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The room was lit only by a large fire at one end and an antique lamp, converted to electric, sitting on an old oak table at the other end made shadows of everything. The deep red drapes shielded the interior of the room from the mysterious eyes that roamed the night. The red wallpapered walls were filled with various antique collectibles and very old paintings. At the end of the wall with the fireplace was a small wet-bar stocked with old liquors. In front of the fire were two high back plush red chairs and one of the chairs was occupied.
An old oak door opened and in walked a man that looked sophisticated. He was not particularly tall, but he walked with an air of authority and pride. His brown hair was cut professionally and his glasses were gold rimmed on his white face. He wore a deep red dressing gown and expensive Italian slippers. He placed a manila folder on the top of the wet-bar as he walked past. As he walked to stoke the fire, he saw the man waiting.
"Oh I’m sorry," he said holding the poker to the man sitting in the chair. The man in the chair was dressed in an expensive gray suit and wearing expensive Italian leather shoes. His dark skin seemed to melt into the shadows of the room making his features seem to shift as the fire light moved. "I would offer you a drink," the white man said putting back the poker, "but I see you found my stash of Cognac."
"You found me Mr. Hopewell," said the man in the chair looking deep into the fire, "I don’t like being found."
"I’m sorry, Mr. Prince I believe your name is," Mr. Hopewell said. "I felt that I needed to find you. After hearing about George Connors’ praise of your talents, you would be perfect for my purposes."
Mr. Prince swirled his drink in a slow motion before sipping it. Taking a breath Mr. Prince answered, "I am under the full time employment of Mr. Connors. I am a loyal employee, and because of that whatever offers you propose I will decline."
Mr. Hopewell poured himself a glass of deep red wine and answered, "How do you think that I found you. I simply gave over some of the blackmail material I had on Mr. Connors to Mr. Connors for the pleasure of speaking with you."
"And that is the only reason why I am here," Mr. Prince said with disgust in his voice.
"I’m sure that George pays you well, but how would you like some extra money?" Mr. Hopewell said.
"I have all the money I want. Entice me as to why I should involve myself in your affairs?"
Mr. Hopewell retrieved the manila envelope and handed it to Mr. Prince. Reluctantly Mr. Prince took the folder. "These four people are the other members of the local Mensa club. Recently they have discovered my side business of money laundering for various other clubs. To think these people once called me a friend. I would rather not kill them, which is too suspicious, but then I remembered talking with George Connors about a person with special talents. So Mr. Prince is it possible to wipe clean from their minds my hobby, and the other things that I have listed?"
"All things are possible Mr. Hopewell, and to make a person to forget something is easy. Why do you want the extra items? What is your real reason for contacting me?"
Mr. Hopewell took a sip of his wine and then said, "I want revenge. Those four believe that they are so smart, but I am smarter. To show that I am superior I want something, life changing done to them. I want something done to them that they aren’t even smart enough to realize it was I, or more precisely you."
Mr. Prince paused for a long moment. The fire popped and something in the night made a sound. The tension in the room seemed to make everything stop moving. "Okay I’ll do it."
"Good!" Mr. Hopewell said clapping his hands, "now I figured it out that George pays you nearly ten thousand dollars per person. I am willing to pay you fifteen thousand dollars per person. Will that be sufficient?"
"It will," Mr. Prince said. "I would advise you to get out your checkbook now."
"Now?"
"Yes, for you will never see me again. If, and I do mean if, we ever do business again we will it through Mr. Conners."
"Okay," Mr. Hopewell said pulling up a large pad of checks. He started filling it out, "so will you call me when things are ready?"
"All will be done in one month," Mr. Prince stated.
"A month! I can’t wait that long," Mr. Hopewell pleaded, "they threatened to contact the district attorney by the end of the week."
"You sniveling little maggot, you can put your fears aside. They will not remember your illegal activities by the end of tomorrow, but the rest will take a week. If that is too long, you can always find someone else that can do what I do."
Mr. Hopewell looked Mr. Prince in the eye. Mr. Hopewell knew that Mr. Prince knew that there was no one with such abilities anywhere else on Earth. "Please forgive me," Mr. Hopewell said, "sometimes I forget that not everything can be delivered immediately."
Mr. Prince stood and straitened his suit, "Farewell Mr. Hopewell." Even before Mr. Hopewell could respond Mr. Prince was out the door.
The golden afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows into the room. The room was a small meeting room at the public library. Around an oval table, that had an artificial wood top, sat three people. One was an old man with thin gray hair on his head and face. His wrinkles give him an elderly wise feel. Another person was a young man with thin bones and a sunken face that held a pair of thick glasses. This young man seemed to have energy that couldn’t keep him still. The third person was a very beautiful woman with a head of golden blond hair and bright blue eyes. She was tall and thin but her breasts seemed to giver body form that made her look like a super model.
"I can see the bill, you painted it orange, and the head, but that does not look like the tail feathers of a duck," said the woman pointing to a wood cut out in her hand. The cut out was from an inch thick wood that arguably in the shape of a duck. "Sorry Brad but you wanted the truth," continued the woman.
"Kim, I want all criticism," said Brad. "I’m trying to learn how to carve wood, and anything you said I take into consideration. So what do you think Walt?"
The old man, who seemed to be in a daze, replied, "on campus I meet all types, and that includes artists. Some artists are better than others at explaining their vision. If your vision tells you that those look like the tail feathers of a duck, who am I to argue."
"Thanks for agreeing with me, sort of," Brad said.
"Hi sorry I’m late," said a short man walking in. He had an expensive dark suit, and carried an expensive leather briefcase. His gold rimmed glasses nearly fell off his face as he rounded the table, but he put them back on his face. "My vice president kept talking, and wouldn’t stop," continued the man.
"Don’t worry about it, Patricia isn’t here yet," said Kim.
"Yeah James," said Walt, "do you need new glasses?"
James looked at the three other people, "her bakery is only five blocks away, so what’s taking her so long? She’s usually the first person here."
"Maybe she’s making a fresh batch of her white chocolate cookies," Brad said in a dreamy voice remembering the taste of the cookie.
"I would rather have her double chocolate fudge brownies," Walt said.
"The same here," said James taking a seat.
"Did you see what Brad made?" Kim asked James.
Brad brought up the cut out of his duck, "it’s a duck."
"Thanks for telling me," James said. "Since when did you take up wood carving?"
"Oh just a few days ago," Brad said. "After sitting at my computer for eight hours programming I needed to create that was physical, so since I cut myself too much on metal I went with wood. I just got a bandsaw," Brad said with a wide smile and a happy face.
"Just don’t cut your hands off," Kim said with concern.
"Yeah," Walt said, "how else will you entertain yourself while on the internet."
"Hey," Brad said, "I take offence to that."
"Go ahead I’m old I can give it," Walt said with a weak smile.
"Oh look here comes Patricia," James said.
An overweight woman came walking through the door. Her hair was dark black and pulled back in a tale. In her hand was a box held together with string. "Hi, sorry I’m late everyone it took longer to bike here than I thought it would," Patricia said apologizing.
"Bike?" Walt said, "you got yourself a motorcycle?"
"No, a bicycle," Patricia said taking a seat.
"Your apology will be better accepted over a plate of white chocolate cookies," Brad said.
"Oh I didn’t tell you, I’ve given up baking sweets and now my bakery only makes health food," Patricia said untying the string around the box. "Can I interest anyone in a low-fat granola bar or a carrot cream square?"
The four other people in the room were in shock at this happy woman trying to sell food that a starving rat would skip. "I’m sorry," James said, "who are you and what have you done with Patricia?"
"That’s not funny," Patricia said. "Admit it. I have a weight problem."
"In a heart beat," Walt said, "now where’s my double chocolate fudge brownie."
"Patricia," James said, "we say this because we are your friends, are you nuts?"
Patricia looked to Kim for help, "I’m with them Pat, this doesn’t sound like you. What happened?"
"I passed a mirror," Patricia said, "and I saw what I looked like. Then I looked at my customers and found that most of them were fat. I couldn’t stand it, so I took a stand and made a change."
"Please tell me you still have the recipe for the white chocolate cookies," Brad said pleading.
"Oh yes I still have them. Would you like a copy?" Patricia asked.
"YES!" Brad said too eagerly.
"Okay I’ll e-mail you the recipe."
"Could you do the same with the double chocolate fudge brownies, for me," James asked?
"Sure."
"Good," James said, "now that we have that out of the way I call this meeting of Mensa to order. I’m sure that we will all agree to postpone the discussion of the pros and cons of the Republican party and engage in a discussion of ideas on how to make health food businesses thrive."
"James!" Kim all but screamed from the phone in James’ hand. "James I need your help."
"Kim? What is it?" James asked. He sat at a large desk in his office at his business.
"It’s Brad, something happened and he’s in the hospital, I wouldn’t call but my car is being repaired and I need your help."
"I’m happy to help," James said closing down his computer. "Are you at the bank?"
"Yes, I’ll be out front waiting for you," Kim said.
"It’ll take me about ten minutes to get to you," James said.
"What did you do?" James said to the young man in the bed. His left hand was all bandaged up in white cloth. He looked pale and he seemed in a great deal of pain.
Brad raised his head and looked at his two friends and answered in a slurred voice, "I think I’ll stick with ducks. Frogs are deadly." Brad emphasized this by raising his bandaged hand.
"I think you should stick with glue and toothpicks," Kim said trying to make Brad smile. It didn’t work.
"Mr. Hopewell, Miss. Stein," said a doctor walking up to the pair. "My name is Doctor Hayden. I was the one who operated on Mr. Deaver’s hand."
"What happened?" Kim asked.
"Well from what I was told Mr. Deaver was using his bandsaw and somehow slipped and his four fingers and the end part of his thumb. We were able to recover and reattach all his digits, but there will be damage."
"What kind of damage?" James asked concerned.
Dr. Hayden paused before answering, "I understand he is a programmer, well I seriously doubt that he will ever type very well again. He’s young so he might develop some motor control some day, but it is doubtful that he will ever feel anything from the fingers on his left hand again."
"Hey Walt, have you heard about Brad?" James asked the question into the phone in his office.
"Yeah Kim sent me an e-mail, and it’s a damn shame about that boy. James this isn’t easy for me to say, but I am going to have to quit the Mensa club," Walt’s voice said over the phone.
"What? Why?" James said into the phone.
"I have the preliminary symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease," Walt said. There was a long pause over the phone. "Jackie and I have decided that we should spend the rest of my good days together some place warm, so we’re moving to Florida."
"What about your position at the University?"
"I resigned this morning," Walt said reluctantly. "The doc said that I have about one year before I’m a breathing vegetable. I couldn’t face the rest of the club, so if you could tell everyone what has happened."
"Sure, and Walt take care of yourself."
"I can’t believe this," Patricia said at a café table. On the other side of the table sat Kim and James milling over the menu.
"Can’t believe what?" James asked not taking his eyes off the menu.
"All the crap that have been going on in the past three weeks. I mean Brad gets his fingers cut off and now he can’t program so his job is in jeopardy. Walt is losing his mind, literally, and moved down to Florida. My business is..."
Kim looked up from her menu with concern in her eyes, "is something wrong with your health food store?"
Patricia looked down at herself. In the past three weeks she had dropped nearly fifteen pounds but there was a cost. "Our revenue has dropped to near nothing. I don’t think that I can stay in business like this."
"May I suggest something," James asked. "The fact that you have lost so much weight is a great thing, but to loss your business is not worth it. I would advise going back to being a bakery, with all the old cookies and cakes and the double chocolate fudge brownies. You were making good money then. Just because you bake, it doesn’t mean you have to eat it."
Patricia didn’t look like she knew what to do. "If you need support we’re here for you," Kim said.
"Thanks I’ll need it," Patricia said with a weak smile. "If one thing with sugar goes into my mouth, I want you to knock me unconscious and do a C-section and remove it from my stomach."
"Although I don’t know why you would want them I brought in these high fat, high sugar, high sodium cookies and brownies," Patricia said putting a box on the artificial table top.
"And the sun once again shines though the clouds," Bart said raising his hands, one still bandaged, to the sky.
"All right enough of that," James said. "May I please have a double chocolate fudge brownie?"
"Oh shoot," Patricia said looking into the box.
"I will if you don’t give me a double chocolate fudge brownie," James said.
"Just kidding," Patricia said picking up a wax paper wrapped dark cubes.
"Is the world right again?" Kim asked grinning.
James took a bite of the dark chocolate cube, "and the sun once again shines though the clouds."
"Don’t talk with your mouth full," Patricia said. "So how’s your hand, Brad?"
"Watch this," Brad said. He raised his hand that the tips, although purple, were peaking out of the white gauze. It was a tense second but then all four fingers flexed a quarter of an inch. "Isn’t that great?! In about a year I should have almost full movement."
The three other people looked at one another. "That’s great Brad, but what’s the status on your job?" Kim asked.
"Oh that," Brad said, "nothing to worry about. The higher ups have decided that since I can’t type any more I should be a crew leader. Now I’m telling other people what to type. It feels good."
"So have you given up carving wood?" James asked.
Brad looked displeased, "yes I have come to the conclusion that I can’t loss my right hand or else I won’t be able to use my mouse."
"Or how else will you entertain yourself while on the internet," Patricia said.
"Walt are you here?" Kim said looking around.
"Why’s everybody always picking on me?" Brad said in a sing song voice.
"I’m sorry," Patricia said. "Here have a three hundred calorie white chocolate cookie."
"I resolve that we should stop picking on Brad," James said. "We’ll agree with a show of hands."
"Got to get your jab in," Brad said.
"Have to," James said. "Since we’re all here, I call this meeting of Mensa to order. Back to where we were last month with a discussion of cosmetic surgery."
"So was this an official date?" Kim asked James. James was dressed in a tuxedo and a black tie. Kim was dressed in a slim shoulder strapped black gown.
"No," James said closing the door to his living room, "this was I had an extra ticket to a gallery opening and you wanted to see the collection of water colors."
"And the fact that we’re both here in your living room is, why?"
"Why to offer you a drink," James said going to the wet-bar.
"Thanks, but I have to drive home. We have a new employee starting tomorrow and it would be a good thing for the manager of the bank to be there, awake, not wearing dark glasses," Kim said.
"You could spend the night here. I have extra bedrooms," James said pouring himself a red wine.
"You’re sweet," Kim said giving James a peck on his cheek. Kim had to lean down to reach the level of his face. "If I don’t spend the night in my own bed, I’ll wind up a zombie."
"Why wait," James said, "I must be cruel only to be kind."
"This bad begins, and worse remains behind," Kim continued. "Are we quoting Hamlet now?"
"No that was the activation phrase to turn you into my slave," James said with a grin.
"What’s in that wine?" Kim said with a laugh. "Really I have to get going."
"Freeze," James said and Kim was immobile. She was half turned to the door and her left hand was just about to brush away a loose strand of blond hair. The only thing moving on her was her steady breathing making her chest rise and fall. Even her eyes were locked in a frozen, unfocused, position staring at nothing.
With his wine in hand James walked around to face the living statue. He reached up and cupped a breast feeling it’s weight. He slid his hand over her slim butt feeling the muscles twisted. Then he put his hand down between her legs to feel her second set of lips. Turning her face to his, he stood on tip toes to be able to kiss her on her lips.
"Tasty," James said. "When I snap my fingers, you will be able to talk, everything else will remain frozen. Oh and you will not be able to use any word that has an ‘e’ in it." James snapped his fingers.
"Why, how is this going on?" Kim said pausing to make sure she wasn’t using the most used letter in the English language.
"Ha, that’s funny," James said with a giggle. "You don’t remember but a month ago you were about to dissolve our friendship over some trivial matter. I simply asked a friend to help me keep our friendship. He just added a few things to make it more interesting. Walt was always so proud that he still had all his mental faculties, well that’s changed. Brad loved to program, and he would sit for hours typing away, but now he can’t. Patricia feared that one day she would loss her business, and she just about, but I felt that just a taste was enough to scare her. You, you always had to be in control, but now I’m in control."
"This isn’t going on," Kim said trying to deny what is happening.
"Oh it is, and you and your mind is at my command. When I snap my fingers, you will again be able to move, but your mind will be dominated by the need to have sex with me. You won’t be able to do anything else but desire my seed. You will only be able to move at half speed." James snapped his fingers.
Kim started to move again at the speed of a sloth. Even her tongue licking her lips to make them wet was moving very slowly. Kim slowly turned to where James was, next to the wet-bar, and at the same time slipped one of the black straps from her from her shoulder. "You... bad... man..." Kim said in a slow deep voice.
"Am I," James said stepping closer to Kim. "Am I really," James said walking away just as Kim reached up to touch him. "I’m not the one who got suspicious when I mentioned the banking laws in the Philippines, but you were. You were also the one who made Brad do an internet search on me. You made Patricia contact the companies and find out they didn’t really exist. Then you and Walt put your heads together and figure out how I was laundering money. You were the one who started this all, and I think that it is time you finished it."
Kim had slipped off the other shoulder strap and slowly pulled down her dress to show her erect nipples. Her eyes burned with lust and hate. In her mind she was screaming James’ name both in passion and in anger. She wanted to strangle him, but she also needed his cock inside her.
"You think you’re so smart well if you were so smart you would have figured out I wouldn’t take your threats of exposer sitting on my ass. I did something about it. Just be happy that I didn’t decide to kill you, like my first impulse, but I suppose in your mind you wish I had killed you."
Kim’s slow hands were running over her stiff nipples and large breasts making her moan seem to roll out of her open mouth. Her dress was sliding down from her body faster than she could push it. "Must... fuck... you..."
"Yes you will, and you will keep fucking me until I decide you should stop. I believe that the future is very bright for us," James said unzipping his pants.
"I need your help to stop the world so I can get off," Brad said at an outdoor café table. On the other side of the table sat Patricia, Kim, and James. Patricia had slimmed down to the point that she looked like a young woman with a very high metabolism. Kim and James were holding hands making loving eyes at one another.
"Why would you want to leave this world?" Patricia said. "You got a promotion and a huge raise in pay, and your hand is working better than the doctors ever thought that it would. Kim and James seem to realize that they have something in common, their love for each other."
"Are your ears burning?" James asked looking Kim in the eyes.
"No but my lips are. Would you care to put them out?" Kim said returning James’ gaze.
"Oh get a room," Brad said serious.
"As I was saying. I’m finally thin enough that my husband finally likes sex," Patricia said.
"Okay that’s enough. That’s it. I don’t want to hear any more about sex," Brad said. "What about this new person wanting to join our Mensa club?"
James tore his eyes away from Kim’s to respond, "oh some young girl has just reached approval from the home office, and since she lives around here we’re the local club. I’ve met her, and she’s nice."
"She’s nice," Patricia said, "so she’s a dog."
"No," James said, "she has Asian ancestors, she’s about your age, and she’s single."
"Sounds good for you," Patricia said to Brad.
Brad sat thinking for a moment, "Okay could we just slow down the world so I can hop off if I want to?"
"We could do that," Kim said. "But all things considered everything is going golden now."
THE END
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