The Winters Of Those Gone Before…
A 'Daria' alternate-universe fan fiction by
Brother Grimace
Inspired by ‘Night Of The Storm’, by
LyinTamer
____________________________________________________________________
Comments, questions, complaints,
admonishments, salutations, death threats, presentations of requests for
apprenticeship? E-mail them to: email2BG@yahoo.com.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Due to the nature of the subject matter,
this work of fan fiction is rated R.
READERS ARE STRONGLY ADVISED THAT THIS WORK
OF FAN FICTION DEALS WITH DISTURBING PSYCHOLOGICAL AND SOCIAL ISSUES, AND
CONTAINS DEPICIONS OF GRAPHIC SEXUAL SITUATIONS.
This work of fan fiction may not be
suitable for some readers.
____________________________________________________________________
‘Hope. It is
the quintessential human delusion – simultaneously, the source of your greatest
strength and your greatest weakness.’
The Architect: ‘The Matrix Reloaded’ ____________________________________________________________________ PART I
What
am I going to do? Who can I talk to… what do I do?
It took a lot to make Helen Morgendorffer
feel as though she were all alone and helpless, let alone speechless,
especially with the way her life had gone in the past few months or so. But
then, she thought, staring out the window in her office at Vitale, Davis,
Horowitz, Riordan, Schrecter, Schrecter and Schrecter - this fit the bill. This
more than fit the bill.
What
can I do?
And in her mind, she went over what had
happened…
+++++
After Jake Morgendorffer had, finally
(Helen admitted to herself, but no one else) lost his battle to keep his inner
demons chained and remain sane, things could have gone badly - even worse than
they already had. The family of Mr. Ceedle, the mailman Jake killed, had every
intention of suing everyone in sight, but a very thorough, although slightly
rushed, investigation of the family's background found a number of things that
could have caused real trouble for them. A hushed conversation with the
Ceedles - and displaying an inch-thick folder labeled 'Ceedle Family' -
smoothed everything over. In the spirit of conciliation, Helen also managed to
find several loopholes in the family's insurance coverage and Mr. Ceedle’s
government death-benefits package. After receiving a tax-free check with that
many zeroes, the Ceedles were quite willing to sign a nondisclosure
agreement.
The storefront lawyer the Ceedles hired,
smelling blood and a chance to get his name in the news, had a huge media blitz
planned. When the Ceedles settled the case, wanting no further attention, the
effete, doughy poof from Georgia decided that he’d do the cable news talk-show
circuit on his own and attract the public’s notice that way. Bad career
move. Helen heard that he’d been
gang-raped in the lock-up, where he was being held for felony possession, and
he’d been quite vocally disbarred... Oh, well. Some people just couldn't take
the deal and go on with their lives. They always did learn, though, and quite
painfully… in the end.
Of course, a considerable amount of money
changed hands. (Helen's bosses, pleased at how she'd kept the firm's name from
being mentioned prominently in the coverage of Jake's case, were more than glad
to pay.)
Ruth - Jake's mother - showed up. A news
crew was waiting for her - the people from 'Sick, Sad World'. Helen had gotten to them first. She had a
backpack with used twenties and hundreds - the international standards for
'doing business under the table'. The manila folder she held up with the ‘SSW’
logo on it was three inches thick. She
also had a folder for the suddenly and incredibly cooperative news crew which
was labeled ‘Morgendorffer, A. H., U.S.M.C. / Morgendorffer, R.’
Ruth left Lawndale the next day. She didn't
get a chance to run the 'You ruined my baby's life' rant she always did - but
in front of the television cameras and standing outside Schloss Morgendorffer
like she'd planned. Shame that she couldn't stay longer, or stop by to see the
girls. They missed having her around.
Amy got in touch, and wisely said little
beyond 'How are you and the girls doing; need any help?' Rita appeared on her
Nimbus 2001 and just had to open her mouth about how she knew that Jake would
go psycho someday. She woke up about three hours later, nursing a beauty of a
black eye, afraid to even speak as Erin half-escorted/half-carried her to the car,
and still wobbling from the horrifyingly fast left hook Helen unloaded on her.
Helen's mother ran the standard Evelyn Barksdale parenting program. She said
nothing, and just sent checks for her and the girls. At least they wouldn't have to worry about college tuition now.
Then it came - the news Helen had been
expecting for years.
The conference with the doctors at Golden
Acres and the Lawndale County State's Attorney was freakishly short - and
surprisingly painful for Helen, although she didn't show a trace of emotion to
the people in the room. Not a single flinch, or sniffle, or untoward blinking
at the mention of yet an even worse detail of Jake's condition…
Jacob Morgendorffer, as a person, didn't
really exist… not anymore. The medication protocols to control him weren't
working, he had no recognition of anyone or anything from before the incident,
and he had to be restrained through chemical means after he tried to bite off a
worker's ear. He no longer had any ability to functionally communicate and was
now having problems moving on the right side of his body; a week after being
admitted, he'd had a pair of mini-strokes. Jake was also starting to refuse
food and water, and if left untended, would simply lie in the fetal position
for long periods… There was general agreement that a trial was unnecessary, and
Jake would be committed quietly to the long-term, secure-care section at the
Adelaide Gardens Convalescent Center. The taxpayers and the powers-that-be had
to get some closure, and a sense that justice had prevailed.
The conference took place on January 26;
Jake had suffered another stroke the day before. A really bad one. The doctors
said that Jake wouldn't live to see their wedding anniversary in June. Helen
took the news without changing expressions, walked out and went to her car,
drove home through the darkened, snowbank-lined streets of Lawndale, then broke
down in the garage after she closed the door.
+++++
"Mrs. Morgendorffer, would you like a
cup of coffee or something?"
'"Hmn? Oh, no, thank you,
Marianne," Helen said, coming out of her reverie. "Just thinking over
some work. I'd rather not be disturbed for an hour or two."
"Maybe you'd like something to drink?
You look, well, a little flushed…"
"No, thank you. I'd just… I'd like not
to be disturbed for a while."
"Yes, ma'am."
Marianne closed the door behind her, and
Helen was once again lost in memory…
+++++
It was after she wiped her face dry that
Helen noticed that something wasn't quite right. The Lexus was also parked in
the garage; she had given it to Quinn after Jake's breakdown. She'd offered it
to Daria, intending to buy Quinn her own car (she'd had several insurance
policies taken out on Jake, and the return was very good), but Daria
didn't want it.
Quinn was glad to have the car, and Helen
frequently saw the red-in-blue blur of her daughter in the Lexus, ferrying her
Fashion Club friends somewhere or other. It was one of the things that had made
Helen smile recently, as it meant that at least Quinn was returning to normal.
Daria still worried her, though. She wasn't tormenting Quinn as mercilessly as
before, though, and that was something, and it was actually Daria's suggestion
that she give the Lexus to Quinn.
But
why was it here now? This was a Friday night; Quinn would NEVER stay home on a
Friday night, whether rain, sleet, snow or the fires of Armageddon! Not with a
car at her disposal, not with a credit card for shopping in her pocket, and
certainly not with DARIA staying at home, watching that inane reality show she
seemed to love with her little art friend nearby! Come to think of it, Helen thought, she
hadn't seen much of Jane Lane since Jake's breakdown. Weren't she and Daria still friends? Oh, I have to find out about that -
that Lane girl's probably the only thing that's kept Daria from going the same
way as her father!
Speaking of going the way of her father…
Daria was doing something that made Helen really wonder if she was going crazy.
Daria, come to think of it, probably wasn't home watching TV after all.
Daria was dating.
The first one was a few days after that
horrible thunderstorm. Helen had decided to try and have a simple dinner at
home with the girls, to try and talk to them, and let them know that things
would get better. Not at first, but eventually… things would get easier - it's
just that everything would take a little time…
She came out of the kitchen that evening to
see an auburn-haired vision coming down the stairs.
Daria was always an attractive girl, just
understated, Helen always thought, and she did it to distinguish herself from
Quinn. Now, as Helen gaped in awe, Daria came down slowly, like a
beauty-pageant contestant… She wore an ivory jacket and slacks with a black
silk blouse, what had to be designer shoes, a thin necklace adorned with two
topaz teardrops, and matching earrings. Her hair was beautifully styled, with
just enough makeup to make her phenomenal.
Daria no longer wore glasses.
What completed the look, however, was
confidence. Daria was always withdrawn, but it was as if that was just a
defense mechanism designed to keep her from getting hurt. The Daria that walked
down those stairs knew that she was somebody - and no one would tell her
different. The boy that came to pick her up was named Gregory, and he looked
stunned by the fact that he actually got to take her out. That look on boys'
faces - even the growing number of handsome, wealthy college boys - became a
common sight.
Quinn took the change just as Helen would
have expected: 'Oh, great. Competition.' She
would at least admit that Daria was her sister now, but when the Fashion Club
brought up the idea of Daria joining, she threw a temper tantrum that terrified
even Sandi. The subject NEVER came up again. They actually began having civil
conversations. Sometimes. Daria and Quinn, that is.
This, Helen admitted (with some shame), was
the first-born child that she had dreamed about - the Daria that would shake
the world with brains and beauty, and proof that she was an excellent parent.
Now that it was real, it bothered Helen to no small degree - but whenever Helen
brought it up, Daria just shrugged, said, "I needed a change," and
then made a career of ignoring further inquiries.
The car being there bothered Helen. This
wasn't right. Quinn would especially NOT
hang around the house when she knew that Helen wasn't going to be there and
Daria was, despite their recent reconciliation. Helen had planned to spend the
day, aside from the conference about Jake, at work and not to come back until
the next morning - if not to spend the weekend there... She had taken to
working lots of evening and early morning hours, or just sleeping at the
office, where Marianne, her assistant, had turned an empty office adjacent to
Helen's into a small sleeping area.
Helen hadn't slept a single night in the
bed she'd shared with Jake since his mental collapse.
Despite everything before Jake's breakdown,
Marianne had remained quite loyal, even informing Helen that one of the more
unsavory tabloids had tried to entice her with loads of cash for 'insider'
stories of the affair. Helen was no fool, and she remembered loyalty;
Marianne's younger daughter came home to announce that her entire squad had won
full scholarships to cheerleading camp at Lake Wannaweep, one of the best
programs in the nation. It was also the best Christmas at their home in the
last ten years.
As she stepped out of the car and into
sharply cooling air, Helen pulled her coat collar up close - the late January
weather had been really bad this year, with unseasonably cold weather predicted
to run into the next month - and the threat of dangerous blizzards or ice
storms. She blew a long, thin breath out to become a geyser in the frigid air,
even in the closed space of the not-quite-heated-yet garage, and reached for
her briefcase when the slightly pained rumble in her stomach reminded her that
she hadn't eaten all day.
Still dazed by the info from the meeting,
and now being led by her stomach, Helen dropped her coat on a chair and kicked
her shoes off before heading for the kitchen. She didn't even bother to turn on
the lights as she crossed over to the fridge, pawing through the various
covered dishes brought over by friends before letting her hand close around a
particularly large chicken drumstick.
The chicken leg in one hand, a can of
Ultra-Cola in the other and the door to the fridge still open behind her, Helen
slouched over to the table and flopped into a chair, her resolve no longer
keeping her aloft. She popped the can open and drank half the soda in one
swallow, then sat back and began to gnaw almost mechanically at the drumstick,
looking aimlessly into the shadows-
It was then that she noticed the sound of
Quinn screaming.
+++++
Helen had first reached for her cell-phone,
intending to call 911; she was afraid that Daria had snapped like Jake and was
intending to finish the job he started.
The jacket pocket where her cell phone
always stood ready was empty. Helen was stunned that it was gone and actually
started to retrace her meanderings when a second piercing scream from Quinn
ripped through the darkened house, even more agonized and frenzied than before.
Helen grabbed a broom from the closet and started upstairs, scared for Quinn
and a finger of fear for herself beginning to trace ice up her spine as she
raced up the steps two at a time... she had some small idea what an insane
Daria could think up and do.
As Helen hit the top step and began to
sprint up the lightless hallway, the broom held high, a sound swept down the
hall that made Helen freeze in her tracks.
She heard Quinn moan.
Helen stopped, her fear forgotten as the
red, flaming bull of righteous anger roared.
Quinn was having sex.
It was a loud, deep, throaty sound that
could only come from a woman. It was a sound that Helen was very familiar with;
she could remember that sound escaping from her lips on… many occasions. Many
with Jake; many more, she remembered with a touch of wistful memory, without…
Lavender, as they called her back in the day, was a girl who didn't mind all
that much who pleased her in bed, as long as they could…
Quinn was having good sex.
Oh,
no. Not here. Not in my house. The little heifer is going to pay. I'm going to
kill her. That little - ooooh! I can't BELIEVE that she got rid of Daria,
brought some boy up here and decided to play 'doctor' under MY roof! Just what
the HELL was she thinking?
Her face dropped any pretense of concern.
Oh,
yes. THIS… IS… IT. She's FINALLY gone too far - and I hope to God that she
doesn't let that 'But I was so sad, and I just really needed someone to hold
me' line come out of her mouth or I will slap her halfway to Atlanta! Stupid
little bimbo - you KNOW that every boy you pass on the street ALREADY wants you
on your back, and if you let some young man use what happened to your father to
get what he wants-!
Her complexion scarlet with rage, Helen
went into stealth mode as she started again down the hall, moving quietly
towards the thin fingers of light coming from the slightly askew door as she
brandished the broom like a cutlass.
"GOD! Oh, God…yes, yes… AAAAAAHHHHH!!!
AAAAAAAAAA -"
Well,
someone's going to get embarrassed beyond belief, and they'll be walking until
they're old enough for a wheelchair because the Lexus is effing GONE - and when
I'm done, that little punk's not going to have enough hanging down to help him
pee straight!
Her teeth clenched as she reached for the
door, and Helen prepared to fling it open-
"N-n-now… I can feel it,"
another voice huffed through Quinn's loud, pleading cries - a female voice,
straining from exertion and passion, fighting to keep and yet totally out of
control… - "d-do whatever you want to me, anything you want… unnngghhh - AH - Quinn... oh, Quinn… we can
do this forever…"
Helen was stunned into unmoving shock by
the identity of the second voice and the hungry, lustful tone it carried. Her
insides seemed to twist into a tiny ball that punched a hole through her very
soul…
This
is not happening.
"Hhhaaaaahhh… huuughhh… ahhhh… "
The voice broke down into a grunting tremble and dropped off, suddenly drowned
out by a building, frenzied series of gasps and cries that rang down the hall,
along with the squeaking and shaking of a bed-
"OHHHHHHH! OHHHHHHHH!!! OHHHHGODDD! YESSSS!!!
DARIA! AH! AH! AH! AAAAAAHHHH!!!"
“Quinn… hbbfftbtfth! Huhkk… no, no… oh,
God… no…”
No.
No.
Maybe
the one with pigtails and the big eyes that looks like Moonflower, Stacy
something, definitely Sandi Griffin - I could see that she's been holding back
from the first day I saw her look at Quinn oh yeah she WANTS her I remember
that day when I came home instead of staying at the office and they had the
bottle of champagne and I saw the way that they were looking at each other I
KNOW that they probably did something or wanted to and would have if I hadn't
shown up I don't care HOW many boys that Quinn's let paw on her before or since
I'm probably going to see a big shaggy mound of Sandi's brown bed hair sticking
out from under the covers I'm STILL going to scream bloody murder at them go
get a motel room out in the boonies like I did when I was your age it's not as
if you don't have your hand constantly out for money and I understand that kids
experiment and I played kissing games with a couple of girls at that sleepover
in high school things DO get a whole lot hotter than you'd expect and who's
going to tell anyone else besides it was fun I am not going to see - Oh, God…
Seeing two shadowed but familiar female
figures, crying out as they entwined in Quinn's canopy bed, was still the
absolute last thing Helen could have imagined seeing as she peered through the
slightly ajar door to her younger child's room. Her eyes went wide, and Helen
watched through the slim space in stunned disbelief-
This
is a dream, she told
herself as she turned away from the door and leaned heavily against the wall. This is just a absolutely horrible dream -
this is a nightmare, caused by some of that drink-mix that Mook always made when
he wanted to really get just all knocked-out and high. I always knew that I'd
pay… Oh, yeah, you just had to sneak off and party with Mook, when a little
weed and a tab of acid just didn't get the job done, and you really wanted to
see the world-class weird shit that the artists and the real hard-core burners
saw when they toked off the weed sprinkled with Asian powder, or the stuff from
the lab-
No…
it's more like watching tiny little blonde Turner, and Forbes, her redhead
friend from the Pyro sorority, when we went out into the desert to 'commune'
with the so-called 'tribe' that lived just outside town. They were so into each
other, they didn't care when Mook and I crawled into their tent when it started
to rain while they were doing it, or that I just couldn't stop watching while
Mook just slept his high off… they probably didn't even notice me after a
while.
Helen blinked and wiped her eyes, as though
she actually could remove the images from her sight, or sounds made by two
persons who could care less about being caught as they pleasured one another.
Oh,
I knew that would come back to haunt me someday, that weekend out on the beach
in San Francisco, when I smoked, dropped, popped and did everything I could
because they passed it my way… including that girl from Sri Lanka, Padma… God,
she was tall, and her skin was so dark and smooth, and Mook used us both like
chew-toys that Sunday morning…
The cries from the room plateaued, and
then, fell away into a quiet punctuated by low, deep breathing. Obviously, Helen thought, an evil tickle
of humor worming through the state of shock her mind was mired in as she
watched - maybe it was the lawyer in her talking? - they've done this before… they DO seem to be very good at it.
Finally, they've learned to do something together - and apparently, they don't
dislike each other as much as they used to…
"Told you I'd wear you out,"
Quinn’s voice echoed through the dark. "Told you so.”
"Oh, shut up."
A playful giggle. "Don't have to -
you're just a 'cousin.”
An exaggerated sigh of disbelief came from
Daria. "I thought we had finally gotten past that."
"Yeah, we have… but you just should
admit that you can't keep up, even with this hot little bod of yours…yeah,
everything about your body is nice… a little pale, you should get more sun, a
tan never hurt anyone…"
Helen took a deep breath; she turned to the
door ands watched as Quinn ran her hand up Daria's leg and over her thigh.
"Ummmn… a great body,” she continued. “I see why you're the brains in the
family, though - you know that mine is better…"
Daria, smirking as she slowly unmeshed
herself from their tangle, rolled over, pushed Quinn back, and lifted herself
on top of the redhead. "Yeah - but I'm stronger than you."
Quinn looked at her, her eyes dancing.
"So what-?"
"You're too full of yourself, and you
talk too much - but I'll shut you up," Daria exhaled, leaning close and
breathing in Quinn’s scent. "You smell so good, Quinn…"
Helen finally felt the cavernous hole in
reality suck her in, an unending downward fall that she'd never stop by
pretending or even coming to believe that she hadn't seen what was happening
right in front of her…
After a long, smoldering kiss, Daria and
Quinn moved apart. "Daria…" Quinn whispered, lifting her hand and
smoothing back Daria's hair from her face. "Daria, I-"
"Me, too," Daria responded.
"Me, too… I love you so much, Quinn…"
They looked deep into on another's eyes for
a long time. Daria reached for Quinn, wrapping her arms around her neck and
pulling her down on top of her as the two young women shared another deep kiss.
Daria moaned hot and sweet into Quinn’s
mouth, and they reluctantly parted as they both found their breath once again.
"Quinn…" she sighed, tears running down her cheeks as she reached out
a hand and entwined their fingers. "Oh, Quinn, you're amazing… please,
again…"
Quinn smiled her consent, and Daria’s body
began to flutter. She buried her face in the smiley pillow besides her as Quinn
began to make a trail of tiny kisses down the length of her form, and tried to
resist the volcano building within her, knowing that she would lose her fight,
and gladly… Her hands gripped down hard
on the edges of the mattress, aroused past any hope of return.
She felt a current of burning sensation
take control to arch her body until she strained, and the piercing sound that
escaped from Daria without warning - a primal outburst of surprise, pain and
passion unleashed - hit Helen like lightning and brought her immediately back
to the here and now -
Oh,
my God. My God in heaven. My daughters are making love right in front of me.
They're like some sort of animals, just gripping and sucking and screaming to
each other as they fuck like wild beasts out in the woods -
Helen turned and walked away without
looking back.
+++++
"She's really not feeling well, Mr.
Schrecter - maybe now's not a good
time to talk to her-"
"Nonsense! Helen's a PROFESSIONAL. She
knows how to keep her personal and work-lives separated!"
Ignoring Marianne, Eric Schrecter swaggered
up to the inner door of Helen's office and walked in without knocking to see
Helen at the window, turning her head slightly as she saw him enter.
"Hello, Eric," Helen greeted him,
brushing her thoughts to the back of her mind. "What can I do for
you?"
Eric took an unconscious step back. The
Helen Morgendorffer he knew and was comfortable with was never this direct -
unless she had spent the day before polishing and sharpening her knives to
fillet someone in a courtroom or an arbitration meeting.
Maybe
I should start listening to the hired help around here, he thought, barely putting aside the look
of disgust from Marianne as he closed the door behind him…
"There's a couple of things the
partners want me to discuss with you," he said, taking a seat in front of
Helen without asking. "First - the Ceedle situation. The partners want you
to know that you've really kept their collective pasty-white rumps off the
proverbial fire by the way you've handled things. They want to pass along a
united 'Well done' - and they've actually ponied up for a token of their
gratitude."
He took a small white box out of his
jacket, placed it on Helen's desk, and pushed it across with two fingers; as
Helen watched with curiosity, he removed an envelope from his inner pocket and
placed it almost reverently beside the box.
"A REAL token… not just a pen, or a
hundred-dollar bill. What's in the envelope… well, we've a nice company policy
around here. Gifts and tokens of appreciation are fine - but cash inspires
effort like nothing else."
Helen turned, and Eric succeeded in the
greatest feat of self-control he'd ever attempted in his life… to that point.
He managed not to dribble on himself or just stare dumbfounded as she went to
her desk.
Whatever
she was thinking about while she was staring out there, she can think about
THAT anytime she wants as far as I'm concerned, Eric thought as oily fantasies of Helen,
spread-eagled across her desk with her head jerking and hair flailing about as
she screamed for him to keep going, slimed a well-worn path of vileness through
his mind and out through the thin smile that somehow managed to leak out onto
his face. I always did like your choice
in clothes, baby girl - but I'd really love to check out that birthday suit up
close. Excellent front end, and damn, you must be freezing up in here
-! Eric's smile grew a touch wider
as he glanced up again; the proof of Helen's arousal was plainly visible
through the canary-yellow silk blouse she wore…
Helen looked from the box to Eric to the
box, and with a neutral expression that further bothered Eric, opened it and
lifted out the two sets of car keys that rested on a velvet cloth. One had a
tag with a familiar rearing-horse emblem that she couldn't quite place, while she
wasn't familiar with the emblem on the other tag… She looked up, and Eric
smiled and nodded to the window.
"Look at the spaces next to your
car."
Ignoring the clumsy way Eric ran his eyes
over her body and tried to play it off by commenting about a painting next to
her, Helen went back to the window - pulling her jacket from the chair and
slipping it on as she moved - and looked out to the spot he mentioned.
"Not bad, don't you think?" Eric
spoke from behind her. "The partners said 'Pick one. It's yours."
"I didn't do that much," Helen
said, and she was slightly shaken out of her mood by the sight of the two cars
sitting on either side of her Land Rover - a chestnut-brown Bentley convertible
that matched her hair, and a candy-apple-red Ferrari. "That's… that's
quite a thank you."
"No, thank you," Eric said,
leaning back in the chair. "The firm was mentioned barely in passing
during this - unpleasant time. You remembered that you are a representative of
this firm, and cut everybody off who might have tried to use this to his or her
advantage. I understand that Mrs. Griffin's back on the air now?"
"She does the five P.M. broadcast at
KRCM-TV now, and she has a firm eighteen months in that spot," Helen
confirmed. "After that, let the bastards fire her. If they can."
"Now that's the Helen Morgendorffer
that I remember!" Eric chortled, shifting himself as Helen returned to her
seat. "Now, the partners want you to know that even with your excellent
work and ESPECIALLY with the way you handled the past few weeks - there's going
to be a down side."
"You're passing me over for partner in
favor of - whom?"
"No one becomes a partner this
year," Eric said, his voice changing to match the finality of a death
sentence that echoed in Helen's own words. "Not Gant, not Raeder, not
Jonichiwa, not you. No one."
"And you're telling me because
-?"
"Because we don't want you running off
and getting scooped up by some other firm that'll hear about you and offer you
a partnership a year after you come aboard, just because you didn't make
partner this year," Eric informed her with uncommon bluntness. "And
they will come sniffing around town for you-"
Speaking
from experience, she
thought quite loudly. Like you'll ever
see me bent over your desk squealing for your pinky-sized prick like you do
with some of the paralegals, you piece of gift-wrapped shit; if you only KNEW
who’s offered me rank in their firm-
"-So if we don't make a pre-emptive
strike, we'll be out of a valuable and proven asset," Eric said.
"Here's the deal. Your salary just doubled. You now have a second job
title - official spokesperson for the firm. You will handle all media-related
matters, act as the public voice of this firm in press conferences, interviews
and so forth, and you will sit in on all meetings of the partners - official
and unofficial - where you will have a voice but you will not have a
vote. Have your assistant prepare a listing of your clients. You will retain
the most profitable one-third of them - and you will now also begin to receive
a percentage of all business affairs that you are involved in. To that
end, you'll also act as a special liaison to other legal entities, where you'll
act as our voice in the matters of the firm. You will now be involved in the
handling of the affairs of some of our larger accounts - and a number of
clients who, shall we say… appreciate measured discretion in their legal
affairs."
Eric sat up, and fished a cigarette out of
his jacket. "Clients such as Mrs. Johannsen. She was very pleased with
your work, in case no one told you, and enjoyed her Los Angeles vacation very
much. Also, since you'll have many more extended stays in the office, we'll
have someone come in and make that office your assistant's fixed up for you
into a more comfortable living area. I trust you won't mind a satellite TV
linkup and high-speed Internet access - we'll also soundproof the room for you,
and get you a real bed in here. Oh, yes. You will receive a copy of the
'gold-list' Rolodex-"
Helen kept herself from gasping in surprise
as he slid a very familiar set of keys across the desk to her. "-As well
as your own set of keys to the retreat. Enjoy."
Helen looked at the gleaming retreat keys;
she pocketed them, the envelope and the keys to the Bentley. "I need a
company card," she said, holding her hand out as she stood up.
"Of course – the partners thought as
much," Eric said, smiling as he stood and removed two cards from a holder
in his coat - a black American Express card, and a Visa card with a shifting,
colorful, fractal-style hologram on the front - and passed them over to Helen.
"Use them in good health."
Helen looked at the cards, each with her
name on them. American Express Black, and
'Visa Infinite' - that'll do, she thought, looking the two cards over as
she walked around the desk, past Eric, and opened the door to the outer office.
"Marianne, could you come in here, please?"
Marianne stood up and approached the door,
a touch of fear evident on her face. "Y-yes, Mrs. Morgendorffer?"
A look of curiosity went over her face as
Helen moved into her personal space - and pressed the cards into her hands.
"This is what I want you to do," Helen told her, uncaring that Eric
had a look of stunned curiosity on his face. "Go home. Take the next week
off, with pay. Use these to take your family on a trip. Have fun. Make sure
that your kids have fun. Don't think about the expenses, and splurge. Buy gifs
and the extra set of mouse ears if someone wants it. Get the good bottle
of champagne for after the kids go to sleep. If ANYONE gives you even the
slightest bit of static, call my cell number so I can straighten him or her out
immediately. I mean that."
Eric and Marianne had identical looks of
'What the-?' on their faces as Helen went to her closet, took out her winter
coat, and began to put it on. "When you get back from having fun, go and
buy at least eight new outfits and eight new business suits. I don't want to
see you wearing the same outfit twice in a two-week period. Oh, yes. Also get
yourself four new evening gowns. You might end up at some stuffy formal dinner
or ball with me. "
"Mrs. Morgendorffer - are you all
right?" Marianne asked, her voice now shaking, but with concern for her…
something Helen had never heard before. "You're-"
"Making sure my people have the things
they need to perform," Helen interjected. 'Ample resources, positive
motivation, and a boss who gets off their backs and lets them breathe. I've
never told you how lucky I am to have you as an assistant, have I?"
"Mrs. Morgendorffer-"
"Get out of here. Go have some
fun," Helen told her, walking past - and then stopping in the door.
"One more thing. When you get back, call around to the local hunting and
sporting goods stores. Ask around on what a good gun for a lady would be -
comfortable, accurate, easy to learn to shoot, and powerful enough to put
someone down and keep him there." She turned and looked directly at Eric.
"When you get a good answer, go out and buy one."
Marianne drew a thin, mirthless smile down
her face. "Revolver - nine millimeter - Smith and Wesson M940 Centennial
in stainless steel. If you load it with 'Plus-P' rounds… he'll stay down."
Helen gave her a sideways glance. "You
have one?"
Eric's bladder threatened to empty itself
because of the way Marianne barely glanced in his direction. "I have
one."
Helen wrapped her scarf around her throat.
"Have a nice day, Eric.
Eric's face wore the traditional
'dog-watching-'Jeopardy' look reserved for outstanding idiots as Helen
disappeared from the office. He felt the eyes of Marianne upon him, and he
hurriedly made his own exit…
+++++
People got out of Helen's way as she drove
the Bentley home. Quickly.
As she drove, Helen kept coming back to the
images of Quinn and Daria together in the canopy bed. What bothered her most was her reaction.
Not her initial reaction. She was
frightened - no, horrified, and shaken. The shock had finally given way to the
fully opened vault of Helen's tightly leashed emotions and fears, and they
spilled out freely…
They're
sisters! This isn't 'Flowers In The Attic'! How could they DO that?
It made her angry, and it frustrated the
hell out of her. What the hell happened
that could have caused them to even think that - to think that way about each
other, let alone actually do anything, to even consider… oh, God, they've been
doing it for a while, because you DON'T have sex anything even CLOSE to the way
they were going at it like they were the first time you make it with someone, I
don't care what's in the books or on the porno tapes or the Spice Channel, even
though the second or third time you might IF you're both paying attention and
you both like to screw and take whatever you're getting, use it the way YOU
like it and you're selfish as hell about getting your orgasm - they've been
sleeping together for a while! They've been doing it right under my nose! How
could I have missed that?
Daria's
been dating - from what I've been seeing, she's been going through the young
men like popcorn, and Kay Sloane HATES her for screwing her son right in their
front room and NOT being embarrassed about being caught - thank GOD I hadn't
decided yet how to talk to her about THAT - would they have had acted like that
if I HAD burst in on them in Quinn's bedroom?
How could I NOT know that my children are screwing each other hard like
they were - are - and who the hell ELSE are they doing it with? Daria's friend
- Jane Lane - are they bouncing around with her - and if they are, which one?
Both of them - no, it can't be that bad - oh, hell, like that could make this
any worse if they're both sleeping with her, or if they're all doing it
together? What in the name of God made this happen? What the hell kind of
horrible parent am I?
More than anything else, the reactions
Helen had to what she saw that Friday night confused her, because she didn't
run from speaking her mind in any situation, no matter who would get hurt in
the result.
But
you ARE concerned - because as soon as it gets out, and stuff like this ALWAYS
gets out… well, eight out of ten times, and only when EVERYBODY concerned has
something equally bad to lose…
Oh,
and Helen. Let's be honest - that's not what's REALLY bothering you, is it? No…
you're annoyed because it brings back some GOOOOOOOD memories, doesn't it?
Makes you remember when Jake would, ah, 'help you with your stress relief'… and
until the two of you moved into that little dump in Highland, how he could help
you at least three or four times a night… and he had absolutely NO
problems with keeping the honor of the Morgendorffers held high… but every now
and then, you DID stray… well, back before you two made it legal…
I
wasn't going to be one of those girls who wasn't sure where her babies came
from - saw far too much of that, and could you just imagine if I had slipped
out on Jake, and Daria found out that she WASN'T his? I certainly didn't need a
drama like THAT playing out - even the suggestion of that would drive Daria
over the edge - so I got the ring, the paper and kept it to one bed and one man
only… I did the right thing, but sometimes, I'm get - I want - I get just so…
Did
it make you horny, Helen? Did watching them make you want to - shag?
I
was thinking lonely.
Shut
up.
You
shut up.
Then
start being honest. You're so damned stereotypically British sometimes! Let's
keep it all proud and dignified and on the up-and-up, but when doors close and
your clothes hit the floor, you'd shock Caligula with what you'll do! Just say
that you're horny, Helen. Just say that you miss having someone in your bed. A
couple of someones. Some accessories. Snacks.
Just
say that you miss being in the one place where the rules don't apply, and where
it's all right to lose your mind.
Just
say that you miss being able to go off somewhere and fuck like nothing else
matters.
I
hate you.
Well…
it's a place to start.
Helen, as much as she was loath to finally
admit it to herself, realized that the sight of her daughters making love had
aroused her. Very aroused.
It
must be simply because I haven't had sex - good sex - in a long while, she thought. The last time Jake and I were together was… God, it’s been months, I
can’t even recall, and the only thing I can say about that was, well, at
least he got something out of it – while it lasted. It must be because I've
been sublimating it with work ever since, and then, with Jake's legal matters.
It's not the girl-on-girl thing - I've seen women make love before… Yes, he
knew about Erica, and yes, he didn't lose it over my - my relationship with
her, but I'm just so glad Jake didn't find out about some of the other stuff I
did before he arrived at Middleton - or after. I'm glad he didn't know, on the
trip we took to visit Willow's folks during Spring Break, how on the last night
we were there, Willow and I went down to cool off in that little swimming hole
and one thing led to another… I'm so glad that he never found out that on the
graduation gift-trip to Europe Mom gave me, Turner and Forbes tagged along…
While he was struggling that summer to finish up his STUPID senior thesis
project in marketing, we spent a month doing things that would make Hugh Hefner
go blind! I still don't know if we'll ever be able to set foot in Dijon
ever again, with all the seniors we made it with at that prep school… well,
there were only thirty or so in the graduating class, and they learned SO fast
- Hey, a bet's a bet.
Helen's mind cleared for a moment as she
thought about Forbes Carlyle and Paige Turner, now a wealthy international
antiques broker and a Federal appellate judge, and still together in an
ultra-wealthy suburb of Denver. Paige Turner - they made it a play-on-words
because of her love of reading; she went everywhere with a book in hand,
turning pages and not watching where she was going… Helen smiled at the thought
of the way Paige strode at high speed across campus with everyone getting out
of her way, and how she met Forbes - she walked right over her as she read
'Advise and Consent', while Forbes was getting some sun on the quad with some
of her sorority sisters. It always made the others in the movement laugh that
Paige - ‘Serenity’ to them – had gone
from being one of the most fiery, outspoken members against ‘the Establishment’
to a woman deeply, completely in love with the tall redhead who all but
breathed ‘upper class’. Even so, no one
ever made a single comment about how she introduced herself as ‘Paige’,
barely referred to herself as ‘Serenity’ ever again, and accepted the diamond
necklace and designer dress Forbes got her for Christmas with tears in her
eyes…
Well
- that's what love does to people. God, I miss those two - total nut boxes,
both of them, but life around them was never boring… I miss all of the things
we did -
Not THAT. Well, I don't miss that
- well, not that so much - but the way we could just talk and hang out and be
together as just friends; I'd probably still be friends with them, if Jake
hadn't been so intimidated by them. It's not that they're lesbians as much as
they were soul mates that made him hinky around them, because they didn't see
anything wrong about themselves and didn't hear anything anyone had to say,
either. He was just jealous because they were able to face things about
themselves and get on with their lives.
The
fact that the Carlyles have more money than most countries shut mouths, too. I
loved watching the look Forbes would get when someone who'd run their mouth too
much found out that she was Spaulding Carlyle's youngest child and only
daughter… and Jake was too proud - too stupid! - to accept her offer to
work for her father as a floor-level marketing rep. 'I've gotta do it on my
own!' Moron - it's called 'networking'… 'making contacts'… 'having an actual
head for business…'
I
miss Turner and Forbes. I miss having real friends… I miss being able to just talk
about little nothings, just being friendly, without having to worry about
business, or the person talking to me sizing me up as competition, an
information source, a possible lay, or as someone not worth being bothered
with, unless they want to prove something. I can’t even remember the last time
I enjoyed just a simple conversation with someone – or the last time I had one.
I miss being frivolous – or at least having those moments – why the hell DON’T
I do that anymore? I had other interests – I liked other things – why is my
life only the law, Jake and my daughters? Where are my hobbies? I’m not saying
that there’s anything wrong about that – my family is important to me – but
somewhere along the line, I stopped doing things that were just for me… that I
did just because I liked it.
Besides
sex.
And
I don’t even do that anymore.
Where
the hell did my life go…?
The scenery started to move past at an
uncomfortable rate as Helen's thoughts turned back to her own youthful
escapades…
More
than anything else, I am glad that he NEVER found out about Moonflower. God -
she looked so much like Quinn's friend, the one with pigtails and no
backbone…
I
still remember Moonflower like it was yesterday - the weird clothes she showed
up in, the strange perfume she wore, but it did smell nice, and that storm that
hit the night she showed up - I still remember it, it was the worst storm that
part of the country's ever seen, and two days before the Fourth… She was so
smart – she made that professor in astrophysics look like he wanted to cry
after she embarrassed him in front of those co-eds of his that he was trying to
impress… How shy she was, at first, and after it was over, how I lay there in
the grass and she lifted her head into the light of the full moon, and it was
like she had a halo of her very own…
In
a way, I’m glad that she just disappeared a few days later. We were only
together once – I only knew her for seven days – but I’d have done anything
she’d asked. I love Jake, and I wouldn’t give up my girls for anything – my
God, I never even knew Moonflower’s real name! - but I’d have followed her
anywhere.
If
she had asked.
If,
when she walked off through those trees, she had looked back even once at me…
She stopped – she trembled, she took that deep breath, as if she was steadying
her resolve, I’ll always remember the way that huge braid she wore her hair in
bobbed about when she did – but she didn’t look back.
Thank
you, Moonflower.
A thin smile traced across Helen’s face for
an instant.
My
God, but her legs were so long, and the way she could bend herself,
you'd think that she DIDN'T have a backbone – Quinn's like that, although
Daria's got some hips that can move like I've never seen! And that kiss-! Oh,
it's been so long since I've felt a mouth on me like that or had a French kiss
that hot - Daria really loves using her tongue, and I bet she really knows how
to use it - Moonflower could untangle a ball of yarn with hers - I bet that if
I'd stayed longer, I'd have found out. By watching. Nothing else. God, how
could you even insinuate anything else? They're my daughters - my children - my
babies! They need help! But Quinn was really enjoying herself - they both were
- and the way Quinn could wrap those legs around Daria… but the way they were
just grinding down on each other, and Daria's like a machine in the sack…
That's interesting, that Quinn's a screamer and Daria's a breather - oh, God,
just thinking about the way they were screaming makes me feel so, so… I wonder
how good it feels -
It's
been so long since someone's touched me, and it actually made me want to just
let go… but I can't, because someone has to be the grown-up around here… it's
always been like that… Always having to be the mature one… the grown-up… the
mommy… making sure that everybody walks the straight and narrow, that they're presentable
- that they're everything I used to hate before I realized just how the world
really does work… that someone can do what it takes just to pay the bills… Even
in school, I was the one to be adult about things, and tell everyone when
things were going too far.
I'm
tired of being the one who carries the rulebook around. I'm tired of being the
only one who actually cares what happens the next morning, after you get up and
have to be a 'exemplary student', and then, a 'good, hard-working, God-fearing,
law-abiding member of society' - after all, even if you play along with the
game, and you actually DO get things, nobody ever gets exactly what they want…
and I want… I want-
Why
can't I be the one to break the rules, to be just bad, to be dirty, to cut
loose and not even care - just once, why can't I let go, and be damned what
happens -
And Helen's mind slipped away, into dark,
unfettered fantasy…
+++++
In
her mind's eye, Helen saw herself lying nude in a soft bed... Daria lifted her
head to look at her with those large, dark eyes, and Helen leaned forward for a
kiss, her mouth opening wide to groan pleasure into Daria as she let their
tongues entangle… She ran her hands across Daria's shoulders, grasping and
teasing; she suddenly fell into fingers and currents of warmth that seemed to
enshroud her, stroking her and touching her in every way that she loved,
beckoning her to fall deeper into it… As she fell freely through the warmth,
there was a sharp, primitive, liberating sound that came pulsing from nowhere
and started to resolve all around her; as the sound began to build, she felt it
rolling through her, not in sharp, clawing, consuming sensations, but as a
building whisper of air that made every nerve within her body dance, a pillow
holding her aloft, a cloak that enveloped her, and it seemed to carry all she
was forward, ever forward, making her feel soft, and good, and alive, and free
as it reached a single, wondrous point of light that seemed to merge with and
expand within her until she was the light, willingly becoming and
flowing outward like the first point of Creation itself …
Helen
realized that she had just climaxed.
A parade of screeching tires just behind
her made Helen suddenly realize that she'd blown through her third red light -
at 96 mph…
I
don't even know where that came from - pun certainly intended. My God - I need
some help. Something - EVERYTHING - is wrong with me. How could I even create
thoughts like that in my head, let allow myself to react like that to them?
Thinking of bedding Daria, and it actually made me - I need professional help.
Fast.
But
where can I go? Who can I talk to - who can I trust to help me?
Oh,
God… I don't know…
+++++
Why
is she doing this? What's happened between us that makes her think that there's
something that she can't come to me with?
Jane Lane was, at the moment, a very
confused young woman.
That was what really bothered her - the way
Daria had basically removed her from her life. Sure, they were friends… well,
maybe associates, now. Not even that, if you think about it – well, from the
way Daria was acting. It was strange – no, it was scary – ‘Stepford Wives’-
scary. Daria had all but stopped coming around, refused to allow Jane to come
over to the Morgendorffer house - and when she saw Daria for the first time
after Jake's breakdown, three weeks later, Jane honestly didn't recognize her
at first.
Damn
- 'Dress-up Daria', with goofy college boy action figure and 'cool car' vehicle
set. What the hell happened? What the hell happened to YOU?
She tried to talk with Daria and tried to
get in touch with Helen (she was working the Ceedle whitewash and didn't even
return her calls), but this went nowhere FAST.
The teachers at LHS had differing reactions. Mr. O'Neill was practically walking on air whenever Daria was around, and Ms. Barch became even more vindictive and mean-spirited, as though she felt betrayed. Mr. DeMartino, generally considered the most levelheaded of the teachers, spoke and reacted no differently to Daria - but when Jane spoke to him