Ella ©

The evening was clear and crisp.  The damp country air sent a slight chill through Ella.  Off in the distance she could see the fog rolling in, swallowing up the stars and surrounding wood. This fog felt different, ominous.  It felt like an evil presence was sliding over the countryside.  She stood frozen; an odd sensation began creeping up her.  It started in her toes and slowly crept up her legs.  When it reached her stomach she shivered which seemed to have broken the spell.  She gathered her skirts and ran with all her might towards the manner house, afraid to look back and see what was truly chasing her.

As she reached the gardens surrounding the house she stopped to catch her breath. Turning slowing to see how far the fog had come, she was startled to see it right at the garden gate.  Alarmed, she again gathered her skirts and ran, nearly tripping over the threshold as someone inside had seen her and opened the door. 

“Lord child, you look like the devil himself were after you”

“He was,  Mrs. Baldwin”, Ella gasped. 

“You go sit in the parlor child.  I’ll bring you a cup of tea and some biscuits.”

Ella did as she was told.  Although she was seventeen years old, she still did as Mrs. Baldwin, the housekeeper, told her.  Mrs. Baldwin loved Ella as if she were one of her own.  Ella had a mother and father, but her mother was distant and chose to ignore her only daughter.  Her mother was beautiful and elegant and clearly unhappy.  Her mother’s father and Lord Stidolph had made the match to unite their families.  The name Stidolph was old English for ‘strong wolf’ and old Lord Stidolph was just that.  Ella did not care for her grandfathers.  They were cold men who had no time for their only grandchild.  

The Call ©

The call came around midnight.  Genevieve had been in bed and asleep for an hour.   It took her a few minutes to first realize her cell phone was ringing, then another few to determine where her cell phone actually was.   She answered it on the last ring. 

“Hello?”  No one called her this late except one of her kids when they were in “crisis”.

“Genevieve?  This is Frank”.   His real name was Francisco and he was originally from Madrid.  Frank had been in the US since he was 16 and his father was transferred here; you had to listen very carefully to hear the accent.

“Frank?  What’s wrong?  Why are you calling so late?”  Frank and Genevieve were colleagues.  They had known each other for 10 years and considered each other friends, but rarely did anything outside of work together.

“Can you come over?  I really need to talk to you” he said this with just a hint of desperation. 

“Frank, I was already in bed and asleep.  Is it that urgent?”

“Please?” again a slight pleading in his voice.

“Umm, give me at least 40 minutes, but you will get me looking like I just crawled out of bed, which I did.  AND I am not putting my contacts back in, so deal.  What’s your address?”

“12565 Whispering Pines Dr.”

“Ok, 40 minutes”

Genevieve got up, grabbed her glasses off the side table, flipped on the bedroom light and stood there for a minute trying to get her bearings.   Yawning, she padded into her bathroom.  She flinched as she turned on the bright bathroom lights.  Looking at herself in the mirror she shuddered.  Her long auburn hair was in a ponytail that she had caught up again in the same covered rubber band so that it was not hanging down and wasn’t really a bun.  She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and quickly washed her face.  She grabbed her mascara and put just a hint of it on.  She wanted to look presentable, but not like she was making an effort for him.   She was 50, but looked 40 and she knew it.  Both her parents had looked much younger than their real age.  “Good gene’s “, she muttered smiling.  She brushed her teeth, pulled the rubber band out of her hair and bent over to run a quick brush through her hair.  As she stood up she whipped her hair back.  Another quick brush through and she was satisfied.  She padded back into her bedroom and tried to decide what to wear.  It was mid-summer so even at midnight it was still in the mid to upper sixties.  She settled on a pair of green capris and black t-shirt.   She had to dig for her black flip-flops but found them kicked half-way under her bed.  She unplugged her phone and brought up Google.  She punched Frank’s address in and squinted at the screen to figure out the best route to his house.  Her cat Poser gave her a puzzled look as she grabbed her purse and keys from the living room coffee table and headed for the front door.  “What are you looking at?”  she growled at him.  He gave her an indignant swish of the tail and laid back down on the top of the couch.

She had just bought her car two weeks ago, a 2013 Ford Fusion Hybrid.  She loved that car.  Crawling into the car she pushed the start button.   Her radio blasted making her jump and she quickly turned it down.  Shifting into reverse she backed out of the driveway then into drive and turned left at the corner.  Fifteen minutes later she was pulling into his driveway.  Suddenly she was nervous.  That was not an emotion that she would have ever associated with Frank.  She chalked it up to having been woken up in the middle of the night and not really understanding why Frank had called her.

Frank was 8 years younger than Genevieve, married with two kids.  In the ten years that she had known Frank, she had never actually met his wife Ann.  She had never really thought about it.  She had been to one party at his house a few years earlier, but Ann had been out of town.  Now she started to panic, was something wrong with Ann, or one of the kids?  As she got out of her car the garage door opened and Frank stood at the back door.

“Hi.  You found it”

“The miracle of Google” she quipped then quickly added, “Are you alright?”

“I’m good now”

“So what was the urgency?”

“Come in, we’ll talk.”    “I like you in glasses” he added quietly.

She entered his house through the garage door which led into the kitchen.  He guided her through to the living room and motioned for her to sit on the couch.  

“Ok, it’s late and you woke me from a dead sleep.  What is going on that it is so urgent you needed me right away?”

“I’m sorry.  Ann left me”

“Oh my god!  Are you ok?  Did she take the kids?  Where did she go?  What can I do to help?”

“She left last month.  She walked out on me AND the kids.  I have no idea where she is at, but I can guess.  I’m just glad you’re here.”

The Incident©

“Sir, I think you should take this call”.

President Baker took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘Please, not again’ he pleaded silently.

“Baker here”

“Sir, this is General Myers.  We have another incident.”

‘Oh god no!’, he screamed in his head. “Do we have details?”

“It’s still sketchy sir.”

“Get me those details as soon as possible.” Baker demanded. “Situation Room in 15 minutes”, he shouted to his Chief of Staff.

The room burst into action, energy spilling out into the hallway and down into other offices.  Soon the whole West Wing was buzzing with chatter, faxes and phone calls.  Press Secretary Angie Leventhall scrambled to get on top of the story.  She had exactly 10 minutes to pull something together and then revise as soon as the President came out of the Situation Room.

Phones started to ring off the hook.  Nikki Chang, the President’s personal secretary, began fielding calls and running interference.  Josiah Whitney, Communications Director, and Jamie Valencia, Deputy Chief of Staff strode into the Oval Office, arguing as usual.

“Sir, this is the 6^th attack in as many days, Jamie feels that it is domestic.  I feel that it is the work of an outside extremist group.”

Jamie frowned, “It just feels like a domestic extremist group, although we can’t determine what the motive is.  They are being very specific as to their targets, but we are not seeing a reason to the pattern.”

“They appear to be non-discriminatory”, chimed in Dennis Joblanski, Chief of Staff. 

“Republicans, Democrats, white, brown, black, Senators and Representatives.  The Situation Room is ready, Mr. President.  I suggest we get this meeting started.”

They all gathered in the Situation Room, anxious, waiting for further instructions.

“Sir, we understand that it was Senator Joe Jackson from Illinois.”

“Yes, and we are still no closer to determining who is responsible.  Do I need to put a security detail around all Legislators until we get to the bottom of this?  I need answers and I need them now.  What is Homeland Security getting on this?” demanded the President. “Is there any chatter here or abroad? Are we working with the other agencies?  We can not afford to lose another legislator.  At this rate our government will be crippled in two weeks.”

“Sir, we are not hearing any chatter abroad.  We believe this to be the work of an extremist group within our borders with no ties to other groups”, stated General Johnson.

“Mr. President, this group is not making any claims, nor are they leaving any messages as to their motive or demands.  Homeland Security is working with every agency possible” Secretary of Homeland Security James Calhoun said looking fatigued and frustrated.

“I want you to turn over every rock; you find me the person or persons responsible.  I don’t care if you deliver them to me in pieces, just catch these bastards!”  Calming down a bit, the President continued, “I need these people caught.  They are single handedly destroying our government.”

The group remained in the Situation Room as the President left to prepare for the press briefing.  As he leaves the Situation Room Angie and Josiah fall in step with the President, briefing him on what they know and handing him a one-page speech. 

“Sir, it is important that you be brief,” said Angie.  “I’ll field the questions; I need you to make the statement and leave.  Do you understand, sir?”

“Yes, read speech, leave”.  The President looked drained.

Jamie came running at a full sprint, and breathlessly exclaimed, “Sir, we have another incident, it’s the Vice President”.

The Cabana Boy ©

It started out as a playful joke.  She was not happy that he had put her in charge of a project that was half done and a complete disaster.  To show her disdain she had told him when she brought the project in on time and on budget he would owe her a trip to the Caribbean.  Not only the trip to Caribbean, but she wanted a tall, dark, handsome cabana boy waiting at the hotel with an umbrella drink in his hand when she arrived.  She was emphatic about the cabana boy. He had laughingly agreed. 

Recently it had morphed into just a cabana boy.  The sexual innuendos were there, just below the surface. Nothing overt.  It was an odd, artful dance around the subject, staying just this side of PC.

He teased her about finding one for a bargain, she was not amused.  “I am worth so much more than that”, she exclaimed with mock indignation. 

He somehow instinctively knew how to push her buttons, what drove her crazy and how to use that to his advantage.  What he didn’t know was that she found this endearing, sweet and as he revealed pieces of himself to her she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.  She was careful to never allow him to know this, to see her labored breathing whenever he got too close.  She was being silly and allowing a “school girl crush” to drive her hormones crazy.  She was much too old to allow her vivid imagination to run amuck.  Yet they did.  Oh how she wished that he would be her cabana boy. How she fantasized about going to collect her reward and having him pull her close, then in a very sensual voice, with just a hint of a Caribbean accent, telling her that he was her cabana boy.  And then reality sets in and she is snapped back to the real world.

Jesse ©

She sat on the edge of her desk drumming the fingers of right hand with her left hand raised to her chin in the “thinking man” position contemplating 4 dresses she had hanging across the back of her cubicle. Standing up quickly, she whisked the dresses off the wall and in a manner more boyish then young woman, she strode off to the women’s restroom. Trace had to practically sprint to catch up to her.
“Jesse wait”, he called after her.

“What do you need Trace, I’m in a hurry”, she said leaning against the open restroom door showing her disdain for being kept from her mission.
“I need to talk to you”.

“Can’t it wait until I am done trying on these dresses?” she asked, impatience clearly in her voice as she stepped into the women’s restroom.

The door closed with an unceremonious dull thud. Trace blinked, staring at the now closed door, wondering what to do next.

“No” he said quietly.

“What did you say?” she asked. Loud enough to be heard, but not so loud that it would be considered shouting.

“I said NO” a little louder.

“Fine. Come in here and talk to me while I am trying these dresses on.”

You need to understand their relationship. He had never actually been her boss, but he had always been her superior. Jesse had never held great stock in the hierarchical way businesses ran. She treated everyone the same, whether they mopped the floors or were the CEO. Most people appreciated that and Trace was one. You could tell her anything in confidence and she would keep it that way. She despised game playing. Not that she was totally black and white, but there was definitely right and wrong in her world. They had been friends since shortly after they met four years ago. He tried to be stuffy and stiff and authoritative towards her and she was having none of that. She broke him down slowly until they had a friendship that suited them both.

In the beginning she had had what she referred to as “a little girl” crush on him. She had gotten over that and settled for the relationship they now had, totally platonic.

Trace hesitated slightly before walking into the women’s restroom. Closing his eyes as he slowly pushed the door open, he asked, “is anyone in here with you?”

“No. Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t have told you to come in here if there were other women in here”.

Opening his eyes he saw her standing there long and lean wearing a sleeveless gray form fitting dress. She walked up to him, turned her back to him exposing her bare back and reveling the fact that she had on a black lace bra.

“Zip please”, she said, more as a statement than actually asking him.

“Why are you trying these dresses on?” he asked a little puzzled by what was happening.

“I have a date tonight” was the matter of fact answer.

“Oh.” A little bit of jealousy rising up in him as he zipped up the dress.

She stood in front of the mirror turning from side to side, then stood facing the mirror, then turned to see her backside.
“No” she pronounced to no one in particular and walked back towards him again turning her back to him. “Unzip please”.

Trace obliged still trying to figure out why he was standing in the women’s bathroom zipping and unzipping dresses for her. She stepped into the handicap stall and slipped off the gray dress.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked as she stepped into view wearing only her black bra and satin boyshort panties.

Trace immediately averted his eyes to the ground trying hard to resist the temptation of looking at her. Jesse picked up on that immediately.

“Wow, didn’t know you were such a gentleman” she said teasingly. “It’s not like you’ve never seen a woman in her bra and panties before”.

“Umm, I’ve never seen you in them.” He wanted to kick himself for saying something so lame.

He was usually so smooth, sophisticated and debonair, but she had a way of leaving him not knowing what he had agreed to or even which end was up.

She stood smiling at him. Looking so sweet and innocent, standing there in nothing but her bra and panties. She whipped around, strode back into the stall and grabbed the next dress. Slipping it on she stepped out of the stall and again turned her back towards him. “Zip please”.

She repeated the process of standing in front of the mirror turning from side to side, staring at her own reflection from the front, then from the back.

“No.” she pronounced. Walking back to Trace she turned her back to him, “unzip please”. As she again walked back to the stall she said, “You never did tell me why you needed to talk to me.”

“Who are you going out with?”

“That is NOT what you came here to talk to me about. Stop changing the subject”, she said emphasizing the not.

“Perhaps not, but I’m still waiting for the answer”.

“No one you know” she said sarcastically.

“Jesse, I’m serious” he said firmly, using his “boss tone”.

Jesse hated it when he pulled rank on her. He rarely used it, but when he did she knew he was very serious. But Jesse being Jesse, slipped out of the dress, carefully hung it up and stepped back into his view. Ok, so there was one type of game playing she wasn’t opposed to, but could you really call this game playing, maybe it was just making things even.

“Jesse, you do not play fair” he said looking her squarely in the eyes.

‘Hmm’ thought Jesse, ‘he’s really serious. Maybe a little too concerned?’

“His name is David Jones” she said. “Do not mock the name” she added sternly.

“Come on Jess, how am I supposed to let that one go” he said half laughing.

“Really? You are really going to go there. You do realize that you are acting like you're a jealous lover”

‘Perhaps I am’ he thought.

Lileas ©

She sat in the dark contemplating her next move. Things didn’t seem to be going well, but she knew if she persevered it would eventually work itself out. She felt alone and trapped in her current situation. She had always felt alone around people. They were unpredictable and often cruel. She didn’t understand the cruel part, it had never made sense to her. Weren’t you supposed to treat others as you would like to be treated? That is how she had always lived. She couldn’t remember when someone had told her that or even if they ever had. There were a lot of things that she ‘just knew’, no one had ever taught her about them. She knew she was different. She lived in her head most of the time, it was safer that way. Less interaction with people, less confusion as to why they reacted the way they did.

She rose, trying to adjust her vision in the darkness. The woods were eerily quiet. She crept silently down the path, ever aware of the noises around her. The air was cool and the smell of the woods sweet. Off in the distance she heard the whinny of a horse. The moon tried it’s best to punch though the dense trees, making small streams of soft white light and dancing shadows. Off in the distance she heard a howl. Too far for her to discern whether it was a wolf or a dog. She gathered up her skirts so that they wouldn’t catch on fallen branches or other debris. Squinting in the dark she could see the end of the woods and the pasture beyond. She quickened her step. Hopefully no one at the manor house had missed her. It was bad enough they had taken her in, these distant relatives, but they were trying to make a lady of her and she was having none of that. They imposed silly rules on her like no breeches. She had to bath daily, ok that wasn’t so bad, the warm soapy water, the scented oils, a maid to wash her unruly curls, but the dresses with all of their layers and under garments and corsets were just too much.

Her mother had died when she was five giving birth to a stillborn brother. Her father had doted on her, allowing her to run wild and do as she pleased. Her father was a wealthy land owner in his own right, but realized the error of his ways when she had reached sixteen. Now he sent her to some distant relative who could take her under her wing and make a “lady” out of her. They were trying to undo sixteen years of running wild and make her ready for the Season in the spring. She didn’t understand the obsession, the clothes, the hair, the boys. She had always played with boys. She could out ride, out fight and out last any of the boys on her fathers estate. There was no need to ‘introduce’ to society so that she could meet a boy.

She broke through the woods and into the open pasture bathed with light from a full moon. She could see the manor house in the distance, faint light coming from the parlor and one bedroom upstairs. She heard a noise behind her. Startled she spun around to face a large imposing man, but what was equally odd was the animal beside him, a large wolf. The wolf sniffed the air and gave a guttural growl. ‘Sèitheach’ the man said sternly, the wolf sat next to his master. “It’s dangerous out here this time of night, especially for a girl-child”, he stated coldly. She was a little afraid, but more angry at his treatment of her. Defiantly she stood her ground, glaring at him she said, “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself” at which time he reached down, flung her over his shoulder and strode towards the manor house, Sèitheach obediently trotting behind.

The Goodbye ©

She stood on the top of a small hill in the middle of a vast field of prairie grass.  The crisp fall wind blew from behind her whipping her long chestnut hair and peasant skirt as she stood clinging to what was left of him.  She hugged the urn close to her chest, tears gently sliding down her cheeks.  Her horse stood a short distance away grazing, looking up occasionally.  She sang his favorite song softly, trying not to allow her emotions to take control.  As if on cue, when she was finished the mare walked up behind her and gently nudged her.  It was time to let him go.  She opened up the urn and as she sang her love song to him, she let his ashes be carried away on the wind.  When the last of his ashes drifted across the field she fell to her knees and sobbed.  The mare gently nudged her shoulder.  It was time.  She said her goodbyes and sent a prayer to the heavens then grabbing the mares’ mane she mounted her horse and galloped back across the field.