"Pheromone Pharmacopia"

by Brandy Dewinter

(c 2001, All rights reserved)

 

Chapter 18 - "Mystified"

Red eyes on both Jacqui and Sandy the next morning were more than enough of a clue for the always-sensitive Marilyn to realize something else had gone on the night before. She suggested to Jennings that it would be a good idea for Jacqui to go flying somewhere - anywhere that Oz wasn’t - to gain some emotional space to deal with her new perception of herself. Since no pilot would turn down a chance to fly, that got the newest team member safely out of the way while Marilyn discussed what had happened with the others.

"Okay, ladies, we all know we screwed up. Let’s discuss how and what we do about it."

"Screwed up?" Sandy asked tentatively, her question failing miserably in its attempt to portray innocence.

Marilyn didn’t dignify that with an answer. But, true to form, she took the first share of blame on herself. "I never should have allowed that sort of shock to Jacqui. She’s had a lifetime of looking at herself one way, and we turned that totally upside down. If ANYone should be sensitive to that, it’s us."

"Jacqui’s pretty tough," Carol observed.

"Yeah, like a diamond," Vanna countered. "Hard, but touch it the wrong way and it shatters into dust."

"Is that what happened?" asked Jaymi. "Did Oz ‘touch her the wrong way’?"

"Hardly," Sandy replied. "Just the opposite. He touched buttons in her that she thought weren’t connected to anything. Maybe they weren’t, until we hooked them up for her."

"That may be the case," Marilyn said, picking up again. "Look, Jacqui is like us, but she’s not like us, too. None of us have ever been physically intimidating, yet we were brought up to think that we *should* be, that ‘being a man’ meant being tough and strong. Jacqui is just the opposite. *She* was always told that she should be weak and pliant - or at least that’s typical for young women, especially petite ones. She chose to reject that, to tell herself it wasn’t right for her, to put on a shell that hid her feminine softness behind a pseudo-masculine hardness."

"Then she found herself with her softness all exposed, and treasured by a tall, supremely masculine man. And she responded. She didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk since she wasn’t drinking last night. Her whole self image came tumbling down. The value system on which she had based her life looked . . . flawed."

"I still say," Carol repeated, "that Jacqui is tough. And that’s not dependent on physical size. For damn sure WE should know that, too."

"You’re right," Marilyn nodded. "But we, all of us, have become . . . well, if not arrogant than at least secure in our strength, in our power. We run in a pack, *know* how good we look at an intuitive level, and are confident that we can handle - at least within our pack - just about any physical situation we encounter."

Sandy twitched at this, then sent a guilty look toward Vanna. Marilyn noted it, but filed the topic away for a moment longer. "Let me ask this. How many of you have really surrendered to a man - to the point that you were *glad* you were smaller, and weaker, and softer? That’s not just about sex - maybe not even primarily about sex."

Jaymi’s hand raised without hesitation. Vanna’s joined it a heartbeat later, a smile tugging at her lips in a memory that was clearly satisfying. After a few seconds, Sandy’s raised as well, though that look of guilt was back in her eyes.

Marilyn nodded, gave Sandy a small smile that directed patience, and said, "Call it two and a half. Jaymi, we all know you’re a, um, ‘special’ case. Vanna, tell us how long it took you to get to that point."

Vanna’s eyes refocused from the memories that had momentarily captivated her. She sat a little straighter and looked back at Marilyn. "I’ve already done that, since we were all there when I talked about what I did on furlough. I guess you’d have to say it has taken, well, since we started all this. And even then, I did it in stages; first learning to appreciate the appearance of being a soft and gracious woman, then learning the, um, rest later."

"And we gave Jacqui, what, about an hour? Then we dropped her, coated in honey in a world full of bears and expected her to cope. That’s not being a good team."

Even Carol nodded at that image. "So, what do we do?"

Now Marilyn looked at Sandy, who nodded and couldn’t keep an ironic grin off her full lips as she said, "We, that is, Vanna and I, have already committed to teach her how to be a woman."

"Is that what she wanted?" Marilyn asked.

"Yes, definitely," Sandy confirmed, backed up by a nod from Vanna. "She didn’t think she *could* learn all the - what did she call it? - frilly things. She thought that chance had passed her by. But she surely wants to."

"Because that’s what she thinks it will take for Oz to like her?"

Carol said with a frown.

"Maybe," Sandy admitted. "But that just makes what Marilyn had to say all the more correct. We can’t let Jacqui be swept off her feet by the first man to kiss her."

"Exactly," Marilyn said. She sighed and continued, "I think I’ll need to have a talk with Jacqui. I don’t want to turn her against Oz. He might be just the ticket for her. But he might not. We’ve got to help her gain a little perspective so she’s not mystified by ol’ Tall, Dark, and Handsome."

"In the meantime," she concluded, taking in the whole team with a glance. "We’re all going to help her with girl lessons. Lord knows we’re expert in that, and we learned it the hard way just as Jacqui will have to learn it."

"Now," Marilyn said, turning to look at Sandy. Her voice was soft though her questions were probing. "Why are *your* eyes so red? Why do you twitch when I talk about getting physical? And why in the world do you feel guilty about surrendering to a man? I’d have thought that if you got over what had happened to you enough to enjoy being kissed, well, that *should* be a good thing."

Instead of answering, Sandy put her face in her hands and started to weep again. Vanna moved to put her arms around her friend, and started explaining for her.

"I guess she’s not really ‘over’ it," the elegant blonde said. "Last night, we were accosted by a, well, I guess I’ll say a ‘would-be’ rapist, since he didn’t get what he wanted. But there wasn’t any doubt about what he wanted."

"And you didn’t report it?" Marilyn asked sharply.

"There wasn’t really that much to it," Vanna offered as an excuse.

"Sandy disarmed him, but . . . "

"But what?" demanded Marilyn.

Sandy’s voice whispered out from between her hands, "But I almost killed him, and after I had disarmed him. I almost killed him with his own knife after he was no longer a valid threat."

"I . . . see," Marilyn said slowly, but her dark lips showed a frown.

"I get the feeling that’s not all of it."

Sandy just shook her head. After a moment, when she didn’t say anything, Vanna filled in again. "She, on her furlough, she was kissed by a guy, but he wanted more, and she, um, didn’t react in a very ladylike way."

"Dear lord, the mind boggles," gasped Carol.

Vanna twitched a bit, obviously struggling with a decision on whether to reveal more of what was another person’s secret. She didn’t have to resolve that, because Sandy visibly squared her shoulders, dropped her hands and sat up.

"I didn’t hurt him," she claimed. "But I did put a guy on the ground a nice guy who didn’t really deserve it.""

"So, you need a little help with perspective, too?" Marilyn concluded.

Sandy nodded, not making any excuses. Marilyn smiled to show she recognized the courage in that simple acceptance, but her words were for the group as a whole. "Okay. I think we’ve learned a few things here today. One; we’re not as well integrated into our feminine roles as we might have thought - not the least of which is that we don’t know how to help a real woman with some of life’s little challenges. Two; we’re not working well enough as a team - and that includes Jacqui. We need to get inside each other’s heads well enough that we *know* how we will react, including when we are going to have trouble. Both of those are clearly my responsibility . . "

She was interrupted by a chorus of denial, but she raised her own voice to carry over the others. "BOTH of those are clearly *my* responsibility. But, as always, I’ll meet that by assigning the real work to you."

The last was said with a smile, followed immediately by a grimace as she said. "Well, except for my upcoming meeting with Jennings. I’m going to have to dance around some security issues there."

"Ask him where his accent went last night," Jaymi suggested with her own smile.

Carol giggled and said, "And if that doesn’t work, start dancing with him again. Wiggle your tush and get him to pinch it."

"You SAW that?" Marilyn gasped, blushing.

"I also saw that you didn’t slap him for it," Jaymi said, grinning.

"So, you owe him one, hmmmm?" Sandy said, trying to get back into her natural light-hearted mood. "I think he’s going to find out he bit off a little more than he can chew."

"Oooh, that sounds interesting!" Carol laughed.

It didn’t reduce Marilyn’s blush at all, but it did add a interestingly feral twist to her smile as she rose to go to her meeting.

 

"Fweeeet, ffwwwoooo!!"

The unabashed whistle re-ignited a flare in Jacqui’s cheeks that had become all too common. In the first few days after the awakening of her femininity, it would have caused her nearly to stumble off her towering heels as she tried to see who was teasing her. Now, she barely broke stride. Whether that was due to familiarity with being whistled at or the rigors of her training in ‘girl’ was hard to say at that point, and probably immaterial.

Actually, the changes had been relatively subtle, for all that their effect was anything but subtle. Though nearly every inch of her skin was covered by the space suit she wore constantly, its body-conscious tightness was as revealing of her decidedly feminine curves as anything she could wear in public - at least legally. But she had been wearing that outfit, including the stiletto heels, before.

What had changed wasn’t limited to what showed above the high collar, though that had definitely improved. There, under the other girls’ skillful tutelage, she had learned to apply cosmetics with restraint, passing rapidly through the inevitable clown stages in the privacy of their quarters. Her hair, though not gelled up into the lion mane wildness of her first real hairstyle, bounced lightly in a smooth pageboy that framed new earrings sparkling in the bright Houston sunlight.

All that was real, and effective, but - at least on a relative scale - minor. It was the way she moved that had really undergone a transition, and it was that which most often provoked a sign of appreciation from observers.

Jacqui had learned to flow. Her body eased through the world like a jaguar sliding silently through a forest - moving past obstacles as though they, and not the sleek cat, were deviating from a direct path. In two days her now-released natural grace had her moving more sensually than any of the team but Marilyn and Sandy. In two weeks, even Marilyn couldn’t match the feline frolic demonstrated by Jacqui. Of course, Marilyn didn’t particularly *want* to, since her own jiggles were as deliberate as her vacuous smiles.

If it hadn’t been for the results of Marilyn’s meeting with Jennings, Jacqui - and the rest of the team - would have been having a wonderful time.

Not that the meeting had gone poorly. Quite the opposite, in fact.

 

"Marilyn, c’mon in and set yourself down," Jennings had welcomed her.

The curvy blonde approached the offered seat cautiously, not sure how to handle his expansive mood. The night before, his expression had been ominous to say the least.

"Y’all are prob’ly wonderin’ why I called you in here today," he began.

At her nod, Jennings manner changed. The good ol’ boy was gone, and in his place was a tough, professional executive. In clipped, precise tones he said, "It’s time we quit playing games with each other."

Then he picked up a folder off his desk and handed her a sealed envelope with her name on it. He smiled as he did it - not the easy cowboy smile he often showed, but a sharp, self-amused grin like a shark might display.

"I’ll bet you I can tell you what’s in that envelope," he declared.

Marilyn offered him that challenge in the tilt of her head, but she quickly opened the envelope. An astute observer could have seen a slight tension in her shoulders, followed by a much less subtle sharpness in her glance as she looked again at Jennings.

To her surprise, he didn’t speak. He just took another item from his folder and handed it to her. After she had a moment to look at it, he repeated his offer, "I’ll bet you another dinner that same data was in your envelope."

"No bet," Marilyn said, smiling, but nodding the point to him.

"So, you want to tell me what’s going on?"

Marilyn took a sheet out of her own envelope, and handed it to him.

Jennings quickly absorbed the contents, then handed it back to her.

"Damn, Ah gotta get me one a’ them," he said, sinking back into his chair and into his accent at the same time. "So, y’all are guv’mint agents - from some agency that Ah noticed ain’t identified - who are here at the personal request a’ th’ President himself."

"That should be, ‘th’ President HISself’, shouldn’t it?" Marilyn asked, smiling.

"What? Oh, yeah, you’re prob’ly right," Jennings replied with his own smile. "Y’know, after a while, it gets way too easy to hide behind the masquerade - but I suppose I’m glad that I don’t lose myself in it completely."

"Tell me about it," Marilyn countered wryly.

"Heh, yeah, I expect it is even harder for you."

"So," Jennings continued, reclaiming a bit of respect by drawing the next conclusion on his own. "If that letter from the President tells me you’re agents, but not from what agency, I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me either."

"No," Marilyn replied, a pout forming on her full lips as she said, "and you’re not going to make an issue of that, are you?"

Jennings shook his head. "Well, that note asks that whoever you show it to will kindly assist you in any way possible. That’s a hell of a blank check, but I had intended to help you anyway. That’s why I gave you our own data on last night’s incident. I’m guessing this is all related."

The data Jennings had shared, which was indeed repeated in Marilyn’s envelope, was a report of an object de-orbiting and splashing down in an empty part of the Pacific Ocean. What made the data particularly interesting was that it appeared to be debris from Seward’s Space Facility. However, the orbital mechanics were not consistent with simple debris.

"Would you mind telling me what this data indicates to you?" Marilyn asked.

"Well, it’s obvious it came from the space station. But the trajectory indicates something of pretty high sectional density, yet it came down too quickly for atmosphere-induced orbital decay. That thing was deliberately de-orbited, and it hit the water at a hellacious speed."

His grin showed he was about to do something showy, and he did. "So, Seward has Brilliant Pebbles up there, doesn’t he?"

Marilyn’s widened eyes were enough of an answer for him to proceed to his next conclusion. "And you and the other women are going to try and stop him from, well, whatever he’s threatening to do with them."

"Not just try," Marilyn corrected him with quiet determination.

"I don’t want Jacqui getting hurt," Jennings said firmly. "She’s not one of you agents. She’s one of my pilots, and I’ll bounce her from this mission if it’s too dangerous. To hell with what the President says."

"I believe you would," Marilyn said. "But there truly shouldn’t be any risk, at least not for her. She’s not getting off the shuttle."

"I don’t like the sound of that, the part about risk to the other girls, um, women, I mean. What’s wrong?"

Marilyn shrugged and said, "I just wish we had a chance to practice on the actual, um, mission a bit more. You NASA types don’t go to the bathroom without nine kinds of simulation, but our real mission is not quite what we’ve been training for."

"Why? I mean, why not? Surely we can set up something."

"Well, aside from the security aspect, we don’t know that much about the interior of Seward’s station. I have a plan for the actual assault, but all we’ve got to go on are external surveillance photos . . ."

"Well, li’l lady, y’all shoulda come to ol’ Waylon sooner," Jennings said, leaning back in his seat. "It jus’ so happens, that Ah have interior layouts a’ the whole station."

"How’d you get those? Nobody has seen the interior, at least, not past the entrance chamber. Nobody who’ll talk, in any event."

"Well, now, there’s talkin’ and then there’s talkin’," replied Jennings. "Ah jus’ happen to have some design studies - studies only, o’ course - which jus’ happen to have been shared - unofficially - at a recent design conference. They ain’t labeled, but Ah’ll jus’ bet Ah kin guess where they came from."

Marilyn’s delighted smile would have warmed the heart of a man much less interested in curvy blondes than Jennings. He beamed his own grin at her and leaned forward, "Now, why don’ you tell ol’ Waylon what y’all plan to do, an’ we’ll see what we kin work out."

 

Jennings had been as good as his word, and the team’s training exercises had been adjusted to provide the skills that were needed. That included skills no one outside the team was aware of, like Vanna learning to throw knives in the zero-g simulation of the arcing airliner. Jennings also arranged for a small-scale model of Seward’s folly to be built, allowing the team to review the steps of the plan over and over until each team member - including Jacqui, though she was irreplaceable as pilot and would not actually leave the shuttle - knew all team assignments at every point of the actual assault.

It had, however, kept them very, very busy; too busy for them to find time to enjoy Jacqui’s butterfly transition even as they worked to make it happen. At least, everyone but Jacqui was too busy.

Jacqui and Oz.

After the third time Jacqui returned with smudged lipstick from a ‘solo’ lesson in girlhood, Marilyn decided she needed to take a little action. A behind-the-scenes call to Sam Gates and Oz Anderson finally got the chance to visit Australia. To the rest of the team’s credit, none offered any homilies about absence making the heart grow fonder. Of course, the fire in Jacqui’s eyes might have made that simple survival.

The team had one advantage in their astronaut training, relative to the first American astronauts at least. The early astronaut candidates, Mercury 7 and subsequent groups, were all military pilots, all very fit and pre-qualified for the physical rigors of flight. As a result, much of their selection process focused on motivation. The screening tests deliberately tested not only physical abilities but mental commitment, and were often deliberately demeaning or needlessly painful as a way to weed out candidates.

The girls never had to face those sorts of obstacles. Of course, they were not as well prepared for the rigors of spatial disorientation and zero-g, so they had plenty of rides in the zero-g simulation transport. That seemed as unpleasant as anything the ‘real’ astronauts might have faced - at least to them. Still, they stayed with it, bolstered by Jacqui’s steady presence; now a full member of the team except for one special secret.

Marilyn called her group together several weeks later, excitement showing despite her always-disciplined self-control. "We’ve been accepted!" she said.

"By Seward?" Sandy guessed quickly.

"Yes," confirmed Marilyn. "He’s seen our team photo - not surprisingly that was important to him - and he’s approved our ‘servicing’ mission."

"’Servicing’ is right," Vanna snorted. "That pig is probably slobbering all over our pictures."

"’Slobbering’ is not the word I would have used," Carol said with a smirk. "Though what he’s *really* doing would be at least as . . . hard . . . to clean up."

Jacqui snorted. "He can’t . . I mean, he wouldn’t really expect . . . would he?"

"Darlin’" Carol replied. "You wouldn’t *believe* what some people expect."

"I can’t *believe* you agreed to that," Jacqui said, looking at Marilyn.

"All we agreed to was that we would accomplish the stated mission requirements, including wearing these outfits," Marilyn said. "But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why he wants only pretty women on his crews."

Jacqui nodded absently, her eyes unfocused as she tried to absorb this new information. Jaymi took that opportunity to ask a question of her own, though it was one they all wanted to know.

"When?"

"Countdown, at least the part we have to be there for, starts in two days," Marilyn replied simply. "The launch window is pretty small because of the high inclination of his station orbit. It seems the regular crew had some visa problems and won’t be able to clear Customs before the window closes. I can just about guarantee that."

"Won’t he be suspicious?" asked Vanna.

Carol’s voice took on a throaty purr as she said, "Would you complain, if women as beautiful as we are asked to visit you?"

Marilyn laughed, but she said, "Actually, we’re expecting him to be suspicious, but we’re also counting on his ego. He’ll think he’s safe behind his pheromone defenses."

"We’ll just have to . . . show him the error of his ways," Sandy said resolutely. The rest of the team nodded in agreement.

 

(continued in next part)

 

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SMITE 2 - Pheromone Pharmacopia © 2001 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.