Barford File 3 - The Sandbergs free porn video

I. A Night In Heaven Beneath the pulsating purple neon lights of the Rubie's Mall nightclub called Luck Be A..., David Sandberg's eyes were on one person, and one person alone, as she slowly moved and undulated to the pounding beats resonating not only through the club, but its scores of young patrons as well. Her name was Brooke Vandervelde, and she was the most beautiful girl David Sandberg had ever laid his eyes on. This was not the first time David had seen this girl, who had a face that he could only describe in one word: precious. Beautifully soft waves of flowing brown hair spilled down from her head whenever David saw her walking the halls of the school they both shared. The very first time he had seen her, he had to ask one of Brooke's friends what her name was. David wasn't expecting to see her at this particular nightclub, which he was visiting on this particular night for the very first time in his want to discover new places to go to on a weekend when he wasn't on his computer engaging in salty online battle royales with his friends. Seeing her under the nightclub lights was like witnessing a heavenly vision as she shook her shoulders, and made a slow pirouette, while clad in her gypsy-like outfit. She seemed to stand out from the other trendy patrons wearing a dress like this, with its gauzy white blouse, its long, pleated skirt, and the wrap of flowered silk that concealed the top part of her hair. The rest of her long hair had been wrapped into soft braids, and swung around her as she moved. David wrestled with himself over whether or not he should break the ice. He had not said a word to her in all the times he stared at her in school since the start of the semester. It was only in the privacy of his own imaginations that he was able to introduce himself to her in the most wildly imaginative ways, and she would always respond quite dramatically as if she was immediately smitten. Alternately, however, he also imagined that the response would be much more negative. She would accuse him of being a pervert for always staring at her, or she would respond with unexpected fear for her thinking he was a stalker who wanted to rape her, and he would earn a reputation for himself that would be difficult to cleanse. In the end, he resolved that the only way he could possibly know for sure was to do what his father, Herman, had always suggested. To just calmly walk up to the girl and be himself. No need to put on an act she might very well see through. What if she came with someone, though? David then wondered, still keeping his eyes on Brooke. I don't want to leave here with a bloody lip because she came here with a Linebacker. In the end, he figured it was a risk worth taking. Worse comes to worse, they could just be friends, and there was no harm in that. He began to move forward, closing the distance between him and this most beautiful girl. As fate would have it, the song dissolved into another tune that compelled Brooke to disengage from the dance floor. She looked shy as she migrated off of the dance floor. When she saw David coming towards her, she turned to him and flashed a smile. "Hi! Uhh...listen, could you do me a really big favor?" She handed him a $5 bill. "Could you get me a bottle of water, please?" "Huh? Oh, sure!" Smiling back, he took the $5 and looked around for the nearby bar, stepping over to it quickly. Upon acquiring the sealed bottle, he looked back over to Brooke, who was idly watching the other dancers. Quickly returning to her side, he handed the bottle over, which earned him a grateful smile from the girl of his dreams. "Thanks!" She offered a slender hand, tipped with glossy fingernails. "I'm Brooke." The 19 year old man shook the hand, smiling back, trying not to look nervous. "David. We actually go to the same school. I've seen you there." "Really? Then why didn't you say hello?" Brooke asked, opening the bottle and drinking some of its ice cold content. David tried to come up with a reason other than bluntly admitting how embarrassingly shy he was, but the words would not come to his head. Brooke saw his reaction, and stepped close to him, grinning playfully. "Have I put a ssssspell on you?" she flirtatiously asked, giggling amusedly. All he could do was shrug, smiling meekly. Once again, she let out an amused giggle as she drained more water from the plastic bottle. "So you live around here?" David nodded. "Yeah. Barford suburbs." "Really? We could share a bus together," she suggested. "Well...if we leave at the same time, of course." She giggled once again. The young man's interest in the girl grew significantly. Thus far, he found her personality remarkable. "You look really nice tonight." "Awwww, thanks!" Brooke gushed. "This isn't really new, though. A lot of my stuff are my mom's old hand-me-downs. I just mixed and matched this one. So you think this works?" She twirled around in front of him. The short-haired young man nodded. "It totally does. Makes you look like a...a gypsy." "Really? My mom's related to gypsies!" She stepped up close enough to speak right into his ear. "This dress must be older than I thought if mom got this as a hand-me-down." She lurched back to let out another amused laugh. David just laughed along with her, still quietly enthralled by Brooke's beauty. The music then switched to a slower beat as the lights switched to blue neon. Brooke grabbed David's arm after placing the empty water bottle on a nearby ledge. "C'mon. I wanna dance with you." She then pulled him over to the dance floor and wrapped him in her arms. He couldn't stop shaking the entire time, and he definitely had a bulge at his crotch from the hard-on beneath. Just because I got her a bottle of water. He mused to himself as he matched Brooke's gentle swaying. The lyrics of Bryan Adams kept them swaying...and in David's mind, thinking. Contemplating. Baby, you're all that I want when you're lyin' here in my arms I'm findin' it hard to believe we're in heaven And love is all that I need and I found it there in your heart It isn't too hard to see we're in heaven "I love this song." She softly cooed as they swayed. "I wish I could have lived through the '80s. They had such great music back then. Good TV shows, too." "And good movies," David added, smiling. "Can't argue with an era that gave us Rambo, Ghostbusters, and Eddie Murphy." Brooke found this sentiment charming enough to giggle amusedly. "Back to the Future...Karate Kid..." David nodded. "Princess Bride...Labyrinth..." Brooke's eyes lit up. "Oooh, I looooved Labyrinth! I've always wanted to find that ball gown Sarah wore in that dream sequence." "I think the only way you're gonna get that is if you find the right peach," David mused. Fortunately, Brooke got the reference, and thankfully giggled over it. When she finished her giggling fit, she gazed back at the slightly taller young man. "I like you," she admitted. "I wish you could have said hello to me at school, then I wouldn't have had to come here alone." David tilted his head to the side, frowning. "You came alone?" Brooke nodded. "I wanted to see what this place was like. It's my first time coming here." "Really? Me too!" David admitted. Brooke tilted her own head to the side as they kept swaying to the music. "I guess fate works in mysterious ways...or so my mom always tells me." Yeah. David agreed to himself as they continued dancing. Fate's awesome. A KISS tune that followed...I Was Made For Lovin' You...had them dancing a bit more energetically, the both of them smiling to each other the entire time. There were times that she shook and shimmied with other people on the floor, and he worried that someone else would earn her interest... ...but she always turned her attention back to David. Wrapping her arms back around him, she grinned impishly. "Didn't make you jealous, did I?" David shrugged, a bit bashfully. "Well...maybe..." Brooke giggled amusedly. "Well, that's what you get for not saying hello to me at school." She then pulled out her smartphone to check the time, and her expression suddenly soured. "Shit." "What's wrong?" She let out an irritated sigh. "I hate curfews. I have to go...but it was great to meet you, David. Really. Don't be a stranger around me at school, okay? Maybe we can tutor each other." "You're leaving?" David was a bit surprised. "I could come with you, if you want. Share a bus, remember?" "Oh, you don't have to leave on my account." Brooke smiled sweetly. "Night's young. Stay. Have a good time." "It's alright. I don't mind leaving early." David shrugged, speaking earnestly. "I just...wanna be sure you get home safe." Brooke tilted her head to the side again, flashing another sweet smile. "Are you sure?" David nodded. "Totally sure. I don't know anyone else here anyway." This made the girl giggle infectiously. "Okay...lemme get my coat." They were both able to reach the bus back to the Barford suburbs just before it started pulling out, and as they relaxed themselves in a pair of seats, the lively conversation about '80s culture kept things pleasant between them for the first few minutes. "We should go back next weekend." Brooke suggested as the bus began its trek into the Barford suburbs. David smiled. "Sounds good to me." The bus finally settled at Brooke's stop, and she rose from her seat. She then gave David a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks so much for dancing with me tonight. I had a great time. I'll see you at school, okay? Don't be a stranger!" And off she went, pushing the back doors open so she could hurry out. David's smile lingered as the bus continued its journey. He nearly missed pressing the button for his stop given the thoughts he was dwelling on. I don't believe it. He thought to himself. She WANTS to see me again! Brooke wants to see me again! With more of a spring in his step, the elated young man hurried to the front door of his home as the bus pulled away. His mother, Mildred, was on the couch in front of his home's flatscreen TV watching the news as David entered. "Julia Stroud remained calm as she answered questions during a Press Conference earlier today." The anchorwoman reported as the video footage of the Conference itself played, presenting an image of the sober-faced Mayoress of the City of Bullchester responding to a front-row reporter's question. "The investigation is still ongoing as to who might have been responsible for contaminating the liquor supply of the sports bar called the Bottom of the Ninth with an allegedly toxic chemical agent. Nineteen men were reported to have been affected by this agent, and all of them are in the process of receiving treatment. They are all expected to recover." "Dad didn't go there that night, did he, Ma?" David asked. Mildred shook her head. "He was invited, but he didn't go. I think he was out watching a game with his workmates." Nodding, David turned and headed for his room, which was directly across from his older brother's bedroom. He couldn't help but pick up on a slight perfume scent near Peter's door as he opened his own. * * * Behind the door of Peter Sandberg's room, its sole occupant sighed irritably upon seeing the spillage of the perfume he had discreetly bought following his latest therapy session with a woman named Venetia Foerst, who he had unexpectedly met while indulging his curiosity over the kind of activity that occurred behind the doors of Mistresses, the business that had replaced the lone bookstore which had lingered near the 19th Precinct station house, where he worked as a Police Administrative Aide(which was, essentially, a civilian clerical worker). He had picked a bottle with a screw-off top rather than one with an aerosol spray head, as he had only wanted to apply slight dabs of the strong and very feminine-scented perfume as part of Venetia's therapy. It was funny how strongly he was denying the highly unusual suggestions of this attractive woman one minute, and then capitulating to her requests in the next. Such was his nervousness over wearing the stuff to begin with...even a slight dab of it...that he had tipped the bottle, allowing some of its content to spill down onto the carpeted floor of his room. Fuck. He griped to himself. There's no way this stuff could pass for cologne! A few minutes later, Peter heard a knocking on his door. Sure enough, his mother had a puzzled expression when he opened the door a crack. "What's that smell?" Mildred asked. He came up with a spur-of-the-moment excuse which he hoped she would buy. "Well, I...I bought something for, uhhh...for a friend. At work. One of the cops. She asked a favor of me since she was on duty. They had, ummm...they had one last bottle on sale at the Mall, so...I went to pick it up for her. I was reaching for something and...uh...the bottle's cap wasn't screwed on very tight, and it made a little spill. I'll clean it, though." His mother shrugged. "No rush. Actually smells kinda nice. Your cop friend has good taste." What emerged from Peter's mouth next was completely unexpected. "Shall I tidy up your room as well, Miss?" Mildred blinked in her surprise. She had never heard such a request from her oldest son. "Uhhh...no. No, I'm good, Peter. Thank you." Nodding, Peter was quick to shut the door, astonished over whatever unconscious urge compelled him to make such an offer to his mother. Where the hell did THAT come from? He rubbed at his head and his eyes, which were still wide. They then traveled down to the stain itself. The darkened circle could be clearly seen against the colors of the carpet. As he stared down at it, another thought seemed to manifest in his mind that seemed to come out of nowhere. How am I gonna clean...this? I should...clean...this...tidy up...tidy...why am I...tidy...clean... He started looking around curiously. Disinfectant...do we have any? A more sensible part of his mind seemed to fight this as he shook his head, squinting his eyes shut as he did so. Gotta put that shit out of my mind... Unconsciously pulling off his T-Shirt, Peter laid himself on top of the bedsheets of his bed to relax for a bit, taking deep breaths. The scent coming from the nearby perfume stain was still evident with every inward breath through his nose. Clean it... His mind eventually revisited the thought, despite his efforts to suppress it. ...should...clean it... His hands went beneath his white tank-top undershirt, the fingers finding his own nipples, and he began to lightly grope and twist at them as he stared upward. As he did this, he felt his cock harden with the excitement this was generating. * * * Louise Vandervelde seemed to pick up on a glow of contentment as her daughter, Brooke, walked through the front door of their house. She had expected Brooke to come home as moody as ever in her attempts to break out of her shell, as Louise had advised her. The flaxen-haired woman...whose long hair spilled down in soft curls to mid-back, and was infused with gray strands and highlights...turned away from the WordProc file she was working on to glance curiously at her daughter. Upon seeing her pleased expression, Louise smiled. "You smiling over a private joke, or did you actually have a good time?" she amusedly asked. Brooke giggled a bit as she stepped towards her mother. "Well..." She continued grinning happily. "...I met a boy there. Goes to my school. Said he saw me there. I thought he was gonna be a creep, but...he was nice! I was surprised!" Louise's eyes widened with interest. "Really? That's great to hear, honey!" She then frowned in confusion. "But...why did you think he was gonna be a creep?" "Because, well..." Brooke stopped a moment to think on how she was going to explain. "...you remember me telling you about those first few days at school? When I told you about someone watching me while I was in the hallways?" Her mother nodded. "I remember...and this boy was the one watching you?" Brooke nodded. "Yes." "And...he behaved himself the entire time, right? At the club?" Louise asked. "He didn't try to...force himself on you, or anything?" Her daughter shook her head. "He even left with me. Wanted to make sure I got home all right. We just talked the whole time. It just felt so...natural. I think we both felt that we...just wanted to get to know each other, y'know?" Louise nodded in her understanding, smiling. "I guess he turned out to be a nice boy. Will you see him again? I mean, outside of school?" "Yeah. We're going back to the club next weekend," Brooke confirmed. "But Mom...why couldn't he have just, like, said 'hi' to me? Why was he just...looking at me?" Her mother shrugged. "Maybe he was shy. Most boys tend to be like that when they see someone they're interested in. He might have been afraid that he would say or do something that would upset you, and you'd be scared away. Tell me...who was it that broke the ice when you two met? Did you make the first move, or did he?" "He came up to me," Brooke recollected. "I was kinda thirsty, so I asked him to get me a bottle of water. Figured I'd...test him, y'know? He came back with the bottle and the change. We started talking from there." Louise smiled as her daughter explained, happy that things went well for her. "Did you dance at all?" Brooke blushed at this, smiling wide as she reminisced. "Yeah. We did. It really was nice. He didn't try to make a move or anything." Louise placed a hand, gently, on her daughter's shoulder. "Sounds like you really did have a good time. I'm happy your evening turned out well, honey." Her daughter nodded, still smiling. "I just hope he doesn't have, like, a really dark side or something." Louise had to giggle at this. "Everyone has skeletons in their closets, sweetheart. Men, women, boys, girls...sometimes, a man with the sweetest manners can be a horrible person when they're out of the public eye. At the same time, someone who openly treats people like dirt can have a soft and charitable face when no one's watching. There's good and bad in all of us, Brooke. It's that side that we choose to act on the most that truly defines us." "Well...I hope he's always good-siding me then," Brooke mused, smiling. Louise laughed on this, pulling her daughter in for a tight hug. She then gave her a loving peck on Brooke's cheek. "Go up and say hi to your father, dear." Brooke nodded. "Yes, Mom." As the eldest daughter of the Vanderveldes began her ascent to the second floor of the house, she saw her younger sister...a redheaded, tomboyish girl named Ramona...beginning her descent. As sibling rivalry was evident between the two, she scowled at Brooke as she went down. "What're you lookin' at, pissy-pants?" Ramona chided as she passed. Brooke just narrowed her eyes, disgustedly, at her sister as she continued her ascent. She didn't even bother to ask about her father's condition. Part of the reason for the rivalry between the Vandervelde sisters was in how Ramona perceived their mother, who always seemed to be doting on Brooke while Ramona got stuck with doing a lot of the chores around the house, including running errands and fetching medication for their ailing father, who was bound to his room ever since 'the incident', as they called it. With the exception of Ramona, the bed-bound Paul Vandervelde did not wish to see anyone, and he always had his smartphone muted, never once answering it no matter how many times it rang. Brooke gave the door to his room a light knocking. "Dad? I'm home." After a moment, a faint, weak voice made an inquiry. "How was the club, dear?" His daughter smiled once again. "It turned out okay, Dad. Just like you said. Thanks. Really. I...I owe you one." "Good." He wearily replied from within the room. "Good, I...I'm glad. You have a good night now, sweetheart." "G'night, Dad." Brooke chimed. She then went to the door at the end of the hallway...the door to her own room...and disappeared behind it, still feeling elated over her pleasant evening. * * * Almighty Sappho - Things turned out okay for my Brooke. I'm so happy! I wonder who this boy she met is? I can't help but wonder what kinds of lustful, shameful thoughts he must have been thinking when he was staring at her in school...or was he really as shy as I told my daughter he might have been? Is it true what they say about guys undressing girls with their eyes in the privacy of their depraved minds? If only I could see what they saw. The female gender...the woman...remains the most beautiful creature on this Earth. Immaculate. Unblemished. Brooke is developing to become a true vision of pure femininity. Ever since she emerged from my womb, I knew she would become something special. Something divine. This boy she met must have seen this every time he laid his eyes upon her. I should talk to Rita about this during my lunch break tomorrow after the shoot. She always gives such good advice about things like this. ~ FIN II: Cuddles and Classrooms Although they were in separate classes...and studying separate subjects...at Lloyd H. Kemp High School, David Sandberg and Brooke Vandervelde did share a teacher and a classroom in the subjects of computer science and algebra, respectively. His name was Mr. Patterson. Clad in a button-down white shirt and wearing different varieties of a striped tie, a pair of black dress pants, a pair of brown loafers, and with a head of short, dark brown hair parted to one side above his hairless face, Philip Patterson could easily pass for the stereotypical geek. There were times when David and Brooke saw him administer a stern hand in disciplining wayward and even bullying students, so Mr. Patterson was certainly not the pushover that students might initially judge him to be, even as a teacher. The only time Philip would ever appear flustered, or vulnerable, was when attractive women around his age seemed interested in the habitually single teacher. There were times when David saw evidence of this, as they had been visited by reps from Feetham's University during College Week in the previous year. Computer units were set up at each desk in Mr. Patterson's classroom, and they would each have lessons literally programmed into each of them, which were set up by Philip himself at his Barford home and then transferred to each of the computers an hour before the beginning of the school day using a small, but data-spacious flash drive he had with him. With the sounding of the school bell, David logged out of his computer station and rose from his seat to head out. When he reached the door, he stopped just short of colliding with Brooke Vandervelde, whose look of surprise became an amused giggle. "Where were you this morning?" Brooke asked, pushing aside fallen locks of her hair. "I was looking around for you." "Which entrance?" David asked. "Back door, or the main?" "Back," Brooke answered. "It's closer to my house. I'd have to walk around otherwise." "Okay...I'll go in that way from now on," David noted. "Is this your next class?" Brooke nodded. "Algebra, yeah." David pointed to the workstation he was sitting at. "Why don't you use my desk there? I use that one every day." The young, attractive student shrugged, smiling. "Okay. Thanks." David nodded, still wanting to remain close to her. "So where did you want to meet before we go back to the club? Or did you want to just meet me there?" Both students heard Mr. Patterson's voice calling out to them. "Sandberg...I just got a mental note from your next period teacher. He wants you to move your ass before he gives you a demerit for being late." "Oh...uh, right." David gave Mr. Patterson a wave in farewell. "Thanks." He then quietly mouthed the words 'see you later' to Brooke, who just giggled and waved back, stepping into the classroom and occupying David's workstation. Mr. Patterson's eyes followed her as she did so. "I didn't think it was possible for a Freshman to have any interest in Senior Classmen. Don't you know Freshman Week is coming, Miss Vandervelde?" Brooke just shrugged. "He's just a friend, Mr. Patterson." A really cute friend, too. Brooke thought to herself. "Yeah, well I wouldn't want you to have as much trouble passing this class as he did in his Freshman year, Miss Vandervelde." He then turned his attention to the other students as they settled at their workstations to log in. "Okay, so...good morning, everyone. Take a moment to log in, and then get to work on the quiz that should come up on your screens." Save for the sounds of fingers hitting the keys of the keyboards in front of the students, the room went silent as Mr. Patterson's charges began addressing the test, which typically covered the previous day's lessons. As Philip waited, however, he noticed that the new message indicator was flashing on his own desktop unit's Speakabout app. Oh, heck. Philip thought to himself. I hope this isn't who I think it is... * * * - MISSVanOwen '< : Hello, Phil. Remember me? - MISSVanOwen '< : Tall? Ginger hair? Thighs to die for? - MISSVanOwen '< : College Night? - MISSVanOwen '< : Are you going to keep me waiting for an answer, little one? - PPatt '< : Hilary, this is really bad timing. I'm in the middle of teaching a class. - MISSVanOwen '< : Aren't your little darlings taking your daily quiz? - MISSVanOwen '< : Are you not just sitting there, waiting for them to finish? - MISSVanOwen '< : They usually take their time. We can chat. - PPatt '< : What do you want? Is this about the thing you wanted to talk to me about on College Night? - MISSVanOwen '< : You're very perceptive, Phil. You obviously still remember how close we came to getting...up close and personal. - MISSVanOwen '< : You're blushing right now, aren't you? Don't lie to me. - PPatt '< : Yes - MISSVanOwen '< : Poor baby. We really have to do something about that little problem. - PPatt '< : I don't have any problems. - MISSVanOwen '< : Yes you do. You're ALL WOUND UP! So stuffy! Rigid! BORING! You need to loosen up a little! - MISSVanOwen '< : I can help you there, if you would let me. - PPatt '< : My students are starting to finish my quiz, Hilary. Can you summarize what you wanted to talk to me about in a handful of words? - MISSVanOwen '< : Feetham's. Teaching. Computers. Salary. Raise. Me. Help. You. Bye! ----===*CHAT TERMINATED*===---- * * * Philip raised an eyebrow over the words, and blinked when the chat connection was terminated. Shaking his head, he rose from his seat at the teacher's desk and started writing out algebra equations on the blackboard behind him. * * * Once the Algebra class was over for the day, Brooke Vandervelde made her way through the loud and often boisterous sea of students as she made her way through the halls towards her next class, her books and her looseleaf binder stashed in a denim bag slung across her chest. As she walked, she overheard some students talking about what they were going to do to Freshmen during the forthcoming 'Freshman Day' that was a mere two days away. Apparently, this was to be a day no different from College hazing, where the Senior classmen openly tormented the first- year students whenever they could. Usually, this was inflicted upon Freshmen that were unable to get to their classes before the next period bell, but it was also possible for Freshmen to be targeted during study and/or lunch periods. To say that Brooke feared becoming subjected to such torment was a definite understatement. She even wondered if she could feign calling in sick that day, but she knew her parents wouldn't look kindly on such a stunt. As she stepped out of the stairwell area and into an upper floor of the school, she noticed David Sandberg chatting up two of his friends. David was facing away from Brooke as she approached. Impishly, she decided to try and sneak up on him. As she got close, she gestured for his two friends to stay quiet. They went along with this, keeping Dave distracted as Brooke came near. She then tried the old 'tap one shoulder, move to the opposite side' trick, which David easily fell for. When his eyes finally fell upon Brooke, she giggled wildly. David just blushed as he flashed an amused smile. "Nice to see you, too. You look...awesome, as always." "Awww, thanks, sweetie," Brooke gushed. She then stepped past him and his friends. "Just wanted to say hi. See ya later!" David's eyes followed her, and lingered upon her, as she disappeared into her next classroom. His two friends...a brown-skinned young man named Jerome, and a short-haired caucasian student with teenage-TV-star good looks named Edmund...also lingered on the young girl. Their heads then turned back to David. "Not bad for fresh meat, eh?" Edmund mused. David frowned as his puzzled gaze went to Ed. "Fresh meat?" "You don't know?" Jerome remarked. "She's a Freshman." The short-haired Senior's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" Jerome nodded. "She's definitely a first-year." But she has such a mature face. David thought to himself, still a bit surprised over the revelation. But then, he remembered something as his eyes turned to Edmund. "You always go after first-years on Freshman Day, don't you?" Ed shrugged. "I've done it before, yeah." "More like, you do it every year." David corrected, his expression now dead serious. "Leave her out of it." Ed chuckled in his amusement. "Dude, if I see her out in the hallways, or at lunch period, she's fair game. Deal with it." Edmund didn't expect his fellow Senior to grab him so angrily and slam him against the nearby row of metal lockers, his hands still gripping the collar of Ed's shirt with both hands. "Then you're gonna have to deal with me first," David growled, through clenched teeth. "Stay the FUCK away from her on Freshman Day, got it??" After a moment, Ed's grin returned. "Since when did you start stickin' your dick in first-years? Isn't that, like, statutory rape?" This earned Ed another hard and painful slam against the lockers behind him. This had many heads in the hallway turning to watch them. "Don't be a wise-ass." David angrily remarked as the hall went mostly silent. Still defiant, Ed angled his face right into David's. "No fuckin' promises. Now get your hands off me, asshole!" Unsatisfied, David finally loosened his grip after a long and tense stare-down. They maintained their angry gazes as Ed stepped away from David and Jerome. The curious mass of students around them resumed their normal business as well. "You better remember what I said, fuckhead!" David called out. Ed, still facing away from them, raised up a middle finger in response as he moved. David shook his head. "Shit. You'd think he got hazed when he was a Freshman." "He did," Jerome revealed. "I'm surprised he never told you." The surprised Senior turned to his brown-skinned friend. "How badly?" Jerome shrugged. "They had him do twenty push-ups in the hall between classes. He also had to kiss the bare foot of a Senior everytime he went down. When he did enough for them, one of them pushed his foot on Ed's back and said he needed to suck on the guy's big toe if he wanted to get back up." "And...did he do it?" Jerome shrugged again. "He had to. Only way they'd let him go." "And that made him want to haze others?" David looked perplexed. "That doesn't make sense." "Maybe you should ask him about it sometime." Jerome walked away as he spoke, leaving David to ponder what he had learned as he slowly made his way through the hall to his next class. * * * Among the duties Peter Sandberg was required to handle as a civilian aide with the 19th Precinct was in running license plate numbers on a computer program. The readouts would determine whether or not the plate was valid, or if it was stolen, among other things. He had been asked to run three plates on this particular morning, and at the request of the one boss he and most of the other police officers of the precinct disliked the most: the Integrity Control Officer, a Police Lieutenant named Spencer Drucker. Such was the widespread contempt for this man, and his bullying, extremist ways, that whenever they talked about him when he was not around, they had no shame in calling him 'Spencer Fucker'. Whenever Peter did things for him, it was for the sake of getting it over with. He didn't want to have anything to do with this freckle- faced, buzzcut-haired jerk. He didn't want to socialize with him, much less be in the same room with him. As the civilian aide looked for the plate number to type in, he caught his fingers twirling at a lock of his hair. His gaze also idly drifted to a nearby police officer with a bulky build who was known for being a frequent presence in the gym which was two blocks away from the precinct. He was able to avert his gaze three minutes later. He shook his head, a bit astonished over this unexpected diversion, and then turned his attention to his computer unit so he could enter the plates, and get the desired printouts. Once he had them, he rose up and took them with him to the ICO's Office. Fortunately, the Lieutenant was on the phone when he motioned for Peter to enter. The civilian aide handed the papers off to Drucker, who nodded and continued his conversation as Peter turned to leave. "Hang on, Pete." Drucker's voice announced as he stored away his Department smartphone. Closing his eyes in his silent distress, he stopped and waited. "That also means 'turn around and look at me', Sandberg," Drucker added as he rose from his seat. Trying to keep his expression neutral, he complied. "Yes, sir?" he calmly asked. Spencer looked him right in the eyes with a stern expression. "Captain tells me you've been behind on your work. Really tardy. I wouldn't be surprised if he asked you to resign." Peter had to frown in his complete confusion, as he knew he had been very attentive to his work. Tardiness was the last thing anyone could accuse him of. A long, tense moment passed, and Spencer's expression did not change... ...but then, he flashed a grin. "I'm just kidding!" Peter's troubled expression, however, didn't soften. In fact, he was fuming inside. This wasn't the first time Spencer had 'joked' with the civilian aide in this manner, and it only made him want to lash out in retribution. But he knew this would be a mistake, so he just stood there, maintaining a sullen expression as the ICO continued to grin at him. "Sandberg, come on. Take a joke, man!" He slapped a hand on Peter's shoulder. Peter made an attempt to disengage. "I-I'm fine, sir." Spencer then craned his head towards Peter and gave him a curious sniff. "Are you wearing perfume, Sandberg?" "No," Peter calmly answered. "May I go now, sir?" "No, you may not." Spencer's tone went stern once again. "Why are you wearing something meant for women? Are you gay? Are you a crossdresser, or something? Y'know, I always suspected that there was something wrong with you." "Sir..." He tried to be cautious with his words. "...one, I'm not gay, two, I'm not a crossdresser. Three, with all respect, I don't see how being either gay or a crossdresser means there's something wrong with me. Maybe I should take this up with the Captain? I already know what he'll say, but I wanna hear it from his own mouth anyway." "Those people are disgusting, Peter," Spencer explained. "You should be proud of what you were born to be. Start wearing cologne. Go to church. Start going to the Gym. Be a man." Peter sighed irritably. "Sir...respectfully, I'll do whatever it is I want to do, thank you." Spencer chuckled spitefully. "You know...when you filled out the application forms to get your job, I wonder if you remember the part about keeping a respectable Department appearance outside of the job as well as during your tour. If I find out that you're dressing like those tramps and those whores at that Mistresses place in the privacy of your room, I'm gonna give you a good spanking." "Sir, I told you. I am not a..." "I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU ARE, SANDBERG!" Spencer loudly rebuked. "JUST AS LONG AS YOU KEEP UP WITH YOUR WORK! AM I UNDERSTOOD??" After a long moment of silence, Spencer brought his angry face close to the civilian aide, who could not hide his nervous expression. "AM...I...UNDERSTOOD??" You fascist son of a bitch. Peter fumed to himself. I wish I could kill you right now. "Yes, Sir," the civilian aide calmly and quietly answered. After a tense moment, Spencer stepped back behind his desk. "That's all. Dismissed." Peter calmly stepped out of the office, and then rushed to the precinct's male restroom, where he stepped in front of the mirror hanging above one of the sinks to let the tears that were welling up in his eyes flow freely. He could feel them streaming down his cheeks as he tried to calm himself. But his quiet sobbing seemed uncontrollable as he wept. Fortunately, he was alone in the restroom as he sobbed, but he tried to bring it under control as he lingered at the sink. With a long, deep, and shaky breath, Peter began to restore a sense of calm...and that was when another police officer entered the restroom. It was an elder-aged, but well-liked Patrolman named Edgar Sutcliffe. He seemed to pick up on the PAA's sniffling, and his shaky breathing. "Peter?" He stepped over to him. "You OK?" "F-fine." Peter sniffled a bit. "I'm fine." Ed's first guess was spot on. "Drucker, right?" After a moment, Peter nodded. "It just hurts so much that we can't do anything about that guy." "Play the game, Pete," Sutcliffe reminded. "Don't lose your cool. That's just gonna make things worse." Peter had been told this before, and not just by Edgar Sutcliffe. 'Play the game', which referred to being able to withstand such bullying no matter how harsh it got, and he had already been burned so many times by Drucker in the past. What also troubled him was that he had been in confrontations with Drucker a couple of times before, and his resolve had never wilted to the point of bursting into tears as quickly as he did now. "Hang in there, kid." Ed rubbed at Peter's shoulder consolingly. "You're not the only one who thinks that guy is a piece of shit. Someday, he'll get his. Fate works in mysterious ways. He's given me an earful of his gospel, too, and I've been workin' here for over twenty years. Cops should be this, cops should be that, clean your pistols, say your prayers, eat your Wheaties...I just let the guy say his say, stick to the 'yes, sir' routine, and wait for him to let me go. I never give him the chance to press my buttons." Peter let out a more relaxed sigh despite his troubled thoughts. "He's already pressed mine." "Well, throw some cold water on your face and get back to the 124 routine we all know you do so well," Ed remarked. "Just put this behind you." Peter nodded. "Okay. Thanks." With a reassuring smile, Edgar...who was the top overtime earner among all the other uniformed officers...stepped out of the bathroom. Peter followed suit after splashing cold water on his face, and drying it off. Going back into the 124 Room, where complaints from the public are prepared and collated, he saw that a very attractive and very shapely woman with a long, dark-haired ponytail running through a gold ring at the top of her head, and then down along her back was waiting at the area where he usually worked. She wore a tight, gray one-piece dress which certainly showed off her over-emphasized feminine assets. She looked more like a temptress than any kind of a victim. As he was currently the only civilian aide available, he grabbed a blank complaint form and stepped over to occupy his waiting seat. "Good morning, Miss," he began. "I'm PAA Sandberg. Can I help you?" The woman nodded. "Yes, I'd like to file a complaint, please," she began, in an attractively husky voice. "Of course." He pulled out his black pen. "May I have your name?" "I'm Cuddles." She then leaned in, making sure Peter got an eyeful of her exposed cleavage. "Cuddles...Menzies." Peter nodded as he filled in the name boxes, odd as the first name admittedly was. "Age?" "22," Sshe replied. "I really appreciate you doing this for me, you know." When Peter asked for an address, Cuddles complied, providing a findable locale. After doing so, she angled her body back in a lazy stretch, which certainly served to show off more of the exposed part of her torso. Peter had to swallow audibly. Large breasts were practically his kryptonite. The one part of a woman's body that aroused him. "So, uuuuhh..." Peter had temporarily lost his chain of thought before it came back to him. "...what's the nature of your complaint?" "Someone hit my car as I was pulling out of a driveway," Cuddles explained. "Fucker drove off without stopping after he did. I really hope you can help me." "Were you able to get his license plate number?" the civilian aide asked. Cuddles pulled out her smartphone and began touching at the screen a few times. She then presented the smooth, untarnished glass surface to Peter to look upon. Apparently, she managed to snap a quick shot of the offending car's plates, which Peter was barely able to make out despite the mild blurs in the image. "You're wearing my favorite perfume." Cuddles then observed as Peter began writing out the plate number. "What an unexpected coincidence. I was gonna apply it, but I was in such a rush to get to work that I figured I'd spray it on in the dressing room." "Ah." Peter nodded as he spoke, smiling meekly. "And...where do you work?" "A little place down the road called Mistresses," Cuddles answered. "Have you ever been there?" "Yeah," he replied as he wrote in the necessary box. "Once." "Did you like it?" she asked. "The girls in there look really sexy, don't they?" Peter just nodded, trying to keep his professional face on. "So you're a dancer in there?" "Mmm-hmmm," Cuddles confirmed. "A lot of them wear your perfume, too." She quietly confided, giggling. At this point, he had to surrender an excuse. "One of the cops who works here had me buy that perfume for her. It was a favor to her because she couldn't do it herself. She works a late shift." Cuddles nodded, grinning. "That doesn't explain why you're actually wearing it, but...I understand." She craned her head forward to sensually whisper her next words. "It'll be our secret, baby." Peter rapidly nodded as he continued writing in the necessary spaces of the complaint form. "Uhh...did you snap images of the damage to your car?" Still smiling alluringly, Cuddles nodded, presenting the pictures she had taken using her smartphone. In showing him, however, this time she had an arm around his shoulders, reaching over to touch the phone's screen which was now in front of his face. He could smell the scent of peppermint on her breath as she cycled through the images, no doubt from having a piece of mint candy dissolve in her mouth prior to her visit to the precinct. Cuddles spoke right into Peter's ear softly. "You probably want... hard...copies, don't you?" A hand rubbed at Peter's crotch and gave the bulge there a squeeze, confirming that he did indeed have a hard-on, as she spoke these words. Peter swallowed hard once again. "Yes, that...um...that would help." "Am I exciting you, PAA Sandberg?" Cuddles cooed into his ear. "I don't want to be too much of a distraction." She rested her head on Peter's shoulder as she purred. "I rrrreeeeally need your help." "Well...uh..." It was becoming noticeably difficult for him to keep a professional expression. "...once...we get those pictures, they, uhhh...they'll go with the complaint report. You were able to get the license plate, so..." He then moved to his computer to bring up the license plate app. "...hold on." Cuddles came up behind him, rising from her seat and placing her hands on Peter's shoulders as he brought up the information. As he once again idly played with a lock of his hair, he could feel Cuddles gently rubbing at his shoulders. The info he requested finally came up. "Yup, this is a legit plate. Not a stolen vehicle," Peter reported. "Probably someone in a hurry to get to work." Cuddles lowered to a knee. "Awww, does this mean I don't get to..." Wrapping her arms around Peter from behind, she then crushed her breasts against his back. "...press...charges?" The flustered civilian aide could feel his face going warm. "Well...once you get us those, um...pictures, we have proof of damages, so....uhh... I'm sure you could sue for damages, at least." "Mmmm. I could sue." Cuddles purred, rising to her feet. She then rubbed a hand at his hair. "You look like you could be a Sue. You certainly smell like one." Peter chuckled affably despite the fact that his hard-on was pulling at some of the hairs on his groin. "Heh, heh...Sue. Yeah, I...I get it. Not what I meant, but...yeah, funny." Cuddles kept rubbing at his head, smiling down at him as she seemed to contemplate things as she looked at him. "You are sooooo cute. If I wasn't getting married, I'd have you for lunch." "Oh, you're getting married? Nice!" Peter flashed a cordial smile. "Who's the lucky guy?" "Oh, just some bank guy," Cuddles responded. "He's not quite as cute as you, though...and he doesn't smell as nice as you and I do." Her hand went to caress at Peter's chin as if he were a pet. The civilian aide just stared up at her, transfixed by her wanton allure. "Was there anything else you needed from me?" Cuddles then asked. "Uhhh...aside from the pictures? No, I think we've got what we need from y...oh yeah, I need to know where this happened, exactly." Cuddles gave the address of a convenience store which was a few blocks from where the precinct was located. "I had to get tampons." She explained, playing with a lock of Peter's hair in the same manner he himself had done. "You know how it is, don't you, Sue? It's just the kind of thing a girl has to use when she gets all...menstrual." Peter just nodded. "And he hit you as you were pulling out, and didn't stop to exchange registrations. Jeez, what a jerk he must have been." "Mmmm, not only are you being so nice and professional with me." Cuddles pulled Peter to his feet. "you're also soooo understanding. I'm so glad I came here." She then gave him a tight hug. "I knew you'd be able to help me, Sue." Another meek grin was now on Peter's face. "Well, I'd certainly be helping you if you wanted to sue this guy, but...my name is Peter, Mrs. Menzies." Cuddles pouted. "Couldn't I just call you Sue anyway, though? Like...a pet name?" Peter chuckled, feeling a bit bashful. He still shook his head. "I'm sorry...my name's Peter." "What aboooouuuut..." Cuddles feigned a moment of thought. "...Petra?" "Yes?" he suddenly replied. He then blinked in his sudden confusion. Cuddles flashed a full grin. "Petra it is, then." "No, no, my name is Petra. I-I mean..." His mouth couldn't stop uttering the name when he tried to say 'Peter'. "...Petra...Petra..." Gently grabbing him by the shoulders, Cuddles pulled him in to kiss him on his forehead. As she had freshly applied her lipstick prior to entering the police precinct, she was able to leave a visible red lipmark there. "Don't you dare wash that off," Cuddles warned as she stepped up close to him. "I want everyone to know that I've marked you. From now on, you're my favorite P..." She grabbed his bulge and gave it a squeeze. She then rubbed her own prominent posterior. "...A..." Finally, she rubbed at Peter's ass and gave it a squeeze. "...A." He just stood there, lost to whatever spell this radically shapely woman was casting. She then fished through her pocketbook and extracted a vial of perfume spray. This, however, was not one of the notorious mind- bending aerosols the Sisterhood used on difficult people, but rather the very same, ordinary perfume scent that Peter was wearing. She first sprayed it around her neck, and she then turned the spray on Peter's neck. He initially had the urge to resist, but he didn't actually stop her, or recoil. He could feel the abundance of cool, scented droplets cascade around his neck as Cuddles anointed him with it. "I'll be back later with those pictures, Petra." Cuddles then began to sway her way out of the 124 Room. "Wait for me." Once she was gone, Peter needed a moment to recover. The refreshed perfume scent was now noticeably evident. Among the eyes of the uniformed officers following Cuddles out was Ops Lieutenant Stuart Olivetti. Once she was gone, the brown-skinned officer stepped into the 124 Room. He immediately noticed the scent. "Whoa. Guess she kind of overdid it there, eh, Peter Parker?" The civilian aide blushed in his deep embarrassment. "Oh, jeez...I'm sorry, sir, I..." But Stu, smiling, waved a hand in restraint. "It's okay. It's not the first time someone from that place practically turned a simple complaint report procedure into a striptease. Those girls are, well, randy, to put it lightly. Sometimes, I wonder if they've got some diabolical plan up their sleeve. But hey...it's not like she dropped her drawers or had her bare tits bouncing in your face, so it's all good." "I hope the ICO wasn't watching," Peter warily remarked. Stu had to laugh at this. "No, no. He's out getting his lunch. Captain Cicero called him in before he did, though, about that last confrontation he had with you. He wasn't too happy with the way Spence was treating you." Peter sighed aloud. "I just want him to leave me alone. I'll do whatever he wants...I mean, he's a boss..." "I know, I know," Stu interjected. "But he still shouldn't be fucking with you like he is. I told you Joe Cicero was a good guy, right? Right? Did I not say he was cool?" A slight smile was now on Peter's face as he nodded. "Yeah, you did." "And you got all the info you needed to get from that woman, right?" Stu gestured to the form he filled out. "On the complaint report?" "Yeah, but...she needs to come back with pictures of the fender bender." Peter answered. Stu grinned at this. "Daaaamn! Day just keeps gettin' better for you, eh?" They both shared a laugh over this, which was a welcome respite from how miserable he had felt confronting Spencer Drucker. "Oh...before I forget, I need a case number from you." Peter dutifully nodded. "Sure." He then got right to work looking through the physical files for the one Stu came for. "So what kind of excuse are you making up to explain your, uh..." Stu gestured to his bare neck. "...scent?" "Well, I know Bella Wallace likes collecting perfumes," The civilian aide explained as he acquired what officer Olivetti was requesting. "so I'm telling people I...got a bottle for her because the place is closed when she goes off duty." Stu nodded. "You're better off with the 'babe-from-Mistresses-sprayed- you' excuse. Least that's the truth. Patrolwoman Wallace orders her perfume stuff from online retailers these days." Peter nodded, blushing in his embarrassment. "I know." The officer smiled as he began to close the door behind him. "Catch ya later, Spiderman." Peter finally had a moment all to himself, being between tasks. He was able to wait out the remaining 35 minutes before it was his turn to take his hour-long lunch break. In that entire time, his mind lingered on how incredibly alluring Cuddles was. He was actually looking forward to seeing her again. * * * - Tenchion '< : I should use you more often when we need to pacify officers and civilians at the 19th Precinct. Excellent work, Cuddles. - LuvNCuddly '< : Thank you, Madame Olivia. Peter hasn't done anything bad, has he? - Tenchion '< : No, dear. I am just returning a favor to someone who visited Mistresses recently. A therapist who was able to help Coco become a little more accustomed to her new life. - Tenchion '< : Besides...it would be to our benefit to have someone who works at the precinct serve our interests in our efforts to get rid of Spencer Drucker, and deal with anymore possible problems among the uniformed officers at the precinct. - Tenchion '< : Sooner or later, they will likely wish to shut us down. We can't let that happen. With the violent crime rate as low as it is, they'll turn on us for lack of anything better to do. - LuvNCuddly '< : So the men there are going to start growing breasts? - Tenchion '< : Mmmm...the thought had crossed my mind. If they're not stuck-up misogynists, they're stuffy religious nuts. Those who are nice enough...or can be convinced to work with us...can stay on the force and serve as an example as to how a policewoman can be just as effective as a male one. - LuvNCuddly '< : While the bad cops work the streets as sluts and whores. - Tenchion '< : Exactly. - LuvNCuddly '< : Peter isn't bad, though. I like him. I think we should make him one of us. I mean, one of the dancers. - Tenchion '< : That's up to Venetia, dear. She found him first, after all. Still...he steps out of the command during his lunch hour. I think I'll join him for his next meal. - LuvNCuddly '< : You'll love him. I know it. We use the same perfume, too! - Tenchion '< : Does he? How interesting... - LuvNCuddly '< : Gotta go. I need to get these photos of this morning's fender bender to Peter before his tour is over. Talk 2 ya later! - Tenchion '< : Have fun, Cuddles. ----===*CHAT TERMINATED*===---- * * * Vivian Pendleton, a woman in a loose, conservative mode of dress with a head of shoulder-length, graying dark hair in a mass of wide curls, was Brooke Vandervelde's History teacher. At the moment, the lights in her classroom were off so she could present a slide show that featured photographs and artistic renderings dealing with the day's subject matter. "So..." Vivian continued lecturing as she gradually clicked through the images. "...of what significance were the druids in Celtic culture? They were not just a religious order. They also held legal power, they were lorekeepers, doctors, and even politicians. Although they were literate, they were bound by their beliefs to refrain from recording their knowledge in a written manner. They existed as far back into antiquity as the times of Julius Caesar in ancient Rome..." Brooke gazed thoughtfully at the images. The 19th Century engraving entitled Two Druids. An 18th Century image showing an archdruid. Still shots from an old movie entitled The Wicker Man were among the slide presentations as well. Her interest and her attention, however, was diverted to a whispered voice next to her right ear. "Hey!" The Freshman's head snapped to her right, and she saw a grinning David Sandberg kneeling next to her, waving as Mrs. Pendleton continued speaking. Fortunately, Brooke was in the back row, so David was able to conceal himself. "What're you doing here??" Brooke silently hissed. "Shouldn't you be at a class?" "Free period for me," David replied, giving Brooke a quick peck on her cheek. He then glanced to the slide show presentation. "She showing any naked ladies?" Brooke giggled amusedly as Mrs. Pendleton continued her lecture, her head facing the images she was cycling through as she spoke. "Oh...there's something I wanna invite you to," Brooke whispered. "But I can't tell you about it here." David nodded. "After class, then?" "Yeah," Brooke confirmed. "I hope you like the arts." "Art? Yeah! I love it!" David quietly hissed back. "What about theater?" David nodded again. "Even better." "Great," Brooke quietly responded. "I'll tell you more after class." "Miss Vandervelde." Mrs. Pendleton was now looking right at her. "I hope you're aware that this material is going to be on the Final." Brooke nodded, blushing deeply. "Yes, Mrs. Pendleton." The teacher then gestured to the image on the screen. "Does this...interest you at all?" "Very much, Mrs. Pendleton," Brooke confirmed. "Then why don't you tell the class what responsibilities the druids were capable of performing," Mrs. Pendleton challenged. As Brooke had been taking notes, she was able to recite them. "Legal power, lorekeepers, doctors, politicians." Mrs. Pendleton nodded. "Very good." Her gaze then went to David. "You don't look like you belong with this class, do you, Mr. Sandberg?" David shook his head, grinning. "No, Ma'am." "Then what are you doing here?" David shrugged. "Free period." "Right." Mrs. Pendleton flashed a grin of her own. "Spend that period elsewhere, please." David nodded, still smiling. He then gave Brooke another kiss on her cheek before slipping out of the classroom. "You are aware that boy's a Senior, right?" Mrs. Pendleton reminded after David had left, her eyes still on Brooke. "I don't care what he is," Brooke soberly replied. "I like him." Vivian just nodded. "Let's hope you feel the same way about him after Freshman Day." After a low murmur of amused giggles, Mrs. Pendleton resumed her lecture. David decided to wait out the remainder of the class time in the hall, relocating himself a few doors down and leaning against a wall idly. First making sure that the volume was muted, he brought up a mobile game on his smartphone based on the Behemongers franchise as he waited. Bursting into the otherwise quiet hallway as David played was a burly, balding man wearing glasses and a mustache. This was the school's often tempestuous principal, Lou Drummond. Behind him was a brownish-skinned, conservatively-dressed woman with a head of short red hair who was accompanied by a grossly overweight woman with a head of cropped brown hair. "For the last time, we are NOT interested in this dogma of yours, Gemma!" Mr. Drummond angrily barked. "You can't devote an entire school's studies to some new age religion!" "Oh, so there's no such thing as catholic schools?" Gemma challenged. "That is a known religion," Lou shot back. "Practiced by believers around the world. You're proposing one that's limited to one city! Maybe when this little 'Divine Feminine' of yours goes global, we can bring it to the table, but now? No chance!" The ugly, overweight woman chimed in. "The Sacred Feminine doesn't suffer priests and followers who devote themselves to terrorism, hypocrisy, and adultery behind closed doors. Unlike your Catholicism!" David discreetly paused his game so he could listen in from where he was. The trio was definitely in earshot. "We are not a catholic school to begin with, Miss Dyson," Drummond scolded. "We are a functioning High School!" "Founded by a known misogynist," Gemma sternly remarked. "In fact, you have Lloyd Kemp to thank for popularizing the city's nickname, right? The 'Big Bull'?" "Thank the Goddess the Divine Feminine is having that 'Big Bull' cowed," Dyson mused. Frowning, Drummond turned to the corpulent young woman. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" At that point, the bell sounded, and the hall quickly filled with students. A part of him wanted to listen in on the rest of the heated discussion, but his stronger voice held to the need to see Brooke again. Drifting through the sea of passing students, he spotted the young Freshman emerging from the classroom, and he hurried over to walk alongside her. "Don't do that again," Brooke warned. "I don't like being put on the spot like that during a class." "Meh. I had Mrs. Pendleton in my Freshman year for History," David replied. "It was totally B.A.F." The beautiful Freshman frowned in her confusion. "B.A.F.?" "Boring...As...Fuck," David answered. "What's so damn important about a bunch of tree-huggers? Why would I want to learn about them?" Brooke shrugged. "I found it interesting." "So what's this theater thing you wanted to tell me about?" David asked as they went into the stairwell. "Oh, yeah...my Mom, well, she's kind of a bohemian," Brooke explained. "She does this thing at our house. It's kind of like a party. She invites local artists to come down and show off their talents. She has paintings on display, sculptures...real nice arrangement in our big backyard, and since she's really into Shakespeare plays, she picks out a scene from one of his plays and has actors perform with me. She told me she's doing 'Romeo & Juliet' this year." David had to stop in his surprise. "And you want me to play Romeo?" "Actually, I was hoping you'd play Paris." She stopped, looking dead serious, to gauge David's reaction, which was less than satisfactory. She then laughed aloud. "Of COURSE I want you to play Romeo, silly! It's the balcony scene. She always picks classic moments. Last year it was that 'to be or not to be' speech from Hamlet. Guy we got to do it was a real jerk, though. 'Grant R. Davies'. He figured that since he did a commercial with that Pandora girl, he could pull a diva on us. He tried to get my Mom to put me in the scene as Ophelia." "Why?" David frowned. "Ophelia's not even in that scene." Brooke sighed out fretfully, remembering the situation as she spoke it. "Grant perceived Hamlet as going 'insane for Ophelia's sake'. Like, Ophelia was the reason he went mad. I wasn't fooled. I knew he wanted me up there so he could undress me with his eyes." "Ech. He sounds like a real creep." David observed. "He was a really good actor, though." Brooke added. "But after that night, he didn't talk to us again, and Mom didn't invite him back." "And she won't mind that I'm not a working actor?" David asked. "Don't worry about that. I told her about you, and how nice you were to me at that nightclub," Brooke assured. "Just look the play up online and study the lines from the balcony scene. Oh...and we need to get your clothes size. We'll be in costume." "Ssssoooo...I'll be performing in tights?" David surmised aloud. Brooke shrugged, smiling impishly. "Gotta suffer for your art." David smiled back. "You're lucky I'm game for a challenge like that." He went for a quick kiss on her lips. She made no attempt to resist when he did. "When's the party?" Brooke looked sheepish as she answered. "Umm...this weekeeeeend? Saturdaaaay?" David blinked in his surprise. "Doesn't give me much time to practice my lines, does it?" "Well, it's only one scene," the young Freshman reasoned. "You only need to do it once." She then stepped away, feigning skepticism. "Of course, if you'd rather I invite someone from the drama class..." "No, no, I'll do it," David assured. "I've got another free period, I guess I'll find a copy of the play in the library and start studying." "We'll go to the club at the mall afterwards," Brooke reasoned. "We can critique each other." She added with a giggle. "Looking forward to it." He changed direction on the stairwell and began going up. "See you on the balcony, fair Juliet." Brooke giggled again. "Later!" The young Freshman blushed deeply, with a giddy grin on her face, as she emerged from the stairwell to head for her next class. He kissed me! She jubilantly told herself. He actually KISSED me! On the LIPS! EEEEE!! She daydreamed a much more proper and...deeper...kiss from her new friend as her next class began. * * * *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* "Good, good..." Louise Vandervelde came up off of her crouch, her black camera with the augmented lens still in both hands. "...now for the second routine. Go!" Standing in front of a white screen flared by large, angled, overhead lights, Sandra Portnoy's lithe, waifish body faced away from Louise, and then turned her head towards the camera so the lens could get a left- side profile of her face. To the right of her body, a large fan transmitted a modifiable stream of air against her lightly, but fashionably-attired frame. *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* Sandra assumed pose two of the second routine, in which she spun around to the camera and held a pose and an expression that had more attitude. *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* Just behind where Louise was snapping her pictures, Sandra's sister...Loris International executive Shelley Portnoy...nodded in satisfaction as Sandra continued her modeling. The clacking of heels, from behind Shelley, announced the unexpected presence of the company's exquisitely-dressed CEO, Rita Noble. She placed a hand on Shelley's shoulder, who snapped her head to Rita. Realizing who it was, Shelley settled herself and gave her boss a nod of acknowledgement as Louise's camera continued to snap multiple shots of Sandra's pre-rehearsed routines. "She's looking good," Rita quietly whispered into Shelley's ear. The recently-promoted Loris executive smiled. "Thanks to you." That's right, dear. Rita mused to herself. You both owe everything you've gained to me. Everything. It won't be long before I put your loyalties to me to the test. Sandra rested herself sensually against an arranged pair of large white boxes that served as an impromptu wall. She then lifted one of her bare feet up behind her. *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* Sandra's head then angled back. *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* Louise turned her camera sideways. "Hold that," she announced to Sandra, referring to her current pose. *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* Shelley turned to Rita as she watched Sandra and Louise work. "This might be a tough sell, Madame Noble." She quietly confided to the CEO. "Trends have been drifting to retro styles again, just like they did when..." "Don't remind me," Rita tersely interjected. "We just need to be persistent in our approach. It's not the first time we've gone against the currents, Shelley." Although she still had an uncertain look on her face, Shelly nodded. "As you wish, Madame Noble." *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* "OK! That's a wrap for now," Louise announced. "We're on lunch, people. We're back at it in sixty." Sandra stepped over to her older sister, while Rita went to Louise, who was already looking over the images on her camera's digital display. "Very nice, Louise." Rita complimented. "You always make Sandra look divine." The fashion photographer smiled. "I always try to make models look their best, Madame Noble." Rita nodded in acknowledgement. "I came by to let you know that I've changed my mind about your...talent thing this weekend. I should be able to make it this time." Louise's expression brightened. "Really? That's great! Hey, maybe you can find some raw prospects. New models, new performers..." "Diamonds in the rough, eh?" Rita mused. "You just want to show off your daughter to me again." Louise shrugged, smiling. "I think she has raw talent." "To be in front of a fashion photographer's camera, maybe," Rita countered. "Uh, no." Louise's expression darkened. "I don't like the idea of my own flesh and blood becoming a 'thing'." "Have you thought about enrolling her in acting classes?" Rita suggested. "Well...she isn't completely convinced that acting is worth pursuing," Louise responded. "She says she wants to try other things. Painting, sculpting, learning a musical instrument...she even wants to try her hand at photography." Rita nodded. "You should ask her how she feels about representing corporate interests." "I think she mentioned something along those lines when we talked about it." The fashion photog admitted. "Maybe she just wants to be a pure artist. Create things just for the sake of creating them. Not wanting to sell herself out." "That's not exactly going to put food on the table," Rita warned. "She can think about that approach when she has some form of income." Louise shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "Isn't that what school is for?" A partial smile was now on Rita's lips. "Of course." "Madame Noble..." Louise thoughtfully remarked. "...part of the reason I really wanted you to come down this weekend was because my daughter met someone at that nightclub at Rubie's Mall. A boy who goes to her school. I picked out a popular scene from a Shakespeare play and I was wondering if you would observe the exchange and...confirm my suspicions about how he perceives her?" Rita raised an eyebrow. "Romeo & Juliet?" The photographer nodded. "It's the balcony scene." "Louise..." Rita carefully began. "...I'm sure you're aware that I'm a Chief Executive Officer, not a Psychiatrist or a Therapist. You should also know that I don't have a very high opinion of any man, young or old." "Please, Madame Noble. Humor me," Louise asserted. "I'm not asking for a professional opinion. I just want a second opinion on the basis of, well, women's intuition." Rita frowned. "What do you expect me to do? Read his eyes? Honestly, Louise...if you think this boy can't be trusted..." But then, she stopped herself in favor of her own chain of mitigating thought. Ehh, why not? I'll just call him a creep afterwards, give Louise a Tear Duct, and have her apply it to the little bastard. No harm in playing along. "...y' know what? Never mind. I'll do it," Rita responded in her amused relent. "What the hell. Been awhile since I used the ol' intutition anyway." Like I did when I first met poor, awkward little Timothy Portnoy. Rita mused to herself. I should pay my bouncy little slut another visit sometime soon and squeeze out a big glass of milk. "You go get yourself something to eat, Louise," Rita reminded as she began to step away. "Have a good afternoon shoot." Louise nodded, smiling. "See you Saturday!"