Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: The Academy
Part: 17 of 88
Universe: The Swarm Cycle
Summary: The Governor of the colony of Nuevo Angelino recognizes that the ad-
hoc educational system in use in his colony isn't producing sponsors -- so he
sends a team to Earth to collect some professional educators with a
Confederacy perspective.  This results in a new and unusual kind of pickup...

Keywords: MF MFF FF M+F mf mF exhib humil inc ir group oral anal toys Mdom
Fdom

The Academy

Chapter 17

Jack:

	Oliver eyed me and asked, "So -- dinner?  It's getting late..."

	I glanced at my watch; it was after eight-thirty.  "I was hoping to
go out -- but I was ALSO hoping to hit another store, first.  Frieda has
nothing to wear.  How fast can you ladies duplicate the things you bought
yesterday in her size?  Is there any chance we can get to the store in time?"

	Vera frowned.  "We shopped at three different stores, and made
purchases at two.  We might convince the owners of one to stay open...  Which
outfit were you thinking of, if you had to settle?"

	I thought about it.  "The babydolls are nice, but what did you plan
to wear with that translucent drape thing you stuck on Frieda?"

	Vera looked at me, her head cocked.  "The chemise?  Well, the
babydoll, primarily, but we got a little black wisp of a thong and a naughty
black push-up bra with open nipples, actually -- and a bustier..."

	I thought about it.  "Bustier?  How is that cut?"

	Vera eyed me.  "Also for bedroom wear.  Beth seems to think you like
nipples."

	I nodded, shrugging.  "Beth is correct.  How much of this did you get
at one place?"

	Vera shifted her glance to Beth.  "Didn't we get the chemise and the
bustier at the same place, Dear?"

	Beth frowned, thinking about it, then nodded.  "Yes, Momma."

	I turned to Beth.  "Go get into it.  Hurry!  I need to see it and
there is no time!"

	"Yes, Jack!"  Beth took off at a dead run.

	"Would you care to enlighten me?" Oliver asked.

	I shrugged.  "By Saturday, we'll be somewhere that nudity in a
concubine is accepted and virtually nothing is truly shocking behavior.  I
thought it might be nice if we had a little fun..."

	Oliver nodded.  "Hmmm.  Yes..."  He looked up, "By the way, both of
my other daughters and my pick for my second concubine will be at dinner here
tomorrow night.  The married one may appear with her husband."

	I nodded.  "The plan being to keep them here overnight and bring them
to the school with you on Saturday, I presume?"

	Oliver nodded.  "One has sponsor-class scores, but the other is
married and neither of them is sponsor-class.  I'm hoping we can avoid
dealing with the husband.  Judith has hinted that the honeymoon is over
between them."

	I nodded.  "The worst case scenario would entail me incapacitating
him.  Or he can come with his wife on Saturday and fend for himself.
Frankly, we'll probably be shipping everyone in sight and sorting them out in
orbit.  This is a bulk transport thing and we're not playing by the usual
rules."

	Oliver nodded.  "Whatever it takes, then.  Frankly, I'm surprised you
aren't emptying out the Foundation -- we're doing research on Sa'arm
communication."

	<Stand by...>  The AI went into overdrive for a second, then came
back with <Dr. Hopkins is employed by the Brinkman Foundation, which is
associated with the local University and is, indeed, doing research on Sa'arm
communication.  Thus far, there has been no indication that the Sa'arm use
anything but spread-spectrum radio for telemetry -- not communication -- and
it is generally assumed that they employ it by rote when building equipment
without any grasp of how to utilize it for actual communication.  The
Brinkman Foundation is working to confirm or deny this theory and consult on
jamming techniques and the possible consequences to Sa'arm equipment using
the technology.>  After a second pause, the AI continued, <There are twenty-
nine employees.  Fleet recommends evacuation, based upon the available
resources.  Resources for creating a suitable facility will be diverted by
the Department of the Navy and the Foundation's human resources will be
seconded to the Navy.  Major Howard will direct the extraction; the Marine
contingent on standby will conduct it.  Where possible, data, notes, and
records will be extracted.  To keep from providing a possible warning of the
Academy extraction, the exercise will begin as close to close of business
tomorrow as possible.>

	"Jack?"  Oliver was eyeing me oddly.

	"Sorry," I replied.  "You started something."

	"I did?"

	"The Brinkman Foundation will be extracted tomorrow evening," I told
him, "Lock, stock, and barrel.  Given that we already have plans, you'll join
them in orbit.  Welcome to the Navy, Doctor."

	<Major Howard wishes to dine with yourself and Dr. Hopkins,> the AI
lit me up.

	"How long?"

	<Current planning has been integrated.  The Major is currently in the
early stages of briefing the warning order to the Marine contingent.
Rendezvous at twenty-one thirty hundred hours local at a target location
selected by you.>

	I frowned, but it was not yet nine...  Beth was dashing down the
stairs in a lacy black getup under the transparent cover garment at a rate
that would cause her to fall down them if she tripped.  I took one look;
yeah, perfect.  "This works.  You got this all one place?"

	"Everything but the thong."

	"Take it off," I directed.

	Beth didn't blink as she did it; she turned to her mother, "It was
Salome's, Momma."

	Vera looked from Beth to me to Oliver.  "I'll get on the phone."

	"Promise them a large sale," I told her, then turned to Beth.  "Get
your mother's copy -- she can put it on in the car.  Doctor, my boss wants to
meet you and pick your brain over the Brinkman Foundation pickup."

	"Very well."  Oliver nodded and stood.

	This was going to screw up my evening, unless...  "Doctor, do you
like barbeque?"

	"Yes, I do, in fact."

	The AI was ahead of me.  <Major Howard enjoys barbeque -- and a local
variant of beer.  He has indicated that he might enjoy both -- and that you
are the only one of the team getting sexed regularly.>

	'We can fix that,' I thought back.  'Rendezvous will be at Ray's.'

	<Agreed.>

	Vera looked up.  "Jolene will wait for us."

	"Shall we, then?"  I snagged the collars and other paraphernalia,
shoving it back into the bag.  "We'll take my car.  Frieda, you can go naked,
for now."  Oliver didn't give me any trouble; he let me run things.
Fortunately, the rental seated five comfortably.  Beth rode up front with me,
and Vera sat between Oliver and Frieda and navigated from the back seat.  We
were at Salome's with fifteen minutes to spare.

	Getting out was a different matter entirely.  Jolene, the
proprietress of Salome's, was tickled pink to see two women in her lingerie
and a third totally nude except for a dog collar come walking through the
door.  I'd had my girls go with the studded collars to match Vera, which
meant outfits had to be able to use them as an accessory -- which wasn't THAT
big of a limitation.  Frieda was quickly outfitted, but I'd promised a big
sale and the women had been frugal the previous day.  I pulled Beth and
Frieda aside and said, "Remember Tara, the waitress?  Think you can guess her
size?"

	Beth nodded tentatively and Frieda carped, "Goin' black, Jack?"

	I nodded.  "Yeah, if she's there, I think so.  It'll give us an
experienced set of hands with the kids."  I turned to Beth, "You're still
Mama -- I just want you to have backup."  Beth nodded, head down, so I added,
"Trust me, she'll defer to you."

	Frieda cackled.  "Don't worry, Sweetie -- Tara LIKES it on the
bottom!"

	"Go -- hurry!"  I shooed them at the racks.  "Twenty minutes, max!"

	They took every second of it.  I had them pull kits for Dottie and
Tina, too, by getting measurements from the AI and giving them to Jolene.
Once that tactic suggested itself, we went back over items picked out for
Tara and made a couple of adjustments.

	While the women were plying the racks, Jolene came over and asked,
"What's going on?  Is there a fetish event going on I don't know about?"

	"It's a party, I guess..."  Making a split-second decision, I whipped
out the hypnotizer, which I'd been carrying with me for emergencies.  "Ever
seen one of these?"  I let the AI impart the usual injunctions, then followed
up with, "If you go to the Seifort Academy Saturday morning after ten, you
will be picked up.  Clearly, you can't tell anyone, but anyone you drag in
with you can go also."

	"Anyone?"

	"Anyone.  However, if we find out that whoever you bring in is
totally unsuitable for some reason, they likely won't survive the day.
Criminals and such wouldn't be a good pool to pick from."

	Jolene winced.  "Drug users?"

	"They'll get cured, all things being equal.  But underlying emotional
or psychological issues that might make them asocial could be a problem."

	<Jolene Wells has a sister addicted to pain-killers -- and willing to
prostitute herself for her supply.> the AI alerted me.

	Meanwhile, Jolene absorbed my comment.  "Thank you.  Take what you
want."

	"Take the money," I advised her.  "You might decide to stay."

	<The sister, once purged, will make a good heavy use concubine.  It
will take several months for the drugs to fully exit her body and make child-
bearing riskless for the child, but she is assumed to be addicted to sex as
well and would make an excellent camp follower for a deployed Marine unit
until she is fully purged.>

	I smiled at Jolene.  "Then again, you might not.  Purely medical
problems are resolvable, for instance."

	Jolene smiled back and then turned away at Vera's call.  I asked the
AI, 'Can't you just flush her?'

	<Such things insert themselves deep into the metabolism.  A simple
wash with counteracting agents is not enough.  The hair, for instance, can
provide data about drug use going back for however long it took to grow.  The
subject is rapidly cured, but the effects linger and must be rooted out
molecule by molecule.  It has been observed that the psychological issues
remain, also -- even if instantly cured, the subject tends not to believe
they are cured.  The subject must earn the cure, usually through a certain
amount of pain and suffering, before sufficient belief develops that a cure
has been accomplished.  Smokers tend to take something on the order of two
weeks for the psychological adjustment, while actual physical repairs to the
body may take three times as long.  While a drug abuser may be ninety-eight
percent purged of their chemical dependency in forty-eight hours, the
remaining two percent, the repairs of damage to the body and the
psychological adjustment tend to take ninety days.  Bernice Wells Farris
possesses an addictive personality, which makes things more difficult.  It is
likely that her energies are best channeled toward sexual addiction and
throttled back from there.>

	'So you have a prediction?'

	<She will be physically and mentally prepared for pregnancy in nine
months, plus or minus ten percent.  By that time, properly placed, she will
have overdosed on sex and will be ready for a more sedentary existence and a
more or less monogamous relationship.>

	I glanced at my watch.  "Ladies!  NOW!"

	Five minutes later, the women were shoving bags in the trunk of the
car and Jolene was locking up.  My parting shot for Jolene was, "It's worth
the trip."

	As we pulled away, Frieda navigating and all three concubines
identically attired, Oliver commented, "That was fun..."

	Vera eyed him.  "Did you see enough naked women?  One of them is your
daughter..."

	"I'm aware of that..."  Oliver was embarrassed, but...

	"And he's male," I interjected.  "I mentioned this before, but let me
reiterate it.  There is no incest taboo in the Confederacy.  While the
dangers of ongoing, multi-generational inbreeding are real, any livestock
breeder will tell you that the first couple of times recessive genes are
seldom an issue.  In any case, Confederacy medical technology can detect and
deal with any issue.  There are sponsors out there having children with their
daughters, their granddaughters, their mothers and their grandmothers, having
made the commitment to do what was necessary to take their loved ones with
them.  Very seldom do such matings break up, because there is love there in
the first place.  And a sex act that does not result in pregnancy isn't
likely to justify any excitement on those grounds anyway, is it?"

	"It isn't?" Vera frowned.

	"No.  The scientific basis for the moral injunction not to have sex
with a close relative is based upon the issue.  If there is no issue, it's
just sex," I insisted.  "The moral imperative was put into place based upon
observation before there was science -- and the idea was that it was a
slippery slope down which one could easily slide when there was no birth
control, so it was best not to go there.  But now we HAVE birth control and
genetic damage is no longer an issue.  That's why I told you both this
morning that Oliver had the option of taking his daughter -- Judith? -- as a
concubine.  Sure, by the old definition, it's incest -- but we have no laws
prohibiting it and we have regular practitioners who face no stigma because
of it and it is scientifically no longer an issue."  I looked up in the
mirror and met Vera's eyes, "So if Oliver really wants to have sex with Beth,
I might decide to let him."  There were at least two gasps -- one from Beth
and one from Vera -- and maybe three, if Oliver contributed.

	It was Vera who said, "B--but..."  She went no farther because I'd
placed a riding crop along the console earlier and when she started to
object, I picked it up and slapped Beth's seat with it, missing her but
startling just about everyone in the vehicle.

	"New rules, remember?" I said brightly.

	Frieda took the opportunity to chide the others, "Girls, girls --
you're thinking again..."

	I looked up in the rearview.  "One day, Frieda, I will catch you with
YOUR panties in a twist..."

	"And when you do, Master, I'll gladly bend over and let you use that
thing on me for being an idiot," Frieda replied, "but in the meantime..."
She leaned up between the seats and teased Beth, "Come on, Sweetie, don't
tell me you haven't thought about giving Daddy a little ride...  I sure
would!"

	Beth said nothing, but the look on her face as she looked at me said,
'Are you serious?  Or are you teasing?'

	"No, I'm not funning you," I told her.  "Teenage boys spread their
mothers at pickups all the time -- and they generally keep them.  Fathers and
daughters do it, too.  And early on, shame tends to make the women more
tractable than ex-wives..." I eyed Vera through the rearview, "but they get
over it, by and large, when no one stigmatizes them over it.  Incest happens
a lot more often than anyone wants to admit, anyway -- it's just kept a
secret.  Just about every young boy fantasizes about climbing between his
mother's legs -- it's sex with a loved one, someone very familiar.  I'd be
willing to bet that it occurs in young girls' masturbatory fantasies, too,
for the same reason."  Beth was blushing.  "And when EVERYBODY thinks about
it, you can be certain that SOME actually DO it..."

	"You mean Travis..." Vera croaked.

	"Undoubtedly," I replied blandly.  I looked at Oliver in the
rearview.  "I bet she's wet."  Oliver chuckled.

	"Ray's is on the left," Frieda announced.

                       ----------------------------------

	None of the women said anything about getting leashed and heading for
the bar entrance pantyless in lacy bustiers and transparent chemises --
probably because I was playing with the riding crop.  We'd picked up heels in
Salome's, too -- not 'fuck me' shoes, but regular black three-inch heels.
None of them was walking well, but they did nice things for their legs.  As
we approached the door, I said, "Vera, the other girls know that racy stuff
goes on here regularly, so there is no cause for undue excitement.  We're
going straight back to the back; Beth and Frieda know where."

	The bouncer was on; he took one look at the girls, a second at me,
and waved us all in with an explosive grunt.  "Troy and Tony?" I asked him.

	"Nah."

	We went straight back under Jock the bartender's watchful eye.  We
pushed all three of the tables together.  I sat on the bench at the table on
the left, and Oliver sat on the right with Beth between us and Vera in the
chair at Oliver's right and Frieda in the chair on my left.   Tara surfaced,
recognized us, and asked, "Are you all gonna be regulars?"

	I smiled back and said, "I'm afraid not, Honey.  This is likely to be
our last visit."

	Tara looked us all over again.  "Too bad..."

	"Come visit when you bring back the drink orders," I told her.
"We're eating, too."  I ordered a beer for myself and a different brand for
the Major, who hadn't arrived quite yet.  All three of our concubines ordered
margaritas and Oliver ordered red wine.

	"This isn't so bad," Vera muttered, obviously plucking herself up.

	"As long as you don't have to go under the table," I murmured,
grinning.

	Beth, sensing an opportunity, came to her mother's rescue.  "That's
not so bad, either, actually."

	"It's fun watching the guys at the bar drool, too," Frieda chimed in.
Vera shook her head, but she was smiling.

	In a bit, Tara was back with the drink tray.  "You're expecting
someone else?" she asked as the extra beer surfaced.

	"At least one," I agreed.

	"I'll get the silverware and stuff."  Tara swayed off.

	"She wants you, Master," Frieda muttered.  "They don't shake it like
that for nothing."

	"Well, she does or she doesn't," I replied.  "I'm not dragging her
out kicking and screaming."

	"You won't have to," Fried opined.  "Just put her collar on the
table."

	"That's an idea," I mused.  Tossing Frieda the car keys, I said, "Go
get it.  Get her whole matching rig.  Bring it back in a bag.  Don't get lost
now!"

	"If something happens to cause that, I'LL be kicking and screaming!"
Frieda giggled, then swept out, deliberately wiggling her ass at the patrons
at the bar.

	Tara came back and passed out menus and then started laying out paper
placemats and silverware.  "Where did she go?"

	"Frieda?  Out to the car.  She'll be right back.  I hope there are
still ribs back there -- I promised a guy some," I told her.

	"We got plenty," Tara assured me.  "Thursdays are quieter than
Fridays, but things start warming up.  We keep a few racks for bar appetizers
after the restaurant closes -- and it isn't closed quite yet."  She finished
up her current armload and headed off for a second.  I started eyeballing the
menu.

	Frieda came back a moment later and settled into her chair as Tara
returned and resumed laying out silverware.

	"I've never been here," Oliver commented.

	"The girls used to come here and hang out regularly -- didn't you,
girls?" I asked innocently.

	Frieda took the hit.  "A couple of times a week," she admitted.

	Oliver looked around.  "The place looks a little... rough...  Weren't
you worried that you wouldn't be safe?"  At least a couple of the bar patrons
were watching us avidly.

	Frieda didn't reply; she started adjusting her paper placemat, as if
its alignment was critical to the meal.  "Frieda..." I chided.

	Without looking up, Frieda murmured, "We didn't come here to be safe,
Mr. H -- or, at least, I didn't.  Not being safe was part of the draw, if you
know what I mean."

	Oliver looked at Frieda and then at me.  I said gently, "Male
attention wasn't something either of them was getting, so they were taking a
small boat out in deep water to try to find something that might bite.  If it
pulled them out of the boat, Frieda, at least, was willing to deal with the
consequences."

	"I was, too," Beth admitted in a small voice.  "I wasn't as brave as
Frieda, maybe, but you don't say the stuff we said to some of the guys unless
you're prepared to handle what might happen -- or think you are, at least..."

	I wasn't surprised; Vera wasn't, either, from the expression on her
face. Apparently she more or less expected something similar -- maybe even
remembered doing something like it herself.  But Oliver looked surprised.
"Why?"

	Beth waved her hands in frustration, "Look at me, Daddy!  Lithten to
me thpeak!  Do I have to draw a map?"

	Oliver shrugged.  "It appears to me that you've succeeded in
collecting male attention without going that far, Dear."

	I grinned at Beth.  "You're Daddy's Little Girl in any case.  That
makes two of us who accept you for what you are."

	"Troy and Tony would have had fun with you once, Honey," Tara
interjected, "then they would have ignored you -- or worse.  They aren't the
relationship type.  You'd have probably ended up fucking Jock and some of the
regulars, too."

	"I knew that," Frieda muttered.

	"I guess I did, too.  It... didn't matter."  Beth couldn't look at
her father.

	"Sit, Tara," I invited.  "Our other guest hasn't come in."  I dug out
the hypnotizer.  "Ever seen one of these?"

	Frieda gave a snort, but that didn't keep Tara from examining the
screen long enough to get sucked in.  As Tara froze, absorbed, Frieda gave a
gasp.  "What's happening?"

	"It hypnotizes the subject," I explained, "and it implants some
suggestions inhibiting them from discussing what they know about current
activity."

	"You mean like us being concubines?" Frieda asked.  "Or the school
thing?"

	"Yes."

	"I'm talking about it..."

	"To us -- who all KNOW about it," I pointed out.  "Did you try to
mention it to anyone else?"

	"No."

	I just smiled.

	The Major arrived at that point; he discovered us pretty quickly upon
entering the bar and came back to us with raised eyebrows.  "Not exactly
invisible, are you, Lieutenant?"

	"Sir, this is light entertainment for this place," I replied.  "If it
wasn't, we wouldn't be here."

	Major Howard grunted and turned to Oliver, sticking out his hand.
"Doctor Hopkins?  Earl Howard, Lieutenant Governor of Nuevo Angelino, and
leader of this little expedition."  Oliver stood to take his hand and he
settled into the chair opposite Oliver after a glance at Tara and the
hypnotizer.  "When Lieutenant Harper reported that he'd discovered a link to
the Brinkman Foundation it generated a minor flap that added to my
responsibilities, but we're pleased with the results.  I think you will be,
too."

	"How so?" Oliver asked.

	"We plan to extract the Brinkman Foundation tomorrow afternoon --
unless you can think of a good reason why we should not?"

	Oliver nodded.  "Jack said so, earlier.  I'm sure a number of us will
be extremely happy.  I was somewhat saddened to think that I was abandoning
them and only managing to take one other with me.  Do you plan to warn them
at all?  The Foundation has a telephone tree -- a recall roster that will
allow them to pull in families and pre-packs.  It's text messaging, mostly,
with voice backups."

	The Major rubbed his face.  "Really?"  He glanced at the beer in
front of his seat...

	"It's yours, Sir.  I ordered what the AI said you preferred," I told
him.

	"Thanks."  The Major tipped up the glass.  After a long pull, he
asked Oliver, "Have you ever exercised it?"

	Oliver nodded.  "Three times.  We got ninety-eight percent in
something under an hour."

	"How long will it take to collect all pertinent records, if I have a
squad of ten Marines available to shove the stuff through a transporter?"

	"We have numbers on that, too -- the Director is a thorough man,"
Oliver smiled.  "If we just take the servers, ninety minutes."

	"They're crap compared to what you'll get on the far end," the Major
pointed out.

	"But they're storage," Oliver argued.  "If we shut them down and
evacuate them, we can move them more quickly than any backup procedure we
could put in place.  We can extract the data to new machines on the far end."

	"Right."  The Major nodded.  "Heavy equipment?"

	Oliver shook his head.  "Nothing I can think of.  Will you be able to
evacuate the support staff?"

	"Everyone," the Major agreed.  "There are twenty-nine of you,
correct?"

	"Yes."

	"Fine."  The Major looked at me, then back at Oliver.  "You were
going in any case, correct?  Did you have plans?"

	"As it happens, I was gathering my family tomorrow night..."

	"We can work around that.  Excuse me for a moment."  The Major sat
apparently sipping his beer, but the look on his face (and my implant) told
me he was busy.  "How many dependents?"

	"Thirty one, including pre-packs," Oliver replied.

	There was another momentary delay.  "I'll go in at three-thirty.  If
they make it by five, we'll take them -- as many as forty-five," the Major
announced.  "That way, if some opportunity to collect a loved one occurs, it
can be dealt with.  We're not doing things the usual way; I'm sure Lieutenant
Harper has explained that to you.  We'll be sorting things out in orbit, and
the usual limitations don't apply because we have a huge vessel at our
disposal and the colony is already up and running and prepared for a growth
spurt.  We'll sort everyone out in orbit."  He eyed Oliver, "I hope that the
need for secrecy has been impressed upon everyone; Saturday's operation could
become a bloodbath if Earth First gets wind of it."

	"This has all been gone over several times with the adults, and we
did what we could for the children, but the assumption was that they would
get no opportunity to leak much should an actual pickup occur," Oliver
replied.

	The Major nodded.  "We'll just go with what we have.  I'm assuming
that at least you don't have any declared Earth First sympathizers?"

	"That's correct," Oliver agreed.  "They'd have never been hired..."

	Tara picked that moment to come back from hypnosis.  "What does it
do?" she asked.  Frieda and Beth both snorted.

	"It's already done everything it's going to," I chuckled.  Meanwhile
Tara eyed the man who had appeared out of thin air on her left suspiciously.

	"Could I get another beer?" the Major asked.

	"Sure..." Tara stood, bemused.  "Anyone else?"  We all placed orders.
"I'll be back to get food orders..."  She wandered off.

	The Major turned back to Oliver and resumed the conversation, "Good.
One less problem.  Who would notice if you locked your doors on a Friday
afternoon?  Before Monday, I mean?"

	Oliver shook his head.  "Should be no one, if the staff is all in."

	"There will still probably be a leak of some type among the
dependents -- but if they're gone..." the Major mused.

	"Yes..."

	Things were quiet until Tara came back with her drink tray and pad.
I again invited her to return once the food orders were in.  "There isn't
anyone else in the bar that Jock isn't able to service," I noted.

	Tara snorted.  "Well, I'm not tellin' him like that!" she cackled,
swaying off.

	The Major raised an eyebrow.  "Another acquisition?"

	I shrugged.  "Experience.  Three children.  And a certain mental
bent..."

	The Major grunted.  "Decurion Tillotson and I haven't collected
ANYONE...  Not even a bit of service..."

	"Well..." I muttered in reply.  It wasn't MY fault that they weren't
bothering to take care of themselves.

	Frieda glanced up.  "I'll do ya -- if Master doesn't mind."

	"We can discuss it after dinner," I waved it off.

	Tara came back and, after eyeing the Major for a moment (he can be
somewhat forbidding and his bearing screams his military heritage), settled
into the chair she'd occupied before across the table from me.  "So, what's
up?"

	"We're discussing a couple of pickups," I replied evenly.

	"Them?" Tara waved a finger at Frieda and Beth.

	"No," I amplified, "Confederacy pickups."

	"Did one happen?  Damn, I missed it!  Was it on TV?"

	"No, they haven't happened yet," I replied.

	Tara cocked her head.  "How would you know anything about one that
hasn't happened yet?"

	"We're planning them."

	"Hah!" Tara slapped the table.  "THAT's a good one!  The only
Confederacy pickup you're likely to have anything to do with would be an
F-150 with Georgia plates..."  She burbled to a stop while her eyes swept
over my ID.  Then her eyes got big.  In a hushed voice, she gasped, Oh...
My... God..."  She raised her eyes to mine.  "You're...?"

	"Yes."

	Tara turned to her left and met the Major's nod.

	I answered her next question before it was asked by the simple
expedient of drawing her collar out of the bag and placing it before her.
"All you have to do is put it on."

	Tara fingered the collar.  "My kids..."

	"They're going.  We'll pick them up when we leave here.  Where are
they?"

	"At home," Tara said tonelessly.  "Keisha watches them on nights I
work."

	"Who is Keisha?"

	"Neighbor girl."

	"How old is she?"

	"Fifteen?  Over the limit..."

	"You want her?"

	"Huh?"

	"Do you want us to take her out?" I amplified.  "Would she be of any
value with the children?  Or is she just there?"

	"No, she's good with kids.  My Abe..."  She stopped and looked up at
me.  "She's kinda hefty, Mister -- and not real pretty.  Kind of, well, the
Aunt Jemima type, although she isn't tall.  Kinda... round, if you know what
I mean.  Real good with the kids, though."

	"I go by personality," I replied.

	The Major rolled his eyes and shook his head.

	Tara went back to fingering the collar.  "What do I do after I put it
on?"

	"Whatever I tell you to do," I replied.  "ANYTHING I tell you to.
For starters, AFTER you deliver dinner, you can entertain us by doing a nice
slow striptease, after which you can put on the outfit in this bag."  I held
it out to her.

	Tara took the bag and put it on her lap, then opened it and peered
inside.  "It matches?"

	"Yes."

	"Then what?"

	"I'll probably want to determine if you give a lousy blowjob or Jock
is just prejudiced."

	"Hell, I know the answer to that!" Tara chuckled, then turned to the
Major, holding out the collar.  "Would you help me with this, please?"