Sweet Dreams, Mr. Wilcox (Never Could Be Any Other Way) free porn video

SWEET DREAMS, MR. WILCOX (NEVER COULD BE ANY OTHER WAY) by Crazy Baron DISCLAIMERS This work may be distributed to forums where it can be read free of charge, provided that the author gives his explicit permission and that the text is not altered. Please note that this story is intended for mature readers only. The people and incidents depicted herein are completely fictional. THE STORY Synopsis: A pop music producer, who once was one of the hottest names in the industry, is spending his days in semi-retirement after having lost his Midas touch. His driven business partner, however, has an idea that could turn his life around and put him back to the top--but not quite in the manner he might expect. ***** The small cabin overlooking the lake had three large windows facing almost directly east, and whenever the sky was clear at dawn, they offered a fantastic view of the rising sun as it slowly climbed above the distant treetops across the water. Not that the lone occupant of the cabin was often up that early; he almost never was. Today had been no exception. Sitting at the table and sipping his morning coffee at 11 a.m. as usual, Art Wilcox stared idly at the lake, whose surface was rippled by a gathering brisk wind. The low-hanging, looming gray clouds promising rain some time in the afternoon did nothing to lift his spirits, but then again, few things were capable of that these days anyway. Now 43, Wilcox had arrived at something of an impasse in his life. It had begun to seem that there was really no way out of his situation--except down. Things hadn't always been like this. On the contrary, he had lived the good life, if only for a while. When he was nine, he had started to learn how to play the guitar to impress a girl next door. The girl didn't fall for his charms in the end, but he had nevertheless found his calling: music. Starting a band in high school and playing with some friends, he was soon writing songs for them, "little ditties that were, I guess, kind of catchy," as he had once modestly described them in an interview. The band never got far enough to taste success--the group of friends inevitably split up after graduating high school--but Wilcox did. At 21, he went to work for a large record company, and his career took off. Not too many people outside the industry's inner circle recognized his name, much less his face, because Wilcox rarely if ever performed personally. Instead, he had ended up as a songwriter, creating material for the big names of the label. This mostly consisted of pop in the widest possible sense of the term, meaning anything from ballads and preteen bubblegum to soft rock. To him, this was the next best thing to being a star in his own right. He had a considerable personal income, he was invited to classy parties and he made influential friends. While his personal tastes definitely leaned towards more adult music, such as classical rock and even rhythm & blues, he was basically content as a near-invisible force behind some of the hottest teen sensations. He was good at what he was doing and no longer seriously harboring dreams of getting up on stage as the frontman of a real band that played real music as opposed to the fluff he at times felt he was churning out. Part of the reason was probably the fact that Wilcox's singing voice, while reasonably good as such, was not quite up to par when compared to most professional singers. It was not as powerful or pure as it should have been. Of course, shortcomings such as this could always be easily fixed in a modern recording studio, but then, Wilcox was also saddled with another limitation that was perhaps even more crippling for anyone aspiring to a place in the limelight. That was his physical appearance. Wilcox was by no means a handsome man. Barely five feet seven and somewhat pudgy, he had a friendly but ordinary-looking face that would never sell many albums. To add to that, he had already begun to lose his hair. Not only was the hairline on his forehead receding alarmingly but there also was a distinctive bald spot emerging on the top of his head. This had become a constant source of private dismay for him, as much as he tried to downplay and joke about his hair loss and homely looks in general when he was among friends. But the unforgiving entertainment industry of today wanted performers who were young and beautiful, with personal creative talent being more or less a secondary concern. If all the artists and bands who were under the wings of his record company had been able to write their own songs completely unassisted, Art Wilcox and many like him would have been out of work in no time, but he was still secretly bitter over the situation. A couple of years ago, Wilcox had realized that he was seriously losing his touch. He no longer felt good about the songs he offered to various artists and their managers, and sure enough, they soon began to have his material reworked by others or to reject it altogether. He had no idea what was causing this as no great changes had taken place in his life or in his working methods. He was keeping abreast with the ever- evolving trends, following what was happening on the pop scene and helping to scout out new talents just like before. But now it simply didn't work anymore. At first, he blamed everything on stress and took a few weeks off. That did little to help, so he went traveling in Europe, hoping to rediscover his inspiration there. After returning, he was a good forty thousand dollars poorer and still suffering from the same problem. Fortunately, money was not an issue for him. He had kept his head cool during the years of plenty and had a sizable sum saved, so he could afford to live without working for quite a while. Around the same time, his paternal uncle passed away, leaving Art in his will a secluded little cabin, the very same one he was now sitting in. It provided him with an ideal retreat, and he promptly moved there, "for a couple of months", as he had said to his co-workers and friends. He wanted to get away from it all, if just for a while. The months soon stretched into years but his inspiration showed no signs of returning. So Art Wilcox, now almost forgotten by many of his colleagues, passed one day after another in his cabin, alone and isolated. Aside from going about once a week to the grocery store in a nearby town, he had become almost entirely confined to this small house. After a year and a half, he had realized he no longer missed the parties and business meetings of the big city; all he needed was peace and quiet. He had promised himself he would go back, reinvigorated and full of creative power, and again make his mark. Today was not the day, however. No sooner had he finished his mug of coffee than his cell phone rang. Picking up the phone and looking at its screen, he saw the name of the caller--"Claudia". Of course it was Claudia. She was by and large the only person from the company who was still concerned about him. "Yup," Wilcox answered. "Hi," a clear feminine contralto greeted him. "You doing anything today?" "No. Just sitting in the English garden, waiting for the sun," Wilcox said and yawned slowly. "I'm coming over, Art. I think I have something new for you to think about." "Oh? What's that?" Wilcox said, mostly with poorly feigned interest. He was not particularly keen on seeing Claudia that day. "You'll see," came the decidedly more enthusiastic reply. "Can't it wait until tomorrow? I need to get some shopping done today." "No, it can't. I'm driving on your dirt road as we speak; be there in about ten minutes. See you!" Before Wilcox could protest, the call ended. Muttering something resembling a curse under his breath, Wilcox rose to put the coffee mug away and pulled his jeans on. There was no time to shave, which meant Claudia would meet the (formerly) great Art Wilcox as he was, unshaven and with his hair a mess. As always, Claudia was true to her word, arriving almost exactly ten minutes later. A brand new white BMW rolled onto the front lawn of the cabin, and as soon as the car had stopped, a blond woman dressed in black leather pants, stiletto heels and an overcoat stepped out. With a look of discomfort on her face, she walked to the door of the cabin, trying to avoid the puddles of muddy water left on the ground by yesterday's rain. Art Wilcox was at the door to let her in. "You really have to do something about that yard," she complained, taking off her coat. "It's turning into a marsh. My car will probably get stuck in it if I stay too long." "It's not like I have that many visitors," Wilcox countered, "so what's the use?" "That's a stupid attitude to have, Art. You should start considering rejoining the human civilization instead of living in a tree." Claudia Bell was an imposing figure. Her slender body was tall, easily two inches taller than Wilcox even without her trademark high heels, and she had the posture of a model. In fact, she had worked as one briefly before her career as a producer and manager, and it still showed. She had a beautiful face, with her brown eyes contrasting with her natural dirty blond, wavy hair to add an exotic flavor. As far as Wilcox knew, she had mixed Nordic and Middle-Eastern ancestry, resulting in a highly refined combination. There was no way of knowing just by looking at her next to Wilcox the Bohemian that the two were about the same age. Thanks to the best skin care money could buy, and possibly a little bit of Botox, Claudia looked at least five if not ten years younger than she actually was. Dressing and accessorizing tastefully was a natural part of her public image. There was a great deal more to her than her appearance. She had the reputation of an intelligent, determined businesswoman who usually got what she wanted. She was a formidable opponent at meetings and negotiations, one that politely listened to what you had to say and then had everybody coming around to her views in the end regardless. When the proverbial going got tough, not many people could hold their own against her. "So, how have you been?" she asked him, sitting on his couch and crossing her long legs. "Feeling sorry for yourself, staring out of the windows and fanatically watching 1980s sitcoms?" "I'm working on a couple of rough ideas, actually," Wilcox said, loath to admit that she was absolutely right. "Don't know if they'll work out, though. Too early to tell." "If you want my opinion," Claudia continued and fixed her mesmerizing eyes on him, "it's time you came back. I want you to participate in this new project of mine. It'll be big, I can just feel it." "What project would that be?" Art asked casually. "Um--coffee?" "Thanks, but no thanks. Do you remember those girl groups of the late 90s and early 2000s? I'm looking to revive the concept. You know, three or four teenage girls, each with an individual personality and image, singing pop songs for an audience their age or a little younger. Basically, I want it to be wholesome, empowering and clean, but quality at the same time." "Sure, we used to do that, but that kind of groups sort of went out of fashion. These days it's all about solo artists." "I know, and that's precisely why it'll work. That's the beauty of it: there are few big names like that around at the moment, so we'll have less competition. It will feel fresh again when not everybody is doing the same thing, especially for the kids who are growing up now." "Then there's the personal chemistry issue," Wilcox pointed out. "Even when everything else is going smoothly, the girls start competing against one another for the top spot, get jealous, get on each other's nerves and eventually begin fighting. Then somebody quits and is replaced, somebody else quits and so on. Before you know it, the whole thing comes apart." "We may have found a solution to that, but it can wait. So, if I can make the concept work, are you in?" "Why not. It's just that I feel I'm not the creative genius I used to be, but if you want me to contribute, I'm willing to give it my best shot." "Great!" Claudia exclaimed. "Now, come and sit over here. I have something to show you." Wilcox sat down on the couch right next to Claudia, who opened up her briefcase and pulled out some papers. This close proximity to a very attractive woman made him stir slightly down below, but this was a mere physical reaction that didn't last too long. Wilcox and Claudia were a successful working team and good friends, but never anything more. In fact, ever since they first became acquainted, a silent agreement of sorts had seemed to exist between them: neither would do anything to pursue a romantic relationship with the other so as not to risk their beautifully functioning partnership. That, however, didn't stop Wilcox from quietly regretting this state of affairs from time to time, and as he felt a small fraction of the warmth of Claudia's body and smelled her scent, he was nearly overcome by a desire to touch her cheek or hair gently with his fingers. He nevertheless checked himself in time and concentrated on hearing out her proposal. "Alright," she said. "Let me introduce The Sweet Dreams, the next teen sensation." "Sweet Dreams?" Art repeated. "Is that going to be the name of the group?" "It's just a working title," Claudia replied quickly. "We might change the spelling to a non-standard version, like 'Dreamz' with a Z, or maybe write the name as one word but with a capital D. You know, something to get people's attention." "I see." "Anyway, here are the members." Claudia handed Art a sheet of paper. "We start with Alexandra, or Lexie for short." A large colored drawing on the paper portrayed a teen girl. While the original picture had probably been done by hand, it was very realistic in style and beautifully made, almost looking like a photograph of a living person. The girl in the picture, Lexie, had flaming red hair, a very fair complexion and captivating, moist blue eyes. Her face was round, with a small pointed chin, and her features in general were quite delicate. Though fully clothed in a sequined dark shirt and a skirt that might have been her stage costume, Art could see that she had a body that was something of a cross between a girl's and a young woman's, with curves that any 15-year-old boy would find irresistible; curves that would, in a few years, begin to entice fully grown men as well. "She's pretty," Art commented and added, "in a school girl kind of way, that is." "She is, isn't she?" Claudia said with a smile. "Lexie is 14, soon to turn 15. She has a very strong voice and she's arguably the best singer of the group, doing most of the solos, and she is sort of fronting the band along with Danica. She's determined and motivated but perhaps a bit reserved, so she doesn't trust people right away. On the other hand, she is also... I don't know if 'fragile' is the right word to describe it. She has a soft and insecure side too." Claudia then gave another sheet to Art. This one also had a portrait on it, made in the same style but showing a completely different-looking girl. In stark contrast to Lexie, she had chestnut brown hair, dark green eyes, somewhat darker skin tone and a bit more pronounced hips and chest, indicating that she was physically perhaps slightly more mature than Lexie. Overall, her features seemed to hint that she had blood ties to the Mediterranean area. "And here's Danica," Claudia continued. "She was born in Mexico but moved here with her family when she was two years old. She speaks Spanish, French and a little Italian in addition to English, which gives her a nice touch of exotic charm. Danica is extremely outgoing, chats up people easily, loves parties and is just a bit boy crazy, I believe. She's an excellent singer too, easily capable of solos. If you think Lexie as the number one girl, then Danica is her second-in- command, so to speak." "And they no doubt fight viciously for the top billing," Art said. "No, they don't. They're both important and share the spotlight evenly." "Yeah, in theory, but how can you make sure it'll work? There's no way---" "Leave that to me, Art. Have a little faith, will you, please?" "Okay. Go on." "Good! Now, this is Victoria, alias Vicky," Claudia said, handing another sheet to Art. "She's the baby of the group, both because at thirteen, she's a good year younger than the others, and because she's a real girly girl who loves everything pink, cute and fluffy. She's happy and outgoing but maybe a little childish and naive at times. As far as the band goes, she mostly does harmonies and backup vocals, as well as dancing." Pictured on the sheet was a young blond girl who had a bright smile on her lips. It seemed to light up her almost angelic face with large blue eyes and a small, cute nose. Luscious, straight, long golden hair framed her features. However, to balance all this innocent charm, she had on very form-fitting dark pants, along with a tube top which left her midriff bare, and her pose--with one hand on her hip and her head tilted to one side--seemed to convey a slight air of cockiness. "And finally we have Emily, rounding out the lineup," Claudia announced. "Like Vicky, she does mostly harmonies and dancing. On a quick glance, she may come off as the most quiet and private person of all four, but she's actually a very friendly girl, fiercely loyal to her friends and bandmates. Whenever they have an argument or need a shoulder to cry on, Emily is there to mediate, console and offer advice. What's more, she's intelligent, thoughtful and conscientious, very good at school." Emily's picture showed yet another very pretty young girl, this one with curly, light brown hair and blue eyes. She seemed fairly tall and just a little lanky, especially in comparison to the shapely Danica. Unlike the others, she was looking somewhere to her left, obliquely away from the viewer, and she had a somber look on her oval-shaped, dainty face. "So," Claudia asked with an excited smile, "what do you think?" "They're easy on the eyes, I give you that," Art admitted, handing the papers with the pictures back to Claudia. "Absolutely. They all could earn a living as models, but they're much more than a bunch of pretty faces. They have lots of talent and drive and they love what they're doing. Every one of them is a smart, gifted, dedicated, lovely young lady. Plus they are clean: no drugs, no fooling around with boys, no alcohol. They'll be the perfect role models for young girls." "I don't know about that clean part," Art said. "I mean, this Latina chick sure seems to have a lolita thing going. Is she meant to attract adult men to their concerts?" "Danica is not a slut, if that's what you're implying," Claudia declared sharply. "She's just precocious in some ways. Every one of them puts their friends and work first, boys come second." "Alright," Art chuckled, deciding to change the subject. "I take it the girls and their parents have signed their contracts?" "Um, no," Claudia said with minor hesitation. "Not exactly." "But you must have them around somewhere, right? I mean, you can't just---" "Again, no. Not exactly." "What are you saying?" Art queried, becoming more and more puzzled. "That they don't even exist?" "That's correct. There are no girls, as of yet." "But you have their names and looks and personalities all worked out!" Art exclaimed. "Don't get me wrong, Claudia, but you're making no sense to me. What are we going to do? Hold an audition and hope to find four girls who are precisely like these four, down to the smallest detail?" "Look, Art," Claudia said after a short pause, looking the man straight in his eyes. "This may... this is going to sound crazy to you, but please bear with me." "It is already beginning to sound a little crazy," he retorted. "The thing is--we're going to create these girls precisely as they appear on paper. They'll come into being soon." "How? Can you conjure them up out of thin air?" "Not quite out of thin air. All we need is four people with some musical talent and experience, and an associate of mine will do the rest. Don't ask me how, but she has assured me that it can be done." "What the hell?" "She can make any four persons into these girls." "And... and you buy this baloney?" "I'm only going to say I have a good reason to believe her." Art tried to say something but found out he couldn't. Instead, he simply stared at Claudia and wondered if this conversation was actually taking place in real life or if he was still asleep and dreaming everything up. He had always appreciated Claudia a great deal for her ability to think and reason so soundly and to keep a cool head, but now something strange seemed to have happened to her. He couldn't tell whether she had suddenly gone completely insane or was merely playing a weird practical joke on him. Claudia, a very no-nonsense kind of person, certainly wasn't famous for having an eccentric sense of humor--or any kind of a sense of humor, really, at least when it came to business. "Alright, alright," he finally said. "Let me see if I got this straight. You have some sort of a wizard friend who can wave a magic wand and turn people into other people. Is that what you're saying?" "In a word, yes, although frankly I don't know how any of it happens," Claudia confessed. "She won't let anybody in on her secrets, but she will deliver. She's proven that to me." "And we are going to select four people who know at least something about music, send them to this miracle person, and she will somehow transform them into these girls you just showed me?" "That's about it, Art." "So any four girls with musical talent will do?" "They don't even have to be girls. She's told me she can transform anyone into anything I want. You see, that's actually the beautiful part of the whole thing. Lexie, Danica, Vicky and Emily won't ever have to go to school because if we use adult people to make them, they'll have all the education they need right from the start. They'll have no family to interfere with their career. Of course, should the need arise, we can always fake their birth certificates and high school diplomas, hire actors to play their parents and so on." "What if the project doesn't work out? Then what?" "Well, we can make sure they get into college and then pull a few strings to secure good ordinary jobs for them in the future. That way they'll have nothing to lose." "No, I meant the great public finding out about this. What happens then?" "Are you honestly thinking somebody would believe any of it? It's simply too outrageous for anyone to buy, probably even for conspiracy theorists." "Not for David Icke, it isn't." This left her momentarily dumbfounded, much to his delight. "Huh?" "You know," he said, "the shapeshifting lizard alien guy." "Come on, Art!" "You apparently do honestly believe it can be done." "Yes, but that's because I know it to be true." Art was again at a complete loss of words. For all he could discern, Claudia was being serious with her idea, even though it made absolutely no sense. Fortunately for him, she took up the task of continuing the conversation. "We've got Blue Three in our team," she pointed out. "He's writing material for the girls as we speak, and he's going to participate in producing their first album." "Who's Blue Three?" Art asked. "Oh, sorry! You don't know him. His real name is Jonas Sundvall, and he's from Sweden. A new guy. He's one of the absolute hottest pop writers and producers today." "Kind of like I used to be." "Yes, before you decided to drop off the face of the planet." "Fine. What is it that you want me to do?" "You can start by writing a couple of songs, but we'll talk more about that later. I'll have the girls meet you in a week or two from now, and then we'll see how the project is coming along. Are you still okay with this, Art?" "Oh... I guess," he said apprehensively. "As long as you're not planning anything criminal here, I suppose I'm in." "That's the spirit!" Claudia commended and stood up. "Right, I need to get going; got a meeting back in the city in a couple of hours. Keep your phone handy. We'll keep in touch." "Sure thing." It was just as well for Art that Claudia had to leave right then. After her car had disappeared from view, he just sat at the kitchen table for several hours, playing with an empty coffee mug and trying to digest what she had told him. It goes almost without saying that he did not really believe the ridiculous tale about magic she had tried to feed him. One didn't need a university degree to be able to realize it was plain garbage. Other than that, though--the basic idea was probably sound and could even work out, if managed skillfully. He was by no means opposed to the girl group itself, but the crazy talk occupied his thoughts, even though he did his best to dismiss it completely. The Claudia Bell he had always known would have laughed off anybody claiming things like that. Was it possible that she was playing a practical joke on him after all? That would have been a reasonable explanation, if not for Claudia's personality and attitude when it came to business, and she clearly thought there was a business opportunity here. Art's peace of mind was largely gone after that point. While he usually almost never dreamed (or remembered whatever dreams he had afterwards), the next night his brain treated him to a vivid nightmare of a factory production line that squashed human bodies into pulp and then reconstructed them into identical doll-like beings that came out on a conveyor belt. He woke up covered in cold sweat and could not go back to sleep until hours later. The following night there was another bad dream, with essentially the same terrifying content. Even though the nightmares fortunately ended after the second one, something of a permanent unease made Art's mind its new home. To a casual outside observer his daily routine of inaction would have seemed much the same as before, but actually he was now deep in thought most of the time. No matter how he tried to push the matter aside, it refused to stop bothering him. One week went by without any news from Claudia, and Art was slowly beginning to think that the whole plan might have fallen through when she called him again. As before, she told him that she would be at his door in no more than ten minutes, with a couple of "guests". This time Art swore out loud profusely after the call ended and scrambled to get dressed. He barely made it. Claudia pulled up in front of the house, got out of her car and made her way into the house in a heartbeat. She knocked once on the door and then let herself in. He didn't need her to tell him that things were going well, as the triumphant smile on her face gave away everything at once. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked her even though he could already guess the reason for her visit. "Remember the project we talked about last week?" she responded, taking off her coat and coming further into the room. True to form, she was as impeccably dressed as ever. "I promised I'd have the Sweet Dreams girls ready to meet you soon." "You did say something to that effect," Art remarked and felt an unpleasant tingling at the back of his neck. "And I believe you also recall that you expressed a tiny bit of skepticism about that," she added playfully. "All due respect, but I think any sane person would have." "So," she announced, with an unmistakable tone of pride, "let me prove you wrong and introduce to you--Sweet Dreams!" The three girls had presumably waited just outside the door for their cue, and they strolled into the house, one after another. Art's jaw dropped when he saw them enter the room. They were Lexie, Vicky and Danica, exactly as they had appeared in the pictures Claudia had showed him a week ago, clothing and all. However, now they were right there in person, as three-dimensional, living, breathing, flesh-and-blood human beings. They had smiles on their beautiful faces, and each one of them walked slowly past Art to make sure that he got a good look, almost as if they were modeling. It took a while for the dumbstruck man to realize that they were indeed doing just that, modeling themselves and expecting his approval. "What do you think?" Claudia asked him, but he couldn't find the words to say anything. The girls sat down on the couch side by side, and Vicky let out a soft giggle. "Who are these people?" he finally managed to squeak out. "What... What is this?" "Come on, Art," Claudia berated him. "You know full well who they are. I told you, remember?" Danica whispered something in Lexie's ear, and the three girls burst out laughing, their reserve and cool model behavior suddenly gone. They giggled just like any group of 14-year-old BFFs, full of contagious joy and free of worries. "I must be dreaming, or hallucinating," Art muttered. "You're fifty per cent right on that," Claudia chuckled. "They're a dream come true alright. Girls, won't you introduce yourselves?" "Hi, I'm Lexie," the redhead said. "I'm Danica," the brunette added. "And I'm Vicky," the blond intoned. Their voices were high-pitched but melodious, just like Art had imagined them. It seemed as if they were reciting a previously rehearsed formula, and for all he knew, this might well have been the case. All that was missing was an ending referring to the entire group, perhaps something along the lines of "...and we're the Sweet Dreams!" "There's just one problem," Lexie continued. "We're one girl short." "That's right, Emily's missing," Vicky said, and her smile suddenly left her face. "We can't perform without her. Where is she?" "Yeah, where is she?" Danica echoed. "You promised she'd be joining us soon, Claudia." "Oh, but she will," Claudia reassured the girls. She turned so that she was facing Art directly and drew a deep breath, and to his amazement Art thought he could detect a bit of anxiety and apprehension in her as she spoke, "Okay, this is it, Art. You've seen that we can bring the girls to life. You must believe me now because they're right here, sitting in your sofa and talking to you. They're absolutely real. And as for your part in the project... Well, uh, we don't really want you as a songwriter. No, actually, it's fine if you can write something for us, but what I mean is that it's not going to be your main contribution." "Just what is going to be my main contribution, then?" he asked, no longer able to prevent a touch of scorn from creeping into his voice. "You will be Emily." The girls' eyes lit up immediately, and Danica clapped her hands together out of sheer excitement. This was undoubtedly what they had been waiting for, but Art was almost oblivious to them at that moment. Instead, he stared at Claudia and tried to comprehend that this surreal conversation was actually taking place. More than ten seconds elapsed in an increasingly awkward silence before he finally found his voice again. Even then, what came out of his mouth was nothing particularly witty or intelligent. "What did you just say?" he croaked. "That you will be our Emily," Claudia repeated gently but more firmly than before. She had probably anticipated an argument and was bracing herself for it. "Art, we need you. You are perfect for the role. You've got the music skills and the personality---" "Of a fourteen-year-old girl?" "The basic personality of Emily, yes," Claudia said. "You're kind, caring, dependable and sweet. Besides, you have few living immediate relatives---" "So I won't be missed, and no real future ahead of me in the business, right?" he completed the sentence, with his gathering agitation sounding through. "Art," Claudia said in a smoothing tone, looking him in the eyes, "I know that's how you feel, and to be perfectly blunt, there's a little bit of truth in all that. We both know your career is not going up these days, and you're not getting any younger. What have you got to lose?" "Yeah, listen to her," Danica seconded. "We need Emily!" "You'll be her for us, right?" Vicky piped up. "Please?" "I honestly don't know what to say to you anymore," Art huffed. His anger had subsided as quickly as it had risen and given room to incredulity once again. "This talk I keep hearing from you is insane, you know that?" "But we---" Lexie tried to insert, but Art cut her off with, "No, I'll never believe that some magician made you out of someone else. That stuff doesn't happen except in fairy tales and movies, and last I checked, we were living in neither of those. Seriously, Claudia, make this stop. This is not funny anymore." "Yeah, this is not funny," she said quietly but with a determined look in her eyes, a look that Art knew very well. "It isn't supposed to be. I mean business, and the girls here are a living proof of that. One way or another, we're going to bring this about, whether you help us or not." "I don't have to listen to your hogwash," he said. "Okay then, don't listen to me," Claudia said to this. "Listen to Lexie instead. We'll leave you two alone for a while, and you can talk things over with her. Danni and Vicky, why don't you come with me. Let's give them some privacy." The brunette and the blond rose reluctantly to their feet, and they trudged out the door in Claudia's wake. Vicky gave Art a sad, pleading look as she passed by him on her way out, but he remained unmoved. Lexie remained sitting in the couch. Without the company and support of her friends, she plainly appeared to lose a good deal of her confidence. She cast her eyes down and fidgeted a little, nervously waiting for Art to open the conversation. After a couple of seconds of heavy silence, he obliged. "Claudia was under the impression that you had something to tell me," he said, trying his best not to sound openly intimidating or angry. "Well, yeah," Lexie replied in a small voice. "The thing is, we can't do this without Emily. Someone has to be her." "I don't know how Claudia put you guys up to this, but you can stop now and tell her the joke's over. I'll make sure you won't end up in trouble with her." "You don't understand," Lexie said and lifted her eyes to look straight at him. Art was struck by the sincere expression on her youthful face. "She's not joking. The magic that made us into these girls is real, and we only need Emily to get the show on the road. You just have to agree, and Claudia's friend will give you a special suit that will transform you into Emily." "That's delusional." "No, it's not," the pop starlet in the making argued. "It's entirely real, believe me. I wasn't born a girl, and neither was Danica, nor even Vicky." "Are you saying you are a boy in disguise?" "A man, actually." Lexie fidgeted again, bit her lip and then got up on her feet. "You remember Ron Stein, the studio tech?" Art burst out in an almost involuntary laughter, and the absurdity of Lexie's claim even made him forget himself and punctuate his reaction with choice profanities: "Holy fuck! Don't tell me you're Ron! That's just... Stop shitting me!" "I'm not shitting you," Lexie said. "I really am Ron. Or I used to be." "Okay, Ronnie," Art quipped in a venomously sarcastic tone, having barely managed to get his hilarity under control, "how's life as a teen girl working for you?" "Perfectly," she responded quietly and in total seriousness. "In my thirty-seven years as a man, I was never happier. I can't even begin to describe how good this feels." "Oh wow," Art chuckled. "I had no idea you were a woman trapped in a man's body, Ronnie." He emphasized the name again to underline his sarcasm, but that had no effect on Lexie. "I wasn't, but if I had known how much I'm going to love this, I would've put on a suit years ago. It's so... I don't have the proper words for it, to be honest with you. It made everything right for me. I've found the real me and my true path." "The real you and the true path. Sounds like you joined a cult." "I got the chance to live my life to the fullest, that's all." "Whatever you say--Ronnie." "It's Lexie," she corrected meekly. "All that Ron ever was, deep down, is still part of me, but I'm Lexie and will be until the end of my days. I can't take the suit off anymore, and even if I could, I wouldn't." "If the suits stick to you permanently," Art pointed out, "that's a very good reason for me not to put one on in the first place." "Once you become Emily, you won't want to go back anyway. I can guarantee that." "I think I've heard about enough of this nonsense." "Art," Lexie said and sauntered closer to the man, "can't you be a little more open-minded about it? Don't knock it until you try it." He remained quiet. She, for her part, drew her lips into a shy smile and tilted her head. "You're kind of tense," she continued in an attempt at a sultry tone. "What if I... helped you relax a little first? Then we could, you know, get back to the business part." It was only then that Art realized what was going on. The teen girl was trying to seduce him. Her smile, voice and posture were all part of an effort to break his resistance and tempt him with her budding sexuality. However, Art could easily see that underneath this shaky facade there was nothing but a terrified and desperate child. Her lips were trembling slightly, as were her hands, and her eyes were moist to the point that she was almost shedding tears. If not for the fact that she was genuinely pitiful in her current state, Art's indignation would have made him explode in anger straight away. "No, Lexie," Art said through gritted teeth. "We won't be doing that." She recoiled from him and could no longer conceal her true emotions. "I--I mean, if you prefer one of the others, that's, uh, alright too," she stammered, with two little tears running down her cheeks. "You can have Danica, or even Vicky, if---" "You misunderstood me. I'm not a fucking pedophile and I won't have sex with any of you! Is that clear?" "Y-yes," Lexie stuttered with her eyes wide and took a quick step back. "You have to leave, right now," Art growled. He was having a very hard time keeping his outrage in check. "Go tell Claudia that I take this insult personally. On a second thought, tell her that I said she can go fuck herself. She had better get her head straight if she wants to speak to me again. Oh, and the door's over there, Lexie." The girl needed no more persuasion. She ran out of the room and the cabin as fast as she could, leaving Art to fume in solitude. He had to close his eyes and count to twenty (an old but useful trick) in order to prevent himself from smashing to pieces everything he could get his hands on. Claudia had truly crossed the line this time. Being a tough negotiator and an ambitious business partner was one thing, but assuming she could win him over by offering him sex with a minor was something else entirely, something disgusting and unforgivable. He had had no clue she could stoop so low. Looking out through the window, he saw that there was a dramatic scene unfolding in the front yard, near Claudia's car. Lexie was openly crying against Danica's shoulder, with Vicky standing next to them, apparently in tears as well. Claudia was comforting the girls by giving them hugs and probably also a pep talk, as far as Art could tell; he wasn't able to hear much from inside the cabin. The girls huddled and wept together for several minutes until they finally had managed to regain their composure enough for Claudia to begin ushering them gently into her car. Under different circumstances, Art would have been very much moved by this sight and ready to cheer up the girls in any way he possibly could, but Claudia's actions had done marvels to harden his heart. Both Lexie and Vicky glanced once more over their shoulder at the cabin as they slid onto the back seat of the car. Their reddened eyes and running makeup spoke volumes of their emotional state. Finally, right before she started the engine and drove off, Claudia aimed her stare at the window and Art, but her eyes were cold and unyielding, so much so that Art was almost startled. As far as she was concerned, they definitely had a score to settle. ***** This time, there was a radio silence of ten whole days before Claudia once more contacted him. She began by sending him an apologetic text message, which was followed by another and then yet another. His replies were curt but polite and apparently encouraging enough for her to call him. She said she would visit him the next day in person and talk about a new talent who had just signed up with the record label, giving him the impression he would have an opportunity to write songs for that artist. The story made Art slightly suspicious but he decided it was worth his while to try to patch things up with Claudia. Maybe she would provide an explanation for what had transpired during her last visit. She arrived uncharacteristically late, some time after 4 p.m. instead of "around two" as she had promised. A blue minivan belonging to the company rolled to a stop in Art's yard, and as Claudia got out, Art grimaced to himself. Her choice of transport and footwear (sturdy boots had replaced the elegant heels) sent him a not-too-subtle message on how she regarded his current home and way of living. "Hi, Art!" she sang out with a brilliant smile on her face. "Better go get your acoustic guitar and pen and paper. You've got your work cut out for you!" "I can try," he said. "Coffee?" "Yes, please," she agreed and shed her overcoat hurriedly at the doorstep. "I was just going to ask you for some, in fact." This was a first, he noted: he always offered Claudia refreshments, typically coffee, and she always declined. At any rate, the coffee machine was ready, so he only needed to get a clean mug for Claudia and then make them both a sandwich with cheese and lettuce. Claudia helped by putting the plates and the mugs on the table while he was busy preparing the sandwiches and the machine was doing its part. "So," Art opened the conversation as they had their mugs full of hot black coffee and were sitting together at the kitchen table. "You were going to tell me about some marvelous new discovery of yours." "Yeah, exactly," Claudia said and paused to clear her throat. She had gone from energetic and exuberant to apprehensive and almost diffident in no time at all. "But before we talk about that, there's something I need to get off my chest. To be honest, Art, I probably still owe you an apology. I came on too strongly last time, I guess, and your feelings got hurt. And the part about you becoming Emily..." "It was a joke," Art said with a small smile playing on his lips. "Wasn't it?" "Sort of a joke, yes," she confessed. "And a bad one to boot. I shouldn't have listened to Ron and his stupid ideas. He thought I could get your attention if we pulled off a gag like this." She let out a laughter that betrayed genuine nervousness--another thing that happened very seldom with Claudia Bell. "I understand you're excited about Sweet Dreams," he said, "and I'm even fine with the magic joke even though I don't know what's supposed to be funny about it. It's way too off the wall for my taste. But when Lexie actually tried to come on to me, my feelings really did get hurt." An expression of surprise and shock appeared on Claudia's face. "What?" she exclaimed. "She did what?" "She tried to come on to me," Art repeated. "She gave me to understand I could have sex with her or the other girls if I agreed to be Emily." "Good heavens," Claudia sighed before aiming a searching look at him. "And you think I coaxed her into doing it?" "I don't know," Art confessed and shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't sound like something an average girl that age would come up with on her own." "Lexie told me a totally different story. She said she just tried to reason with you, and---" "She must have a pretty strange definition for that word," Art quipped. "Okay, Art. I believe you. Maybe she was too eager to win you over and crossed the line. I'll make sure it won't happen again." "You'd better. The whole thing was very, very insulting to me." "Of course. It's just that the girls are so incredibly committed to the group they sometimes forget what's appropriate and what's not. They want to bring it about, no matter what." "It shows," Art commented and began, "I think I'll---" He stopped mid- sentence. For a second, he had felt strangely lightheaded and his train of thought had been disrupted. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head to concentrate again. "You were saying?" Claudia prompted. A look of concern had briefly crossed her face. "Yeah," Art continued, "I should---" Another bout of dizziness struck him as he stood up. His legs suddenly folded from underneath him and he collapsed into a heap on the floor. He tried to tell Claudia that he was alright, only a little tired, but the words would not come out and instead he simply stared blankly into space. He observed all this with a surprise that soon dulled into a curious indifference, as though he were watching the whole scene as a casually interested outsider. He was lying on the floor on his side and Claudia had gotten on her feet. "He's passing out," he heard her call out in a loud voice. "Get in here and help me!" Perhaps his fading vision was playing a trick on him, but he thought he could see a group of indistinct figures enter the cabin. Someone held his head up gently while other pairs of hands took hold of him--for what purpose, he had no idea. Then his eyes fluttered closed and he sank into a soothing nothingness. ***** Art began to regain consciousness gradually. He was, so it seemed, lying on his back on something soft, but he felt slightly cold. Tiredness washed over him and he went back to a light sleep, just for a little while, as he told himself. Then he woke up for a second time. Yes, he was definitely in bed, but the low temperature puzzled him. Maybe there was a problem with the heating system, he reasoned and tried to open his eyes. However, he discovered that his eyelids were inordinately heavy. Even when he managed to pry them open for a second or two, he only saw blurry, dim images of the ceiling of his bedroom. Several voices were talking near him. They had to be young women or girls, he noticed, and there were at least two or three of them. With one more mighty effort, he finally opened his eyes fully, only to see a blond girl staring back at him. "Hey!" she yelped in surprise and took a quick step back. "He's awake!" Two others appeared from elsewhere in the room, and soon Art was under observation by three females--Vicky, Lexie and Danica, as he identified them. They were standing by his bedside and looking at him curiously, with the brunette making a comment, "Would you check out that chest hair! Is that a guy or a bear?" Art tried to say something, but as he opened his mouth, he found out he couldn't form words. His tongue felt stiff and swollen, as did his lips, and they only produced some unintelligible grunts and groans. As if this were not enough, he also saw the reason for the sensation of cold: he had been stripped of all his clothing and was buck naked, in full view of the girls, who giggled at him. "It feels funny," Danica continued, running her fingers through the hair growth on Art's upper abdomen. "Like a rug. Try it, Vicky!" "Yeah," the blond confirmed as she followed suit. "I couldn't live with stuff like that on my body. I'd shave it off." "Guys are different," Lexie reminded the others with a chuckle. "You of all people should know that." "Oh, do we ever," Danica remarked with a smile that suddenly turned almost lecherous. "Too bad this specimen isn't a little younger. It's not every day that you get to play with one so that he can't move a muscle but you're free to do whatever you want!" Art was now entirely awake and acutely embarrassed. He gathered his strength for a jump out of the bed, only to discover that everything he was able to do was to move his eyes, his lips and his head sideways by a very small amount. The rest of his body was for all intents and purposes totally paralyzed. He had been reduced to a helpless object on display. "Imagine if he was the same age as us and really cute!" Vicky fantasized. "I'd make out with him, like, right away." "I bet neither of you has seen a naked guy before," Danica said in a mischievous tone. "I have," Lexie countered. "Okay. Who, where and when?" "It was... that hot engineer guy who works at the recording studio," the redhead replied a bit hesitantly. "He... uh..." "Where and when was that?" "You know the staff rec room with showers in the basement, right? I went there one day and saw him when he was coming out of the shower stall. So there." "Ha! You're lying, Lexie! You haven't seen him there or anywhere else!" "I have too!" "But Vicky hasn't," Danica went on teasing the youngest of her bandmates. "I..." she began and blushed, considered for a second if she could tell a lie like Lexie, and then gave up. "Okay, fine, so I haven't. But I will." "You'd scream and run away," Lexie speculated, with a wide smile on her lips. "No, I wouldn't! I can handle guys the same as you two." "Alright," Danica said. "Prove it. Kiss him." "What?" Vicky exclaimed. "What do you mean, kiss him?" "Give him a kiss, girl!" Vicky looked around her as if to find a way out of the dare. Seeing none, she braced herself, knelt next to the bed and pecked Art quickly on the cheek with her warm, moist lips. "You call that a kiss?" Danica laughed. "Oh man, you sure need a lesson or two, Vicky honey. I would have used some tongue." "No way!" Lexie doubted her. "Sure I would. What's the big deal, anyway? As a matter of fact, I would---" Claudia suddenly entered the room, interrupting the girls' conversation. "Okay, here she is," she said, and the girls let out little squeals of happiness and excitement. Art couldn't turn his head enough to look directly at her and he even had trouble focusing his vision, so he had to wait until Claudia approached the bed to see what she was doing. In no time the woman loomed above his supine, immobile form, and then Art felt an icy cold panic fill his whole being. What she was carrying had looked like a skin-colored piece of cloth at first, but when she let it unfold, Art could see that it was more akin to a suit, or perhaps a deflated sex doll--a reproduction of an empty human skin. A shudder passed through him as his chemically impaired mind registered the suit's hollow head, breasts, arms and digits, the long brown hair attached to its scalp, the seemingly natural surface texture and every other detail his eyes were able to pick up. The extreme realism of the thing was a deeply disturbing testament to the thoroughness and perversion of its designer, who had to have expended countless hours on shaping and molding a piece of silicone or rubber into the exact likeness of the flayed skin of a teen girl. Art's recent nightmares paled in comparison with this experience. Claudia didn't bother trying to hide that she was enjoying the situation very much. She held the skin by the back of its neck and brought its face close to Art's to make sure he could see it well. Art found himself staring into the empty eyes of Emily, with only darkness behind them. "Look, Art," she said in a mockingly triumphant tone. "This is the new you! Aren't you thrilled?" Even though he knew full well that his body was incapacitated all but completely, he nevertheless tried to push Claudia and the suit away and yell at her in anger and fear. Only quiet mumbling came out of his mouth, and his arms still refused to move. He had hardly ever been this agitated and infuriated in his life; he wanted to hit her in the face, to make her pay for this assault on him and then escape, but as it was, he was entirely at her mercy. "Do we have to put the skin on him now?" Danica inquired. "Like, open it up and then help him inside?" "Fortunately, no," Claudia replied. "I'll just leave it here. It will do the rest by itself. That makes things a whole lot easier for us." She took hold of the skin's shoulders, turned it around and then placed it on top of Art's body. The back of the skin's head and its hair covered Art's mouth, nose and eyes, so he could no longer see, adding to his terror. However, to his relief the skin didn't obstruct his breathing much; he could still draw air into his lungs through his nose. "Alright, girls," Claudia said to Lexie, Vicky and Danica. "Let's go to the other room for a while and wait for the skin to do its magic. Emily will be ready in no time." "Yay!" Vicky exclaimed. "That's so cool!" "I just can't wait!" Lexie accompanied her. "Me neither!" Danica added enthusiastically. The females returned to the living room, and Art was left alone in his bed with the suit lying on him. He was very uncomfortable, in more ways than one. Being unable to move was frustrating and maddening in itself, but the feeling of the suit against his naked body added an element of disgust. The surface of the suit was soft and smooth, and as it gradually absorbed warmth from him, it became more and more like actual living young human skin. To make matters worse, Art's penis was resting between the suit's buttocks, almost as if he were penetrating Emily's anus with it. Art spent a while struggling to control his emotions. He told himself forcefully that panicking would do him no good and there was no reason to be ashamed just because some deranged person had put a rubber suit of a girl on top of his body. Still, his outrage at Claudia refused to subside completely, and he decided he would most definitely drive her out of the house and his life for good as soon as he regained his mobility. Breathing steadily, he closed his eyes and concentrated on relaxing. Then he tried to move the fingers of his right hand and realized that they now responded to his commands, even if slowly and clumsily. Perhaps the effect of the tranquilizer was starting to wear off, he thought, suddenly heartened. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed since he had drunk the spiked coffee, but he guessed it had not been more than an hour ago. With any luck, he might be able to get up on his feet in another two or three hours. Of course, he would probably be extremely weak at first, so he would have to think very carefully and take things slowly. He had to make sure not to allow Claudia or the girls to realize what was going on until he had enough strength to make them leave the cabin. That he would do by force, if necessary. As it happened, Art didn't have two hours--he didn't even have one. Almost right after discovering that his fingers moved again, he felt a peculiar warmness on his stomach. At first, he assumed this was nothing but a by-product of the poisoning of his brain, a phantom sensation of some kind, but as it persisted and became clearer all the time, it dawned on him that the feeling had to be real. It was uncannily as though someone were pouring warm syrup on his belly. Art attempted to lift his head to look down, and when that failed, he tried to shake the suit off him, again to no avail. All he could do was stare at the mass of Emily's hair spilling over his face. The warmth was spreading further up to his chest and down to his legs. At the same time, he felt it become still more intense until it seemed to seep through his own skin into his body and heat it up from within. Anger and frustration rapidly vanished from Art's thoughts, and he was once more in throes of sheer panic. He tried to scream for help, only to find out he still couldn't make a comprehensible sound with his mouth. Seconds felt like hours for Art Wilcox. He was gasping for air and doing his utmost to scramble to his feet, but his limbs were fixed in place. The fluid flowing over and into his torso turned from hot to cold, and then all sensations stopped; he had gone completely numb from the neck down. In a flash of realization, he understood this was probably a prelude to his death. He would never rise from this bed, never walk and talk or make himself a cup of coffee, much less return to the city and his old professional life. Claudia had not only drugged him, she had murdered him! For a brief moment, his wrath boiled over one last time, but then Emily's head and mane of brown hair melted into a sticky, warm, dark liquid that covered his face. It promptly flowed into his eyes, his nostrils and his mouth. Art inhaled one more time, drawing some of the viscous matter down his throat. He passed out, and he never did wake up again. ***** Emily opened her eyes with a slight start. Disoriented and confused, she eyed the ceiling of the cabin and then looked around her. She was lying in a strange bed, entirely naked. Where was she? What was this place? Her fear began to mount quickly, and she sat up, trying to see where her clothes and personal belongings were. Then the muddle in her mind cleared up. Of course--she was in Art Wilcox's cabin, exactly as she was supposed to be. The other girls and Claudia were probably waiting for her. She had to get ready. Before she could do anything except to climb out of bed, however, the light on the ceiling went on, and three squealing and giggling girls in their early teens rushed into the room. Emily was surrounded by Lexie, Danica and Vicky, her bandmates, who hugged her, jumped up and down around her, laughed and downright screamed in pure excitement and elation. The fact that the newest addition to the group was, for the moment, totally nude did absolutely nothing to faze her or the others. "Emily!" Claudia greeted the center of the attention. "How are you doing?" "I'm great! Fantastic!" she gushed. "It's just incredible! Everything's incredible!" "Oh, that's lovely to hear, Em! I'm so happy for you!" The woman gave a heartfelt hug to the girl, who was bursting with joy. "We're on our way to the stars!" Vicky declared. "There's a change of clothes for you in that bag over there," Claudia continued, releasing Emily from her embrace. "Once we get back to the city, I'll give you the keys to your apartment. We arranged a full wardrobe for you, plus some pocket money and other essential stuff you'll be needing in the first few days. If you wish, you can go shopping on your own later." "Cool," the girl commented. "Where did you say the bag was again?" "There, in the living room." Emily spotted a large black and white sports bag lying on the floor near the coat rack and the outside door. Without hesitation, she ran to it, opened it and pulled out a selection of casual clothing, namely a pink, matching set of bra and panties, nude pantyhose, a pair of form- fitting, ripped blue jeans, a white top (adorned with a printed red heart and the text "Total Flirt") and a red sweater. These she proceeded to put on in no time. It was impossible to say whether the clothes were made to fit her body or her body made to fit the clothes, but the end result was perfect all the same. She spent a few happy moments admiring her mirror image, posing and blowing kisses. The only downside, in her opinion, was that she had no makeup items or accessories whatsoever available, but otherwise she was more than pleased with her looks. "Girls," Claudia announced, "listen up. I want you all to get into my car. Wait for me there, and no matter what happens, don't come back inside the house anymore. I have to take care of something before we leave." "Okay," Lexie responded for herself and her friends. "We'll be there." Emily put a pair of white-trimmed red sneakers on, picked up the sports bag, lifted its strap over her shoulder and followed the others outside. It was already dark; Art must actually have been unconscious for several hours, Emily thought. The girls were talking constantly and on top of each other so that anyone not belonging to the group would have had a difficult time following their convoluted conversation, but Emily, for her part, didn't say much. She was so enthralled by everything around her that she spent the following few minutes almost in silence, simply taking the environment in. The coolness of the fresh air, the dark forest and the lake around the cabin, the smells and sounds, the feel of her clothes, the voices of her friends... All of this was endlessly wonderful, fascinating and somehow new to her. She was alive to the world in a way Art had never been, in love with the whole universe and in harmony with her own self. The girls crammed themselves in the back seat of the car and buckled up for the ride. Claudia spent a good twenty minutes more in the cabin, but her prot?g?es hardly noticed the passage of time. Emily was soon cured of her temporary taciturnity, and the teens were listening to and busily commenting on Danica's story about meeting a cute boy the day before yesterday when Claudia eventually rushed out of the cabin and sat down in the driver's seat. She started the engine immediately, turned the car around in the yard and drove off in the direction of the main road. She pressed on the gas pedal, sending the vehicle rumbling down the driveway at a brisk pace. "Is everybody on board?" she asked. "You didn't leave anything back there, did you?" "Everyone's accounted for," Danica said. "Don't worry." "Good. Very good." The car rounded a sharp curve, and the trees hid the cabin from direct view, but a faint red and yellow glow had begun to filter through the woods. It gathered slowly in intensity, became brighter and rose higher all the time. Art's uncle's cabin, and Art's life and identity along with it, would burn to cinder over the next couple of hours. While there would be no body for the authorities to find, they would have every reason to assume that even if Art had somehow survived the fire itself, he had wandered off in a deep depression or daze and probably drowned in the lake. It would end up as another cold case, never to be solved. Emily was all but oblivious to this. She was engaged in lively, carefree chatter with her bandmates, talking about stage clothes and dancing moves for their upcoming shows. Only once did she glance in the direction of the cabin, noting the faint signs of the now-distant fire with impassive mild curiosity, before concentrating on more relevant topics. It was not as if she didn't understand that Claudia had torched the building. Naturally, Art needed to disappear to make room for Emily. She remembered him and always would--what he had been like as a person, how he had felt about this and that, what he had done in his life, the family and friends he had had, what he had known about making music. She would also remember once having been Art Wilcox herself, but that didn't change the fact that he was gone for good. He had died and been reborn in the form of Emily. Turning onto the blacktop road, Claudia glanced in the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of the group of teens laughing and gossiping in the back. Art's attitude had been a minor speed bump, exactly as she had predicted, but where there was a will, there was a way. She would have preferred for him to bow voluntarily to the inevitable, but this solution was perfectly acceptable as well. Sweet Dreams now had their lineup complete, and that was all that mattered. Art had been right about one thing, though. Claudia had certainly changed. The woman he had known in his golden years with the company would indeed have laughed at anyone foolish enough to suggest that the skinsuits were real, not to mention that they could actually be used to tailor make a girl group for the record label. But this Claudia had had her mental horizons widened, and she was much more willing to listen to seemingly outlandish ideas. "Girls," she said to her passengers, "if anyone asks, what are you going to say happened at Art's house?" "We went there together to ask him if he'd like to produce our first album," Lexie recited. "And what did he do?" "He was kind of interested at first, and friendly," Danica continued, "but then, like totally out of the blue, he said we needed to leave right away. He got all weird and we were a little scared." "So we got in the car," Vicky piped up, "and then we talked on the way back to town if we should call the police, but decided not to because he didn't really do anything to us and we didn't believe he'd take his own life." "He acted kind of funny at times, so we thought he was just a little depressed or something," Emily concluded. "Excellent," Claudia complimented them. "That's the story we're sticking to. I'm hoping you won't have to explain anything, but in case you do, I want you all to remember it by heart." Reaching over into her purse, which was sitting on the vacant front seat, she fished out her cell phone. Without taking her eyes off the road, she deftly opened the lock screen, called up the list of contacts and selected a name. The ringback tone sounded three times before the person on the other end picked up. "Hello there, Jim," she spoke into the phone. "Yeah, it's me. I'm driving back there right now with the girls. What? Oh yes, it's done. We've got our Emily with us!" Claudia looked over her shoulder at the girls in the back and smiled. Emily, having heard her name mentioned, waved to her with her fingers. "Yeah, what about him?" the woman continued her telephone conversation. "Art? He's taken care of, and the cabin too. It'll take the nearest fire brigade ages to get there, and the little house is going to be a smoldering pile of ash by that time. What? Yes, without a doubt, believe me. I made sure of that! Oh, and tell the friend of yours I said thanks. It was really nice of her to help us out like this. The suits are really... yeah, far out, as she'd put it. Just amazing. The girls are perfect in every manner you can imagine, precisely as we planned. We're going to make it big!" Turning her head and holding her phone aside, she said to her passengers, "Do you want to say hi to Jim?" "Hi!" the girls chorused happily and loudly. "Yeah, like I said," Claudia explained to Jim, "a bunch of sweethearts. Okay, see you at the office first thing tomorrow. Bye!" With that, she ended the call and put the cell down on the seat next to her purse. A contented smile was on Claudia Bell's lips as she drove on into the night, with the future pop sensation Sweet Dreams keeping her company. Now that all the little practical problems had been eliminated, there was no stopping her from accomplishing her vision. She would reap the fruits of success that were rightfully hers--and then some. "I guess it never could be any other way," she mused quietly to herself, with four upcoming teen idols talking and giggling in the back seat.