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   Chapter 8 Brownie Oxford and the Idlewild Incident

Brownie Oxford and the Idlewild Incident: Brownie Bk 2 By Valerie Gaumont Characters: 14848

Updated: 2018-03-07 14:36


Chapter 8

"I think your boobs are crooked, " I said. "Do you want to fix them before I measure." Ricky sighed heavily and shifted his padded breasts around. "Better, " I told him eying the change. "Hands out to your sides, " I reminded him. Ricky extended his arms. At six three, Ricky with his arms spread looked like a giant condor had landed in my living room.

If condors had fake breasts, a corset cinching their waist and padded hips and butt.

True to his word, Noah had passed my name and number around. Ricky was the first to call. He wanted something new and fabulous for an upcoming awards ceremony of some sort. Noah stood off to the side watching his padded friend get measured by me.

"I like that number you're working on over there, " Ricky told me as I moved the measuring tape from his fake breasts to his corseted waist, pausing to jot the measurements down in my notebook. He inclined his head towards Martha who was draped in my latest creation. "The green watered silk is fabulous and the style looks like something Meme Eisenhower would have worn when out to dinner with Ike. Very retro."

"Thanks, " I said as I jotted down another measurement and moved to his hips. "That's sort of what I was going for. I found a selection of older patterns in one of the back drawers at the fabric store and couldn't resist. I'm not sure where I'll ever wear it as I rarely dine out with the likes of the Eisenhowers, but it will look good in my portfolio."

I measured his arms and told him he could lower them. "Can you hold this at your waist for me, " I asked handing him one end of the measuring tape. He did and I pulled the other end towards the ground. "Do you know what shoes you are wearing?" I asked.

"Shoes?" Noah asked.

"For the hemline, " I clarified.

"Oh, " Noah said nodding.

"I'd hate for the shoes to make it too short, " I added as I jotted down the leg measurement without the shoes.

"Those bitches would never let me hear the end of it, " Ricky said shuttering. "Lady Destiny with a high water hem. I brought the shoes I want to wear actually. They are in the bag by the door." Noah fetched the shoes and played Prince Charming by slipping them on to Ricky's feet so I could get a measurement with the shoes on. I had the feeling Ricky's corset was cinched a little too tightly to make bending easy. With the three inch platforms on, the already tall man looked gargantuan. I felt like I was designing a dress for the Statue of Liberty.

"Or Godzilla, " I decided. "A hairless Godzilla." I smiled to myself as I took the final measurement. "Godzilla versus the hair removal cream manufacturing facility, " I thought to myself. "Not as catchy as Godzilla versus Rodan but I kind of like it."

"Okay, " I said out loud, keeping my Godzilla thoughts to myself. "I think those are all the measurements I need if you want to get dressed, we can discuss the details." Ricky tromped off to the back bedroom where his street clothes were stashed and I rolled up my measuring tape.

"I take it your Saturday trip with Crista went well, " Noah asked spotting the new kitchen table and chairs that now occupied my dining area. That and a book case for the bedroom were my big purchases the day before. Thankfully the only thing they needed was a good scrub down which was well within my capacity to administer. Admittedly the wooden dining table could use refinishing, but Crista claimed to have an idea she thought I would like but wanted to check on it so I was holding off dealing with it. Since I didn't actually know what was involved in refinishing the table, I was more than happy to wait. My only refinishing plan involved a tablecloth.

But I was open to suggestions.

"It did, " I said nodding. "Now I don't have to eat over the sink, but can sit down like a fancy person. I even put a napkin in my lap."

Noah chuckled. "How is your application for school going?"

"Not bad. I have all of the official documents, I just need more pieces for the portfolio. And then a camera to take pictures of the pieces. I tried using the camera on my laptop. It did not go well."

"Do you need models for your clothing too?" he asked as Ricky returned, fully dressed and without padding.

"I'm going to put the garments on Martha, " I told him.

"Well I will be happy to model this dress for you, " Ricky said.

"I may take you up on that, " I told him. "It'll show my ra

ws and fangs would decide to help them out were called to mind as I scanned the dry reports Swift turned in. On top of that were the memories I had to sift through to find the information Swift wanted. I remembered vomiting after conversing with a man who enjoyed the torture he inflicted on others in his quest for information. I remembered the nightmares that woke me screaming in the night after questioning assorted victims.

I flipped through the files fast, needing only the date and the briefest description to remember each episode in vivid detail. Interspersed with Swift's reports were Dr. Harding's. He talked of my bilirubin levels and injuries sustained while out with Swift. Seeing the litany of pain recorded for the official record made me angry in a way I had never been before. I knew Dr. Harding wanted to analyze me for quantifiable answers. I long ago accepted that he was a miserable excuse for a human being and more suited to work as a coroner rather than a physician. But seeing everything in its entirety was something else.

"They were going to use me up mentally and physically until there was nothing left, " I said as I reached the final file. The spark of anger faded with the understanding and I felt hollow and sad inside as I opened the last report. It came from Dr. Harding. Protests about my inability to adequately interrogate torture victims had been filed and Dr. Harding had come up with a new formula. He surmised that his chemical concoctions might be limiting my abilities and was devising an alternate treatment for me. I gave a dark chuckle at one of the statements and couldn't help but read it aloud.

"'As her exposure increases, her nightmares from her early jobs have faded. We believe that with increased exposure to those deceased through the process of advanced interrogation Watson's nightmares will return briefly before once again fading, leaving no discernable hindrance to performing her given tasks.' Now doesn't that just say it all?"

Disgusted with the whole mess, I closed the file and put it back in the box with the others. As I closed the box I realized that the slight twinge of guilt I felt for leaving was gone. I unfolded my legs and climbed off the bed. I picked up the box and took it back to the closet. I put it on the floor of the closet, under the lower shelf and pushed it as far back as possible hiding the bulk of it from my view. I closed the closet door. For a moment I stared at it. I then went into the bathroom and took out the last of the pills from Dr. Harding's supply. I unscrewed the lid and poured the contents of the jar into the toilet. I flushed the toilet and watched the pills as they were sucked into the sewer system. I threw the empty pill bottle into the trash and washed my hands.

"Fuck you Dr. Harding, " I said knowing that under the circumstances even Mrs. Ellison would approve of the strong language. "I'm going to make a pretty dress."

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