Chapter 3: Decisions, Decisions
Bob and Helen had set the kids to bed, readying themselves for the next business day.
Helen, in her bathrobe, was discovered by Bob eyeing her backside in the bedroom mirror.
She turned and chuckled as Bob gave an admiring whistle. "Second time today," she said.
"It looks nice from this angle."
He didn't look so bad himself, wiping his chin with a small towel after a shower and shave; a large towel around his waist.
Bob went over and held her. "Whether or not you decide to go on with this photo-shoot, I support you."
"Yeah," she mused, "you and the other males of Municiberg."
They soon settled on the bed, Helen still in her robe, and Bob in his pajamas watching the news.
Michael Delgado and Louise Chen of Channel 2 were speaking about Bob's earlier exploits as well as Helen's, who saved the Kenyan ambassador—Adewale—speaking, by way of his aide, of the Ambassador's and his intent on personally paying Elastigirl back with a personal tour of his country.
As Bob's attention was on the news, Helen bought the two items of mail from her side of the bed and set them on the bed in between her and Bob.
It was a coupon booklet addressed to the household, and an envelope addressed to Elastigirl from Playbunny Enterprises—a letter of invitation.
"He sure is persistent isn't he?"
Bob was still eyeing the news. "Ambassador Adewale? I'll say."
She showed him the letter. "No, Hufnick."
"You're a celebrity, Honey."
"What's next? Action figures? Dolls? Breakfast cereals?" Helen thought aloud. "You know, things were a lot easier when we were just worrying about saving the city…or the world."
She thought Bob might be a bit more forgiving, but saw her husband suppressing a chuckle.
"Helen," Bob soothed, "it's not all that bad. It's a simple 'yes' or 'no.' By the way, are they paying you?"
She crossed her arms. "I thought I was doing a civil duty. It wasn't something I thought about."
"Well…"
On the news, there was already publicity that Elastigirl was going to pose for Playbunny Magazine, those "mock street interviews:"
"Elastigirl is hot!" said "interview one," a young college man who looked to be in his early twenties.
Number Two, looked to be an everyday blue-collar working man. "Playbunny? Oh, yeah…I read it for the stories."
Three, Four, and Five looked to be close friends near a club in the city giving their comments: "Elastigirl is cool! I'll buy a copy. I'm sure my girlfriend won't mind…she likes Elastigirl too. Thinks she a strong female role model."
"Beauty and brains. I wouldn't mind being her man."
Number Six was a young girl in her late teens and early twenties with her two friends: "Elastigirl is soooo cool! I want to look like that at 40!"
Helen had to arch an eyebrow at that comment.
Number Seven was a woman in her late thirties/early forties: "Elastigirl posing for Playbunny? I say go ahead. As they say, 'you got it, you flaunt' it."
There was another comment from another couple, in their fifties or sixties, about a super 'flaunting' herself…
Even a super Helen wasn't familiar with—Locke—didn't mind Elastigirl's possible photo shoot. However, he was a male.
Interestingly, another super—JetGirl—was interviewed, and thought aloud about posing herself. She did also wonder if it might impact the outlook of supers, but Playbunny just wasn't any magazine.
Bob then switched off the television, looking over to his wife. Her head down in thought, arms crossed.
"Maybe I'll phone Hufnick in the morning, and arrange compensation for her good friend Helen Parr, and her family," Helen thought aloud.
She looked up to Bob.
"I think we'll sort out "The Incredibles" merchandising and paraphernalia later on."
Bob chuckled. "My wife, a Playbunny model."
"You're a lucky guy."
"Indeed I am"
He leaned over and kissed her. "You still got it. And, personally, I don't think you'll ever lose it."
"I can't seem to disagree with you."
Bob kissed her neck. "One other thing I'm sure of."
"And that is?"
"I'll be the only one to know how "flexible" Elastigirl really is."
"Oh, you."
The next morning, at the Playbunny Mansion, 15 miles out of Municiberg, Herb Hufnick—a man of about 65, but in good shape, proprietor of one of the most successful publications—sat at his desk in his bedroom with the curtains drawn, the draperies pulled to the side.The only strong light emitted from the lamp on the desk, the morning light putting a very slender feminine figure in silhouette.
He had just received a call from his secretary that Elastigirl had agreed to be photographed, only if Helen Parr was compensated.
Hufnick agreed.
"So she accepted? Good." The figure spoke; a smooth, seductive voice. The figure flicked long hair with an evil chuckle.
Hufnick, as happy as he should have been, was not smiling. "Yes, she accepted."
"Make her feel comfortable."
"Please, I don't want anyone killed."
"Do as you're told and no one would be harmed. You, and those close to you. Elastigirl, however, will be dealt with in the manner I see fit." The figure moved closer. "Oh, I'm being harsh, Herb. Still, I hope you understand my position."
The figure moved closer, and leaned in the light to kiss Hufnick. She was a seductive woman with almond eyes and an evil smile, and caramel skin that contrasted her white hair.
"Herb," she soothed, "I know I shared your bed, but even passion has its price."
"Mirage, if I only knew…"
"You still wouldn't have been able to change anything."
Mirage moved out of the light, turning to leave.
"Get everything ready," she ordered, "I'll be watching. You await any further instructions."
As the woman left, Hufnick sat back and sighed.