The Barford Files - Chapters I And II free porn video

I: Welcome to Barford The tan-colored Lexus slowly rolled into the driveway of the pleasantly- designed, two-level house in the Barford suburb of the city of Bullchester. Surrounded by other nice-looking homes, the occupants of the Lexus...save one...were already looking forward to fun times with their neighbors, once they had gotten to know them. Once the engine was shut off, a balding, middle-aged man with a slightly round belly stepped out of the vehicle first, smiling at the sight of the realtor sign that was eclipsed by the word "SOLD". The realtor assured that the day after Cameron Merrywether and his family had moved in, the sign would be removed in the early morning of the very next day. As Cameron stretched out his limbs, his wife Pamela was the next to step out. The pixie-cut, short-haired woman beamed as she gazed upon their brand new residence, which she had officially ordained their dream house after the realtor had showed them around the place one week prior to this momentous occasion. Their young son, Stanley, now emerged from the Lexus. In his right hand was the comic book he had been reading during the trip. The brown eyes beneath his head of short, curly brown hair scanned around the general appearance of the place for a moment, and then nodded. "It's nice!" he concluded. Pamela smirked, amused at the judgment. "Well, we're so glad you approve." she sarcastically remarked. "So will I get a room with a window view?" He pointed up at the house's second floor window. "Like that one?" "Well, since you called it first, you've got it," Cameron replied. With a fist pump and a cheer, he gave his father a high-five. The last of the Merrywethers did not step out of the car at all, as Charlene had been in a long and deep funk since leaving the apartment home they had come from in New York City, which according to her father became far too expensive to live in anymore, despite the fact that he had been making a better than average salary...which was followed by a mysteriously big raise...as an advertising executive. Slim-bodied teenager Charlene, who had a head of long brown hair...the bangs of which were held back by an Alice Band...was stubborn, though. She had wanted to stay in the big city and be with her friends, all of whom Pamela assured that she could keep in contact with through the social media programs on her laptop computer and her tablet. This did little to change her perspective. She wasn't too thrilled with Pamela's 'dream', either. Living in a suburb alongside people she had never met before who she already deemed boring. One look at their houses assured her of that much. She wanted to go back home. Back to the city. Cameron poked her head back into the car. "So are you gonna come out, or would you prefer to live in the back seat there?" "It'd be an improvement," she coldly replied. "Well, you can move back in once you've helped your brother with the bags," he opened the passenger side seat next to Charlene. "Come on now. Stop putting a gray cloud over this fresh new chapter of our lives." His pleasant face then melted to a nasty frown. "Get out of there," he angrily snapped. Such was the way Cameron wanted to show that he was at the end of his patience. When Cameron took that tone, Charlene knew the arguments and the protests were over, and any further rebuke would only earn her the dubious distinction of being grounded. Pamela sighed irritably as their sneering teenage daughter finally came out of the car in a huff. She went right for the back of the Lexus to grab her wheeled luggage. "Cher, I really don't see why you're so upset. Your father and I just don't want to live in such a noisy place anymore, and if it's your friends you're griping about, I told you that you have social media. You can keep in touch with them for that." "Oh, great," Charlene sarcastically retorted. "My real live friends are now just faces on a computer screen. Thanks a lot, mom." "You don't see your brother being so frumpy, do you?" Pamela shot back. "My brother hasn't actually met any of his friends face to face," Charlene responded. "They don't even have proper names. They all hide behind screen names!" "Well, now he can meet a few real live friends now," Cameron reasoned. "Maybe someone will notice us while we're playing catch later today." "Can't, Dad," Stanley interjected. "Got a raid instance tonight once I've hooked up the computer. I'm one of the healers, and the Guild needs me tonight." Charlene smirked to her father. "I rest my case." As Cameron and Charlene spoke, Pamela approached the front door, producing the key and unlocking it. She then turned to the rest of her family to flash a full, bright smile. "OK, troops! Let's load in!" * * * Once all of his clothes had been stored in his new and spacious room's dresser, the moving trucks had arrived and Stanley was quick to grab the plastic bins containing the parts to his state-of-the-art home computer system. He placed the two curved monitors side by side upon the single desk that was in the room, which conveniently had a pair of drawers on its right side. They were the last detail that needed to be plugged in and he was able to accomplish that within five minutes. Touching the power switch on the computer tower, the system's lights flared, and the right monitor came to life once again. A quick, DOS-based detail Stanley had missed during the boot-up sequence was this message, which disappeared after two seconds: Barford SurvStar Install = 100% Done! The operating system came up, and one of the first things that came up on the screen was an advertisement for a Social Media chat widget called 'Speakabout'. Not knowing too much about it, he chose not to install it. Before he could start up the MMO game he always liked to play with his online friends, if only to confirm that he was going to be there for the planned raid, there was a knock on the young man's door. The smiling face of his mother gazed back at him when he opened it. "Your father needs to see you downstairs, honey." Nodding, he stepped out of his room and headed down the curved staircase heading down to the first level, which was right outside his room, and the room next to it which his sister had occupied. He knew she was in there, chatting away with her NYC friends on social media, and perhaps griping about her situation freely. "C'mon down, slugger," Cameron mused as Stanley descended the nicely- designed stairs. "Okay...what time is your, uh, raid-thing?" "8 pm," Stanley replied. "And...what time is it now?" Cameron then asked. "1 pm." "Which gives you all the time in the world to do me a little favor." Cameron placed an arm around his son's shoulders. "I need you to go into the city and find a bank. Then, I need you to deposit what's in here," he handed his son a bulging envelope. "Have them set up an account in your name and if anyone asks? It's your College fund savings. Got it?" "Uh...sure, dad," Stanley replied. "There's a bus stop near the left corner that will take you into the city," Cameron instructed, handing him bus fare. "I'm counting on you. This is very important." "Okay, dad." "Don't forget to get the account number, too," the young man's father reminded. "They'll give you that when you set up the account. Write it down, and bring it to me when you get back." Stanley nodded. "Will do." "Stan." Cameron lifted an index finger, pointing it towards his son as he headed for the front door. "You're the man." As Cameron watched his son hurry off towards the bus stop, he let out a relaxed sigh, although he certainly had personal baggage to bear, given the true circumstances behind the move. To Cameron, it was not so much a matter of moving away and starting a new life as it was going into hiding. As honest and as caring as Cameron Merrywether seemed to be, his working life at an advertising firm on Madison Avenue was anything but. Or so it was when Eustace O'Herlihy, the company's CEO, hired on his younger nephew, Graham Brooks, to become Cameron's superior. Cameron fancied himself to be a big deal at the firm, having shepherded several successful ad campaigns by capitalizing effectively on trends. One client in particular, Loris International, employed his services several times, and he earned a lion's share of his fortune through his work for them. A shakeup in the ranks, however, gave everyone in the firm cause for concern, and everyone more or less turned to Cameron to serve as their representative. The trick was to never get old man Eustace too upset. The last time that happened, the resultant hypertension nearly brought about a stroke. Although Cameron himself was truly to blame, he threw a co-worker under the bus, so to speak, to save his own reputation. No one ever suspected that he should have been the one at fault, or so he had perceived. Graham Brooks, however, sought a fresh re-evaluation of all of his employees, Cameron among them. Cameron found this redundant and unnecessary, and deemed this move as an excuse to terminate employees in a downsizing move. The truth of the matter, however, was that Brooks simply wanted to get an idea as to what kind of people his subordinates were. Not one employee at the firm was in any danger of losing his or her job, and yet the headstrong Cameron made everyone believe that Brooks was out to get them all. Hiring a private investigator to collect whatever dirt he could on Brooks, the investigator's findings gave Cameron enough ammunition to blackmail the man for almost a quarter of a million dollars in hush money. Brooks himself, fearing a black mark on his own reputation, found it necessary to pull from the firm's own reserves to cover Cameron's desired pay. This resulted in the firm filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Eustace had to be hospitalized over the resultant stroke he had suffered upon hearing the news. By then, however, Cameron was already gone, having made pre-arrangements to leave, seeing as how his co-workers learned the truth, and began to sympathize with Brooks, who was promoted to temporary company CEO until Eustace's recovery. All of that was behind Cameron now. It was now time to restart his life as a Bullchester resident, and far from all the suckers he had put behind him for the sake of personal and monetary gain. Amazingly, he was able to keep the truth of the whole matter...even the blackmail...from his family. The excuse he had given for the blackmail money was the exact same excuse he had given his son: it was College tuition money for his son. Stanley, however, had no real interest in going to College. He had had enough of education, even though he had been doing fine as a student. He wasn't looking forward to his mother's want to enroll him as a student in a Bullchester school so he could finish his compulsory education. School had become boring, and all the time-consuming homework assignments were beginning to have an impact on the time he spent with his gamer friends online. Still, he thought the suburb was nice enough, and unlike his sister, he was willing to accept a change in scenery. The important thing was that he keep up with his MMO Guild, and the friends he had made within it. Like his father, however, Stanley also had something to hide, although it certainly wasn't as serious as the overtures Cameron orchestrated with the Madison Avenue advertising firm. Stan was one of those kinds of young men who nurtured a discreet interest in carnal pleasures...or at least, a desire to savor such things. Through his Uncle Nick, during his stay at the Park Place apartment building the family used to live in, Stanley had access to a private stack of smut in the form of nudie magazines of all kinds. Every time he visited, Nick would provide Stanley with another fresh stack. It was a secret they both shared, and neither Cameron nor Pamela ever got clued in to the presence of Stanley's 'sex stack', as Stan called it. Nearly every evening, however, he'd pleasure himself in front of the many images of scantily-clad, or fully nude, women in the most provocative of poses. There was a surprising amount of related eye candy on the bus ride alone, both on the bus and walking out on the street among the Bullchester citizenry. Just before the bus went into the city streets, a prim and proper woman with a platinum-colored head full of curls settled into the seat next to Stanley. She gave the curious young man a cordial nod, and a sweet smile. "Good afternoon, young man." Stanley, who had a window seat, smiled back, offering a brief, cordial wave. "Hi." The woman then leaned across him to look out the window, and Stanley got a whiff of the floral perfume the woman was wearing. She giggled sweetly as she pulled herself back to her seat. "I'm sorry, dear. I never got a chance to get the weather report, but the climate is nice enough today, don't you think?" Stanley just nodded in his response as he waited for any stop that looked like it was close to a bank. Once again, the woman leaned in to Stanley. "I see you have a few cute curls yourself." A shrug from Stanley was the woman's only reply. The woman amusedly mimicked Stanley's shrug. "Nothing special to you, right? Your hair is what it is?" "Until I need to get it cut," Stanley responded. The woman tapped Stanley's shoulder with a dainty-looking hand in a complimentary fashion. "That is a perfectly fine philosophy, dear." She then offered the hand to Stanley. "Priscilla Primrose." The young man shook the woman's offered hand. "Stanley. Stanley Merrywether...do you know where I can find a bank in the city? I mean...a good bank?" Priscilla thought on the answer for a moment, and Stan couldn't help but notice that she seemed to be holding her feminine posturing perfectly. "Hmmm...I'm afraid I have little knowledge of the city, sweetheart. After all...my husband does all that kind of work for me. He would be a better person to ask that kind of question to, if he were here." As Priscilla spoke, Stanley's eye caught sight of a large woman with a head of full red hair cascading down around her shoulders. She had a fetchingly large set of mammaries on her chest, which bounced lightly as she walked in her high-heeled shoes. Her plaid-patterned red dress had a white skirt which reminded Stanley of the iconic skirt worn by Marilyn Monroe, which made no effort at all to hide her long, bare legs. "Hmmm! Stanley! I like the sound of that name," Priscilla thoughtfully observed. She then looked back to the young man next to her, maintaining her sweet smile. "If I have a boy for my first child, I think I'll use that name. Stanley. Ooh, how lucky I was to sit next to you!" she then gave one of Stanley's cheeks a gentle pinch. "You're going to have a child named after you. Isn't that wonderful?" The woman's exaggerated sweetness was starting to make Stanley nervous as he cordially smiled. "Uhh...yes, thank you." He began to rise. "I...think my stop is coming up." "Oh, of course, dear. Enjoy your time at the bank, and have a wonderful day..." She beamed a knowing smile. "...Stanley." "N-nice to meet you too, Miss...Primrose." Walking over to the back door of the bus, he heard Priscilla speak to a woman named Ginger on her smartphone about their encounter, and when the bus finally stopped, the platinum-curled woman asked for Ginger's opinion on how Stanley's name sounded to her as he stepped out of the vehicle. Unfortunately, it was for the sake of not getting too deep into a conversation with someone he hardly knew...even if she did introduce herself...that he got off the bus. He never got a good look out the window to find a visibly reputable bank, and in so doing, he resumed his search on foot. The city portion of Bullchester seemed busy enough as he wandered, with an abundance of citizens...male and female, young and old...going about their lives, laughing and shouting, and engaging in a variety of discussions. Many of them looked very attractive to him, too, and by his perception, there seemed to be more females among the human traffic than there were men, and many of the men had a somewhat effeminate look to them. Rounding a corner, he spotted a building with stone columns which had a distinct resemblance to a bank, so he chose to head on over to the entrance, which had black-tinted glass. Stanley figured that this was for security purposes. Pulling open the glass door, he stepped around a small foyer. The music was louder than he felt a bank should have. How could they hear a customer's transactions over it? Behind the foyer area, however, it quickly became apparent to him that this was no bank, unless the tellers were required to get up on a stage and perform exotic dancing. Stanley, however, was obviously in no big hurry to leave, given the sensually-shaped and scantily-clad bodies moving about on the stage ahead of him. One girl was in a glittering dress, and wore an emerald green derby. A neon green-feathered boa was wrapped around her neck. Next to her was a lasciviously-grinning blonde who had a cigarette holder in her fingers, and a cherry red one-piece satin dress on her body. A balding man who had his back to Stanley looked irritated as the girls kept dancing. "Where the FUCK is Brandee? It's been five damn minutes since the end of her break!" He then turned around, making his way towards Stanley. "If she's..." Stanley stood there, beet-faced, as the balding man stopped in his tracks. He frowned angrily. "How the hell did you get in here? Don't I have a fuckin' bouncer?? Hey...helloooo? Rugrat? We're closed!" Stanley raised his hands in restraint as he nervously backtracked. "Okay, okay, I'm going, sir. I'm sorry." His eyes went back to the women onstage, who giggled at the sight of Stanley. "Thought this was a...a bank." "Oh, fuck me. He thought this was a bank." He held the door open for the young man, still scowling at him. "Maybe when you're older, kid. Now go run back to mommy. Or play with your dolls, or somethin'!" The balding man went back inside, leaving a deeply-blushing Stanley to sigh despondently. Looking up above the doors to the place, he finally saw a sign that read "Gentlemen's Club." A part of him wanted to go back in. From behind one of the front columns of the place, however, appeared the very woman who had caught Stanley's eye on the bus, and wearing the exact same dress. She also had a frown on her face as she regarded the young man, whose eyes immediately locked on her large breasts. "What were you doing in there?" she scolded, pointing to the front doors. "Didn't you...oh, of course you knew what kind of a place this was," she shook her head shamefully as she crossed her arms beneath the large firm globes on her chest. He had thought to tell her to mind her own business, but...as she took a couple of steps closer to him, he was able to catch a pleasant and captivating scent. She smelled wonderful, and he could hardly think of what to say in the presence of this undeniably gorgeous woman. He just...stared. Her eyes stared right into his as she spoke. "What's that you've got in your hand there? Hmm?" She reached down and easily snatched the stuffed envelope out of his hand. She then held it up to him. "Is this what I think it is?" "Bank," was the only word that came out of Stanley's mouth. A slight smile was now on this woman's face as her hands went to her wide hips. "Uh-huh. I get it. You want me to think that you thought this was a bank, and you went inside to make a deposit, right? And I suppose a boy as young as you has a job that earns you this kind of money? You must have a couple of hundred dollars or so in here, from the feel of it. A paperboy, on his best day, saving up his pennies and dimes for a good five years, couldn't hope to have this kind of money." He wanted to say he was doing a favor for his father, but...the words just couldn't come out of his mouth. Her head came closer now, her eyes still holding his gaze, until they were inches from his face. The scent she was emitting was stronger now, and he could feel a stirring between his legs. "You stole it, didn't you?" The woman then accused. "You stole from your parents, and you wanted to pay your way into the Gentlemen's Club. Maybe...you paid Brandee Snax to distract the bouncer, eh?" "B-Brandee...?" The woman shook her head, slipping the envelope beneath the tight upper rib of her skirt behind her.. "Shameful. Guys like you never learn," she then grabbed Stanley by his wrist and began pulling him with her towards a bus stop. "Your parents need to know about this. I can just imagine the kind of trouble you're in for, young man. You should be lucky I'm not calling the police instead." "Wha...no, NO!" Stanley now tried to release himself from the woman's tight grip. "Don't tell them! Please!" "Oh, so you would prefer I go to the cops?" she now tugged him towards a nearby police officer. "Suit yourself." "Nononononononono!" He hurried in front of him, his arms held out. In so doing, they came into contact with her breasts. "No cops! No parents! Please!" The woman's frowning eyes widened as she looked down at the hands at her breasts, and then glared back up at Stanley. "Why are your hands on my boobs? I don't believe you!" Stanley blinked in his shock, and then pulled his hands away from the soft breasts, keeping his hands raised in restraint. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry..." But as he began to drop them down, the irresistible woman grabbed both of his wrists and pulled him in towards her, placing his hands back against her breasts. She pressed them against the large mammaries. "Keep them there, you pervert. I want people to see what kind of a naughty boy you really are." "No, please..." Stanley sounded desperate now. "...please stop...this is..." He was still struggling to find the words as passing people glanced at the moment, responding with either amused giggles and chuckles, or shameful shakes of their heads. "...this is..." "Arousing, isn't it?" she purred. The woman took another small step closer to the young man, pressing his hands into the soft globes of covered flesh further. "Squeeze them." Stanley refrained. He felt like he was being tested. "There's a cop right over there," the woman noted. "She'll hear me if I scream loud enough. Squeeze them." Stanley quickly angled his head over to where the woman indicated. Sure enough, there was a female police officer facing away from them, but she was within earshot. She was writing a ticket for a double-parked car. The digits of Stanley's fingers dug into the woman's large breasts. When he did, the woman let out a slight, approving moan. He expected her to let him go, but she kept his hands against the warm, inviting mammaries. "Squeeze them again," the woman cooed. Once again, she felt his shaking hands give her breasts a squeeze, and she emitted an approving moan, closing her eyes passionately as she did. She took another step into Stanley, maneuvering his gripped arms behind him until his wrists were pressing together behind him, as if he were handcuffed. Effectively embracing the nervous young man, her breasts now pressed against his chest as he angled his head up to continue staring upon her. His mouth was slightly agape now as the captivating scent continued to hold him fast. "I'd be willing to forgive you for being such a naughty boy..." the woman alluringly remarked. She brought her lips closer to Stanley's ear to whisper. "...but you have to do something for me in return." He didn't say a word. He just continued to stare up at her, transfixed. "You want to squeeze my breasts again, don't you?" she asked. Stanley slowly nodded. "Okay, then." The woman held to one of Stanley's wrists as she pulled him along with her. "Follow me, and stay right behind me." Confident that her enhanced pheromones would keep Stanley loyal, she let his wrist go. Sure enough, he remained at her side as she moved through the city. She passed a couple of people who knew her, and they offered greetings as they passed. "Hi, Barbara," One woman chimed. "Hi, Mrs. Walsh," Two attractive-looking girls cooed. Barbara just smiled and offered a wave at them as she continued to make her way along the pedestrian paths of the city, and through the pedestrian traffic. The storefront of the business Barbara led Stanley into was called Pubessence. Looking at the mannequins in the storefront, the business seemed to specialize in various pieces of lingerie, nighties, and undergarments for women. Stanley slowed his steps as he neared the front door that Barbara was gesturing towards. Something inside Stanley was screaming for him to backtrack and distance himself from a place like this, but he held the door open for the large-chested midwife to proceed through instead. He earned a light scratching on his head for doing that, which made him bashfully lower his head. Following Barbara inside, he gazed upon the envelope that was sticking out of the red-haired woman's skirt. He was in a perfect position to grab it, run out, and dash away to a cop, or even just to a bank to get his father's errand done. A lot of time had gone by now and he wanted to be able to get back home and just get the night's planned raid instance going. Barbara led her enthralled subject to that section of the store where the panties were located. There were a wide variety of these kinds of undergarments here, and in different designs. Some were silly, others were plain. Pausing to look appraisingly at a very nervous-looking Stanley, who was attempting to ignore incredulous looks from other girls and women in the store who saw him there. The busty redhead then beckoned for the jittery, curly-haired boy to follow her. In her right hand was a garment that she had apparently picked out. He could not make out the details at all, save that it was white, at the very least. If the idea was for him to put this pair of panties on him, he was at least relieved that it would be one of the all-white ones. They, at least, resembled white underwear for males. The impending request finally came from his busty companion once they stepped into the store's private dressing booths. "OK...take off your sneakers and your pants." Stanley's eyes widened. "Y-you...want me to..." Barbara tilted her head. "You want to squeeze my breasts again, don't you?" "I..." The busty woman stepped in closer to the young man. "Take your sneakers off." Hesitantly, Stanley lowered to a knee and unlaced his casual footwear, removing them from his feet and placing them to the side. "Good," Barbara nodded. "Your pants now. Go on." "But...y-you're standing here..." Barbara grinned. "It's not like I haven't seen a half-naked man before, kid. Now drop those pants before I go outside and signal for a cop." And down his faded blue jeans went after he had unfastened them. Once they were down on the ground, he stepped out of them. Barbara's eyes were on his underpants. She raised an eyebrow. "Tighty- whiteys, eh? They need to go too. Pull them down and take 'em off." Once Stanley complied, and stepped out of his underpants, that was when Barbara revealed the garment that she had picked out. Holding it out with both hands, Stanley saw that the satin panties were a diagonal red and white pattern...identical to that of a candy cane...and that the panties had frilly white edges. "I don't care what you think of this," Barbara warned. "Take them, and put them on." Blushing deeply with embarrassment, Stanley took the offered garment and stepped into them one leg at a time. He then pulled the soft garment up slowly until they were around his waist. His cock was only partially hidden by the panties. It was clear to Stanley that the candy cane- striped panties looked completely ridiculous on him. "Good." Barbara gestured to his pants. "You can put those back on, and put your sneakers back on as well." An incredulous look was on Stanley's face. "I can't change out of them??" Barbara shook her head. "I want you wearing that from now on. Day and night. Remember to wash them, too...and I will be checking up on you each and every day to be sure that you're wearing them." The busty woman then picked up Stanley's male underwear. "I'll take these, stinky as they probably are." Stanley blushed deeper as he pulled up and re-secured his jeans, and then put his sneakers back on, tying their laces as Barbara watched. She then grabbed Stanley's wrists and placed herself against one of the walls of the changing room. Pulling him closer to her, she placed his shaking hands upon her breasts. "Squeeze them." The young man enjoyed the feel of Barbara's breasts as he complied. They felt entirely natural to him. He had initially expected, when she first asked him to squeeze them, to feel the outline of silicone bags, but these were fully natural and comfortably warm breasts. Barbara's moan was a little louder here as she reacted pleasurably to the feel of Stanley's squeeze. She then placed her forehead against Stanley's, looking at him lustfully. "Rub them," she lustfully whispered, her eyes half-lidded. His hands shook terribly, but he did as he was told. Barbara closed her eyes passionately and let out a long moan, panting as the young man in front of him kneaded at her warm mammaries. Glancing down at Stanley's pants, Barbara could see a squirming bulge there, indicative of a manifesting erection. Barbara then pulled Stanley's hands away. "Now let's go pay for your merchandise." As they came out of the changing rooms, Stanley looked mystified. "You're buying it for me?" "Nope," she pulled the envelope full of money out from behind her and waved it in front of him. "You are." "But...that's my dad's!" Stanley whined. "Why are you..." "Do you yourself have money?" Barbara curiously asked. "Outside of what's in here?" Stanley sighed, his head sagging down. "No..." Barbara unraveled the string around the ring lock on the envelope and gave the envelope's contents a better look. There were a lot of $100.00 bills inside! "Goddess..." Barbara quietly remarked. "...you seem to have...hundreds of dollars in here, young man," she pulled out a single $100 bill and closed the envelope back up. "I'll just hold on to the rest. In fact..." she procured a pen from one of her pockets and handed it to the curly- haired boy. "...write your first name on it." Nervously, Stanley wrote his first name, in all caps, upon the blank space on one side of the tan-colored envelope. "Stanley. Okay." Barbara slipped it back behind her, under the upper rib of her skirt. She then handed the bill to the nervous young man. "Go on, head to the cashier." She walked with him to the waiting salesgirl. "He's wearing the candy cane panties. One pair." "Ahh, those are cute ones," the salesgirl remarked, grinning. Fortunately, she was able to break the $100 bill, and she handed him quite a bit of change. Stanley felt a little betrayed over Barbara openly revealing that he had panties on, but after having fondled the soft, firm tits of the busty midwife, he found himself wanting to be able to grope her a little more. As they left the shop, however, he still felt a little annoyed. "Why did you tell her that I was wearing panties?" "Would you rather I keep my mouth shut, and let you walk out with them on, without paying for them?" Barbara reasoned. "You're in enough hot water as it is, Stanley. Especially if you're caught holding on to all that change. Your father might suspect that you just...took all that money for yourself." Stanley sighed in utter defeat. He pulled out the excessive change and handed it over to Barbara, who pocketed it. "Good boy," she complimented. "Now remember...I will see you again, to make sure you're still wearing those panties. If you are..." She gestured to her breasts. "...you get to play with these a little more. If not? I share your dirty little secrets with your parents, including your, uh, seizure of all this money. That should make daddy really happy, don't you think?" "How are you gonna find me?" Stanley wondered aloud. "You don't even know where I live." "Oh, I'll find you, Stanley. Don't you worry," Barbara assured. She then turned away from the enthralled young man. "See you tomorrow, you naughty boy." As much as he very much wanted to follow this incredibly beautiful woman, he was at least secure in the knowledge that he would indeed see her again. He just stood there for a few minutes as she went further and further into the distance until she rounded a corner, disappearing from his sight. The weird feel of wearing women's panties, however, certainly reminded him of the encounter. Checking the time on his smartphone, he saw that it was 4pm. Wandering around until he was able to find the landmarks around the bus stop he had gotten off at, he looked at the opposite side and saw a bus stop for the opposite direction. The bus trip back home was uneventful, and he was a bit relieved that he did not have to deal with that weird Primrose woman during the ride back. Sitting alone, however, permitted him the luxury of keeping Barbara Walsh on his mind. He already wanted to see her again, and once again earn the right to put his hands on those big, warm mammaries. He had never touched a woman like that in his lifetime, and he never imagined he'd do something like that with someone so irresistible. He had to dig his hand beneath his pants to adjust his hard-on to the point where it wasn't hurting him. Obviously, wearing panties as a guy would take some getting used to. He felt his erect cock free itself from the meager confines of his panties and flop around a little within his pants after getting off of the bus. He felt a few wet spots form, too, evidencing that he had ejaculated a little during his time with Barbara. He was otherwise in a good spot following what was, initially, a harrowing bit of bad luck. Had he been a little more of an obstinate humbug in his responses, he would have probably wound up in jail. Not a very good thing to happen to someone who had just moved into town. But as long as Stanley kept his mouth shut about the truth, his father didn't need to know about what happened. Didn't need to know about Barbara or even the panties he was wearing. He figured he'd have to be discreet about cleaning them, too. If his parents and/or his sister ever got wind of what Stanley was hiding beneath his pants... Cameron, however, hit him with a complication after his son reported of his success in finding a bank. "So did you get the account number?" "Huh?" Cameron blinked. "I told you to get the account number, didn't I? If you set up the account, they should have given you a number. I told you to write it down. Didn't you do that?" As much as he didn't want to lie, Stanley had to salvage this somehow. He feigned a sudden remembrance. "Oh! I-I forgot. They...had a problem with their computers." His only chance was to try and convince Barbara to give him the money back, no matter what it took. "I have to go back tomorrow. They're holding on to the money. When I go in tomorrow, they told me they'd have the account ready for me. I'll get the number for you then." All Stanley could do was hope his father was convinced. He tried to sound as sincere as he could. Cameron then nodded, much to his son's relief. "Okay. I wish you had held on to the money, though." "Well, they wanted to prove that they could be trusted," Stanley reasoned. Cameron nodded. "We'll see what kind of people we're placing our trust in when I drive you down there tomorrow. You do remember where it is, right?" Stanley nodded, knowing that having his father with him for the 'return trip' would obviously blow the fabrication. "Y-yeah. I...I remember. I can do it on my own, though. You don't have to..." "Like I said, I want to see what kind of people we're trusting with our money," Cameron resolutely interjected. "Good luck with that raid tonight." "Where's Mom?" Stanley wondered aloud, looking around curiously. "She figured she'd take your sister out to a place she might hopefully get accustomed to visiting more than once," Cameron replied. "It's called Rubie's Mall." * * * About an hour after Stanley had left for his bank run, Pamela headed up to the room Charlene had chosen to occupy and gave a couple of raps on the door. A dispirited, "Yeah," was her daughter's response, in between the sound of multiple taps of fingers on a laptop keyboard. "Can I come in, honey?" Pamela asked, hoping her proposal would ease the obvious rift. "It's open," Charlene mumbled as the tapping sound stopped. It was clear, when Pam opened the door and looked upon the expression on Charlene's face as she sat on the bed near her laptop computer, that her daughter was still quite unhappy with the move. She saw that Charlene's luggage had not been unloaded, and was still standing idle upon its two- wheeled surface when Pam walked in. Sighing, she slowly approached her daughter. "Look...I know this isn't sitting very well with you, dear, but your father and I agreed that we needed a change in scenery." Charlene just stared forward, maintaining her sour expression. "Nice of you to ask me how I felt before you did it." Pamela settled herself upon the space next to Charlene on the bed. "Cher, it's not like we're placing you under some kind of house arrest. Anytime you wanted to get out there and see what Bullchester is really like..." "Mom, I was just chatting with one of my friends. She told me that Bullchester is a creepy place," her eyes were on her mother's, hoping to get through to her as she spoke. "People have disappeared in this city. I remember what you said when that realtor who came by the old apartment made the offer. You said she practically offered it to you for a song. Why do you think a place like this turned out to be so easy to get?" "That missing-persons hogwash came from fake news sources, Cher," Pam responded. "Is that what the realtor told you?" Pam sighed again. She didn't want to come out and admit that she didn't do much research about the city, having been sold on the notion to move out to someplace much more quiet compared to the city. "You know, it really isn't fair to your father and I that you're not even giving this place the benefit of a doubt, which is why I came up here," Pam replied. "I'm gonna drive into the city and take a little walk around a place called Rubie's Mall. I'd really like you to come with me." Fortunately, Charlene didn't immediately dismiss the idea of going. In fact, she seemed to be locked in indecision over whether or not she would go. She would certainly confess to being a bit of a mallrat, but in a place as suspect as Bullchester... It was obvious that Pam had to offer an olive branch of some kind. "Cher...just give this area a week. That's all I ask. One week, starting today. If things start looking suspicious, or if things just don't seem to be working out by the week's end, I'll start looking for a new place somewhere in New York. But there's a ground rule here. You can't ask me about it before the week's out. You have to wait until the end of the week. Fair?" Charlene found this notion worth conceding to. Besides...her curiosity about the mall was slowly building up. "Okay. One week. I'll be down in a second. I gotta close the chat I was in." Pam rose up from the bed, smiling. "I'll be in the car." Turning back to her laptop after Pam closed the door behind her, Cher's fingers began tapping away at the keyboard once again. CherRulz: What can you tell me about 'Ruby's Mall'? THEDestinee: Rubie's Mall? Peeps go in and out of there all the time. The place you want to avoid is the Butterfly Salon. That's zombie central. If you see anyone in your family...your mom, your dad, Stan...anywhere near that place, you're pretty much fucked. Are you going there now? CherRulz: To the Mall? Yeh, Mom wants me to go with her. THEDestinee: BE THEDestinee: CAREFUL! CherRulz: I will be. Laterz! * * * Arguably saccharine was what came to mind as Pam and Charlene window- shopped their way through the Mall. Clothing stores, department stores, novelty places...a decent array of boutiques and services made up the interior of the supposedly suspect establishment. Charlene noticed that a majority of the shoppers were females, and those who were male seemed a touch effeminate in their appearances. They had already passed the Butterfly Salon, which Cher had cast a wary glance towards. Pam was moving forward and looking in a direction other than the Salon when she entered the Mall, so she thankfully missed it. Cher was totally prepared to warn Pam away from it the moment she spotted that particular business, though. Passing a few more clothing stores, she noticed a third which had garments on the mannequins that both of the ladies gazed upon a bit incredulously. Said garments looked far more revealing than any woman who fancied themselves to be moral and proper would ever be comfortable wearing. "Places like this must have a lot of sluts for clients," Charlene observed as they passed the store. "Wonder if that store's manager moonlights as a pimp." They shared a laugh over this observation. "Did you want to try one of the Department Stores? I'm sure they have much nicer things." Charlene nodded, although there was one inconvenient matter that needed to be addressed, and she had only wished she could have handled it before they had left the house. "I need to go to the bathroom first." "Sure, honey. Look...signs ahead are pointing to that alcove to the right there. Restroom signs." Pam pointed to the signs in question. "See it?" Once they had reached the alcove, she started to head towards the Ladies Room door, but she stopped and turned back to Pam. "Can you come in with me?" "Why?" Pam asked. "I don't need to go." "I'd feel a little better if you would..." "Oh, quit worrying, Cher," Pam interjected. "You're a grown woman and I know you can take care of yourself. Now if you've gotta go, ya gotta go. So go on. I'll wait here for you." "But Mom..." "I'll still be here when you come out," Pam assured. "Now stop worrying and get your ass into a stall." Although she was still a little worried, Charlene nodded and hurried into the women's restroom, leaving Pam outside to more or less fend for herself. As Pam idled by the restrooms, however, she got a sense that she was being watched by something other than whatever secret security cameras were planted in the ceilings. She began to think that it might have been a good idea for her to have gone into the bathroom with her daughter... ...the notion of which made Pam feel a jolt run through her when the person watching her decided to make contact from behind, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Excuse me...OH! I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to startle you," The young woman had a sock bun hairstyle as she beamed a perfect smile to Pam, who was recovering from the shock. Dressed in a navy blue sport jacket, which she wore over a white polo shirt and navy blue slacks, she extended a skinny hand, the fingers of which were topped with long, French-cut fingernails. "Shelly Piper. Nice to meet you," On the right breast pocket of her jacket could be seen the name of Bullchester's local access television network. Pam nodded slowly, shaking the offered hand as she smiled a bit. "Nice to meet you. I'm...actually waiting for my daughter to come out, so..." "It's okay. This won't take very long," shelly noted, her voice inescapably chirpy and perpetually perky. "I was wondering...do you know how to cook?" Pam frowned in her confusion. "Uhhh...yeah, I'm...I'm pretty good at it, why?" "Well, I couldn't help but notice how nice your face looked when you came into the mall," shelly explained. "What about housecleaning? Are you good at that?" A question like this now made Pam look a little more wary. "Why?? Why are you asking me these things?" Shelly giggled to herself, as if nurturing some private joke. She raised a hand in restraint when she saw how negatively Pam was reacting to this. "I'm sorry...it's just that we've been looking for someone to serve as the face for the housewife demographic in Bullchester, which has been rising as of late. Would you be willing to take a day out of your busy schedule one afternoon and come down for a screen test? It's for a home care show we're putting together." Pam's eyebrow raised. "Martha Stewart wasn't available?" "Martha who?" shelly giggled at her own joke. "Sorry...we want to put our own spin on that kind of a show. You have the right idea, though. Someone to take women through housekeeping tips, show off a bit of cooking, and basically be a really nice and pleasant personality for a full week's worth of shows, and of all the faces I've seen coming and going in the Mall, your face is sticking with me," she then handed Pam a business card. "If you're interested, just call me at the number there and we'll set the screen test up. If I don't hear from you before the week is out, I'll assume you're not interested. That sounds fair enough, doesn't it? Can I have your name? First and last?" Although Shelly was talking quite fast, Pam was able to comprehend her words. It took a moment for her to answer. "S..sorry...we, we just moved here, and an offer like this is..." "Sounds like the perfect opportunity to launch into a potentially lucrative career right out of the gate!" shelly interjected, maintaining her perky grin. "I honestly think you'd be a shoo-in to become Bullchester's face for home care and cooking. Who needs wannabes like Rachael Ray, or even Martha Stewart, when we could have a fresh new face who actually knows what she's doing? Besides...you'd make one hell of a paycheck in so doing! So can I have your name? First and last?" Now if it were a typical Mall environment, where the music of current trends were likely to be heard as shopper traffic went back and forth, it would have seemed like a too-good-to-be-true offer, or something that a woman like Pam would ordinarily deem to be a skeptical one at best. But the music in this particular mall was pleasantly serene. A somewhat hypnotic tone could be heard throughout the music stream which was continuous, and made her feel a bit light-headed. It also had the effect of imposing a susceptibility to suggestion. "Uhhh...oh. My name? Sorry," Pam replied. "Pamela Merrywether." This seemed to spark Shelly's creativity a bit. "Merrywether... Merrywether...hey, I think we have our show title!" Her eyes lit up over the epiphany she was obviously experiencing. "'The Merry Weather Show'! Oh, Goddess, I really hope you call so we can set up this screen test. I've got a great feeling about this. You'd be a shoo-in!" "I...I'll...think about it. Yeah," Pam responded, finding the offer a little more interesting. "Great. Hope to hear from you!" The perky young woman gave Pam a wave of her hand in farewell as she hurried away from her. "Have a nice...no! Have a merry day! Ohhh, perfect! I really hope you call us...byyyyee!" Pam found herself unconsciously tapping her foot to the soft beat of the music as she continued to wait for Charlene to emerge from the restroom. Pam had never been on TV before, but...what's the harm in trying, she thought? * * * "I'll still be here when you come out," Pam assured. "Now stop worrying and get your ass into a stall." Although she was still a little worried, Charlene nodded and hurried into the women's restroom, leaving Pam outside to more or less fend for herself. The restroom interior certainly looked a step above what Charlene was used to in a bathroom located in a public place in New York. Pleasant- looking wallpaper patterns, a perpetually floral scent, air conditioning that kept the climate within the lavatories comfortable and odor-free, well-illuminated mirrors, and cushioned sit-down stalls that looked more like a household bathroom than one that could be found at a place of business. Three women were coming out of the bathroom as Charlene came in, and one of them looked a bit nervous as she looked at her own fingernails. Two other occupants were coming out of their stalls, and one blue jeans-clad woman was seated behind the closed hardwood door of her stall. She could hear this woman humming along with the ambient music. Charlene stepped into a stall to do her thing while the other two went to the mirror to check on themselves and see to their makeup. As she sat, she heard one of the women outside speak aloud. "Are we still on for brunch tomorrow, Hayley?" A sweet voice behind the stall door next to Cher's sounded off in answer. "You betcha! Save me a buttered bagel. Make sure it's warm." "Haven't you got enough of an ass?" The two women giggled at this as Charlene continued her business. Once she was done, she papered herself and flushed while the woman in the stall next to her...the woman called Hayley...emerged from having finished her own toilet business. Her short, bouncy dark hair had been nicely parted down the middle. Once Charlene came out, she got an eyeful of the Hayley woman, who had apparently busied herself with doing touch-ups on her makeup, which certainly made her pretty face stand out. The woman had what most men would call an hourglass shape, with prominent breasts and a large posterior, all of which was covered by a pair of skin-tight jeans that capably hugged every curve below the waist, and a plaid-patterned, short-sleeved shirt that she had tied above her navel, itself covering a stretch of pink fabric that she was apparently using for a bra. Hayley noticed Charlene's curious glance, angling her eyes to the curious teenager, and she turned her head to Cher, presenting the tube of lipstick she had been holding. Hayley grinned wide. "Want some?" she asked. Charlene felt a little nervous. Particularly for the fact that she found Hayley herself to be worth a long and curious stare. "U-umm...uh...well, I..." Hayley stepped in, speaking softly. "That means yes. Pucker up, dear." What was going on with her own sense of judgment, Cher thought? Usually, she could withstand, and even lash out at such blatant displays of a total stranger taking charge. Was it the dreadfully saccharine music that was giving her a bit of a headache by now? Was it the ambience of the bathroom? A part of her was already beginning to get a little freaked out over the mall, especially with the abundance of clothing stores that catered to women. She had yet to find a place within the mall that offered up male clothing. Such a place would have at least given the mall a good enough balance. Where would Stanley need to go to get clothes for school? Or her dad, for that matter? When Hayley finished, she turned Charlene's head towards the mirror. Her lips were now painted a bright and thick cherry red. It was a perfectly- formed lip shape, too. There was nothing messy or overdone about it. Her fingers went up to trace along the edges of her own lips. "Hey, that's...that's pretty good..." "Mmm-hmm! No less than mortal man deserves, the little monsters," she giggled at her own joke. She then turned Cher's head back to her, looking right in her eyes. "You want me to do the rest, don't you?" "Th-the rest?" Charlene asked confused. And that's when Hayley went to work, giving Charlene's face a spur-of- the-moment makeover using her own makeup kit, which she carried with her in her pocketbook. Foundation was applied, followed by blush, mascara, and eyeliner. A can of hairspray came out, as did a comb, and Hayley began working on Charlene's hair, teasing it into a more attractive style than the more plain and unspectacular style she was wearing. Putting away her makeup, Hayley slowly turned Charlene towards the mirror, placing an arm around her shoulders as she looked at herself. She was astonished. Her face looked really nice now. As with the lipstick application, nothing was applied too excessively. Charlene stared at her mirror image for a long moment. "You just need a better outfit to wear with that look, but...not a bad job, if I do say so myself," Hayley observed. "Got a name, honey?" "Charlene." She put a hand up to lightly rub at her made-over face. "Charlene Merrywether." "Any relation to Merrychristmas?" Hayley giggled at her own joke again. She then gave Cher a light shove towards the door. "Go on, hottie! Ya want people to think we're lovers or something?" Upon emerging from the bathroom, Charlene thankfully spotted her mother still waiting for her, although there was a girl with a navy blue sport jacket and a perky smile stepping away from her. Hayley still had her arm around Charlene as they stepped out and approached Pam, who seemed to be lost in thought. Pam blinked upon seeing Hayley alongside her daughter. She also noticed that Charlene had a very nicely-done layer of makeup on her face. "Well, that was fast. Made a new friend already?" she held a hand out to the dark-haired woman. "Pam Merrywether. I'm Charlene's mother." The saucy-looking woman shook Pam's hand. "Hayley. Nice meeting you," she turned her head to Charlene, giving her a little shake. "So? Show off the makeup job I gave you, honey!" Pam surveyed the work Hayley had done on her daughter's face. "Are you a...cosmetics specialist, or something? This is really nice work." "You'd be surprised how many of the ladies here in Bullchester are good at doing makeup," Hayley observed. She then slipped her other arm around Pam's shoulders. "I haven't seen you around here before. You just move in?" "Yeah, actually," Pam replied. "That realtor's offer was just too good to pass up." Hayley nodded. "What part of Bullchester? Barford?" Pam nodded. "Yup, knew it. They're taking advantage of the vacancies," While she still had her arms around them, Hayley began moving forward, with Charlene and Pam nearly stumbling as they began to move. "You deserve a nice, guided tour of our happy little mall here, and I'll even save the best for last. You visit any stores just yet? Make any purchases?" "No, not yet," Pam admitted, finally matching Hayley's stride. "We were just window shopping." "All these stores and not a single purchase? Shaaaaame," Hayley seemed to be backtracking them both. "Know what? Scratch that. I'll show you the best place first." Sure enough, Hayley led them both to the front of the three storefronts that made up the Butterfly Salon. Pamela's eyes widened with awe. Charlene, however, felt her blood run cold. They were back in front of zombie central, and Hayley, no doubt, was an agent provocateur. Hayley stepped away from the two women, and flourished to the deceptively attractive beauty parlor. "Welcome to the Butterfly Salon. If ever you wanted to..." "Mom, we have to go. Now." Charlene struggled to think of some kind of excuse. "I...I'm feeling nauseous right now." Hayley suspiciously raised an eyebrow. Having worked on her face, she didn't feel very warm. Pam turned her head to her daughter. "Why? We only got here a few minutes ago. We haven't even bought anything." Charlene was resolute as she stepped away. "I am not going in there," she warily looked to Hayley now. "Thank you so much for the makeup job, but you are not getting me in there." Hayley just shrugged, looking very surprised. "Wouldn't even cost you anything on your first visit! No harm in getting a free manicure, honey!" Seeing the grave concern in her daughter's eyes, Pam turned to Hayley. "Honestly...we just came in here to window shop. Can we...skip this place? It's obviously upsetting Charlene." Although she lingered a suspicious look to Charlene, Hayley slowly nodded in response. "Sure, I...I can...show you around everywhere else," she beckoned for the Merrywether girls to follow. Hayley seemed a little more sedate as she led the pair along the storefronts, explaining the nature of each business in a generally pleasant manner. Hayley included the bars, the restaurants, the bridal store, and the mall's nightclub during the impromptu tour. Charlene seemed a little more sedate, obviously, for as long as they were away from the Salon. She found it interesting that the mall had a nightclub...this one called Luck Be A...and she figured she'd go there on their next business night wearing her best nightclub dress. Hayley seemed to note Charlene's evident interest in the nightclub, judging by the way her eyes were scanning the space. "If you've got money to burn, and you wanna look nice for the nightclub crowd here, I might recommend getting something to wear at Hourglass. It's one of the mall's most popular stores. They get a lot of business." "Did you want to see if we could get you something from there, honey?" Pam offered, hoping to ease her nerves a little. A very wary Charlene eventually nodded. "Yeah, I...I guess we could go look around in there..." "You go on ahead, kids. I need to go elsewhere at the moment," Hayley gave them both a wave as she stepped away, flashing a cordial smile. "Nice to meet you both! Don't be a stranger!" Pam turned to her daughter, looking a little upset. "That's a fine way to treat someone who gave you such a great makeup job." Charlene, however, sounded very resolute. "I am not going into that Salon, mom. No chance...and you shouldn't, either." Pam grinned. Her tone was a touch sharp in her authoritative rebuke. "Why don't you let me be the judge of where I want to go, young lady?" Charlene sighed. She wished there was something she could say to dissuade her from going into that place, but now was obviously not the time. "I...I'm sorry. Let's...see if I can find something nice." "Right...and let's see how expensive 'something nice' is gonna be," Pam mused, remembering what Hayley had said about the garments being particularly expensive. Hayley stopped in close vicinity to the Butterfly Salon, and then pulled out her smartphone to look at a fresh text message that had popped up. You think Maggie Katzhoff got to that girl? Hayley tapped a message back using the onscreen text keyboard. Doubt it. They just moved in to Barford. Pamela and Charlene Merrywether. Charlene is the one who balked. She waited for the next message. We have them on file. SurvStar gave us a hit, too. Expect further instructions. Thank you, Hayley. II: The Midwife Cometh When Cameron finally got his own computer plugged in, he powered it on, and waited for the operating system to come up. Unlike his son, however, he had his eyes on the screen when the 3-second SurvStar installation message came up. A curious frown was on his face when he saw it. SurvStar? He thought to himself. What was that? The operating system otherwise came up normally, and without a hitch, nor an evident slowdown in the system speed. An advertisement came up for a chat widget called Speakabout, but Cameron chose to dismiss it. Habitually, he went to his social media page. It had been a couple of days since he powered the system down to pack it away for the move, and he wanted to catch up with the friends and co-workers that were on his friends list. The first thing that stood out, upon looking at his page stats, was that the number representing how many friends he had, who shared the social network with him, was significantly lower than the last time he saw it. There were several chat messages that were left for him, too, and they all came from co-workers at his old job. Cameron's eyes widened when he went through the chat messages. Their angry nature took him by surprise. LYIN SCUMBAG. The first one read. What the fuck is wrong with you, you greedy retard? I'm never hanging out with you again, you heartless piece of shit. Trusted you, but I guess a rose is a rose. Burn in Hell. Steal from ailing old men much? Hope you're proud of yourself, asshole. One of them was particularly revelatory, and not in a good way. How does it feel to be responsible for an old man's death? Although there were other hateful messages beyond that, Cameron lingered on this one. He knew old man Eustace had a bad heart, and that he almost had a stroke over the last problem the advertising firm was forced to deal with. Did his recent company blackmail effectively kill that company's old CEO? Was he unable to recover from a second stroke? A total of thirteen chat messages continued to condemn Cameron, and they were all co-workers that had once trusted him over his notion that Graham Brooks was out to get them all. That the employee review was a scheme to downsize, and bring about a long string of layoffs. The last chat message...the thirteenth...seemed particularly chilling. Wherever you are right now, I hope that place becomes your prison. Cameron closed his eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths. Get 'em out of your head. He thought to himself. That part of your life is over. Think ahead. Put it behind you. It's baggage you don't need. Reopening his eyes, he took a deep breath, and began closing out all the chat windows. As he closed them out, a fresh chat window came up from yet another former co-worker. He knew this woman was normally a little more sympathetic and level-headed compared to the others. You should be ashamed of yourself, you know. I hope you're ashamed. You deserve to be. Figuring this might be his only chance to find out what had happened, he risked a fierce rebuke to ask. Is this about Eustace? What happened? Was it a heart attack? A long moment passed, and he expected to be unfriended on the spot...but a response finally came. He hung himself, Cameron. He never expected his company to have to file for Chapter 11. Thanks to you and your lies, I doubt the company will be able to afford an attorney...but then, I don't expect you to actually care, now that you're so well off. Goodbye. The following message...a system message...informed him that he had now been unfriended by this particular co-worker. He spent the next five minutes erasing his social media page completely. He just didn't want to use it anymore. The page was baggage now to him, and he didn't even want to think about all those condemning voices anymore. He rationalized to himself that there was a lot of political and religious garbage on that social network anyway. Once again, the advertisement box came up on the lower right hand side of the screen for the Speakabout chat widget. This time, he decided to accept it. The download was completed in under three minutes. After filling out the necessary registration info, he was ready to chat. His first order of business, however, was to look through web pages relating to employment in the Bullchester region. He limited his search fields to executive and management openings... ...but he came up with nothing at all. Zero hits. He tried other variations on the same theme. He lessened the pay scale. He even tried to look for more menial work, and at all levels of employment. Zero hits. On a hunch, he went back to square one, and did a search within the fields he started with...only this time, he changed the gender to female. He was rewarded with several hits. The pay was about as good as his pay was as an executive! He found it hard to believe that no one was looking for men, however. Even the most menial of tasks could be found in any big city. Not just New York. Regardless of how meager the pay was, employment opportunities were always available. Perhaps this was just a bad week? MrsMoore '