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		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		Jessie & Chelsea: THE  ADVENTURES  OF Shorty & the Cowgirl ———————————————————— by Van © 2004
		Chapter 10

Jessie eased the door of the guest bedroom open and peeked into the darkened hall.  All was quiet.  The entire household was (apparently) fast asleep.  She tightened the sash of her silk robe, stifled a yawn, and tiptoed down the hall on bare feet. Her way was lit by a series of small, weakly glowing objects on various cabinets and side tables.  They were accent lamps of pewter and stained glass, sculptures in the shapes of trees, flowers, various semi-cuddly animals, and (of all things) a dragon.  I like that one, Jessie decided, stifling another yawn.

Exhausted from her ordeal, first as Connie Wright's prisoner, then as the Grinell's slave, Jessie had arrived back at Brightman Hall dozing against Lady Brightman's side in the back of the family Rolls.   The car door had opened and a horde of giggling maids carried her away.  She never saw what happened to Chelsea.  Keys rattled, padlocks clicked open, and she was released her from the tight leather harness the Grinell's slave Pampata (Bitch!) had locked around her nude, sore body.  They bathed her in a huge claw foot tub, and she remembered drifting in the steaming water, barely managing to stay awake as they scrubbed her clean and shampooed her hair.  The maids toweled her dry, then gave her a quick, relaxing massage.  Dressed in a thick, fluffy robe, she was hustled into the kitchen and fed a light, delicious meal by Cook herself.  Finally, she was helped to her room, dressed in a frilly nightie, and tucked into bed.  Lady Brightman herself reappeared to bid her a good night, plant a warm kiss on her forehead, and turn out the light.

And then sleep had finally come... NOT!

Jessie had to see Chelsea... she just had to.  She'd waited until the house was still (and couldn't wait any longer), donned the silk robe draped across the foot of her bed, pattered into the hall... and here she was at Chelsea's door.  (She hoped it was Chelsea's door.  Brightman Hall was huge.)  Jessie slowly turned the knob... and found the door was locked.  (Damn!)  However, the key was in the lock.  She slowly turned the key, then the doorknob, then slowly, gently pushed against the door.  It opened on silent hinges, Jessie eased through, eased it closed, then turned the key in the lock

Jessie turned and examined the dark bedroom. The only light was the soft night-glow leaking from behind the closed drapes.   She crept toward the canopy bed... and smiled.  The glimmer of a pair of open eyes was peering up at her from the pile of pillows at the head of the bed.

"Hey there, Shorty," Jessie whispered.  There was no reply.  She fumbled on the bedside table and found the switch of a lamp.  She flipped it on and it glowed weakly, another of the Brightmans' accent lights.  This one was a mushroom surrounded by a ring of dancing fairies.  Jessie turned back to the bed, and her smile broadened.

Chelsea was peering up at her, the bedcovers pulled up to her chin.  The reason she hadn't responded was now obvious: her cute little lips were plastered with strips of silver-gray tape.  It may have made conversation impossible, but did little to disguise the happy smile on her pixie face.  The little blonde mewed an inarticulate greeting and squirmed under the covers.

Jessie grabbed the edge of the sheets and blanket and slowly pulled it aside.  Underneath, Chelsea was completely naked.  Her arms were folded behind her back and her ankles crossed and bound together with several tight windings of the same gray tape as her gag.  Jessie reached down and rolled the helpless pixie onto her side, confirming that her forearms were bound together with more tape.  The wrappings were neat, tight, and obviously inescapable.  Jessie rolled Chelsea back on her arms and buttocks, and grinned down at her helpless lover, drinking in every square inch of firm, tan, smooth skin... her smooth shoulders... the sprinkling of freckles between the pert, firm globes of her breasts... her flushed, pointing nipples... her flat, sculpted abdomen... the curly, dark blonde bush above her glistening sex... her strong, long legs (long for a "Shorty", that is)... her cute little feet and wriggling toes....

Jessie sighed... and stifled another yawn.  "Puts a whole new meaning on 'sleep tight', don't it?" she purred.  Smiling seductively, the redhead shrugged out of her silk robe and let it drop to the floor, then slid a finger under the strap of her nightie, slid it off her smooth, freckled shoulder, and let it slither to the floor.  She then slowly, gracefully pulled down the matching panties, and stepped free.  "Mind if I join you?" she asked, affecting a coy pout.  "Silly me.  You're hardly in a position to say no... now are you?"

Chelsea giggled through her gag and squirmed to the side, making room for Jessie to flop onto the bed.  Jessie pulled the covers back up, grabbed the helpless little blonde into a tight embrace, and kissed her gagged lips.  Chelsea snuggled close, then shook her head and forced a mewing complaint past her sealed lips.

Jessie eased herself up on one elbow and smiled down at her lover, roommate, and prisoner.  "If I take that pretty tape off your pretty lips, you promise not to scream, or whimper, or call for 'Mumsy', or do anything else to make me regret it?"  Her eyes twinkling, Chelsea nodded.  "Hmm... I don't know," Jessie responded.  "You do tend to get pretty noisy when I start doing things... like this."

Chelsea's eyes popped wide and she whined through her gag.  Jessie was sliding her hand back and forth between the squirming pixie's bound legs, caressing her sex with the edge of her palm.  The shuddering captive locked eyes with her grinning lover and affected her most heart-rending pout.

"That doesn't work on me, Flirt," Jessie grinned, "remember?"  Chelsea sighed and rolled her eyes.  "I take it you've been put to bed without any supper?" Jessie inquired.  Chelsea sighed again, and nodded.  "Poor little 'Chatterbox'," Jessie cooed, reaching for the edge of Chelsea's tape-gag.  "Brace yourself," she suggested.  "This may—"  She ripped off the tape with one quick jerk.  "—sting."

Chelsea's eyes crossed and she shuddered, then she licked her lips and glared at her grinning lover.  "Sadist!" she accused, then her smile returned.  "You okay, Cowgirl?"

Jessie yawned hugely, then smiled.  "Yeah.  Fine.  None the worse for wear... but I'm not the one all taped up and helpless.  I take it 'Mumsy' did this?"

Chelsea nodded.  "She thinks I should have called her before Lourdes and I came to your rescue.  I haven't seen her this angry... in months."  Chelsea sighed and wiggled in her bonds.  "It's so unfair.  She gets angry if I call and interrupt her business meetings; she gets angry if I don't call and interrupt...   So unfair."

Jessie laughed and resumed her gentle, teasing massage of Chelsea's sex.  "You gotta admit the circumstances were rather unusual," she whispered.  "At least I hope so.  Do house guests often get kidnapped from Brightman Hall?"

Shuddering and writhing, Chelsea shook her head.  "No," she moaned.  "So unfair...  I'm supposed to be the one on top.  This is my home.  You're supposed to be my prisoner."

Jessie chuckled.  "The fickle finger of fate," she purred, parting Chelsea's labia and teasing her clitoris with her index finger.

Chelsea gasped, and bit her lower lip.  "Oh... so unfair."

"My hero," Jessie whispered, continuing her massage.  "You came to rescue me... to get me out of that awful place."

"Awful?  Oh, I don't know," Chelsea whispered, writhing in her bonds and fighting to ignore what Jessie was doing to her.  "The Grinell's could use a decorator, but the place isn't that awful—aargh!"

Jessie shifted the focus of her fingers and continued manipulating her lover's sex.  She knew all the right places to tickle and tease.  She knew Chelsea's sensitivities and reactions very well.  She leaned close and gave Chelsea's grimacing face a slow, languid lick.  "My hero.  Of course, you screwed up my rescue pretty badly.  I guess we're lucky your chauffeur had the brains to call Her Ladyship as soon as you guys went in."  Chelsea gasped and opened her mouth to scream, and Jessie's left hand clamped over the bound, writhing pixie's mouth.  "Shhh... quiet, Shorty," she hissed.  "Don't want to wake the household, now do we?"

Chelsea wiggled and writhed, struggling against Jessie's hand-gag and riding her lover's hand towards climax.  She was close—then Jessie's hand in her crotch went still and the hand over her lips went limp.  Shuddering in frustration, Chelsea lifted her head... and found Jessie's eyes closed, her lips curled in a blissful smile.  "Jessie?" Chelsea whispered.  Jessie smacked her lips and snuggled against Chelsea's bound body.  "Hey... Cowgirl!" Chelsea hissed.  Jessie's lips moved as if she were speaking, but only inarticulate mumbling escaped her still smiling lips.  Her eyes remained tightly closed.

Chelsea sighed.  Asleep... she's asleep.  The helpless pixie gazed at her lover's slumbering face.  A shiver of pure affection rippled up her spine, and she bit her lower lip.  Tears welled in her eyes.  So beautiful...  And she loves me!  Sweet dreams, Cowgirl.

The key rattled in the lock, the bolt slid back, and the cell door opened.  Lady Brightman and Felicity Wright entered the cell.

"You didn't tell me you were torturing her," Felicity mumbled, gesturing towards her little sister.

Connie Wright, the little sister in question, mewed through the rag stuffed in her mouth and the tight cleave-gag clenched in her teeth.  Other than lift her head and flutter her fingers, there was little else she could do.  Wide, tight suspension cuffs were strapped and padlocked around her wrists and ankles.  The ankle cuffs were snapped and locked to rings in the floor, and the wrist cuffs to chains that passed through pulleys in the ceiling and down to a windlass bolted to the floor by the far wall.  Connie was up on her toes in a standing spread-eagle, thanks to her bonds and the black heels on her feet.  Lady Brightman had tightened the windlass herself, stretching Connie until she was at the threshold of pain; then snapping a padlock through a hasp in the mechanism, ensuring the helpless girl would remain exactly where she was.  And remain Connie had, for several hours.

"She entertained Ms. McQuade in similar fashion," Lady Brightman explained, her expression carefully neutral.  "I'm matching her malice, hour for hour."

Felicity's gaze slid down her younger sister's nude, glistening body.  The cell was stiflingly hot.  Her eyes settled on Connie's shoes.  They were secured to her sister's feet by means of thin straps running through the insteps and padlocked to the ankle cuffs.  "Those are horrible," she gasped.

"They are a size too small," Lady Brightman agreed, "but—"

"They're knock-offs!" Felicity interrupted.

Connie's expression, hitherto one of piteous pleading, changed to seething anger.  She glared at her sister and mumbled a gagged tirade of inarticulate threats and questionable fashion suggestions.

Lady Brightman stifled a smile.  Felicity was a successful model for one of the top London agencies.  Her priorities were... different.  Amusement successfully masked, Lady Brightman cleared her throat.  "Well... she is being tortured, as you say.  You've seen the tape of her confession."  Felicity nodded, her expression grave.  Connie's eyes darted from her big sister to Lady Brightman.  Her anger was gone and the pleading had returned.  "I'm continuing our conversation in Connie's presence," Lady Brightman explained, "so she can appreciate the gravity of her situation... and have no illusions about your position regarding her fate."

"Connie's behavior is unacceptable," Lady Brightman said, and Felicity nodded her agreement; "however, no harm has been done and I would be willing to let the matter drop.  Connie would no longer be welcome at Brightman Hall, of course... not for a very long time, at least... but others are involved."

"The Grinells?" Felicity suggested.

Lady Brightman shook her head.  "Lord Grinell is a twit.  'Lady' Grinell and her 'slave' are inconsequential."  Lady Brightman's eyes locked with Connie's.  "But there are others.  Your sister made promises... promises she's no longer in a position to keep.  The people who run the 'R' School are not inconsequential.  I imagine they will be rather peeved to learn the slave they had agreed to accept on speculation will not be arriving.  I imagine if Connie were to blunder into their 'recruiters' at any time in the immediate future, she'd find herself on her way to France... never to return."

"What can we do?" Felicity whispered.

"I've already made discrete overtures and begun spreading a little financial oil on the water.  All will be well, as long as Connie is... unavailable... for several months, at least."

"Unavailable?"

"I'm afraid your sister is going to have to take an extended vacation.  I have a destination in mind... tropical... distant... secure.  I see no other solution."

Felicity nodded.  "Is it a nice place?"

Lady Brightman smiled.  "I rather imagine that will depend on Connie.  It's the perfect place for her to contemplate her crimes and seek rehabilitation.  She'll have help with the later, I assure you."

Connie shook her head and mewed through her gag.

"How long?" Felicity asked.

Lady Brightman's smile faded.  "Several months should be sufficient for our French friends to lose interest; but how long it will take your sister to sufficiently improve her character to merit release... again, that will depend on Connie."

Connie continued shaking her head, and tears began streaming down her face.

"I believe you said your solicitor already has your sister's power of attorney on file?" Lady Brightman asked.

Felicity nodded.  "She's always relied on me to handle the family finances.  She can disappear without any awkward questions."

"You realize, of course," Lady Brightman continued, "that you yourself might have become a target for Connie's friends in the aftermath of this affair?"  Felicity's eyes widened and she shook her head.  "Not to worry," Lady Brightman continued.  "That won't be happening, I promise, not after my arrangements."

Lady Brightman turned her back and walked to the door.  "Is there anything you'd like to say to your sister before she departs for her 'vacation'?"

Felicity locked eyes with her helpless, gagged, pleading sister, then turned and joined Lady Brightman at the door.  "See you later, sis," she mumbled.

Connie forced a pleading whine past her gag; but the door closed, the bolt slid home, and the key rattled in the lock.

Margo was sitting on the stone bench next to the koi pond.  A short walk through the gardens from her working office, it was one of her favorite retreats.  She always enjoyed the sound of the waterfall spilling into the lower basins, the songbirds that fluttered down to bathe in the shallow, carefully sculpted spillways, and the koi themselves, lingering near the surface, hoping for tossed treats.  It was serene, and today was a good day for serene... a very good day.  

"Sorry, Pretty Ones," Margo sighed, smiling down at the brightly colored fish.  "Narelle gets very testy if I spoil your appetites.  You wouldn't want me in one of her ponygirl rigs, hauling her tool cart around the gardens in penance... now would you?"

The koi were unconcerned by the politics of the Inner Circle, or what price the Biosphere's tall, blonde, Australian, Head Gardener might extract for any piscine dietary indiscretions the TESSERACT CEO might commit.  It was nearly an hour 'til feeding time, and they were peckish!

Just then a quiet chime sounded, followed by the disembodied voice of Eve.  "Margo, your call to Lady Brightman is waiting."

"Thank you, Eve."  Margo stood and strolled down the flagstone path back to her office, mounted the steps to the office balcony, and walked to her desk.  In her wake, the stairs retracted into the wall, the railing lowered until until it was flush with the balcony deck, and the glass wall slid closed.  As Margo sat, a desktop screen cleared and Abigail Brightman's smiling face appeared.

"Hello there, Stretch," Lady Brightman purred.  ("Stretch" was Abby's pet name for her tall, lanky, beautiful friend of many years.)

"Hey, Legs," Margo responded.  (Abby had been a ballet dancer when they first met, back when Margo was a graduate student at the London School of Economics.)  "How are the girls?"

Abby's smile widened.  "Four days of shopping and gadding about London.  You're going to have to send a cargo plane to haul all the clothes and other booty they've accumulated.  I assume the flight for day after tomorrow is unchanged?"

Margo nodded.  "Yes, and it turns out it is a cargo plane.  Eve had to schedule something with capacity for the girls and the other passengers' 'Special Accomodations'.  Kat Mayfair will accompany them for the trip."

Abby's smile turning rather coy.  "Lourdes told me Kat was... how shall I put this?... indisposed?"

"Kat was in the dog house," Margo confirmed, "but her term expired yesterday.  Speaking of Lourdes and the dog house, how is our Kiwi convict?"

Abby laughed.  "Languishing comfortably in my dungeon, recovering nicely from her ordeal at the hands of that horrid Grinell woman, worried sick about what you're going to do to her when she gets back to Seattle.  I still can't believe she acted so... rashly.  Chelsea I understand.  She's young.  But Lourdes?"

"That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about," Margo said.  "Eve has finished reconstructing the arrangements Lourdes made prior to the 'rescue'.  She used the TESSERACT Security routines to do a threat assessment of her plan and got a negative outcome prediction of less than three percent.  She then took additional measures, left more encrypted messages to be delivered automatically to various people, that sort of thing, and reduced the projection to less than one tenth of one percent.  That's somewhat more dangerous than a trip on the motorway, but not exactly 'rash', don't you agree?  Obviously, she took advantage of the situation and turned it into a safe 'adventure' for the girls.  Would that our youthful adventures could have been as peril free."

"Wheels within wheels and games within games," Abby purred.  "I wonder where Lourdes learned to be so devious?  You realize, of course, that I myself received no less than seven urgent phone calls from my staff as soon as the rescue was underway?"

Margo laughed.  "I'm not surprised.  If all else failed, I'm sure Timothy with his tire iron and Cook with her rolling pin would have sorted things out.  The Grinells wouldn't have stood a chance."  Abby joined the laughter.

A chime sounded and a message scrolled across the bottom of Margo's screen: "HAREMKEEPER WAITING".

"Elke's returned from a business meeting in Bellevue and needs to talk to me," Margo told Abby.  "When are you going to visit Seattle?"

"When are you going to visit Brightman Hall?" Abby countered.  "And I'm talking about a real visit, not one of your drop-bys between business meetings in London."

"Soon, I hope," Margo sighed.  "Gotta go.  Love you!"

"Love you too, Stretch," Abby answered, and severed the connection.

A door opened and Elke stormed into the office.  She was dressed in a tan mini-skirt and matching jacket over a pale blue silk blouse, rather than her usual TESSERACT Health Club leotard and tights.  "Are you aware Kat is—"

"On a rampage?" Margo interrupted.  "Running amok?  Cutting a wide swath through the Inner Circle?  Visiting unspeakable horrors upon all the Sisters who used and abused her for the past month?  Slaking her thirst for cruel revenge?  Having fun and being Kat?"

Elke stopped before the desk, hands on hips and feet apart, struggling to control the smile quivering on her lips.  "And you're just going to sit there?  Being passed among the Sisters was your idea, remember?"

Margo leaned back in her chair.  "It's a matter of balance," she explained.  "The pendulum swings and—"

"You're enjoying this!" Elke thundered.  "What if Kat gets carried away?"

"Brie and Naomi are sequestered in one of the Katacomb chambers," Margo explained, "naked, bound front-to-front, gagged, impaled on a double dildo, and dangling heads up and feet down in a vibrating rubber sheath full of warm oil."

Elke sighed and folded her arms across her chest.

"Anne is also naked," Margo continued, "her wrists manacled to the back of a steel chastity belt, and a ball-gag in her mouth.  At Kat's request, Eve has sealed various doors in the Biosphere and created a large maze.  A dozen small robots made to look like toy dolls are chasing our favorite shyster, and if she lets them get within five feet, Tikler beads lining the belt's crotch panel tease, tickle, and zap her sex, with increasing intensity as the 'dolls' get closer.  She's fine as long as she keeps moving.  For added fun, most of the maze runs are parallel to well-traveled public corridors.  Anne's safe from prying eyes behind the one-way mirrors, of course, but you know how easily she gets embarrassed."

"All of which is reasonable revenge for the sort of things they did to Kat," Elke agreed.  "What about Jodi?"

Margo sighed.  "As you know, your little sister came the closest to getting carried away when it was her turn to be Kat-keeper."

"That's the understatement of the week," Elke muttered.

"I'll spare you the details," Margo continued.  "Let's just say Kat's revenge on The Trickster involves several dozen rolls of dermafoam tape impregnated with itching powder, a very solid but well-ventilated sarcophagus, and a secret dungeon in the deepest bowels of the Katacombs."

Elke sighed again.  "And Charlie?"

Margo smiled and nodded towards one of the office alcoves.  Elke took several steps to the side and peered around the corner of the bookcase that had been blocking her view.  Charlie was lying on her side on the alcove's thick, posh carpet.  She was naked (of course) and bound in a stringent ball-tie.  Her chin nearly touched her knees, her wrists were crossed behind her back and lashed to her ankles, and numerous bands of rope enforced a tight fetal tuck  The helpless, diminutive, scientist squirmed and rocked her bundled body, a thick cloth cleave-gag containing most of her vigorous complaints.

"Kat tied her up like that and tucked her under the bushes down behind the Biosphere stables," Margo explained. "I brought her up here to keep an eye on her."

"To leer at her naked, helpless, Bug body, you mean," Elke snorted.  Her beloved Charlie was incredibly helpless and no doubt increasingly uncomfortable, but Elke knew she had put Kat through similar ordeals during her turn as the bodyguard's custodian.  If anything, Kat had gone easy on the tiny genius, probably as a favor to me, Elke mused.  "I told you so," she told the wiggling captive, then turned back to Margo.  "I've got work to do," she announced.  "Can you have her delivered to our apartment at close-of-business?"

Margo smiled.  "One Bug, to-go.  You'll find her waiting on your dining room table, wrapped in paper and boxed in cardboard, with napkins and packets of the appropriate condiments."

Elke shook her head, turned, and walked towards the opening door.  "It's a wonder any work gets done around here at all," she muttered over her shoulder.

The door hissed closed and Margo was alone (not counting the captive Bug and the ever-present Eve).  She tapped a series of virtual keys on her touch-screen desktop.  The bookcase screening Charlie's alcove slid aside, giving Margo an unobstructed view of the ball-tied pixie.  At the same time, the mirrored wall/computer display opposite her desk swirled and resolved into a series of windows.  A stack of smaller windows to one side showed Brie and Naomi, Anne, and Jodi.  Small, blinking icons in the corner of each window confirmed the scenes depicted were being recorded.  Most of the wall, however, showed the Biosphere corridor near the secret entrance to the TESSERACT Health Club, the very corridor down which Elke would soon be passing.  Margo tapped more keys, and the camera pulled back to show the dozen Security robots deployed down side passages, all bristling with non-lethal weapons and the latest capture technology.  Kat, resplendent in one of her leather catsuits, leaned against a nearby wall, buffing her nails.

"All work and no play..." Margo purred, then turned to smile at Charlie.  "You watching this?" she asked.  "Looks like an epic battle in the making."

Charlie sighed through her gag and squirmed in her tight bonds.   Elke's walking into a trap!  And there's nothing I can do to stop it!   ...or help catch her.

The last of several suitcases and one large trunk were being loaded on the Boeing 7E7.  Meanwhile, Kat watched as Jessie watched (a broad smile on her freckled face) as Chelsea hugged the Brightman chauffeur and planted a big wet kiss on his blushing cheek.  "Flirt," the bodyguard muttered under her breath, stifling a smile.  Both passengers-to-be were dressed in business attire: designer scarves, silk blouses, jackets over short skirts, pantyhose, and heels.  Jessie's suit was camel tan and Chelsea's a charcoal heather.  Kat, of course, was wearing her usual black leather jacket over a black leather catsuit.  As the last of the cargo handlers departed, the Rolls pulled away and the girls bounded up the boarding ramp.  "Anything else?" Kat grumbled .  "We can always send for another plane."

Chelsea giggled and went up on her toes to plant a kiss on Kat's lips.  "Hello to you too, Kat," she said with an impudent grin.

"Hiya," Jessie mumbled, kissing Kat as well.

Kat smiled at Jessie.  "So... managed to get yourself in trouble again," she purred.

Jessie blushed.  "It's a habit," she drawled.  "I'm tryin' to cut back."

"I rescued her!" Chelsea said brightly.

Kat rolled her eyes.  "Not how I heard it," she muttered, and gestured towards the passenger chairs bolted to tracks in the forward half of the plane's interior.  The luggage and cargo was stowed behind a sliding partition in the rear.  "You two buckle in and try not to attract any more kidnappers while I secure for takeoff."  Jessie and Chelsea headed for chairs while Kat closed the door and doubled checked the latch.

"A pity Lourdes is busy on that special assignment Auntie Margo gave her," Chelsea called from her seat.  "I never got to thank her for her help."

"Neither did I," Jessie added.

"I'm sure you'll see her again... eventually," Kat answered, then smiled and peeked through the curtain into the rear cargo area.  In addition to the girl's luggage and various other TESSERACT cargo, two large, streamlined sarcophagi of molded plastic were strapped to cargo pallets.  Each of the coffin-size modules had a small cube clamped to their side.  Kat knew the cubes were Virtual Reality servers, linked through the aircraft's communications system to the TESSERACT network.  The sarcophagi themselves were life support transport modules.  One had a label listing its destination as TESSERACT World Headquarters, Seattle, Washington, USA.  The other was on it's way to Gondaloo Island Resort, Queensland, Australia.

Kat thumbed a switch on the intercom panel.  "Ready," she said, then strolled to an empty seat.  As she secured her lap belt the engines whined to life.  Jessie and Chelsea smiled at her brightly.  There was a shudder and aircraft began to taxi.  "You two tuckered out?" Kat asked hopefully.  "Plan on napping the whole trip?"  Both girls shook their heads.  "You bring a pile of good books you're dying to read?"  Again, they shook their heads.  "You going to talk my ears off all the way to Tucson?"  Both laughed and nodded, Chelsea with special enthusiasm.  Kat sighed.  "Just great."

The 7E7 had reached the end of the taxiway and was waiting for clearance to depart.

Well, Kat mused, there's three new rolls of dermafoam in my luggage, along with several bundles of myoplastic flexicuffs and strap ties.  The engines roared to full power and they began rolling down the runway.   I should probably wait 'til we reach cruising altitude, she decided, before I make my move.