting that or anything like it, I will burn your lab to the ground and kill anyone associated with it. You ... have ... my ... word ... on ... this. Do you understand?" I cannot clearly see him, but I can clearly hear him. His is the voice of death and destruction, of this I am sure. There would be no escape, no reprieve. I have no intention of cloning anybody, though it is an interesting concept. Regardless, it is a chance I am not willing to take. "Yes, I understand." "Good. I have found our relationship both interesting and beneficial Doctor. Take care of yourself ... Oh, please check on Anthony now and then if you will, I have grown fond of him." My door opens quietly, there is a brief flash of light from the illuminated hallway and he is gone, silently closing the door behind him. * ** * ** * ** * * (Six Months Later) Doc Hanson was at the club again tonight. She comes in about once a month now; we sit in my office and talk. Just after Honey's death, she was here practically daily. The first time she came in, I gave her the hair that Bob tore from Honey's head before we torched her body. I had kept it in my freezer. She seemed happy to get it. Those first few visits, she pumped me for details about Honey's death, the bastard who did it, how we cleaned the room and where we burned the body. She brought some kind of specialist in to go over the room, looking for evidence of the murder I guess. We even tried to find the old garage but I couldn't recreate our original route. I'm pretty sure Bob planned it that way. I think that she didn't believe that Honey was actually dead. I told her that Bob was never alone with Honey and he ripped out that clump of hair just before we burned the body. In the end, I think she accepted it. Maybe. Not my problem. The last few visits, she was more interested in what Bob was doing. She never pressed charges against him for beating her up, I didn't ask her why. He was living in the same house, but I didn't go over there to check on him, didn't know if I was welcome or not. He did however have other girls come over to his place like Honey first did. I know that because I talked with other club owners. He approached them with the same offer he made to me. Unfortunately for him, none of the other girls worked out. Honey really was one of a kind, in more ways than the obvious. I had to admit that I sorta missed her too. What a cocksucker! Honey's regular john's asked about her, but I told them the same thing Bob told Candi when he called her using that "Honey in a box" computer, that she had gone to Germany to work their clubs, said that a guy bought her contract from me. Candi never did come back to my club. I think she decided to stay in Houston. Other than that, Honey's disappearance didn't cause a ripple. I don't know if it was sheer luck or all that Bob did, but I thought we were in deep shit when I first walked in on that bloody murder scene. Turns out I was wrong. It was all probably for the best anyway. There's no more fighting between Bob and Hanson. I can keep those psycho creeps out of my club. I don't have to worry about her ratting me out to the cops. I miss the money but, in the end, it just wasn't worth the hassle. After Hanson left, I went back out to the bar. It's a Thursday night in June and the weather had been brutally hot. Anybody selling cold beer was doing OK tonight. No one was on stage right now, so I took a leisurely tour around the floor, making sure every one knew I was here. Talked with a few of my regulars, pressing the flesh. There's a guy I don't recognize sitting in the corner at Bob's old table. He's slumped forward, can't see his face. As I walk closer, he looks up. "Son of a BITCH! BOB! How you doing?!" Bob reaches up with his hand. I grab it and sit down. "Hello Anthony. It is good to see you again." "Me too man, me too. How you been?" "Fine, you?" "Pretty busy. Doc Hanson was just here, left about ten minutes ago." "I know, I've been here awhile myself. I thought it best to keep her unaware of my presence. I was not sure how she would react. There was no need to risk causing a scene, particularly given the reason I am here tonight." "What's that?" "I am here to say good bye Anthony. I have been unable to find a companion since Honey's death, so it is time to move on." "That's a shame man. Where you going?" "I am not sure, possibly back East. Did I ever tell you that I am originally from the New York area?" "You never told me anything about yourself Bob. You don't sound like a New Yawker." "It took some effort to get rid of the accent. I miss winter and snow. I will see what area appeals to me. I just wanted to stop by, relive some old times and bid you farewell." His eyes are a little misty. "You still miss her, don't you?" "Very much so, but life moves on." He stands up and pats me on the shoulder. "Take care Anthony." "You too Bob. Do you want me to tell Hanson about this conversation?" "It makes no difference to me. Do whatever you feel is in your best interest. Good bye." He slowly walks towards the exit, looking this way and that as he leaves. When he reaches the exit, he turns and dips his head towards me. I nod back. He slides out the door. I feel a lot more comfortable knowing he's not in town anymore. A great guy to have on your side when there's trouble around, but it seems there is always trouble when he's around. I'd rather not have the trouble in the first place. * * ** * ** * ** * * (Three Months Later) Summer was making its last stand in the middle-sized town of Bloomington, Indiana. Bloomington is a college town, home of the main campus of Indiana University. The town itself surrounds the campus on three sides, mostly older homes and neighborhoods, many of which have seen better days. A large number of the bigger houses have been converted to student rental housing, internally subdivided into multiple apartments. Some neighborhoods have resisted the creeping commercialization. Much of the University faculty resides in those neighborhoods, those and the sprawling subdivisions on the outskirts of town. Today, the air is hot and moist, filled with the sounds of children playing in the neighborhood park. An average sized man, of average weight and indeterminate age with auburn hair pauses to watch a basketball game in that park for a few minutes before strolling down the street to a white, fenced, Victorian style house. He opens, then walks through the wrought iron gate, up the short concrete sidewalk, climbs the steps to the front door and rings the doorbell. There is no answer, so he rings again. The door swings open, revealing an attractive, middle-aged woman, dressed in a pale yellow sundress. "Hello Bob. It is Bob today, isn't it?" He smiles. "Yes Susan, Bob James. I have been using this legend exclusively for almost two years and have grown quite comfortable with it. May I come in?" "Certainly. I thought you said you would be here after 5:00. It's only 4:15." "The traffic around Indianapolis was much less than I anticipated and there was no delay at the airport. I can come back later if you wish." "No, no come in. We may have more to talk about than you originally planned." They walk into the living room. Susan gestures towards a chair. Bob sits down while she has a seat on the couch. "So, how is Ms. Taylor doing?" he asks. "Amazingly well. Given her history, I would have expected a much more difficult transition to a normal life. She has really taken to the therapy, works very hard at it. You deserve a lot of credit for her willingness to accept what happened to her and put it in the past. I must admit that when you first came to me, I didn't believe you. The whole story seemed too fantastic. If you had not been my patient when we both worked for ..." "Yes, I remember." "As do I. Because of our relationship, I knew you were not the kind of person to make such claims lightly. Once she was able to trust me, she told me the entire story." She shook her head. "Absolutely dumbfounding. That such technology exists is both thrilling and horrifying. Are you sure that Debbie is the only victim?" "Yes, quite sure. Isn't her name Deborah?" "She prefers Debbie, don't you like it?" "Oh yes, it is cute and wholesome. 'Debbie Taylor'. It suits her; of course practically anything would be an improvement on 'Honey Sweet- Lay'. Where is she?" "Out with friends. I believe the plans were to do some shopping at the Mall and then go to school to work on some banners for the new football season. I don't expect her back until 6:00, though I did give her strict instructions to be home in time for dinner." "She's not a cheerleader, is she?" "No, they wanted her, for obvious reasons, but she wasn't interested, for equally obvious reasons. Debbie still helps out though; she's that kind of person, very generous and giving." "How is she doing in school?" "Better than one might expect. Having been through high school once before is an advantage to her, but not much of one. Her then athletic talents gave her or him a bit of a free ride, at least in his later years. He must have learned and retained something because Debbie is getting B's and A's in Advance Placement classes, even the Home Ec class." "Home Ec?" "She insisted. School has not been easy; she does put in the hours on home work and group projects." "I understand that she also works part time. What kind of job?" "A clothes store, primarily teen fashion. I thought that it would give her a chance to interact with a large cross-section of people and help her become more comfortable out in public. It should also help her catch up on years of 'fashion experience' that she never had, giving her more in common with her peer group." "Debbie does not really have a peer group." Susan frowns. "You know what I mean Bob." "And she has friends?" "Quite a few, particularly given that she only attended school for the spring semester. She naturally attracts attention, as you well know." "How about ... boyfriends?" His voice catches on that question, which does not go unnoticed by Susan. "Yes, there have been a couple. As I said, she naturally attracts attention, particularly from boys ... and men under the age of ninety." "Any ... serious relationships?" "No Bob, none." He visibly relaxes. "That is one of the things that we need to talk about. Would you care for something to drink?" "Just water please." Susan gets up, goes to the kitchen and returns with two glasses, water for Bob and tea for herself. She sits back down on the couch. "As I was saying, Debbie has made remarkable progress in almost all areas except one. She cannot form a romantic relationship of any kind with males of her peer group. And no, she is not a lesbian, as you well know." "Is that a serious problem?" "Yes, I believe it is. She has passed up several quite acceptable prospects." "Maybe she just has not met the right boy." "That is the problem, she's sure she has." "I do not understand. Are you saying she is attracted to a boy who is rejecting her? If so, there is your homosexual. No red blooded male would pass up on an opportunity to date Hone ... Debbie." "No Bob, she's rejecting all romantic overtures because she is in love with you, completely, totally and utterly." Bob smiles broadly but says nothing. "And therein lies the problem, because we both know that you are incapable of a healthy relationship with anyone." "Now wait a moment Susan, that is not exactly true ..." "How long was I your therapist, Bob?" "At least ten years." "Ten years. In all that time, did we ever make any progress on your ability to actually bond with another person." "Certainly, by the end I was ..." "Capable of convincingly faking it. You could fake most any 'normal' behavior but you never really felt the emotion. You remained an isolated person, which in your profession was a strength. You cared for no one, needed no one, relied on no one, shared with no one ... loved no one. You were able to convince Debbie that you and she had a relationship, you likely believed it yourself, having never demonstrated a propensity for cruel behavior for cruelties sake. We both know that the reality is something else. You never had a close, emotional connection with anyone in your life, though you tried. If things became difficult, you simply disappeared. Emotional connections with people would have been a liability when working for .... the 'company', but they are mandatory for a successful relationship. Your condition makes success very unlikely with even a psychologically strong woman. To attempt this with Debbie, after all she has been through, would be unconscionable. I refuse to let her continue with this delusional relationship when she is so close to making an unprecedented transition from an abused, forcibly feminized male to a strong, secure, emotionally balanced woman. I only care about her best interest, not yours. You were my patient, but she is my patient." "May I say something?" "Yes." "I do love her, with all my heart. The last nine months have been very difficult for me." "They haven't been a walk in the park for Debbie." "I understand that, I do not mean to compare our respective levels of misery. I just want you to understand that I really love her." "You may have loved 'Honey Sweet-Lay', though I doubt it; you do not even know 'Debbie Taylor'. They are not the same person." "Fine, then let us have a chance to get to know each other." "No." "Shouldn't that be her choice?" "Normally yes, but this is hardly a normal case. I have done things not found in any textbook. God, if I could write a paper on this, I might get my own Nobel Prize. Debbie would do anything to make you happy so, in this area, her judgment can not be trusted." "Susan, I am a changed man! I swear!" "I am sure that you believe you are, but your behavior says otherwise. Debbie told me of a number of instances where you put her in very difficult situations to accomplish your objectives. You did not get her consent for this. Her safety was secondary to your objectives." "Her escape was my objective! Chances had to be taken and I could not get her consent without risking failure. This is just like the Syrian matter. You ivory tower types have no idea what working in the field is like. Compromises must be made in order to succeed." "You don't risk the life of someone you love!" "You do if it is the only way to save them!" "We disagree, but since I am the therapist, I win." "Susan ..." "And don't try to intimidate me Bob. I know all your tricks." "Not all of them." "I know that you respect me and my capabilities, otherwise you would not have asked for my help, which, by the way, is a point in your favor." Bob says nothing for a moment or two. "What if I tell her the truth?" "You have been lying to her?!" "NO! I have not lied to her ... not as far as anything important. I did not tell her many things, but that is not lying ... it is just not full disclosure." "A very subtle difference when you are the one being deceived, Bob." "I am offering to tell her the complete truth about me, my history, my job, my problems ... that you have been so kind to point out, everything that is not classified. Would that satisfy you?" She thinks about it for a few seconds. "I don't know. Love truly is blind. She might not care about any of it; things that would drive any sane person away screaming might be blithely accepted ... I am sorry, simply telling her the complete truth is a minimum requirement. You also must promise me that you will not leave when things get difficult, and make no mistake, things will get very difficult. Debbie is much more stable than anyone could have expected, even hoped for, but she is far from being done with her therapy. If you and she became romantically involved and then you abandon her, the harm to her could be cataclysmic. Can you guarantee me that you would stay with her no matter what happens, no matter how difficult things become?" "I would do the best I could." "That is not nearly good enough. If history means anything, your best will not be adequate ... I'm sorry Bob, but I can't support you, it is not in Debbie's best interest." He nods his head. "I understand Susan. You must do what you think correct. All I know is that I have never felt this way before about anyone. There is no guarantee that will not change, but 'normal' couples are in the same situation, as evidenced by the current divorce rate." "Agreed, but they are not my responsibility, Debbie is." "All I ask is that you do not actively lobby against me." "I will tell her what I think ... I do not hate you Bob. You have many admirable qualities, mostly honest, trustworthy, unbelievably resourceful, a strong moral base, a preternatural calm in the face of stress or danger. But you are also ruthless, single minded, relentless, self-absorbed and willing to do most anything to successfully complete your objective. In a difficult situation, I would trust you with my life; I just wouldn't date you, even at gun point." He nods his head again. "Fair enough Susan." CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN It's a good thing I brought a change of clothes. This hallway is hot as hell! School doesn't start until next week so the AC isn't on yet. Even with the doors open at both ends, the stifling, humid air is just sitting there. We can't turn on a fan because the thirty foot paper banners spread out on the floor would go flying down the hall. My shorts and tank top make it bearable, but just barely. I'm starting to get sweaty bra rash. Jackie and Sherry are sweating as bad as I am, but they're cheerleaders so their eternal peppiness keeps them from bitching about it, which leaves me with no one to complain to. "How many of these do we need to make?" I ask. Sherry shifts from her hands and knees to sitting back on her heels, scratching her nose with the back of the enormous black marker in her right hand. "One for the cheer section, one for the band, and one in each end zone." "Don't forget the hoop," adds Jackie "The hoop's a bitch." "But we've got two weeks, why do you need these done by Friday?" Sherry wipes the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "That's what Emily wants and she's head cheerleader. I told you that you should have tried out. I've seen you dance, you'd have kicked her ass! But noooo, you had more important things to do, like school and work." I throw my marker at her but she dodges it, laughing. Jackie and I laugh along with her. "If you're going to insult me, screw you guys, I'm going home." Jackie stands up, brushing off her knees. "She's not insulting you Deb. Everybody knows you'd be a great addition to the squad. You already spend half your free time with us anyway, might as well make it official. Anybody want a drink?" I stand up too. "Water." Sherry chimes in. "Diet Coke." Jackie heads for the ice chest at the end of the hall. I sit down next to Sherry. "I hear that you've been seeing Larry Boyd." She swats my arm. "Who told you?!" "I hear things at the store. Besides, you aren't making a secret of it, parking at the lake." "I wish I had your sources, I'd be rich from blackmailing half the senior class. I do know that you turned Chris Bailey down again. Jeez Deb, he's like the biggest catch in the whole school. Starting quarterback, rich family, a complete babe and ..." she lowers her voice "... a decent fuck, if you believe Joni Shipley. What's the four-one- one?" "I know, my Aunt Susan says that I should say 'yes' but ..." "It's the old boyfriend, isn't it?" says Jackie as she tosses me a bottled water. "He must have done a number on you to turn you off the great guys who chase you all the time." I twist open the bottle and take a big swig. Oooohhh yeah, that hits the spot. She sits down and hands Sherry her Diet Coke. "They aren't all great guys. Bob didn't do anything wrong. He was great ... more than great, the best. All that and something else. Sweet, kind, smart, brave, supportive, and ... on Joni Shipley's scale of one to ten, Bob was a fifty, on a bad day. And he never had a bad day." They both gasp, then start giggling wildly. "GAWD DEBBIE! You slut! You never told me that!" cried Jackie. "No wonder you miss him! Where is he?" chirped Sherry. "I ... I ... don't really know" I sighed. "We haven't seen each other in almost ten months." "Bummer! Why'd he leave you?" "Actually ... I left him ... it's complicated guys." "Hey" said Sherry, "if it wasn't complicated, it wouldn't be any fun. Still, if he's not around, maybe you could just try to hook up with somebody else." "You should form a club with my Aunt Susan. I have tried ... it's just ... compared to Bob ... they're all just ... children, you know?" Jackie laughs. "Tell me something I don't know, guys are like children most the time anyway. You better start seeing somebody soon or people will think you're a lesbo." I grin. "Weeeelllll, now that you mention it...." "Shut UP! You slut!" Sherry shrieks. Jackie falls onto her side, laughing hysterically. I push myself up off the floor. "Enough fun, let's get these done. I gotta be home by 6:00 and can't help tomorrow, I'll be at the store all day." Sherry jumps to her feet. "Hey! Are those cami tops still on sale? I really need to get a couple before school starts." "Yeah, but the sale ends Saturday. Come in tomorrow and I can get the commission." "How about the employee discount?" "You know I can't. If the manager caught me, she'd fire my ass, then my Aunt would kick it." "That's OK Deb, I'm just screwing with you. You're right, back to work." * * ** * ** * ** * * "I'm home!" I shout as I open the door. It's 6:12 but I've got a good excuse. "Susan, I'm home!" She steps out of the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. "You're late." "I know, I'm sorry. We were cleaning up and getting ready to leave, but then football practice ended and the team walked in. Sherry just had to talk with Larry and she was my ride home. Then Chris started chatting me up. I was lucky to get out of there when I did. Supper's not ruined is it?" "Actually, I haven't started it yet. Something came up. We will probably have to order something." "That's cool. What happened?" "I had a visitor, friend of yours." "It wasn't Pam was it? I told her that I had no interest in Steve Lane. He was the one who chased me at the pool party last week. She can have him." "He sounds like a charmer, no it wasn't Pam Sharp." "Not Mark Richardson I hope. He's been showing up at the store to 'shop' every day for the last three weeks. If I'm not there, he leaves. If I am, he stays for a couple of hours. He doesn't buy anything, just browses and tries to get near me." I shudder. "Creepy." "No, it is an old friend. He's still here." Old friend? He? I don't have any old friends, at least none who know where I ... NO! SHE'S SHITTING ME! IT CAN'T BE ... "Where is he?!" "The kitchen." She steps away from the doorway and I slowly approach, not letting my hopes get too high, then peek in. He's there, leaning with his back against the sink. "Hello Debbie. Susan says that you are doing quite ..." That's all he gets out before I rush in, throw myself into his arms and kiss him as if to suck the fillings out of his teeth. His arms are around my waist, holding me off the ground, my arms locked around his neck. I keep kissing him until I get dizzy from the lack of air. Breaking our lip lock, I look into his bright eyes and smiling face. "Hey Bob. Nice hair." I dive back in. We keep it up until he lets me slowly slide down his body, my feet finally touching the ground. I've still got a death grip around his neck. "Debbie, I would appreciate it if you would release my neck. I would prefer to stand upright." "Only if you promise not to leave." "I promise not to leave right away. How long I am here depends on what we decide today." I kiss him again, then let go of his neck but quickly grab his right hand. He's not leaving my sight. I look back towards the kitchen door. Susan is standing there, a frown on her face. What's her problem? "Why don't we all have a seat at the kitchen table. We have a lot to discuss," she says. I'm so happy, so giddy, that I'd probably float away if I weren't holding Bob's hand. Everyone sits down but I keep the fingers of my left hand tightly intertwined with the fingers of Bob's right. Susan clears her throat. "Debbie, Bob's here because I thought you were ready to deal with him." She's shifted into therapist mode. "I can't tell you how proud I am of the progress you have made since we first met. Your acceptance of and adaptation to the changes in your life are nothing short of amazing." I know I'm blushing. Bob gives my hand a little squeeze. I glance at him, he has a satisfied smile on his face, almost a look of ... pride? In me? I look back to Susan. "Naturally, you have been full of questions ever since you got here and I have answered them truthfully as far as I can, but I know very little of the complete story. Bob has told me what I needed to know ... but not much else." She and I share a knowing look. "I felt that it was best for you to come to terms with your ... situation before bringing Bob back into your life." "So you're the one who's kept us apart all this time?!" "That is not quite correct." Bob says. "There were other activities that required my absence." Bob slowly releases my hand. "I am here to answer your questions, all that I legally can. Once we are done today, you will know everything that I did and why I did it." "Does that include questions about who you really are, where you came from, everything?" He raises his right hand. "The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." Finally! I've wanted this for sooo long! I'm actually feeling just a little aroused thinking about it. "Do you want to ask me questions or should I just start at the beginning?" "The beginning. If I start asking questions, I'll never stop ... oh wait, there is one, what's with the hair?" He chuckles and runs his hand through his auburn locks. "This is my natural color. I dyed it a more bland brown color when I worked for the government. As I got older, the red faded and the brown remained so I stopped dying it. One of the effects of Dr. Hanson's treatments was the return of the original color. I went back to the hair dye so as to keep my appearance unremarkable. Do you like it?" "Oh yes, very attractive, very sexy." Susan shakes her head. "Let's stick to our objectives and keep the flirting to a minimum." Spoil sport. "Agreed" replied Bob. "From the top. You already know how I came to be at Anthony's club, what I was looking for and why I chose you. All of that was the truth. You know how I discovered your secret. What I did not tell you was that from the moment I discovered that secret, I began working on a rescue plan." I KNEW IT! "At first, it was purely an academic exercise, an interesting logic puzzle. The objective was to get Josh Thomas back." "What?!" "As I said, it was an academic exercise. The situation was so unique that I could not resist the challenge." "What was so wrong with me that you wanted that jerk Josh Thomas back?!" Bob seems surprised at my reaction. Susan tries to ease the tension. "I am sure that Bob meant no offense Debbie. He's probably not aware how disassociated you are from Josh Thomas." Bob grabs at the lifeline she just tossed. "Remember, this was many months ago, I had only known you a few weeks and did not know Josh Thomas at all. I was not choosing between you and he, there was no intention at the time of implementing any plan I may have created." I feel a little better. "Sorry, go on." "Thank you. I quickly came to the conclusion that there was no way to bring Josh Thomas back. It would require the complete cooperation of Dr. Hanson and that would never happen. Neither force nor blackmail would work. She would have killed you before letting that happen. So, I changed my objective to getting you out of her clutches. Obviously, the primary obstacle was your addiction to Anthony's semen. I briefly explored the possibility of synthesizing some kind of replacement but had no luck with any expert I consulted. The other possibility was to gain her trust and persuade her to remove the addiction. That required me to become a part of the conspiracy." He paused. "What? Come on Bob, go on. I want to know." "I am not particularly proud about what I did next. At the time, it made perfect sense and I had no problem doing it. In retrospect, I regret making that choice, though it was still the correct move, from a purely tactical standpoint ... it is difficult for me to explain why I regret it ... and I am not just saying that to mollify you, Susan." "What is he talking about Susan?" "We can discuss that later. Go on Bob, you promised Debbie the truth." Bob was clearly very uncomfortable. "I did promise the truth ... I gave you enough information to attract Dr. Hanson's attention, knowing that she would torture you, that you would resist to the last possible moment, then break and tell her what I told you." "You knew she would torture me?! And you did nothing to stop it?" "I not only knew it, I was counting on it. In fact, I practically arranged it. This was no longer an academic exercise. After spending more time with you and finding out how you were treated by Hanson and Anthony, I decide to try to save you. If you recall, you were willing to let me try." "Sure, you told me that you would try, but then she found out about it and you traded my freedom for your treatments!" "That was all part of the plan. Please withhold judgment until the end of my story. Where was I? ... Oh yes, torture ... as soon as Hanson discovered Anthony's agreement with me, she would strongly object and want to question you. That was inevitable. I decided to attempt to control the timing. That meal at the restaurant where she saw us eating was not picked at random. In reviewing her financial records, I discovered that she often ate there. It was in her charge card records. I bribed the reservation clerk so that she would contact me the next time Hanson made a reservation and then make one for me a half hour earlier. The fall that brought her attention towards us was not an accident; it was an intentional act on my part. I knew that once she became aware of our relationship, she would go directly to Anthony for an explanation, and then she would question you. If you had a secret to keep, she would dig until she got the truth. The more you resisted, the more believable it would ultimately be. I knew I could give you just enough information to whet her appetite for more but that I could not tell you my real plan, you would not have been able to keep the secret. I knew that this put you at risk but trusted Dr. Hanson to have enough control to not irreversibly harm you." "You mean kill me, don't you? Or did you think that I was too weak and would break before she got that mad?" "Either one would work and they were not mutually exclusive. I knew how the addiction affected you. Unfortunately, I did not realize how hard you would struggle to keep the secrets. I understand that you were extraordinarily brave, but no person on earth could have resisted." "Could you?" "Resist? No, but if the secret was important enough, I would have either killed myself or made sure that she did it for me. I can be quite infuriating when I want to." "OH COME ON!" He looked towards Susan. She nods her head. "He's not lying dear. It was part of his training, plus I did his psych profile. He'd have done it." "Wow." "I believe that this incident is the one that Susan most objects to." "We will deal with that later Bob," says Susan. Later? "As you wish, you are the professional. Once Hanson became aware that I knew her secrets, she could not let me go free. Her plan was to either convince me I was wrong, which was not very likely, or Anthony would have to shut me up, possibly kill me. I am sure that you remember how that worked out for her." "God yes! It's one of my best fucking memories!" "Debbie! ... language." "Sorry, Susan," I sigh. Bob's face is blank but his eyebrows are raised. I smile at him, guiltily. "I'm trying to clean up my potty mouth, to be more 'lady-like'." He suppresses a grin. "A worthy objective. Once both of her plans failed, I subtly suggested a third option, the one I wanted her to take, but it had to appear to be her idea, not mine. That was her controlling me by treating my MS symptoms but not curing the disease." "Wait ... you're not on Hanson's drugs anymore are you?" "No, I am back on low levels of some of my prior medications as a preventive measure. There have been no signs of new damage from my MS, so it is possible that I have been cured but there is no way to tell for certain." "Why did Hanson cut you off?" "Our relationship ended when I broke her jaw in three places." "YOU DID WHAT?! "I think that will come up later too." "You bet your sweet ass it will!" "Debbie! Langua.." "I know! I know!" Bob can't hide the smile this time. "Sorry, go on Bob." "Naturally, she never intended to follow through with that agreement. She was just bidding her time until she could get me under her control. You warned me about that, if you recall Debbie." "I thought you were crazy to trust her." "Since I did not trust her, I must not have been crazy." There's the smirk I know and love ... sometimes. "I believe that she was planning to repeat what she did to Josh Thomas, maybe make me your twin sister." I start to giggle at the image. "That could have been interesting Bob." "Briefly interesting, perhaps, but that was not my plan. I had to wait to the last second to thwart her, so that she had no time to come up with a coherent response." "What if she had a backup plan?" "Her ego is too large. She refuses to face the possibility of failure and the need for an alternate plan. As fatal a flaw as there can be." "Well, it was a close call anyway. Good thing you had your friends to watch your back." "There were no 'friends', we were alone." "No... no ... what about the phone call, the blood pressure trick?" "All technology. I have a false tooth. When I worked for the company, it was switched out for each assignment, to contain whatever I needed for that particular job. I kept the devices when I retired. In this case, it had a blood pressure sensor and a short range transmitter to a receiver in the trunk of my car, which was just outside the window. That was one of the reasons why I insisted on providing my own transportation. The more powerful equipment was in the trunk, including the voice synthesizer and the automatic dialer. There were a few pre-recorded phrases, which I could trigger by manipulating the tooth. There is no such thing as an organized group of retired assassins." I look to Susan. Now she's smiling. "It's true. I've seen the equipment, or at least something like it." I'm speechless for a few moments. "My God! Then it was all a ..." "Bluff, but a well thought out one. I have given some thought to organizing all the retired assassins though, it is not a bad idea." "But if she had called your bluff ..." "I had some options." "Such as? Because you could hardly move, if I remember correctly." "Well, my last option was enough explosives in my car to level the building, on a timer so that if I did not go out and disarm it, we all would have died in an hour or less." "Holy crap!" "Another act that I believe Susan objects to." "Later Bob." "Right. So, you see, I had the bases covered, one way or another." "But if it hadn't worked, if she had called the bluff, you could have ended up like me or dead." "You would have been killed too, you know." "Yeah, but you really risked your life to save me. That or ending up transformed ... and you knew what that meant, the addiction and everything, the hell your life would become, and you still took the chance." "It was a small risk Debbie. My 'Plan A' worked as I expected. Please, do not dwell on the 'what ifs'." How could I not? No one had ever taken that kind of risk to help me. And we weren't even lovers yet, that was weeks in the future and certainly not guaranteed to happen. We were hardly even friends. He took an unbelievable risk to save me. I had to know. "Why would you do that for me?" "You had agreed to put your life in my hands; I owed you my best efforts. It was what was required to succeed. No risk, no reward. Dr. Hanson was too smart, too resourceful, to take half measures to defeat. Once I accept a challenge, I do what is necessary to successfully complete the objective." He is a weird guy. A weird, dangerous guy. "Once brought into the conspiracy, the next move was to get Anthony on my side, but it had to appear that I was supporting him, not him supporting me. That way, I could start building a case for removing the addiction. Hanson would always be suspicious of that idea, so it was a stroke of luck when she asked me to kill someone to prove who I was." "Would you really have killed Hanson's secretary?" "Janet Lester? No, of course not. Though I must admit, Dr. Hanson surprised me with that request of proof of my bona fides. I thought that we were past that point in our relationship." "You were surprised?" "Yes. I am not infallible Debbie. I assumed that something like this might crop up early in the process but not at this late stage." "Couldn't prove it by me. You didn't have a scheme ready to go?" "Nothing exactly on point. Luckily, I noticed that Lester was gathering her things as I came into the clinic. Having done bios on all of Hanson's employees when my investigation began, Lester was the perfect choice anyway; young, married, a mother and not vital to the function of the clinic. When I realized that she had already left the building, Janet Lester became the target." "Then it all backfired on Hanson." "Correct. After that plan failed, she was on the defensive and my tracking device gave her a face saving way out. It would also shut Anthony up. No offense, he had grown bored of practically daily sex with you. Once convinced the tracking device would give him some relief, he became its' biggest advocate." "I wasn't exactly happy to see him every day either, you know." "I remember. After manipulating the situation to have your addiction lifted, it then became a matter of timing. Hanson was intent on keeping total control of you. Once she saw that you were still exhibiting evidence of free will and independent spirit, she was prepared to redouble her efforts to torture and abuse you. With the addiction gone, you could have run away but the tracker made that difficult, not impossible, but difficult. She would never, ever give up pursuing you. The only answer was to kill you." "Which explains why I woke up in a motel room with bandages on both arms and my side" "That is jumping forward in the story a bit, but yes. Hanson would not search for you if she believed you were dead. It had to be done when she would not be available to view the 'body'. I could fool Anthony but not her, if only because Anthony would not inspect your extremely bloody corpse too closely. Her attendance at the Nobel Prize ceremony gave me a five-day window. I also needed to know that you were prepared to deal with life after your escape. It would have been a hollow victory if you ended up in a psych ward somewhere." Another piece of the puzzle clicks in place. "Is that what all that 'accepting myself' stuff was about?" "Yes, also getting you out in public in normal life situations, to see if you could handle it." "Wait ... did you arrange my meeting Sarah, Brit and Piper?" "No, that was completely serendipitous. I was only interested in seeing how you handled the crowds and shopping. Observing how you interacted with them, how quickly you developed a friendship with them and how you handled the party and the problems that developed told me that you could survive outside the club. It also increased my admiration for you as a caring, capable and brave human being." "Really? You admire me?" "The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." "Was it that important, figuring out if I could make it in the real world?" "Yes it was, though at Susan's suggestion. I had already recruited her. I could not accomplish this on my own, though solo jobs are my preference. I also needed her expertise in helping you after your escape, and arranging for the surgery to ultimately remove the tracking device, but I am getting ahead of myself again." "You also needed that scary guy who came to the club, the one with the big coat and blonde hair." Bob lightly chuckles." That was me, Debbie." "NO WAY! He was taller, thinner ... had a tattoo ... a big nose ..." "It was me, but back to the correct chronology. I adopted the disguise of one of Hanson special recruits, the ones she brought in to give you a particularly hard time." "You don't need to remind me ... you knew about them?" "I suspected something unusual was occurring. You told me of the ... clients who treated you more roughly than usual and that they tended to show up just before you were scheduled to get your semi-annual 'tune-up' treatments from Dr. Hanson. I noticed certain men arriving at the club who did not pay to get access to you but instead gave Anthony a yellow business card, which I discovered they had obtained from Hanson." "How did you figure out what was happening?" "I bought a few drinks for some of them after they left your room. They were generally quite proud of their activities." "They were all bastards!" "Undoubtedly, but they gave me the opening I needed. I did tell Susan about them so that she could deal with it in your therapy." "How'd you get a card?" "I lifted an old card from Anthony' collection, added the blue contacts, wig, nose, fake tattoo, elevator boots, waist wrap, duster coat and voila, 'John Smith'. I hid my equipment in the coat." "What equipment?" "The makeup, prosthetics, extra blood, wire cutters, drugs, gag ..." "Yeah! That gag! It hurt!" "But not for long. It was coated with an anesthetic to numb your throat and was a vital component of the plan. I needed to knock you out and simulate death. I ultimately settled on two of the three drug cocktail used in executions. They paralyzed your muscles and greatly slowed your breathing. The gag contained compressed oxygen to keep you alive." "I do remember feeling something like that just before passing out." Bob hands me his phone. "Here are the pictures I took of the scene for Hanson. They are a bit graphic." I scroll through them. Damn, he wasn't kidding! No wonder Anthony didn't want to get near me. My throat hurts just looking at the one with my head laid back, a bloody slash nearly decapitating me. "How did you do this? Where did you get all that blood? I'd say that I was dead too if I wasn't sitting here." I hand the phone back to him. "Makeup and prosthetics. The blood was real, expired whole blood from the local blood bank. That slit throat is a bit of an optical illusion. There were some real cuts, as you know, for the close-up photos. I also needed the one on your side so that I could disable the tracker. I hope that the scarring was minimal." "There weren't any." I hold up my arms for him to see, then stand up and strip off my tank top. "See, not a mark." "Debbie!" cries Susan. "What are you doing?" "I'm wearing a bra! It's not like he hasn't seen me naked before." And I hope again in the very near future. "I don't care about that! Get dressed." I pull the top back on. Bob has an intent look on his face. I think he enjoyed the show. "I hoped that Hanson's drugs were still in your system so that you would have a rapid recovery, apparently I was correct. Once I had bagged your 'body', Anthony locked the door and I left to get supplies to clean the room. I did not actually leave though. Picking the locks, I snuck back to your room, picked you up, and brought you out to Susan's car, which was waiting in the back parking lot. The replacement body was in her car so I took it back in to your room, relocked everything and left." "Replacement body? You didn't kill someone ..." "Of course not! It was not a real body. It was a silicon model of your body. I am often amazed at what you can find on the internet. The company will make a copy of a person's head if you provide them with the necessary information and attach it to one of several standard body models, though they will customize for an additional fee. It has an articulated skeleton and is ... anatomically correct. You may recall that I left you alone at the mall after Thanksgiving. I was contacting the company to make last minute adjustments to the body because of your ... recently enhanced figure." He's blushing. How can somebody do what he does and then blush when talking about my tits? "I also removed some of your hair and left it with the fake body so that I could later pretend to rip it out of your head to prove that it was really you in the body bag just before I burned it." So that's what happened to my hair. I rub a spot at the back of my head. It took weeks to grow back. "Anthony and I collected the 'body' and all the disposable items in your room, took them to a remote location and burned them with a combination of kerosene and liquid oxygen." "Why use that stuff?" "Because it burns very hot, some rockets use the combination as fuel." "I wish I could have seen that." "It was impressive." "Wait, wouldn't the silicon stink when it burned. I've never smelled a burning body, but I don't think it smells like burning plastic." "You are correct, but I chose an abandoned garage with a pit that was coated in old oil and grease. The smell of burning petroleum products covered the odor of burning silicon. After disposing of the body and the rest of the evidence from your room, we returned, cleaned up the mess then contacted Hanson to give her the bad news." "I bet she was pissed." "Quite, but there was little she could do from Sweden. The face-to-face confrontation occurred a few days later. There was a dispute over who should get the Christmas present to me that was left in your work locker." What? "I didn't have a Christmas present in my locker." He smiles at that. "I know, I planted it there earlier to guarantee an argument between myself and Hanson. Luckily, Anthony remembered that we had not emptied it out when we cleaned your room, but I was prepared to 'remember' that fact if necessary. I needed to give Hanson a reason to terminate our agreement. Your death would likely have been adequate but I wanted to make sure. Of course, it had to be her idea, not mine. We had a ... brief physical altercation and Hanson ended up unconscious with a concussion and a broken jaw." Way to go Bob! "You don't have pictures of that do you? Please have pictures!" "I do have one of her in the hospital." He holds out the phone again. "Gimmee! Gimmee! Gimmee!" I squeal, snatching it from his hand. She is laying there, propped up, head flopped to the side, a metal brace around her head, everything below her nose is black and blue. It is not as bad as I hoped. Unfortunately, it would be impossible for it to be as bad as I hoped, unless she was dead. I reluctantly pass the phone back to Bob. "Thank you. I appreciate that Bob, really appreciate it." "You are welcome Debbie. I thought you might enjoy it. Once the arraignment with Hanson was terminated, I started taking my MS medications again and auditioning Honey's replacement." "OK, hold it right there. What exactly does 'auditioning' mean?" Bob chortles, then smiles. "I had to act as if you were dead. That meant a return to searching for someone to care for me in my anticipated ultimate disability." "And exactly what services were you auditioning for Bob?" I inquired. "Why, the same ones you were originally recruited for Debbie, cooking, cleaning, eventually nursing ... and others." The son of a bitch is playing with me. "Care to be more specific as to what 'others' consists of?" He continues smiling. "I remain a gentleman Debbie and gentlemen do not talk of such things." "Bullshit!" His laughter fills the kitchen. "Sorry, I could not resist. I promised the truth. There were no 'other' services; I did not have sex with any of the candidat