DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
	A Bug's Tale (Charlie's Story) ———————————————— by Van & Courier  ©2000
	E	P	I	L	O	G	U	E
	... or... TYING UP LOOSE ENDS

Margo

Elke

Kat

Victoria

Drake

TESSERACT WORLD HEADQUARTERS
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, USA
HIGH SECURITY R&D FACILITY

---

Margo smiled at Elke and Kat as they walked down the mirrored corridor.  "I wish you two would stop hovering," she complained amiably, then turned her face to Elke.  "Don't you have a Special Event with the Bug to prepare for?"

"This evening," Elke answered absently.

The grinning CEO turned to face Kat.  "And what's your excuse?  Why aren't you on your way to SEATAC?  You think it's polite to keep Lourdes waiting?  ...or do you have her bound and gagged in the back of the hanger?"

"Don't give her any ideas," Elke said with a grin.

"We don't leave 'til 1100," Kat answered, ignoring Elke's remark.

Margo's smile faded as she turned to Elke.  "I think I know what's bothering you, anyway" she said evenly.  "Do you really think I haven't given the disposition of the prisoners a great deal of thought?"

"This is the first time you've done anything like this," Elke mumbled. "I've seen you play hardball lots of times... but I've never seen you take the Law into your own hands."

Margo sighed.  "If I just handed them over to the authorities, assuming I could find some authorities willing to prosecute them, Victoria would use her young cousin's trust fund to buy a brace of lawyers that would redefine the term 'Dream Team'—"

"And neither of them would ever see the inside of a prison," Elke interrupted, "and Jessie's millions would be gone."

Kat said nothing, but was following the exchange with great interest (although an observer who didn't know the black-clad beauty might think her bored).

"Elke," Margo continued, "using my wealth and power in this way makes me very uneasy, like I'm breaking a sacred trust.  I'm doing this 'cause it feels right.  It may be troubling, but every other course of action I can think of is worse."  Margo smiled sadly.  "Justice must be served."

"Justice?" Elke asked.  "You've made yourself judge, jury, and executioner."

"More like court appointed forensic accountant, prosecutor, and judge," Margo chuckled.  "No... don't pout," Margo sighed. "I take your concerns very seriously, but I am the final arbiter.  It's my decision, and the repercussions will be mine to bear... a lot like the way I run this company.  I have a conscience, Elke," Margo said with a wry smile.  "You know I'm not doing this 'cause it's easy."

Elke smiled back.  "If I didn't think you had a conscience, and a good soul, I'd have been out of here a long time ago.  I guess I just wanted to make sure that you were sure."

Margo grinned, then turned to Kat.  "Well...?"

"Well what?" Kat asked, her eyes darting from Margo to Elke and back.

"Aren't you going to contribute to our salon?" Margo demanded, a cajoling smile on her face.  "No advice for this poor objective idealist trapped in a cruel subjective reality?"

Kat paused... then turned to Elke.  "I have absolutely no idea what she just said," Kat admitted, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Don't worry," Elke advised, "neither does she."

Kat turned back to Margo.  "I'm here 'cause I want to know why you have to do this in an experimental VR rig.  Bodyguards have a technical term for bosses who behave in this manner—'dumbass'."

Elke politely stifled a guffaw and waited for Margo to answer.

"It's perfectly safe," Margo scoffed with an indulgent smile.  "The hydraulics and armatures are third generation and... never mind.  What do you really want?"

Kat glanced from Margo to Elke, then continued.  "I need a vacation," she announced, "and I'd like to take it—"

"On Gondaloo Island," Margo interrupted.  "You'd like my permission to execute Operation Fox Hunt."

Kat stared, her jaw dropping in surprise.  (Elke watched the exchange, her expression carefully neutral.)

"The 'Red Queen' knows all," Margo explained.  "There are no secrets from the Red Queen."

"Yeah, the Royal Bitch is a regular megalomaniac," Elke mumbled, perfectly deadpan.

Margo laughed, then put her hand on Kat's shoulder.  "Close your mouth," she ordered.  "Permission granted—"  Kat smiled.  "—but only after Elke has vetted your plan."  Kat frowned.  "She is 'Harem Keeper,'" Margo noted, "and her mandate covers the entire Inner Circle, including Gondaloo Island, and Freckle Fox."

"Don't worry," Elke said.  "As long as no weapons of mass destruction are involved, I'm sure I won't have any objections."

"We'll talk when you get back from Arizona," Margo said with an affectionate smile, then leaned forward and kissed Kat on the cheek.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kat grumbled, then turned on her heel and walked away.

"Have a safe trip," Elke called after her sometimes difficult but ever loyal and capable friend (and Charlotte's savior, Elke reminded herself).  Kat didn't acknowledge Elke's farewell in any way.  Margo and Elke watched the graceful black-clad figure disappear down the mirrored corridor... then turned and continued in their original direction.

"Don't take offense," Margo sighed, "she—"

"I know," Elke interrupted with a wry smile.

Margo smiled back.  "C'mon," she said, picking up the pace.  "I'll be late, and you know how bitchy these techs can get."

"Even with the boss," Elke added.

A heavy steel door slid open on their right as they approached.  They passed through and into a large room full of machinery.  Super-computer cubes and cables were racked along every wall.  Through a glass wall, hundreds more of the compact cubes, rack upon rack, could be seen in an adjoining space.  Anonymous "silver drones" (as Jodi called them) milled around—technicians in silver-gray, ballistic spandex unitards, boots, gloves, and reflective, full head, plastic safety helmets; some with hi-tech tool belts, all with TESSERACT ID/access badges.  This particular crew was all female.  Some were monitoring the computers, but most were tending a row of four complex machines in the center of the room.  The machines were identical, and each enclosed what looked like a chrome humanoid robot; suspended inside a double sphere of nested hoops and complex piston arms.  The two machines furthest away were brightly lit, with active computer displays and flashing warning lights.  The third was unlit and dark, however, the unit closest to the door was brightly lit, with several "drones" in attendance.  Elke noted a sign plate on the complex monstrosity's pedestal base:

R E S E A R C H   &   D E V E L O P M E N T,  TESSERACT Inc . _SPHERUS―IV: TIKLER Prototype 1 _

"'TIKLER'?" Elke quoted.

Margo smiled, and began removing her business suit.  "Charlie finally thought of a name for her nerve stimulating technology: 'Transdermal Iso-Kinesthetic Laminar Eidophotronic Resonator', or... 'Charlie's TIKLER'."

Elke laughed.  "Cute... just like its inventor."

Margo grinned.  "Actually, TIKLER technology will have far reaching applications, beyond the realm of, shall we say, entertainment.  Medical applications, computer interface advancements, that's just the obvious stuff.  By the time the technology ripples down to the nano level... I wouldn't be surprised if Charlie eventually gets a Nobel."

"Really?" Elke asked.

Before Margo could elaborate, a short "drone" stepped forward and placed her gloved hands on her hips.  "You're late," she accused, her voice slightly hollow and tinny through the small speaker built into her helmet.

"Nearly ninety seconds," Margo admitted.  She finished disrobing and handed her clothes to the technician.  "Lighten up, Liz.  The buffers can idle for a full hour before you have to reinitialize."

"That's not the point," the diminutive silver figure scolded, carefully hanging the garments in a steel locker.  "Jewelry and other gewgaws too," she demanded, pointing at Margo's watch, ring, and earrings.

Smiling indulgently, Margo removed and surrendered the offending objects.  They were placed in a small padded drawer, and the locker was sealed.  "You better get out of here," Margo told Elke, "before Liz throws you out.  No observers without safety suits and hearing protection."

The Health Club Director smiled at the mental image of the small "drone" trying to throw her out of anywhere, then the smile faded.  "I agree with Kat.  Why do you have to do this in full VR," Elke said, "especially in an experimental unit?"

Margo began a series of stretching exercises, her lithe, nude body twisting and turning.  "You're a couple of mother hens!" she accused with an affectionate smile.  "They're my toys and I'll play with them when I want to."

"You may be paying the bills, Ms. Wells," Liz said, "but they're my toys."  She made a shooing motion towards Elke.  "Out, out, out!" she ordered, then gestured to her fellow technicians.  "Let's go people!  Chop, chop!"

"Yes, Liz." Margo said docilely, winking at Elke.

Elke grinned, gave her boss a peck on the cheek, and departed.  The heavy steel door closed behind her, sealing with a hiss and a metallic clang.

Liz stepped to a control panel, threw a small lever, and the first SPHERUS machine whined to throbbing life.  The "robot" held inside the nested frameworks reclined and was thrust forward, extending on its countless articulated arms through the twin spheres.  There was a series of loud hissing clicks, and the arms, legs, torso, and head of the "robot" snapped open.  It wasn't a robot at all, of course, but a hollow suit of articulated panels.  The inside was lined with tiny, glistening, glass beads.  Liz tapped several buttons, and the beads began to glow... first ruby red... then emerald green... then in red and green stripes, then diamonds, squares, a bewildering variety of geometric shapes, all of which changed size and rippled across the interior of the suit.  One last tap of a key, and the beads returned to glistening glass.

"Final diagnostic complete," Liz intoned.  "The board is green."

Margo nodded and stepped towards the humming machine.  Soon she was flat on her back, inside the suit, arms and legs in a loose spread, torso and limbs pinned in place as several sections of the heavy apparatus closed with metallic claps.  The silver-clad technicians fussed, helping Margo position her fingers into the suit's frozen gloves and snuggle her toes into the suit's boots.  Soon the only part of Margo not enclosed was her face.

"Subjects 'Victor' and 'Delta' are idling in limbo and will gain virtual consciousness when you are ready," Liz said.

"Understood," Margo answered, and the suit's face plates slowly cycled closed.

Liz' alto voice sounded in Margo's earphones, now fully resonant.  "Remember, the spinup and interface lock are slow with these new units... so just relax... and enjoy the ride."

Darkness...  Silence...  Total immobility...  A slightly disorienting sense of motion...  Suddenly, points of random color swirled and pulsed before Margo's eyes.  White noise whispered in her ears.  Sensations of gentle warmth and mild, chilling cold passed over all parts of her body in waves, followed by a curious prickling sensation... then pressure... then more heat and cold.  The lights danced and the noise pulsed.  Voices were mumbling... indistinct... just at the threshold of Margo's hearing.  The stimuli were entrained to the rhythm of her breathing, her beating heart... and they continued... and continued...

Darkness...  Silence...  Total immobility...  A slightly disorienting sense of motion...  Suddenly, points of random color swirled and pulsed before Victoria's eyes.  White noise whispered in her ears.  Sensations of gentle warmth and mild, chilling cold passed over all parts of her body in waves, followed by a curious prickling sensation... then pressure... then more heat and cold.  The lights danced and the noise pulsed.  Voices were mumbling... indistinct... just at the threshold of Margo's hearing.  The stimuli were entrained to the rhythm of her breathing, her beating heart... and they continued... and continued...

Victoria opened her eyes.  She was in a comfortable chair, seated before a large modern wooden desk, in a huge elegantly appointed office with mirrored walls.  She was dressed in a tasteful black wool suit, hose, and heels, and for the first time in days... not restrained in any way!  For most of the past week (several days at least), since her arrival at... this place, she had been locked in a padded room, clothed only in a comfortable but immodest and inescapable straitjacket, fed and cared for by masked, anonymous, silent female handlers.  Her captors had ignored her indignant protests, her profane threats, her piteous pleas.  Then one of the handlers had given her a spray injection... and here she was.

Somewhat disoriented by her change in status, Victoria simply sat in the chair, staring at her pale freckled hands, her perfectly manicured nails—then a door opened in one of the mirrored walls and two women entered the office.  Both were dressed for business, in similar, expensive, slate-blue suits.  The first of the women was very attractive, with a stylish auburn bob.  The second woman was—Margo Wells!

Margo sat down at the desk—her desk.  The first woman must be some sort of secretary or executive assistant.  Victoria shifted nervously in her chair.  Margo Wells was staring at her.  Victoria knew she had usurped a TESSERACT project, kidnapped a TESSERACT employee and a TESSERACT associate, had stolen valuable TESSERACT technology—since the rescue (her capture), Victoria had surmised she was in TESSERACT hands... but Margo Wells...  Margo Wells had a presence—and that presence was focused on Victoria like a laser beam.

"I can't say that I'm happy to meet you," Margo said finally, "but it is... interesting to finally speak with you face to face."  Victoria said nothing.  "My best team members have been busy, dissecting your affairs," Margo continued.  The assistant handed the TESSERACT CEO a large binder of richly tooled leather.  "Thank you, Eve," Margo said with a warm smile, then opened the binder.  "We've discovered three separate jurisdictions in which you're paying bribes to law enforcement officials, to cover your pot hunting enterprise.  A few news stories and state investigations should clean things up before the next local elections."

Margo flipped a tab in the binder.  "Your pot trading network itself won't be so easy to eliminate, but as we identify more elements it should eventually fall apart.  After your galleries change policy, your confederates will have no effective way to fence their finds.  They'll either move on to other criminal activities or trap themselves when they try to find new buyers."

Victoria started to speak, but before she could say anything Margo flipped another tab and continued.  "You'll be happy to know your ex-ward's trust fund is no longer being administered by Crane, Atkins, and Knight.  I've found Jessie legal representation that's working in her best interests... rather than yours.  Besides," Margo said, "Crane, Atkins, and Knight are rather busy at the moment.  Legal problems of their own, you see."

Victoria finally found her voice.  "How... how did you—"

"It's not difficult dealing with corrupt lawyers," Margo purred.  "They don't play by the rules, so neither do we.  There's always a money trail.  A little cybernetic snooping, a few questions to the right people...  You follow the trail and then hand off to the proper authorities.  They'll be busy with this for years."

Margo's assistant carried a tray with a coffee carafe and two cups to the desk.  She poured one cup and handed it to Margo, then poured the second cup, smiled coldly at Victoria, and took a careful sip from the cup herself.

Margo flipped another tab.  "Now," she continued, "here's how we're going to proceed.  My staff is going to go over everything we've discovered about all your illegal activities with you, in great detail, and you're going to fill in anything they've missed, cooperating fully.  Then you're going to liquidate all your galleries and other business interests and sign everything over to Jessie, including the deed to Copperhead Canyon and the surrounding lands and properties.  It'll be compensation for the millions you've looted from her trust fund over the past few years.  Your collections of Native American artifacts will be dispersed to the appropriate Tribes and museums."  Margo closed the binder and placed it on the desk.  "I understand Jessie has great plans for Copperhead Canyon.  She intends to endow an archeological institute, basing it in one of the wings of the Lodge.  Dr. Fournelle will be the resident director.  Jessie's now a very wealthy young lady, and can easily afford it.  You, on the other hand..."

Victoria felt her cheeks color.  "What gives you the right to...  I... I want my lawyer."

"Did Charlie want her lawyer?" the assistant asked with cold anger.  "How about Dr. Fournelle?  Did she beg for her lawyer while you tortured her with—"

"Eve," Margo said.

The assistant was silent, but glared at Victoria in open hostility.

"'Man has only those rights which he can defend'," Margo quoted.  "You place me in a moral and ethical dilemma, Victoria.  You apparently enjoy playing the tyrant.  I do not.  You force me to become a jailer... and I don't like it."

"What's going to happen to me?" Victoria asked quietly.

Margo sighed.  "There will probably be some prison time—time in a real prison, I mean—after the investigations are closed and plea bargains negotiated with the relevant authorities.  In any case, all that is in the future.  Do you know where you are?"

Victoria shifted in her chair nervously.  "Uh, TESSERACT Headquarters?  Seattle?"

"Good guess," Margo said with a smile, "but not what I meant.  You're in Virtual Reality, and will remain here while you aid our investigation."

Victoria frowned. Virtual Reality?  "But—?"

"Yes," Margo interrupted, "it's so real, isn't it?  Our latest generation of sensors and displays, even more effective with subliminal tracks and the new cognitive buffers... yes, very real... and you may be interested to know that Ms. Paretsky's work was integral to this latest generation."  Margo favored Victoria with a wry smile.  "Things are much less... messy this way, you see?"  Victoria was confused.  "Well," Margo said, "no matter.  I'm afraid that's all the time I have for you at the moment, Victoria.  A word of advice, try hard to learn something from your time here."

Victoria heard heavy, clattering footsteps behind her.  Before she could turn she was grabbed by leather gloved hands and hauled from her chair.  A linen cloth was forced into her mouth, a second cloth with a knot tied in its center was thrust between her teeth knotted behind her neck in a tight cleave-gag.  Her wrists were bound behind her back with rough hemp.  Her captors were—Medieval men-at-arms—big bearded brutish men in leather, mail, and plate armor, armed with swords and daggers... and they stank.

One of her captors was dressed more elegantly than the rest, his sword finer, a shirt of tighter weave under his breastplate, a plume in his helmet, his beard neatly trimmed.  While the others held Victoria in a tight grip he gave Margo Wells a courtly bow.

"Thank you, Captain," Margo said, then handed the officer the leather binder.

The Captain took the binder with flourish, turned, and with a gesture to his men departed.  Victoria was dragged through a door in the back of the office—  [Her surroundings wavered]  —and she found herself in a dim, torch-lit corridor of dressed stone.  Her captors' hobnailed boots clattered on the damp, filthy floor.  Her costume had changed.  No longer in an expensive, Twenty First Century business suit, she found herself in a full, heavy gown, richly embroidered with gold wire and seed pearls, with a tight bodice and generous, lace-trimmed décolletage.  Fifteenth Century, Victoria decided, maybe Sixteenth.

Someone screamed in the distance, the plaintive cry echoing from far away down another of the branching passageways.  The Captain opened a massive oak door and stepped inside.  After several long seconds...  (The scream was heard again.)  ...the Captain returned and motioned to Victoria's escort with an abrupt gesture.

Victoria was hauled through the door and into the huge, vaulted chamber beyond.  A heavy trestle table was in the center of the chamber, being used as a desk by a woman dressed in a nun's habit.  Head low and hidden by her wimple, she was using a quill to write with a strong, wrinkled hand on the topmost scrap of a messy pile of paper and parchment.  More nuns, four to be exact, stood in a pious row behind the desk, their heads also bowed.  Victoria recognized the habit of the Order of St. Gwendolyne, and the seated nun was a Superior.  I have a bad feeling about this, Victoria thought, swallowing behind her gag and twisting her wrists in their tight hemp bonds.  She examined the rest of the chamber.  A brazier of coals smoldered to the right.  To the left—

Victoria screamed through her gag and struggled in the tight grasp of her guards.  Drake, nude, her tan body glistening with sweat, was seated in an upright armchair of heavy timbers; stock-like wooden frames clamping her wrists, elbows, ankles, knees, waist, and neck; a knotted linen gag (similar to Victoria's own) tied between her teeth.  Drake mewed weakly through the linen stuffed in her mouth, her eyes darting from Victoria to the nuns, alert but wide with fear.

Still busily writing, the Superior paused without looking up and gestured to the Captain.  He bowed and handed over the leather binder.  Simultaneously, the standing nuns came forward and relieved the men at arms, holding the dazed redhead with surprising strength.  The Superior finished writing, carefully laid down her quill, and gave the Captain a dismissive gesture.  He bowed and departed with his men.  Victoria started as the heavy oaken door slammed behind her.  Next, the nuns drew blades (cleverly disguised as crucifixes) and methodically sliced away Victoria's gown, underlying garments, hose, and slippers, leaving Victoria cowering on the dirty floor, naked, bound, and gagged.  One of them took a generous handful of Victoria's straight red hair, and hauled the nude captive to her knees.  Victoria mewed miserably as the Superior slowly turned the pages of the binder.

 Finally, the Superior set the binder on the table and slowly lifted her head.  Victoria's eyes went wide with terror.  She recognized the sad even face from contemporary portraits: Reverend Mother Embeth Peale!

"Lady Victoria McQuade..." the Reverend Mother intoned.  "Welcome to the cloister of Seversea-on-Wye.  You and your... companion... have broken the laws of God and man.  You must confess your many crimes and sins, naming your accomplices.  We have much work before us... to cleanse your immortal souls."

Kat

Janet

Lourdes

U.S. HIGHWAY 64
SHIPROCK, NEW MEXICO, USA

---

Kat watched the thriving metropolis of Shiprock whiz by the Hex-Rover's front passenger window.  (This did not take very long.)  "You grew up in that place?" Kat mumbled.

Janet smiled.  "That was urban sprawl, to me," she said.  "I was sheep camp Navajo."  Noting Kat's puzzled expression, she continued.  "I grew up helpin' tend my family's flock, 'bout thirty miles from here.  A trip to the trading post was a holiday.  A trip into Shiprock was goin' to Disney World."

Kat smiled.  "I did a little research into this 'Enemy Way' ceremony.  I want to thank you for inviting me.  I know Lourdes feels the same way."

Janet glanced in the rear view mirror.  Lourdes was asleep, her head drooping forward.  "It's traditional to invite family and friends."

The "Enemy Way" ceremony was performed for a warrior returning from battle, not as a celebration, but to restore balance, to bring the warrior back to a path of harmony.  Outsiders were not invited to such events lightly.  "It's an honor," Kat said quietly.

"Likewise," Janet said.  "Uh, you realize a lot of this ceremonial is private, right?  I'll be in a hogan with my uncle and a few others, and you and Sleeping Beauty back there will be outside with the other guests."

"An all night party," Kat purred.  "We'll manage."  Kat heard what might have been a rather unladylike snore from the back seat.  She grinned and glanced over her shoulder.  Lourdes was indeed fast asleep.  Amazing, Kat mused.  A fearsome martial artist and warrior spirit, one of the half dozen people on the planet I'd let cover my back in combat... and she looks like an innocent little girl in her sleep... and anything but innocent when she's 'in the zone'.

"I want to thank you again for your part in getting Margo to donate those six Hex-Rovers to the NTP," Janet said.  "They'll do a lot of good... once we figure out all the fancy gadgets... and it was really nice giving that stuff to Old Woman Attcity."

"It should've been more," Kat grumbled.

"Like I told you," Janet said with a smile, "plastic water barrels to replace her rusty old 55 gallon drums; a solar power rig; the laptop computer for her nephew... that was generous.  Anything more and she'd have been embarrassed—would have given it all away."

Kat shook her head.  She'd come to learn that the Dineh had different values from "mainstream culture," very different.

Janet winked.  "The laptop, especially, was a very big hit."

"He's a nice kid," Kat mumbled.

Janet looked sideways at her companion, one eyebrow raised in question.

"He sends me e-mail," Kat said innocently.

Janet did a double take.  Is she blushing? Janet thought, in incredulous wonder.  Can't be!  Must be a trick of the light.

Jessie

Anne

Jodi

COPPERHEAD CANYON, ARIZONA, USA
POOLSIDE

---

Anne shuffled the papers back into their proper folders and smiled at Jessie.  "That covers the revised arrangements for your personal finances.  All this information is on your house system, of course.  I suggest you study it in detail before you leave for school.  You probably won't have time after classes start."

"Par-ty!  Par-ty! " Jodie began chanting.  Jessie laughed.

Anne smiled ruefully.  "Ignore the airhead," she said.  "When Jodi was in school, she thought books were coasters."

"Never did understand why I had to buy new ones every quarter," Jodi said with a wry smirk.

Anne cleared her throat and turned back to Jessie.  "Now, you want to go over the legal aspects of the Archeological Institute?  Teri hasn't finished the final charter, but based on her outline—"

"Pleeeeze!" Jodi protested, rolling her eyes.  "It's a hundred freakin' degrees in the freakin' shade out here.  I'm bored, Jessie's bored—"

"I'm not bored," Jessie objected, smiling.

"I'm sweatin' like a pig," Jodi continued, then pointed an accusatory finger at Anne, "you're sweatin' like a lawyer... Let's go swimming!"

"You're a bad influence," Anne said.

Jodi winked at Jessie.  "I do my best," she said innocently, then stood and unzipped her skirt.

"Jodi!" Anne objected.

"Oh, lighten up!" Jodi answered, dropping her skirt to the stone flags.  Both Jodi and Anne had removed their jackets some time earlier, draping them over free chairs.  Jodi began unbuttoning her silk blouse (short sleeve, with a pointed collar).  Anne (who was indeed sweating profusely in the unaccustomed dry heat, despite her scoop-neck sleeveless silk top) shook her head in good-natured disgust.

"Ya know..." Jessie ventured, "a swim sounds good."  Dressed in her usual workshirt, jeans, and boots, Jessie was used to the desert heat, but could tell her guests were not.  She nodded towards the pool and began unbuttoning her shirt.

Anne sighed, straightened her stack of folders, stood, and pulled her top over her head.

By this time Jodi's bra, panties, and pumps had joined her skirt, making a heap on the floor.  She jogged towards the pool, hopping on the sunbaked flags.  "Ow, ow, ow!  Hot, hot, hot!" she chanted, then dove into the deep blue water.  "Yippeeeee!"

Anne and Jessie exchanged an amused glance, then finished undressing and raced to join Jodi in the pool.

Both entered the water with graceful dives, then surfaced and paddled over to Jodi.

"This was a good idea," Anne admitted.  She then directed a playful splash at her honey blonde friend and scissor-kicked away, swimming languidly towards the waterfall at the far end.

"So... we want to play, do we?" Jodi murmured with a mischievous grin, then sidled up to the floating Jessie.  "You are the new Mistress around here, you know," she whispered in Jessie's ear.  "If you go find some of those chains Charlie told us about, I'll help you capture your new lawyer."  At the shallow end of the pool, the lawyer in question slowly mounted the steps leading to the waterfall, water glistening on her tan nude body.  "Then... I'll let you capture me," Jodi continued, "and you can give the two of us a nice tour of your cousin's secret dungeons."

"They warned me about you," Jessie said with a coy grin.

"They're your dungeons now," Jodi purred.  "It would be a pity to let all those nasty machines just sit there, gathering dust."

Jessie watched Anne slowly stretch in the hot sun... then step under the waterfall.  Anne shivered delicately, then arched her back and ran her fingers through her short, dark hair.  "Hmm... I suppose it can be fun... when people want to be kidnapped," Jessie mumbled, then turned to face Jodi.  "Anne would really be okay with it?" the redheaded teen asked.

"Trust me!" Jodi answered, a sincere smile on her angelic face.

"I'm probably gonna regret this..." Jessie mused.  "Let's swim for a while," she said finally, "then I'll get the chains."

Anne luxuriated under the thundering cascade, enjoying the refreshing chill of the falling water, never suspecting that a nefarious plot was being hatched at the far end of the pool.

Teri

Delores

COPPERHEAD CANYON LODGE
ONE OF THE GUEST SUITES

---

Teri tapped the final key and dispatched her latest volley in the amiable, bickering, e-mail exchange with the colleagues, Professors, and administrators who had volunteered to help her draft the charter for Jessie's Archeological Institute.  Enough, she decided, having wrestled with the minutiae of Mission and Vision since before sunrise.  Teri pushed away from the desk, stood, and stretched... then heard a splash and a giggling laugh through the open balcony door, echoing from the canyon below.

She stepped out onto the balcony.  Jessie, Anne, and Jodi were skinny-dipping in the pool.  As she watched, Jessie climbed several feet up the opposite canyon wall, and executed a perfect backwards somersault into the clear fresh water.  Anne and Jodi cheered when the teenager's head reemerged.  Jodi said something (too distant for Teri to hear) and the naked trio laughed.

Good idea! Teri thought, and stepped back into her suite.  Soon blouse, jeans, panties, bra, socks, and boots were a jumble on the floor, and Teri was donning a light cotton robe. Charlie would traipse down to the pool buck naked, she mused, but not me.

Teri started to close the robe, the ends of its narrow sash of stitched cloth in either hand, then paused.  She pulled the sash from the robe, then let the robe itself slip from her shoulders.  I don't have to swim right away, she decided.  Standing in front of the open closet's full length mirror, Teri tied the sash around her left wrist with a tight, overhand knot, then pulled a loop through the first knot, put her hands behind her back, wiggled her right wrist through the loop, and carefully, awkwardly pulled the loop closed.  She twisted her wrists in their cloth bonds, and managed to tie one more not terribly compact overhand knot with the free ends, snuggling her wrists a little tighter together.

I'm not really helpless, Teri mused, but I can lay on the bed and... Teri gave a startled yelp.  Delores was standing in the doorway of the suite, a stack of fresh towels in her hands.  The smiling Latina was dressed in a rather skimpy but otherwise conventional maid's uniform.

"I... I... I was, uh... practicing," Teri stammered, blushing furiously.  "I thought it would be a good idea to learn how to escape," she told the grinning maid, "after, after all that happened... after I couldn't..."

"I understand Señorita," Delores said, then set the towels down on a chair.  "Here, let me help you," she offered.

Still blushing, Teri turned her back to the approaching maid.  "Uh, thanks," Teri mumbled.  "I can untie this myself, but..."

"Yes," Delores agreed, taking the free ends of the sash in her strong brown hands, untying Teri's loose knot, then giving the ends a firm jerk.  "That is the problem, no?"  Two more tight loops were cinched and a compact, double square knot tied above Teri's wrists, well away from her fluttering fingers.

"Delores!" Teri complained.

"There," Delores said softly, still standing close.  The maid and archeologist locked eyes in the closet mirror.  "Now you have something to practice with," Delores purred, "something that is a bit of a challenge."

Teri watched in a daze as Delores stepped to an antique dresser, opened the lowest drawer, and produced two coils of cotton rope.

"On the bed, Señorita," Delores ordered, still smiling.  Teri allowed herself to be lowered onto the neatly made bed, and watched with detached wonder as her ankles were crossed and bound.  "It makes it most difficult to hop around with them crossed," Delores explained, "so the Señorita should stay on the bed, yes?"

"You shouldn't... I shouldn't let you," Teri said, blushing anew.

"It is important to learn,"  Delores said, "and I will teach you."  She took a second, much longer coil of rope, shook it out and found the middle, then used a square knot to tie a loop around Teri's waist.  The archeologist watched as Delores took one long, free end of the knot and tied it to the right bed frame, then tied the other to the left.  "Now the Señorita must stay on the bed," she observed.  "I leave you enough room so you can squirm and be comfortable, yes?"

Teri twisted in her bonds, and noticed Delores rummaging in another drawer.  She approached the bed with a roll of wide, white, medical tape.  "Uh, Delores," Teri said nervously, "there's no need to... to gag me."

Delores ripped an eight inch strip of tape from the roll.  "It is necessary to the learning," Delores said.  "The lips together please, Señorita."  Teri, her lips pursed, watched cross-eyed as the tape approached her mouth... and then it was too late.  The first strip was followed by a second... then a third.  "No stuffing this time," Delores explained pleasantly, "because it is your first lesson.  You may escape now, Señorita."

Teri squirmed on the bed and watched as Delores straightened the room, carried her dirty clothes to the hamper, and hung the robe (minus its sash, of course) back in the closet. Why did I let her do this to me? Teri wondered, exploring her bonds.

"I know you missed lunch." Delores said.  "Will you be joining the others for dinner, Señorita?" she asked with an innocent smile.

Teri mewled through her gag and twisted in her bonds.

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that, Señorita," Delores purred, "that you are feeling so very tired, and will be turning in early.  I will bring you a tray later.  A midnight snack perhaps?"  Delores walked to the bedroom door, ignoring Teri's plaintive cries and feeble struggles.  She paused, the door knob in her hand.  "It is most difficult to learn to escape," the smiling maid confided, "and takes many, many lessons."  And then the door was closed.

Uh... if this is a 'lesson'... shouldn't she have told me how to escape? Teri wondered.  She heard the key turn in the lock... then silence.  An afternoon breeze lifted the curtains of the still open door to the balcony.  Teri squirmed in her bonds, her fingers groping for unreachable knots.  I can't touch anything, she sighed in frustration, not the knots or... (she felt a thrill shudder through her loins.) ...or anything.  She could just hear the splashing and laughter in the Canyon below.  Teri mewed through her tape gag.  Help me!  I... I've been kidnapped!  I'm naked and bound and gagged and helpless!  The laughter continued, oblivious to the struggling captive in her luxurious prison, far above.

Charlie

&

Elke

sitting in a tree...

TESSERACT WORLD HEADQUARTERS
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, USA
"THE BIOSPHERE"
INTERACTIVE VIRTUAL REALITY SUITE SEVEN

---

Elke sighed and rattled her heavy chains.  "Eve," she complained.  "Where the hell is she?"

"I'm sorry, Princess," Eve's voice exclaimed, "but there's no one here by that name.  I'm Evewyn, Guardian Spirit of the Sacred Glade of the Sylvan Elves."

"Sorry, 'Evelyn'," Elke muttered, "now where's—?"

"Evewyn," Eve corrected, "Guardian Spirit of the—"

"Okay, okay!," Elke snapped, smiling, despite her irritation.  "Oh Mighty Evewyn, hear the prayer of this humble Amazon captive.  Where is...  What's Charlie's name again?"

"Buglyr, Princess Royal of the Sylvan Elves," Eve intoned solemnly.

"Buglyr," Elke chuckled.  "Okay... Where is the Princess Buglyr, oh Mighty Evewyn?"

"Her Highness is delayed," Eve answered.  "She started making some notes for a new project and lost track of time, then wanted some last minute changes to her costume.  I gotta tell ya, these elves can be a pain in the ethereal tookis.  'Conjure me this!'  'Conjure me that!'  'Help us defeat the orcs, Evewyn!'  'The Amazon Princess and her Companion Guard are hunting in our forest, Evewyn!  Bind them with mithril chains and hold them for our pleasure, Evewyn!'  But is there ever a word of thanks?  Ever a sacrifice of mead or wine?  Noooo!"

"Eve... Stop!" Elke begged, gasping.  "Don't make me laugh in this waist belt.  It's too tight!"  Dressed in an "Amazon Hunting Costume" of suede moccasin boots, skimpy chain mail and leather jerkin, appropriate semi-barbaric jewelry, (silk loincloth), and a blonde shoulder length wig (matching and extending her blonde bob), Elke had marched into the correct, pre-designated IVR, had clamped herself in "mithril chains" (collar, belt, manacles, and shackles, with a heavy connecting chain), and had been waiting... and waiting... and waiting.  It had to have been at least a full hour.

For this occasion the floor of the suite was covered with wooden planks, to simulate the deck of an "elven treehouse."  The full height 360 degree high resolution displays put Elke in a grove of giant redwoods, several dozen feet in the air.  It was twilight, and the forest giants were festooned with platforms and thatched treehouse dwellings, all linked by swaying rope bridges.  The torchlit "elven village" had a festive air... and that air was hot.

"Can't you stir up an evening breeze or something, Evewyn?"  Dripping with sweat, Elke would have wiped her forehead (had her chains allowed).

"Princess Buglyr likes her pleasure slaves hot... and slippery," Evewyn explained.

"Great!" Elke mumbled, tugging on her chains (and grinning, despite her discomfort).  Elke had to admit, "Evewyn" had been providing entertainment.  Princess Elke's "Companion Guard" of fellow Amazons (and captives) were on neighboring platforms.  All were virtual representations of famous female athletes (some of them Elke's friends), and all were costumed (or rather had been costumed) like "their Princess".  They were bound to semi-reclined wood and net hammock frames, and were being "attended" by a host of petite scantily clad elven maidens.  Apparently the prescribed legal penalty for trespassing in the "Sacred Glade" was being tied up and repeatedly run through the entire elven version of the Kamasutra while being forced to guzzle beer, wine, and mead, and munch various canapés and hors d'oeuvres.

Entertaining... but the floor was hard, the chains heavy, and Elke was getting thirsty.  "Evewyn," Elke mumbled, "tell Her Highness that if she doesn't get her elf butt in gear soon—"

Elke was interrupted by a flourish of exotic trumpets, tinkling chimes, and thundering drums.  The door of the treehouse to which Elke's platform was attached opened, and Princess Buglyr emerged, in all her Elven splendor.

Charlie, a dimpled grin on her pixie face, was dressed in a long, cape-like robe of overlapping individual silken leaves of various size and species, in all the colors of the forest.  An elaborate necklace and a string of black pearls graced her throat.  A minimal golden crown with leaf-shaped tines graced her brow.  Charlie's naturally short stature needed only the addition of a pair of pointed ear tips (expertly applied by one of Eve's robot valets) to make her unmistakably an elf.  A gossamer veil of green silk completed the picture.

"Wow!" Elke sighed, staring in open-mouthed admiration.

Charlie blushed and coyly bit her lower lip, then cleared her throat and threw back her veil.  "Silence, Amazon interloper!" she ordered.  Then stepped forward and stood before her chained captive.  Elke struggled to her knees and sat back on her haunches.  Charlie smiled down at her helpless friend.  "You look... perfect," she said, then leaned forward and kissed Elke on the lips.

"So do you, Princess Buglyr," Elke whispered, and they kissed again.

Several long seconds later, the kiss ended and Charlie took a step back.  "This was a good idea," she said, "using the Wood Elf/Amazon venue I mean."  Charlie scratched behind her left ear.  "I just wish we could dispense with these stupid ears.  They itch."

" Aw... please, Charlotte," Elke begged, with a cajoling smile.  "Leave 'em on.  They're cute."

"Cute," Charlie sighed in mock annoyance.  "I'll give you cute."

Elke watched as Charlie removed her veil and rolled it into a long, thin band.  "Uh... I thought we were going to have dinner," Elke said.

"We will," Charlie answered.  "Steak and lobster in suite five... uh, I mean in the Royal Treehouse Apartment.  Here's the first course."  She stepped behind Elke and held the silken band before her prisoner's lips.  "Down the hatch!" she said brightly.

"Very funny, Elven pip-squeak," Elke growled.  "Just you wait 'til my mother arrives with her Amazon Archers.  Queen...  Who's my mother again, Evewyn?"

"Hippolyta," Eve answered.  "Can't you keep anything straight?  I guess Diana was the smart Princess."

Elke chuckled.  "Very funny Ev—m'mmpfh!"

Charlie tightened the green silk gag, taking her time, carefully pulling her captive's blonde locks free as she wrapped and hitched band after tight band between Elke's teeth and around the prisoner's head... then tied a final knot.  Charlie dropped the silk robe from her shoulders, revealing the leafy, green, bikini top and the matching bottom underneath.  "Enough chatter," Charlie whispered in Elke's ear.  "Time for me to drag my pleasure slave to my luxurious treehouse apartment, feast with her on exotic delicacies, ply her with fine wines and liqueurs, then have my way with her helpless body."  She helped Elke to her feet, put her hand between her "pleasure slave's" shoulder blades, ran her pale small hand slowly up and down Elke's strong tan back, savoring the feel of the firm, hot, sweat-slick flesh, then gave her friend a gentle shove towards the door.  "Move, Amazon," she ordered.

INTERACTIVE VIRTUAL REALITY SUITE FIVE

---

Sylvan Elves are not a particularly messy race, but in the bedchamber of "Princess Buglyr's Royal Treehouse Apartment", entropy was winning.  Granted, the marginal (projected and virtual) parts of the chamber were neat enough: the stand of gleaming mithril Elven armor (overlapping leaf-shaped scales stitched to a leather and chain mail halberd, topped by an elegant intricately etched helm), the "Amazon Princess Elke's" captured cloak, hunting weapons, and crown, displayed as a trophy at the armor stand's base, the desk with its orderly stacks of scrolls, leather bound tomes, writing implements, and delicate thaumaturgical instruments, but the central (real) parts of the chamber...

The low table and cushions to one side were a riot of dirty plates, half empty platters, animal bones and shells, empty, half empty, and full wine, beer, and liqueur bottles, and randomly distributed, cooked and uncooked, vegetables, fruits, and nuts.  Further, Elke's "mithril" chains and various Amazon and Sylvan Elf garments and jewelry had been haphazardly abandoned between the table and the bed.

The bed itself, round and large enough to sleep an Elven platoon (a very friendly Elven platoon), was equally chaotic.  Rumpled red silk sheets and pillows were scattered about, and the bed was strewn with countless (and thankfully thorn less) red roses.

"Princess Elke" was currently flat on her back on that bed, rather loosely tied to the four points of the compass with green silk ropes around her wrists and ankles.  She had been freed from her chains during dinner (between the garlic stuffed mushroom caps and the shrimp bisque), but under the influence of "Elven magic," had allowed herself to be recaptured.  "Princess Buglyr" was snuggled close to her prisoner, her head nestled on Elke's hip.  Both the Sylvan Elf and Amazon Princesses were, of course, completely nude.

Elke glanced down at her tiny captor, than up at the disgracefully disordered table.  "Hey!" she called out softly.  "Hey you!  You with the pointy ears!  Princess what's-yer-name!"

"Bugaloo... I mean Buglyr," Charlie mumbled sleepily, then yawned and lifted her tousled head.  "Wha'cha want?"

"How 'bout some wine?" Elke suggested.

"Aren't you ineeburaited, I mean inebriated enough?" the sleepy "elf" complained.

"Neither of us is driving anywhere tonight," Elke observed.

"Speak fer yerself," Charlie mumbled, dropping her head and snuggling close again.  "I was gonna hitch up the unicorns and take the Royal Chariot out fer some cappuccino later... much later."

Elke nudged her captor's drowsy head with her hip.  "C'mon, Princess.  You're being a lousy hostess."

Charlie sat up and did a slow, languid stretch, hands overhead.  Elke smiled, watching her friend's pale firm breasts flatten as she arched her spine.  Charlie yawned and smiled back.  "Next time I'm gonna capture an Amazon with manners," she complained, then rolled off the bed and stumbled to the table.  "Ow!" she complained, hopping on one foot.  "What a stupid place to put a crown," she muttered.  She then picked up a stoneware goblet and a chilled bottle, turned, and grinned coyly at her languid prisoner.  "Hmm... white wine with blonde Amazon, I think," she purred, then poured a generous portion of the sweet, amber liquid.

Elke stretched in her loose bonds as Charlie climbed back to her side.  Cradling her friend's head with one hand, she gave her a slow careful drink from the goblet with the other.  Charlie took a sip herself, then grinned mischievously.  "Evewyn," she ordered, "stretch this Amazon interloper."

"Yes, your Highness," Eve answered.  "Tight, very tight, or fiddle string?"

"Oh... just tight," Charlie decided.

"Cruel pointy-eared pip-squeak!" Elke accused with a good-natured grin.  Her silken bonds contracted, stretching her into a tight (but still comfortable) spread-eagle.

Careful not to spill the remaining wine, Charlie crawled down the bed, pausing to anoint each of her prisoner's erect nipples, then give then a slow, wet, lick.

"Naughty elf!" Elke scolded.

Charlie smiled, crawled lower, and poured some of the wine into her prisoner's navel.  She was lapping the sweet liquid like a greedy kitten when Elke flexed her stomach, splashing Charlie's nose and chin.  Captor and captive laughed as Charlie licked her lips and wiped her lower face.

"Don't waste all that wine," Elke said.  "I'm still thirsty."

"You expect me to crawl all the way back up there again, just so you can get drunk?"  Charlie said with a dimpled grin.

Elke smiled.  "Pleeez," she begged with a theatrical pout.

"You've had enough," Charlie announced.  "Besides, I've not finished seeing what else I can use down here to drink from."

"Naughty elf!" Elke repeated.

Charlie parted Elke's labia with one hand and began dribbling wine over her captive's clitoris with the other.

"You've already done that twice toniiiiiite!"  The prisoner shuddered in her bonds as Charlie gave Elke's most intimate anatomy a slow, languid lick.

"And I'm going to keep doing it 'til I get it right," Charlie purred, then tipped the goblet again.  "Drat," she complained, "all out."  She sighed, crawled off the bed, pattered back to the table, and poured more wine.  She then turned and gazed at her bound and helpless friend.  "I like it when we play together," Charlie said, sipping from the goblet.

Elke tugged against her bonds and smiled.  "Ever think about how much fun it would be to play all the time?"

Charlie emptied the goblet with a nervous gulp, then set it on the table and approached the bed, her face suddenly sober.  "Uh... you mean..."

"I don't think Margo would mind if we shuffled room arrangements and took over one of the guest suites.  You could move your workshop into an adjoining space and I could move my gym, and..."  Elke noticed Charlie's trembling lip and brimming eyes.  "Charlotte," she whispered, "are you crying?"

"I... I..." Charlie broke into wracking sobs and leapt onto the bed, wrapping her arms around the spread-eagled Amazon and burying her blubbering head between Elke's breasts.

"Is that a 'yes'?" Elke asked with a gentle smile, her own eyes brimming.

Charlie looked up into Elke's face, still weeping.  "I... I'm so... We..." Unable to continue, she buried her face again, sobbing into Elke's firm, tan breasts.

Elke longed to comfort the weeping pixie, but was helpless in her inescapable silken bonds.  "I need to work on my timing," she mumbled.  Unbidden, a gift of mercy from the "Spirit Guardian of the Sacred Glade",  Elke's bonds suddenly went slack, and the "Amazon Princess" pulled the "Elven Princess" into a tight embrace.

"You... you're free," Charlie noted, still sobbing.  "Does... does that mean you're rescued, or I'm captured, or what?"

Elke sighed.  "A little of both, Bug," she mumbled, "a little of both."

◄

Chapter 18

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