Chapter 7 - Three the Hard Way
(...Thomas and Violet's bedroom...an hour later...)
The kids sit on their beds. Sullen looks are present on their faces. From the clear cage, the two 'hamsters' glance at the youngsters. They poof out of the cage and before their godchildren.
Wanda speaks up. "Oh, why so down, sweeties?"
Violet leaps from her bed. "It's Daddy. The last few days, he's been acting...not like himself."
"Yeah, and he's been..." Thomas gets a little stuck. "...what's does it mean when you say one thing, but you say it a certain way so that it means the opposite? People on TV are like this a lot."
Cosmo pipes in. "Sarcastic?"
"Yeah, sarcastic."
(...the Turner's house...)
"It's like he's trying to hide something from us."
Tim opens the door quietly and closes it in the same manner. He tiptoes into the living room. His eyes fix on some papers on the table. He flips through the documents; words and various ideas are scribbled on. He stops on a particular piece of paper. It's different from the others, as the words are typed and neat. He reads the paragraph:
"The young woman stood at the edge of the cliff. With what had been going on in her life, her friends feared for her safety, but, really, she just always enjoyed the view. A stiff breeze caused her long white dress to billow and her long red hair to flow about her. A sigh escapes her ruby red lips as she gazes into the ravine. As calm as she felt, she was also depressed. After all, she was 30 years old and she hadn't yet found her one true love."
The young man tosses the papers down and scoffs.
"It's like he doesn't love us anymore."
He turns around and bumps into Ashley. It wasn't easy convincing her to come back, but Virginia, in so many words, promised to make the kids keep the horrible monsters away. It seemed a little patronizing, yes, but babysitters are so hard to come by. Kids Ashley's age usually have lives.
"Mr. Turn--" He clasps his hand over her mouth with his right hand.
"You didn't see me, I was never here..." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a twenty dollar bill. "This conversation never happened." She spots and accepts the currency.
"What conversation?" A shrug of the shoulders seals the deception.
Tim pats her shoulder. "You're doing good work." Elated, Ashley starts up the stairs. Before heading to the door, the man sees a newspaper on the couch.
"Kids, I just know your father loves you and your mother very much."
The story on the front page reads, 'Trixie comes home'. It must've been a slow news day. He skims the article. After a few moments, he tosses the paper away and rushes out the door, making sure to close it gently.
Meanwhile, the red light on the answering machine starts to flash.
(...the Dimmsdale Hilton...a few hours later...)
Whenever staying in Dimmsdale, this hotel provides a scenic view of the city, excellent service...and ample discretion. Several people file into the lobby. One of them is him, still in his business casual attire. The look on his face suggests that he knows just what he wants, though if the walk is a bit halting, even unsure.
This may have been due to the fact that he had a big meal before coming here. The heart-attack special at McKinney's was calling his name. The cry would soon turn into indigestion, but for now, seize the day.
He glanced over at a crowd of people. They looked to be mobbing someone. He wasn't stupid; he was aware of who they were fawning over. He tries to shove his way through the throng, but they are just too thick. His hands try to push a pair of fans aside, but three more seem to block his path.
Meanwhile, at the center of the calculated madness was her. Long of hair, bountiful of chest, exuberant of demeanor - there's no mistaking her for anyone else. Among the chatter from the on-lookers: "She's even more beautiful in person.", "What will you be doing next?", "Will you marry me?" and, most inexplicably, "Her eyes are a lot rounder than I expected." He gets closer and closer...but he's squeezed out.
He waves his hand in anger and walks away.
(...the hotel bar...)
The place is mostly deserted; nothing but chairs, tables and dust. The young man sits on a stool at one end of the bar. The balding man behind the counter walks up to him.
"What'll you have?"
"Scotch on the rocks."
"Comin' up." He puts down the glass he was drying and turns to the various beverages behind him. Within moments, the drink is served. The man downs it in one gulp and clears his throat.
"I'll have what he had." He turns his head to the opposite end of the bar. There is a young woman sitting on a stool. Her dark hair is hidden under a hat. She turns to the younger man and smiles. She pats the stool next to her. He grins stupidly as he approaches the seat.
"Never thought I'd see you here", the man lied. The articles in the newspaper documented the visitation quite well.
The bartender places the drink in front of the woman. "The feeling is mutual, um...Tommy." After all these years...it didn't matter much, though. Names are unimportant.
"Good seeing you again, Trixie. So...what brings you here?"
The woman circles the rim of the glass with her fingertip. "Just thought I'd stop by, see how things were going." ...which is only partially true. Having been born into money, Trixie had no compulsion to enter the work force. To her relief, her parents didn't force the issue; her happiness was priority one. Sadly, they didn't really know (or care for) the difference between what a child wants and what a child needs. All she cared about was having fun; where she had it was immaterial, with whom even less.
She takes the glass in her dainty hand and drains it almost as quickly as he did. "Leave the girl drinks to the little girls, I say."
His eyes widen in shock. "Whoa."
"Say, didn't you used to have a thing for me in school?"
"To put it mildly."
The brunette smiles sweetly. The sugar in her voice could knock off a diabetic. "I'd hate to go have to go back to my room alone. Would you mind escorting me up?"
Was this really happening to him? Did Trixie Tang honestly ask him to go with her to a room in a hotel known for its ample discretion? Given their history together, he thought long and hard about this. The decision was clear.
"Yes, I do!" She takes his hand and drags him to a hallway. They sneak onto an elevator. The three people departing the car don't seem to notice them.
(...room 925...)
The room looks very much like a deluxe suite. The partition separating this room from 927 rests against a far wall. A number of bulky trunks are in the room. Some of them are open, their contents - several fancy, colorful outfits - draped on various pieces of furniture.
The door opens and in step the two old 'friends'. She outstretches her arm. "This is my room."
"Yes, it is." The young man gawks at the surroundings. He walks about the downscaled-though-still-opulent luxury suite. He takes a seat on the edge of a bed... "Whoa!" ...and quickly falls in.
Trixie giggles. "Like the waterbed?"
He tries to roll off of it. "I think it likes me more."
As he stands to his feet, she walks over to the mini bar. "Champagne?"
"Oh, yeah." She opens the chest and tosses him a tiny bottle of Chablis. He catches it like a seasoned outfielder.
"You never told me." By now, the rich girl has her own mini-champagne.
"Told me what?"
She opens the bottle and takes a swig. "What are you doing here? Somehow, I knew you weren't being straight with me."
"I was in the neighborhood...so I felt like showing up."
"Did you ever meet anyone?"
He thinks for a moment. "Hmmm. Can't say that I have."
Their eyes meet. "You never met anyone?" The two of them draw closer.
"No one of great importance."
...and closer...
"Seems like a shame. You're much cuter now."
...and closer. He wraps his arms around her waist. Their eyes lock. Her pouty lips meet his thin, slightly-chapped ones.
The moment continues even upon the intrusion of an airy, somewhat high voice. "I'm home!"
The two of them turn toward the door. It's a woman with long dark hair...and vibrant blue eyes.
"May I present to you...Trixie Tang!"
'Trixie' strikes a pose and pulls off her wig, revealing her flowing blonde locks. "Veronica?"
"In the flesh." Sure enough, it was Trixie's long-time friend. One day, she found out about Veronica's little...habit. They remained good pals, and when Trixie became famous, she found a way to exploit the proclivity and maintain a good public perception at the same time. There did exist a brain beneath her teased locks.
"You doing okay?" The brunette rushes to her friend. Despite the scheming, Trixie seemed to care for the blonde. The young man stood back and glanced at them. Trixie Wendoline Alabaster Tang and her best friend, Veronica Desmond. Trixie and Veronica. TWAT and V.D. Some people have said that they make the perfect pair.
"Can you believe who decided to join us?", the brunette rasps, motioning to the young man.
"No I can't, Trixie." The ladies start to eye the man hungrily, and he liked it. Trixie was his everything in the past and Veronica was...she was a very pretty girl. If only she weren't nuts.
The women turn toward the young man. "So...what do you say to having some fun?"
"I'm always down for fun."
"Great." The women tackle the man and kiss him vigorously. He tries to take off his shirt, almost like he can sense where things are going, but Veronica, in her impatience, rips it off, scattering the buttons on the floor. The man sits up, Trixie and Veronica with him.
"Wet land or dry?"
He shrugs. "Ladies' choice."
"Dry it is." Waterbeds were good for sleep, but not very practical for love-making.
As they stumble over to the king-size bed, Trixie and the man assist each other in taking off their clothes. She gets down to her bra and panties. He reaches up to her waist, but she takes his hands and tosses them away.
As she hums a tune, Trixie reaches behind her and unhooks her under-wire prison. The bra slides off of her. Buttercup and Ilsa were free. The brunette continues to hum as she removes the last of her clothing.
Clad in nothing but the suits of their birth, they crawl onto the bed. Never has she looked more coquettish. Her bags of fun were just as perky as that first day of school. Her hair looked so beautiful splayed across the pillows. This is all too much for the man to take.
He impales her as only a lustful young man can.
She squeals in delight. Her moans could form the backbeat of a song. He looks her in the eyes to see the satisfaction on her face. What he sees causes his eyes to goggle.
"Timmy..." Her voice, while womanly, is like that of a girl.
It was Virginia, and, to compound the strangeness of it, she looks about ten years younger.
"...promise me it won't hurt too much."
He rears back somewhat. This garners Trixie's attention. "What's wrong?"
A shake of his head. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
The man's task continues unabated. Their bodies joined together as one. The rhythm of their...motions. And, of course, the power. The way he knew what she wanted and what he thought she wanted, but wasn't so sure about. This is what she deprived herself of all these years!
A short while goes by, and she is sated...but he continues on. A short jog is being turned into a marathon. Trixie whines a little. Veronica is distracted from raiding the mini-bar. Little does the man know that this is something of a code for them: whenever one of them is getting...too much of a good thing, the other will lend a hand.
The blonde removes her outerwear and crawls onto the young man. Unaware of the true motives, the man starts to feel elated. Veronica's pillows press into his back. They were enhanced ever so slightly to match those of Trixie (bless you, Dr. Goldfarb!). Veronica nibbles on his ear as he continues to work. The feeling of being the meat in a starlet sandwich is, ultimately, too much.
The three of them exhale as he lets go. Trixie and Veronica shoot each other a look, as if to say, 'good job'. The young man rolls over a bit, his breathing ragged. His high is such that he can barely hear the conversation.
"...should try again..." He was pretty sure that Veronica was talking.
"...get his stamina back..." The man didn't really have a clue here, but Trixie was looking right at him, so maybe it was her.
The best friends stare at him, smiling. They each grab a leg...and start kissing. Another of their games? Trixie seems to be ahead of Veronica, working toward his crotch. She of the raven hair bypasses the pleasure center, focusing on his taut stomach. Despite the occasional craving for junk food, he took care of his body. To his chagrin, he couldn't move his body; the fun was drained out of him. The friends work their way to his face. They plant a kiss on his cheek. His lips. His forehead. Each other. This continues for a good hour. If he was enjoying himself before, then he was having a blast now...as Trixie and Veronica figure out with a glance downward.
"Looks like he's ready", they giggle and state in girlish unison.
(...the streets of Dimmsdale...a couple of hours later...)
A car makes it way down the road. The driver wears a smile on his face, like he was a part of something amazing. That he certainly was. He accomplished what so few of his stature had: he met two of the school's most popular girls...and banged them like a screen door in a hurricane.
As he rounds a corner, a thought occurred to him: life can't possibly get any better.