"Pheromone Pharmacopia"

by Brandy Dewinter

(c 2001, All rights reserved)

Chapter 13 - "Miscreant"

     If they'd have had more time, the girls would have given Jacqui a few 
lessons in modesty.  She clearly had seldom worn a skirt - and never one 
so short.  If it had slid up just a tiny bit further when Anderson helped
her into the car, the thong that had so embarrassed her would have been 
truly necessary if she were to preserve any secrets at all.

     "Jacqui," Jaymi hissed over her shoulder as Anderson walked around to
his side.  "Keep your knees together when you swing your legs in and out.  
Geez, girl, you don't need to be so blatant.  You've already got him 
hooked and landed in the boat."
   
     "What?" Jacqui said, then realized what had almost happened.  She 
blushed brighter than her dress, looking carefully out the window to 
hide the fire she knew was showing all too well through her smooth makeup.

     It wasn't until Oz had started the car that she absorbed the second
half of Jaymi's statement.  The girls in the back of the car could see 
when she did, though, as she gasped and looked suddenly at Anderson.

     "What's wrong?" he asked, catching the motion out of the corner of 
his eye.  

     "Nothing," Jacqui choked out in a strangled voice.  

     Her teammates covered for her with bright chatter from the rear 
seat and after a moment a sharper look returned to Jacqui's stricken face 
- a look that said she was considering what she had been told most 
carefully.  She didn't say anything though, at least not until they had
arrived at the restaurant.  She managed to get out of the car without 
quite repeating her earlier display, then whispered to Sandy and Jaymi 
as they waited for Oz to negotiate with the valet.

     "This is NOT going to work," Jacqui said urgently.  "I don't have 
the . . . training for this like you girls who grew up with frills.  I'll 
*never* learn all I need to know to pull of this, this, farce." 

     "Calm down, girl," Sandy said.  "We'll get you through this.  We had 
to learn all this, too."

     "Yeah, but you had a lifetime to do it," Jacqui said.

     "A bit less than that," whispered Jaymi.  "Now hush.  And smile!
A quiet mouth - with a smile on it - is 90% of what you need to know 
anyway."  

     Jacqui looked like she was ready to argue about that, a bit of the 
fire that had made her famous within the rough and ready pilot community 
surfacing in her eyes.  The other girls almost lost it in helpless giggles 
though, when she showed a smile that could have graced any fashion 
magazine as she turned to her tall escort when he walked up.

     The other group had gotten out of their own car as well and were 
standing at the entrance to the restaurant - or club, really, with 
entertainments other than food.  The Palmas Lounge had been socially 
discovered a few years before and was now the 'in' place to go for a night 
out.  Clothing in oil-rich Houston tended toward the highly-fashionable, 
tempered by good ol' boy Texas insistence of flattering, feminine styles.  
Unfortunately for Anderson and Jennings, the prices reflected that 
clientele.  

     "Lordy, lordy, I'm glad *I'm* not payin' for this," Carol gloated, 
earning her a frown but a rueful nod from Jennings.  

     They took it like men though, not stinting on the bill.  The quality
of the sumptuous meal almost justified the prices, and afterwards they 
moved into the nightclub area and ordered champagne.  

     "To the most amazing group of women I have ever met," Jennings said, 
raising his glass in a toast.  The laughter that greeted his remark might 
not have been what he expected, but the ostentatious nods from the girls 
made it clear they were not disagreeing with him.  

     "Would you like to dance?" Anderson asked, and no one but Jacqui was 
surprised that she was the object of his invitation.  

     "Oh, I don't dance," she said nervously.  

     "No time like the present to learn, girl," Sandy said with a laugh.  
"Now get up and do us proud or I'll pull your chair out from under you."

     "But I . . I've never . ." she stammered.

     Anderson didn't need any further help.  He bowed gallantly to her - 
while reaching for her hand and pulling her to her feet.  "Then I'll have 
the privilege of introducing you to this . . . pleasure."

     When they were away from the others, Oz dropped his voice and said, 
"You really do look terrific tonight.  I'm sorry I was so . . surprised."

     "Sorry?"

     "I should have realized you were this pretty, but I guess I never 
really looked at you before."  

     "Hell, Oz, we've been friends for, what is it?  Years anyway."

     "Have we?" he asked with a little smile that said a lot more than 
words.   "Then how come I feel like I've never seen you before tonight?"

     "I don't know," she said - softly - and realized that she was truly 
enjoying herself.  

**************

     Jennings looked at Marilyn and said, "Well, it looks like they'll be 
occupied for a while.  Would you care to dance?"  

     "Love to," Marilyn said with a happy little smile.  

     The executive had his own reasons for getting Marilyn alone, starting 
with an interrogation.  "So, who are you really?"

     "Moi?" Marilyn asked with wide eyes.

     "Don't give me that," Jennings replied.  "I'll admit, you do that 
ditzy blonde thing as well as anyone I've ever known.  Better than a lot 
for whom it wasn't an act.  But I'll make you a deal.  I won't assume that 
you're stupid any more, and you don't assume I am either.  Okay?"

     "Deal," she replied, still smiling but with an added sigh.  "You 
don't know how much of a relief it is to quit pretending."  

     "So, why do you?"

     "Why did you believe it?"

     "Huh?" he asked, not seeing the relevance.

     "Why did you ever believe I was, ah, ditzy you said?  Did I ever do 
anything wrong on your tests, screw up in some way that showed I wasn't up 
to the challenge?"

     Jennings frowned, thinking back.  "Well, no, but . . . "

     Marilyn didn't help him out, just lifting an unrelenting brow.

     He grinned and shrugged.  "Okay, I get the point.  If I 
underestimated you, then there's a potential advantage for you."

     "Not so much an advantage over you, since your standards are pretty 
objective," Marilyn said.  "But, well, lets just say that being 
underestimated by some people has allowed me to . . . advance my career.
And it did get me at least this night out at your expense."

     "This is where I leap to the brilliant insight that Marilyn is not 
your real name, Ms. Richards."  

     "No, it's not, but she made a career with that technique, and it 
works just as well today as it ever did."  

     "It does indeed," he replied.  

     They danced for a few moments, maneuvered by Jennings to a position 
where they could see Oz and Jacqui.  "I never thought I'd see those two 
together," Jennings said.  

     "I never doubted it for a moment," Marilyn countered with a grin.  
"The way his eyes locked on Jaymi when we showed up made it clear he likes 
petite, dark-haired girls, and with Jacqui's other qualifications it was 
inevitable.  After all, how many astronauts have lovers who are also great 
pilots?"

     "Lovers?" repeated Jennings.  "Are they . . . "

     "Not yet," Marilyn said lightly.

**************

     "Oz, tell me something," Jacqui murmured.  

     He nodded, and she continued with a grin, "Where has your Aussie 
accent gone all evening?"  

     "Oh, um, I guess I forgot," he admitted with his own grin.  "I 
was distracted."  

     "Indeed," she said, smiling happily.  

***************

     Sandy looked at the dancing couples and smiled at her remaining 
teammates.  "We done good, ladies."

     Carol snorted and said, "Yeah, like it was any sort of challenge
at all."  

     "That's the best kind," Vanna giggled.  

     "Best kind of what?" asked a solidly built man who had walked up as 
they were talking.  

     "Oh, um, sorry," Vanna said.  "I didn't realize we had gotten so 
loud."

     "Not really," he denied.  "But I do like to hear the sound of girlish
laughter.  Why don't you dance with me?  I'll see if I can get you to 
laugh again." 

     "Yeah," Carol said with deliberate parody as she urged Vanna to go 
with him, "like it was any sort of challenge at all."  

     This time Vanna was the one to blush, but she stood and went with 
her unknown partner.  

     "Lordy, she does attract the rich ones," Jaymi said, smiling with 
pleasure for her friend.  

     "Earned his own money, though, I'll bet," Sandy said.  "He's spent 
a lot of time in the sun, with that prairie squint."  

     "Yeah, but he didn't get that tux in a dusty old general store," 
observed Jaymi.  

     Then she was tempted away herself, followed quickly by the others as
their availability and willingness to dance became obvious to the men in 
the lounge.  

*****************

     "You really are smooth," Jennings said with a little chuckle and 
nod of his head to his blonde partner.

     "Hmmm?" replied Marilyn.

     "You never answered by question," he observed.  "You deflected it so
smoothly I never noticed.  At least, not until I thought of it again."

     "Question?" she asked blandly.  Vacuously, or so she tried to imply.

     "Now you're just stalling," he said, refusing to be put off.  

     "I'm just a li'l ol' country gal, all wide-eyed at all the fancy 
gadgets and gizmos you technical types have invented."  

     Then she squeaked, as Jennings hand drifted just low enough to pinch 
her shapely bottom.  

     "Lie to me like a sneaky li'l ol' country gal, and I'll treat you 
like one," he threatened, but his smile took away any offense.

     Instead of an answering smile, vacuous or not, Marilyn's pretty face
frowned as she tried to decide how to answer his question.  "This is 
hardly the place to discuss that," she said, stalling.  

     "You'd be surprised," Jennings said.  "There are deals made in this 
room that affect more money than the GDP of most countries, so unless 
you're talking government classified information . . . "

     His comment was offhand, a way to set such a high standard for 
continued evasion that Marilyn would be forced to talk to him.  However, 
the way she stiffened in his arms - no outside observer would have 
noticed anything - gave him an answer he didn't expect.

     Before she could respond, he continued, "Okay.  We'll talk 
tomorrow in my office though.  And this time, it's not a request."

***************

     Some time later, Sandy and Vanna returned to their table after a 
joint visit to the powder room.  As had often happened that evening, 
there were fresh drinks waiting for them from some unknown benefactor.

     A deep chime started from a towering clock, and unconsciously they 
both started counting the bongs.

     "Witching hour," Vanna said.  

     "And it looks like our Jacqui has initiated the new day in a quite
enjoyable way," Sandy said, pointing at their petite pilot who was locked
in a toe-curling kiss with the man who had been her constant escort for the
evening.  

     "Geez, that girl may not walk like a woman, but she sure can kiss 
like one," Vanna giggled.  

     "And hold her breath for a long time, too," snickered Sandy.  

     They were both horrified to see their friend suddenly recoil from Oz 
as though she had been slapped, then turn and run from the room with a 
rapid clatter from her heels.

     "Uh, oh," Sandy said, rising to follow.  Vanna hurried after her and 
they were just in time to see Jacqui disappear into the powder room they 
had recently vacated.  

     Inside, the dark-haired pilot was slumped on a couch, crying 
uncontrollably.

     "Jacqui, what's wrong?" Sandy asked softly, resting a gentle hand on
a heaving shoulder.  

     "Go away," Jacqui replied, waving a hand without looking up.  

     "Can't do that, girl," Sandy said, slipping into the space next to 
Jacqui on the couch.  "Boss lady says no one goes anywhere alone."  

     The sense that somehow the girls were under orders - with the 
corollary that perhaps someone was watching to see how they behaved - 
penetrated Jacqui's sobs and she sat up suddenly, looking around.  

     That gave Vanna a bit of room to sit next to her, and the despondent
young woman found herself surrounded, but with friendship and patience, 
not judgment.  

     "Tell us what's wrong, hon," Vanna ordered, gentle but implacable.

     "He . . . he kissed me," Jacqui whispered, as though it were a secret
too terrible to say out loud. 

     "He certainly did that," Sandy said carefully.  "And you're crying 
because . . .?"

     "Because . . . because it wasn't . . . me!" Jacqui said, burying her 
head to sob again.  

     "Um, sweetheart, we were watching," Vanna said softly.  "It most 
certainly *was* you."   

     "No it wasn't," the muffled voice said.  "It was this . . . thing 
you've created, this sexy, beautiful . . . thing that I can never be.  
Not really."  

     "Why not?" asked Sandy.  

     Jacqui's head came up again, this time with a disgusted tinge to 
her expression.  "Don't be stupid.  I could never do this again."

     "Why not?" asked Sandy again, her tone matching her previous question 
perfectly.  

     "Because I don't know how!" wailed Jacqui.  "You girls have had a 
lifetime to learn how to dress, and how to wear makeup, and how to, well, 
to move like a woman.  Do you know how hard I worked NOT to look like 
that?  How hard I tried to get everyone to treat me like 'one of the boys'?  
While you girls were playing with dolls, I was building model airplanes."  

     "You have a girl's hairstyle," Vanna pointed out.

     "No," Jacqui contradicted her.  "Until tonight, I had a ponytail, 
which is pretty much unisex nowadays.  And I only grew that because I 
heard, well, I heard that people thought I was . . . sick - perverse or 
something; that I thought I was really a man in a woman's body.  
Astronauts need to be all-American . . . symbols.  I grew my hair to prove 
that I was happy to be a woman, but it was really so that I could be 
accepted as an astronaut, just like I've done everything else in my life."  

     "Are you?  Happy to be a woman?" asked Sandy.

     "Of course I am," Jacqui replied, but a moment of confusion showed 
in her eyes and her manicured fingers drifted along the sleek curves of 
her dress.  

     "And you like men?  Like being kissed by a tall, strong man?" Sandy 
continued with a smile.

     Now Jacqui's eyes softened in a memory that was a statement so clear 
that words, or even her embarrassed nod, were superfluous.  

     "Good.  With that figure, I don't think you'd be very convincing as a 
boy," Sandy said lightly.   

     Before Jacqui could respond to that, Sandy continued.  "Personally, 
I don't think I'd jump to the conclusion that someone who felt like a 
man trapped in a woman's body was automatically sick anyway.  That doesn't 
really matter, though.  I can imagine that others feel that way.  None of 
which is really relevant to your problem.  Do you want to dress nicely, 
use makeup, and, well, the other things it takes to be a pretty woman in 
today's society?  Or not?  You certainly know that you CAN be pretty, if 
you choose to be." 

     "What difference does it make?" Jacqui asked.  "Whether I want to or 
not, it would take, well, a lifetime to learn how to do what you did to 
me tonight.  I've missed my chance."  

     "Bullshit," Sandy replied, the obscenity jarringly discordant from 
her innocent face.  "Vanna and I could teach you ourselves, and in, oh, 
what do you think, Vanna?  A week?" 

     "If she pays attention," Vanna said easily.  "Two if we have to beat 
it into her. After all, she's got the supernova smile, and the tears.  All
the rest is just filling in between."  

     Jacqui's mouth opened and closed, twice, before she could say 
anything.  When she did speak, it was in an incredulous, little-girl 
whisper begging to be convinced that there really was a Santa Claus.
"I don't believe you."

     "Is that a challenge, Jacqui girl?" Sandy said with a comic-opera 
threat in her voice.

     Like a magic word, the thought of a challenge lifted Jacqui's head 
and firmed her eyes.  "You can't do it.  It would take years." 

     "Yep, definitely a challenge," Vanna said.  

     "Starting right now," Sandy declared, standing up.  "And the first 
lesson is that you do NOT show yourself to your beau with your eyes all 
red and puffy."

     "Oh my God," Jacqui said, her hands rising to touch her face, then 
she jerked as she absorbed the rest of Sandy's statement.  "Beau?  He's 
not my . . ." 

     "Nor your cheeks all streaked with mascara, though we can fix that
before we leave here," Sandy continued, rolling over Jacqui's unconvincing 
denial.   

     "Vanna, you go get the valet check to one of the cars.  Say that 
Jacqui has an upset stomach and we're taking her home.  Jacqui and I will 
take care of emergency repairs."  

***********

     "They've been in there a long time," observed a worried Oz.  "I 
never should have forced myself on her like that."

     Carol, who with Jaymi was standing beside him, slapped his shoulder 
lightly.  "You really think that if you had 'forced' yourself on her that 
she would have run away?  *I* think she'd have decked you, and stomped on 
the twitching parts."

     Oz winced, but grinned ruefully.  "You're probably right, but . . "

     "But nothing.  Jacqui can take care of herself - at least 
physically," Carol declared, but with that last caveat a bit of worry 
sounded in her own voice.  


**************

     Jennings and Marilyn had stopped dancing, too, standing together 
where they could also see the hall toward the powder room.  

     "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Marilyn said softly.  

     "Nonsense," Jennings retorted, though he kept his voice low.  "In 
the years I've known Jacqui, this is the first time I've ever seen her 
cry."

     Before Marilyn could reply, he continued, "And no, that is NOT a 
sexist remark.  I think it's a good idea for men to cry now and then,
too.  She's been holding a lot of things in.  Too much, probably." 

**************

     Both groups sighed with relief when Vanna appeared, her sense of 
purpose obvious in her motion.  She gathered up Jacqui's purse and then
approached Anderson.

     "I need the claim check for one of the cars.  We need to take Jacqui 
home."

     "I'll take her," Oz volunteered quickly.

     "Not right now," Vanna said adamantly.  

     Oz looked like he wanted to argue, then bowed his head.  "At least, 
will you tell her I'm sorry?"

     "I most certainly will NOT," snorted Vanna.  "Geez, how do you pilot
types ever manage to reproduce?  You knocked that girl for a loop with a 
high-octane smackeroo, and you want me to tell her you regret it?  Get a 
clue!"  

     "Really?" Oz asked, a little boy grin starting to show on his face.

     Vanna just laughed and walked back down the hall, waving at Marilyn 
in reassurance.  

     The group that was staying got a further reassuring wave, albeit a 
long-distance one, from Jacqui herself when the three girls briefly 
appeared on their way to the exit.  When they got outside however, 
'brief' was no longer an option.  There was a long line at the curb 
waiting for cars.  

     After the third concerned matron, seeing Jacqui's red eyes, asked 
what was wrong, Jacqui looked at Sandy with a silent plea for escape.  
Sandy nodded and swayed her way over to the attendant.  

     "Um, . . Sam," she said, spying his nametag.  "We're really in a 
hurry, and we don't mind getting our own car.  Would you just give us our
key and tell us where it is?"

     "I'm sorry, I can't do that," 'Sam' said.

     "Why not?" Sandy asked, pouting with disappointment that would make
angels weep.  

     "It might not be safe," he said.  "The parking garage is not very 
well lit, and um, how about if I just have them bring your car up as 
soon as possible?"  

     "Oh, there's three of us.  I'm sure we'll be okay," Sandy said 
confidently.  She took a deep breath, then when she had the attendant
thoroughly distracted, she leaned close to him to snag the keys to their
vehicle.  

     "Thanks," she said cheerily as she moved back to her friends.  

     "But, miss, you really shouldn't . . . "

     "I know," she said, smiling.  "But I do a LOT of things I really 
shouldn't do."

     That thought crossed the eyes on the now panting 'Sam', and they were
out of sight around a pillar before he could think of anything else to say.  

     Not that he was wrong, as they found out a few moments later.  

     The three young women approached their car, checking with the alarm 
to make sure they had the right one, when a wheezy voice interrupted them.

     "Mighty fine, yeah, mighty fine," the voice said.  Then the owner of 
the voice stepped from the shadows into the not-much-lighter main pathway
and continued.  "Oh, babies y'all are soo hot!  This's m' lucky day."

     "You don't want to do this," Sandy warned stepping ahead of the other
two.  Jacqui moved to stand beside her, but Vanna's warning hand and frown
held her back.  

     "Oh, yeah, Ah want . . Ah want y'all all right.  All a' y'all three.  
Ah'm gonna show them black boys that it ain't the size o' the meat, it's 
th' way ya pack it.  Ah'm gonna show 'em what a white man kin do with 
three lovelies like y'all."

     "There aren't any black men around here, mister, so you'll have to 
save that for another time," Sandy said, motioning behind her back for the
other two to move toward the car. 

     "Ah'll tell 'em.  Ah'll tell 'em all 'bout gettin' some rich white-
girl pussy.  Besides, Ah'll have me some soov'neers," he claimed, flicking 
out a long knife blade no less dangerous for the flecks of rust that 
marred the shine.  If it really *was* rust, and not something . . . worse.