As the metal door clanged shut, Dan Bell glanced up at his attorney.  She was looking a bit rough around the edges today – in stark contrast to the well groomed and carefully made-up woman he had grown to love.

“The guard is checking in a couple of new lawyers.  We have a few minutes before he comes back.  Let’s do it.”

Dan needed no further encouragement, and in a moment he stood stark naked in the middle of the attorney conference room.  Katie helped him put on the bra and Dan slipped her flower print dress over his head.  Katie dressed herself in the prison garb while Dan finished getting dressed.

“Put on some foundation to cover that bit of stubble,” she instructed.  Katie transferred the shoulder length blonde wig from her head to Dan’s and applied quickly applied a coat of lipstick.  She removed the light layer of makeup from her own face and sat down in the chair that faced the door.  Dan was slipping his feet into her shoes and fastening the clasp of a necklace when she saw the guard glance through the window.

They sat in the room for another fifteen minutes, making small talk to kill some time.  At 10:05, Dan began to put papers back into the brief case and prepared to leave.

“Just remember, Dan, the jig is going to be up at shower time tomorrow morning.  Make sure you catch that flight and get out of the country.”

She could sense the uncertainly in her brother as he readied himself for the escape.

“Don’t worry, Dan.  You look convincing enough.  Sure, you look like me on a bad day – but that’s how I looked when I came in.”

Dan smiled and tried to steady his nerves.

“Thank you, Katie.  And I’m so sorry.”

Katie smiled and nodded.  She had told Dan that the cancer would kill her within a year.  Better for her to spend her final year in prison than for him to spend the next fifty years there.

Dan signaled the guard and was soon walking toward the door to the outside world.  When he got to Katie’s Honda Civic, he tossed her purse and briefcase onto the passenger seat and glanced over his shoulder.  Nobody was chasing him yet.  He struggled to keep his emotions in check as he exited the prison parking lot at the posted speed limit.

Fifteen minutes later, Dan flopped down on the bed of a motel near the prison.  He breathed a huge sigh of relief.  Phase one was complete.  Phase two – exiting the country while passing himself off as his twin sister – would be a bit more difficult.  He stood in front of the mirror.  He definitely didn’t look like Katie at her best, but did he look like Katie at her worst?  Perhaps.

Dan was itching to change into some more comfortable clothes. He tossed the big suitcase onto the bed and opened it.

“Son of a …”

The long flowery dress he was wearing was the most conservative thing Katie had packed.  The suitcase was packed with frilly blouses, short skirts, and even a couple of bikinis.  Dan laughed when he saw an open box of condoms and a started birth control pill.  Then he realized that the TSA would expect to find those items in a woman’s suitcase – bonus points to Katie for her attention to detail.  He glanced inside the garment bag in hopes that there might be a pant suit inside – but it held only dresses.

Dan knew that Katie must be taking some perverse pleasure in his predicament.  Let her have her laugh – he was a free man again.  He considered a quick shopping trip, but decided to wait.

After ordering room service, Dan sat on the bed and inspected his travel itinerary.  The flight to Brazil was going to be mind-numbingly long.  He pawed through the overnight bag to see if Katie had packed anything to read.  He rolled his eyes when he pulled out three Danielle Steele novels.  Katie might be going a bit far with this cloak and dagger stuff.  He could always pick up a couple of books at one of the stores in the airport.

Dan’s eyes found a sheaf of computer printouts in the bag.  “Tips from drag queens.”  As he glanced through the pages, he found himself nodding at many of the tips – they would definitely make it easier for him to pass as a woman.

After wolfing down the room service burger and fries, Dan glanced at his watch – or rather, Katie’s watch.   It was noon – still several hours to kill before heading to the airport.  He decided to try a few of the drag queen tips.  After a nice, relaxing bubble bath, he gave himself a close shave.  As he glanced as his handiwork, he thought it would be a shame to hide his gorgeous legs in the long dress.  It took a moment for him to find what he was looking for – a short black dress in the garment bag.  If he was going to put on a show, why not make it a good one?

The woman who left room 406 later that afternoon was much more attractive than the one who had entered several hours later.  Dan had spent a considerable chunk of time perfecting his makeup, and was reasonably confident that it would allow him to blend into a crowd.  His fingernails and toenails were painted a bright pink, and a bit of Katie’s perfume even made him smell nice.  He hefted the bags into the Civic and headed to the airport.

Dan had no difficulty using Katie’s identification to check in, and was soon in the secured portion of the airport.  He spotted a steak restaurant and made a beeline for it.  It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a real steak.  As he waited for his meal to arrive, he reached into the bag for a book before remembering that it contained only romance novels.  He made a mental note to pick up something different before boarding the plane.

Out of curiosity, he began to read a few pages of the book.  It was definitely not his cup of tea.  As he glanced up from the book, he noticed a guy a few tables over staring at him.  The guy turned a bright red when Dan glanced his way.  Dan smiled to himself – if guys were checking him out, then he was doing a good job of passing himself off as Katie.

At 7:30, the jumbo jet roared down the runway.  Dan was relieved that the flight was on time.  It would touch down just after 6 AM eastern time and give him about two hours to clear customs before Katie secret was discovered at shower time in the prison.  That should be enough time, but it was too close for comfort.  What would have happened if the flight had been delayed?  He wondered if Katie did this intentionally, just to make him sweat – but came to the conclusion that she was just making sure he had plenty of time to make the flight.  Relax, Dan, you have plenty of time.

When the plane touched down in São Paulo, Dan made his way through customs and claimed his bags.  As he jumped into a taxi, he glanced down at his watch – ten minutes to spare.  He set the watch ahead three hours to reflect the local time.  He had the taxi drop him off at nondescript hotel that was happy to rent him a room for cash – the paper trail would stop at the airport.  After ducking out for a quick lunch, he returned to his room, collapsed onto the bed, and tried to sleep off the jet lag.

He slept like a baby until the next morning.  When he awoke, he realized that he would need to go shopping before touching base with his friend that evening.  He was certainly not going to show up for his meeting with Frank in drag. As he pondered his clothing options for the shopping trip, he decided to do a full Katie, just for kicks.  What the hell – it was just a few hours.  He strutted out of the hotel in a short pink dress and matching heels.

He returned to the hotel later that afternoon with three shopping bags full of clothes.  There were a few blouses and a pair of women’s shoes – since it would seem unusual for a woman to not buy any clothes for herself – but also an array of men’s attire.  A few minutes from now, he could dump all of Katie’s stuff, and walk out of the hotel as Dan once again.

He was lost in his thoughts when he entered the room and it took him a moment to notice the man sitting in the chair.

“Senhorita Bell?” the man asked.

“Sim,” he responded uncertainly.

“Senhor Silva wants to know if you have the package.”

“Package?  Silva?  I think you have the wrong person.”

The man laughed before raising the gun and pulling the trigger.  “Senhor Silva does not make mistakes.”

Many miles to the north, Katie Bell was enjoying a long nap in her brother’s luxurious bed.  Hours after the prison switch, Katie’s partner had gotten the judge to sign the papers granting a new trial for Dan and ordering his immediate release.  At 3:45 PM, Katie had walked through the gates of the prison to her freedom.  Free from prison, and free from the long arm of António Silva.

This story originally ran on January 8, 2010.  As NASCAR season begins once again, I’ve opted to re-run it.  Enjoy.

The radio crackled to life as her spotter’s voice filled the car. “Debris on the track. Stay high and prepare for caution.”

A moment later, the crew chief’s voice came over the radio. “Yellow is out. Come in to the pits.”

“Two and fuel?” asked Sarah.

“You got it. Left sides and a splash of fuel.”

A moment later, caution was out on the racetrack and Sarah Churchill eased the #14 car into her stall on pit road. The tire changers quickly replaced the worn left side tires while the the fuel was topped off. Sarah charged out of her stall seconds later and found herself jockeying for position as she raced off pit road.

The pit strategy had paid off in the short term. Most of the field had opted to change all four tires, allowing Sarah to improve her position from fifteenth to fifth. Two of the cars ahead of her had made a quick splash and dash – just fuel, no new rubber. James Jackson had chosen a pit strategy identical to Sarah’s and had simply beaten her off pit road.

The other car ahead of her had chosen to stay on the track during the caution and had inherited the lead. It was no surprise that this driver was Ron Barth. The legendary driver was the last of a dying breed who threw caution to the wind and raced for wins rather than racing for championship points. Sarah thought that Barth was probably a lap or two short on fuel, but wasn’t taking this for granted. Many times in the course of his career, Barth had picked up wins while his opponents patiently waited for his tank to run dry. Barth was the king of fuel conservation.

Behind Sarah was a mixed bag – most of the drivers had changed all four tires, but a handful had chosen to change two. This was the classic choice between track position and tire wear. Sarah was confident that her fresh left tires would allow her to run down the drivers who had taken fuel only, but she had to hold off the drivers in her rear view mirror who were sporting four new tires on their cars.

The green flag waved, and Ron Barth timed it perfectly, jumping out to sizable lead over the second place car. The car in front of Sarah missed a gear during the restart, and Sarah flew past him and into fourth place.

James Jackson was riding the bumper of Gordon Jeffries, trying to find a way around the #24 car. Jeffries was having none of it, blocking Jackson’s every move. Gordon Jeffires could run three wide when he was the only car on the track. Their cat and mouse game slowed their racing speed and allow Sarah to creep on them. They were intently focused on their duel and seemed oblivious to her presence.

Jackson made another move for the lead, trying to get past Jeffries at the top of the track. As Jeffries went high to block, Sarah drove her Chevy down to the bottom of the track. By the time Jeffries noticed, it was too late to block her – Sarah was into the lead. Jeffries took out his frustration on Jackson, banging fenders with the defending champ. Jackson made a great save to avoid making contact with the wall.

Sarah’s car kissed the bottom of the track as she tried to put distance between her car and those of Jeffries and Jackson. All that stood between her and her first big win was the legendary Ron Barth – the man who taught her everything she knew about racing. Her mentor – and more importantly, her father.

Sarah knew that she couldn’t yet out-race her father on the track. She needed to force him to run out of fuel. First, she needed to catch him. Sarah set her mind to catching him, and began driving an aggressive style that bordered on dangerous. She drove deep into the corners before easing up on the throttle. This allowed her to maintain a lot of speed through the corner, but also greatly increased the risk of a crash.

The strategy paid off, and six laps later, Sarah was on the bumper of Ron Barth. Sarah’s aggressive driving had put significant distance between herself and the rest of the pack. It was a two driver race at this point.

The safe route for Ron Barth would have been to ease off, hand over the lead, and go home in second place. He was running dangerously low on fuel and his worn tires were inferior to Sarah’s. The riverboat gambler refused to yield, however. He aggressively blocked Sarah as she tried to maneuver past him.

As the white flag waved for the final lap, Ron had a one car length lead over Sarah. As he rounded the final turn, his engine hiccuped as his car’s fuel pressure dropped precipitously. Sarah raced past him to pick up her first win at the highest level of auto racing.

Sarah smiled at the irony of beating her father on this, Father’s Day. He would be so proud.

He lay prone on the ridge above the canyon. He watched as the object of his attention came into view. Muriel was as beautiful as the day he had first seen her. That first day, too, he had watched her from afar. She had laughed melodiously as she chatted with friends. And then the inevitable had happened – the boyfriend had shown up.

The boy’s name was Chet, he had later found out. Chet and Muriel were high school sweethearts, and had remained close through college. They moved away from home, taking new jobs out of state. And this was how Philip had come to see them in the apartment building. After he caught his first glimpse of Muriel, he was in love. He would have to convince Muriel that he, Philip, was her true love – or else.

And, so, on this warm day in June, Philip found himself lying in dew kissed grass, waiting for Muriel to enter the clearing and give him a clear shot.

Philip had needed to go to a friend to get what he had needed for this outing. “This should definitely have the range you need,” his friend had assured him. “You could probably get a squirrel from a mile away with this.”

Philip hefted it as he waited for Muriel. As she closed the distance to the clearing, he picked her up in the scope. He trained the crosshairs on her as she moved between rock formations. The formations gave her ample cover, making a clean shot from this angle impossible.

His mind wandered as he waited for Muriel. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself waking up in the morning and gazing at her sleeping form next to him in a comfortable king size bed. He imagined exploring every curve of her body in the dim light of the rising sun.

Philip realized that he was daydreaming and returned his attention to the figure down in the canyon. Muriel had not only entered the clearing, but was nearly to the other side. If he was going to get off a good shot, he needed to take it now.

Philip focused on the figure of Muriel below. He waited for her to cease movement, and then took his shot.

He cursed as Muriel stooped to pick a wildflower, ducking below the spot where he had aimed. It was a momentary setback. When Muriel stood upright again, Philip took another shot. His aim was true, but Philip took three more shots in rapid succession, just in case the first shot had failed to do the job.

Philip stood upright and shook the dirt from his clothes. He removed the expensive lens from the camera and extracted the memory card. By the time Muriel had returned to the ridge, her husband had already uploaded the stunning morning photos to their web site.

William awoke at 3:59 in the morning.  He stared at the clock until it changed to 4:00 and the radio turned on.  He left the radio playing as he took a quick shower and went to the bathroom.  He listened as he brushed his teeth.  Every morning for the past five years had been the same.  He worked six day a week, but had the same routine on his one day off a week, either Wednesday or Thursday.  He heard all of the national, local and political news, but paid little heed.  The sports report was also just background noise.  He did not participate in any of those things.

William’s life was simple.  He worked hard to make enough money so that he could live independently.  His teachers had thought that he would never amount to much.  He put forth a good effort for every task they had given him, but it was all very hard for him.  He never took drugs or drank.  When he lived with his mother, he had gone to church all day every Sunday.  A really nice lady from the state, Alicia McMichaels, had gotten him the job.  He had to check in with her every month.  He always remembered to send her a Christmas card every year.

So in the morning, William did not care about who was running for what office or who had won the big game, no, all he was interested in was the weather.  He had to walk the ten blocks to the donut shop.  He had one very important job, open the front door and turn on all the lights.  He had to be there at exactly 5:00 each morning.  He didn’t have keys, he had to go in through the back where Donald was making the donuts.  Donald today and tomorrow, then Samuel the next day.  William liked Samuel, he was always nice to William.  Both Donald and Samuel were very large men, but other than size, they were not the same.  Samuel would greet William on his way to the front, but Donald would stare at him like he had a lizard’s tail or something like that.

The weather was all that concerned William.  He needed to know if he should wear a coat, or take an umbrella.  He had a uniform, so he did not have to think about anything else.  The weatherman said that it had gotten colder over night and the rain had changed to freezing rain.  He said that travel was not advised.  “I am glad I am not travelling anywhere”, William said aloud.  When the weatherman told his daily joke to the news reporter is when William usually turned off the radio, but today there was no joke.  Instead, both men started talking about how bad it was out and how many accidents had occurred on the roads overnight.  In fact, they were saying that even pedestrians should stay indoors.

William knew that he would be considered a pedestrian.  After all he walked to work every day.  He was worried.  He had never called in sick or missed a day he was schedule to work.  On several occasions he had gone in to work by accident on his day off.  He had even filled in for a nice young lady named Victoria until she was “let go”.  William liked Victoria, too.  She would always smile at him when they worked together, and she would kiss him on the cheek when he agreed to fill in for her on his day off.

William turned off the radio and walked over to the table with the telephone.  There was a laminated card with several phone numbers.  Next to one was the label “work” with a note “Call this number when you are sick or will miss work”.  It took him a while to make up his mind.  If it was a Samuel day, he would not have hesitated, but with Donald answering the phone, William was scared.  He thought about calling Alicia, but it was too early in the morning.  He thought about calling his mother, but Alicia had told him that he had to be independent.  Finally, he picked up the phone and called the number.

“A.M. Donuts” boomed Donald’s voice.  “Donald, this is William.”  “Who?”  “William, the clean up man.”  “Oh, yeah, what do you want?”  “The radio said that I should not go out.”  “What?  Are you saying you aren’t coming to work?”  “Yes, sir.  The radio said so.”  “Look Billy, it is your choice, but if you don’t show up, I will have to tell Mr. Jensen.”  Mr. Jensen was the owner of the shop.  William had never met him, but he had heard Donald say the Mr. Jensen had taken a big gamble giving William a job.  “If you are missing work just because the radio said something, I don’t think Mr. Jensen will like it.”  “Oh.”  “I’m just saying.  It’s your choice.”  “Please don’t call Mr. Jensen.  I’m coming in.  I will be on time.”

William hung up the phone, threw on his coat and shoes and headed out the door.  He slipped on the ice at the entrance to the apartment building, but did not fall.  He moved gingerly from tree to tree, then a mail box, then a lamp post.  He had forgotten his gloves.  His hands were getting very cold.  It was still raining, sort of.  There was snow in the air too.  He kept moving at a slow pace, following the same path he always followed.  He only had to cross 7^th avenue once.  All of the other streets that he crossed were not travelled very much, but getting across them was hard with nothing to grab hold of.  When he finally got to 33^rd street, he had to cross 7^th avenue.  This was the main road.  Five lanes plus parked cars on both sides.  He held onto the lamp post as he waited for the pedestrian signal to change.

When the walk symbol came on, he started across.  It was like skating.  He found a couple of dry patches to regain his balance, but he was only half way across when the light started flashing.  His heart rate went up and he tried not to panic.  When he tried to move faster, his feet slipped and he almost went down.  He was concentrating so hard on just walking that he never saw the city bus sliding on the ice.  The bus was sliding sideways, the driver too scared to even honk the horn much less notice William in the crosswalk.  The sound of the impact was sickening.  William felt the side of the bus hit him.  He flailed his arms wildly as he slid on the ice then ran into a parked car.  That same car save him as it stopped the bus.

The bus driver may not have seen William, but the driver of the city plow saw the entire event.  It all happened in slow motion.  The bus sliding, the young man bouncing off then sliding like a puck until he hit the car.  He was on the radio calling for help before William rolled off of the car and onto the ground.  The city plow driver circled the area several time dropping sand and salt so that the emergency vehicles could get there.

William woke up in the hospital.  Alicia was holding his hand and smiling.  “Good morning.  What on earth were you doing out on the streets on a morning like this?  Didn’t you listen to the weather report?  They said stay home.”  “I did listen.  I was going to work.”  “Why?”  “I have never missed a day.  I did not want Mr. Jensen to be disappointed.”  Alicia laughed.  “Don’t you worry about Mr. Jensen.  He has always reported that you are a good worker.  Now you just rest here.  I will come and visit, and when you are ready to go home, I will come and get you.”  “Am I going to miss work?”  Alicia laughed again.  “Yes you are.  Think of this as a vacation.  You will have your job when you can get around again.”  “Thank you Miss McMichaels.”  “I have told you William, call me Alicia.”  She patted his hand again, then brushing his forehead with her hand she told him, “I am very proud of you William.  Now rest.”

Chris leaned against the side of Santa’s workshop and exhaled a deep breath.  This was Christmas eve – a day when mall Santas around the world were finally taking a break from listening to kids rattle off the long list of items they wanted for Christmas.  Chris wasn’t actually a real mall Santa, but he was pretending to be one.

Chris noticed the women as they approached.  They were in their early 20s, and both were tall and slender.  One of them had shoulder-length blonde hair, while the other kept her dark hair short.

“Hey, Santa.  You come here often?” asked the blonde, winking and flashing a seductive smile.

“If you don’t have plans for tonight, you can come home with us for a Christmas eve dinner,” continued the brunette.  “We’ve been good girls this year!”

“I’m actually waiting for a friend to pick me up …”

“Oh, nonsense.  You’ll have much more fun with us, Santa.  We’ll be sure to get you home in time to deliver your toys.”

Chris smiled as he accepted the offer.  It never failed – hanging around a mall in a red suit on Christmas eve always got him an invitation to dinner.  Sometimes it was just turkey and mashed potatoes, but most of the time, there was dessert afterwards.  It was a bit of an odd fetish, but one that he was willing to satisfy.  He grabbed his cell phone and faked a call to the “friend” who was supposed to pick him up, cancelling the request for a ride.

When they arrived at their destination, Dawn – the blonde – took him on a tour of the house while Carmen escaped to slip into something more comfortable.

The owner of the house was a dot com millionaire who had hired the girls to look after the place while he was away on business.

“It’s a pretty good gig,” commented Dawn.  “We get to drive his Mercedes, charge take-out food to his bill, lay out by the pool … and we get paid for it.  And he’s hardly ever home, so we basically have the run of the place.”

When they arrived in the kitchen, Carmen was setting the table.  Chris was mesmerized at the image.  Carmen was wearing an impossibly short red dress, laced up the back.  Red stockings and heels further emphasized the fact that this was Christmas.  A Santa hat finished the outfit.

“Do you like it?” she asked, spinning around to give him a full view.

“Ah, yes.  It’s very, um,  nice.”

“Maybe Santa can unwrap Mrs. Claus if he’s a good boy,” Carmen said with a laugh as she ducked close and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

Yowza.  Chris wasn’t going to have to use much of his charm with Carmen – she was obviously quite willing to slip under the sheets with him.

The food arrived just as Chris and Carmen were finishing setting the table.  Turkey and all the trimmings from one of the nicest restaurants in town.  Surely he had died and gone to heaven.

Just then, the night got even better as Dawn glided down the stairs.  She, too, was dressed in red – just a red teddy that left very little to the imagination.  Chris pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Carmen gets to be Mrs. Claus, but I’m the Christmas Mistress. I’m going to get some alone time with Santa, too.”

“Not if I can help it,” countered Carmen, in a mock stern voice.  She brandished a wooden spoon at Dawn.  Dawn giggled and jumped out of range of the weapon.

The food was excellent, but Chris had difficulty focusing on the meal.  His mind was completely focused on the seductively clothed Carmen and the even more seductively attired Dawn.  It took a great deal of effort to avoid having his eyes stare in their direction.

When they finished the pumpkin pie, Carmen suggested plans for later in the evening.

“It’s a nice night for a swim … but we should really stay out of the water for an hour after dinner.  Can you think of any way to kill the time, Dawn?”

“I can think of a way to kill the time and burn off the calories from dinner at the same time.”

“That’s a great idea, Dawn.  Let’s give our guest a better tour of the bedroom.”

The guest bedroom that the girl occupied was massive – featuring walk-in closets on two sides and a pink canopied king size bed in the middle.

“We’ve already decided,” explained Carmen.  “The mistress gets you first, then you come back to the wife.”

Chris nodded slightly and allowed the girls to continue to take control of the situation.  A moment later, he had been stripped to his boxers.

“Wait,” commanded Dawn, as Carmen reached for his waist.  “That’s my package to unwrap.”

Carmen reluctantly agreed, and Dawn slid in front of Chris and pulled his boxers to the floor.

“Now, do me,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and locking his lips in a passionate kiss.

Chris didn’t have to be told twice.  He quickly extricated her from her lingerie and followed her to the bed.

Dawn proved to be a very nimble and willing lover, and Chris was exhausted by the time they finally climaxed.  They lay side by side on the bed for a minute, recovering from the exertion.

“Oh, Santa,” gasped Dawn.  “You can ride my sleigh tonight – and any other night.”

“When you’re done with your sleazy mistress, your wife is waiting, Santa.”

In the passion of the moment, Chris had forgotten about Carmen.  She had been standing by the bed watching.  There was a broad smile on her face as she anticipated her own experience with Santa.

Chris took more time unveiling her body – in small part to give his body time to recover, but mostly to build the anticipation of the moment.  He kissed her neck as he fumbled with the laces on the back of her red dress.  When he had finally freed her from it, he held her in his arms for a moment. 

When they finally arrived at the bed, Chris was pleasantly surprised to find out that Carmen every bit as exciting as Dawn.  He wondered if the girls were gymnasts.  A minute after he finished, Chris fell asleep from exhaustion.

When he awoke, he was still holding Carmen in his arms – but noticed that Dawn had also climbed into the bed and was spooning him.  The girls were both sleeping quietly, so Chris didn’t move – it was a pretty pleasant position.

Forty five minutes later, Carmen yawned and her eyes fluttered open.  It took her a moment to figure out what was going on.  When the pieces clicked into place, she caressed his cheek and gave him a kiss.

“I thought I told her to stay away from you,” she said, pointing at Dawn.  At that moment, a blonde head popped up.

“You know I can give him something you can’t,” countered the mistress.

“Ho, ho, ho.  There’s plenty of Santa to go around.”

“Howe about a dip in the pool,” suggested Dawn.  “That should wake us up a bit.  Then we can take a nice, long shower and return to the bedroom for round 2.”

Chris wasn’t sure that he could handle a second round, but heartily agreed to Dawn’s plan.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any trunks.”

Carmen pretended to take some measurements.  “And I don’t think you’d fit into any of our suits.  I guess you’ll just have to go without a suit.”

“Hey, if he doesn’t have to wear a suit, I don’t want to wear one either,” pouted Dawn.

“That’s fine with me,” Carmen replied with a grin.  “We’ll just keep the lights off and go skinny dipping.”

As they crossed through the kitchen on the way to the outdoor pool, Dawn grabbed a bottle of champagne.

“Santa, would you be a dear and grab a few glasses from that cupboard?”

Chris opened the door and grabbed three crystal wine glasses from a shelf.  When they arrived poolside, Dawn poured three glasses of champagne and suggested that they do a toast.

“To Christmas,” she said.

“To hunky Santas,” added Carmen.

“To the sexy Mrs. Claus and the breathtaking Christmas Mistress.”

They clinked glasses and drank down the bubbly before jumping into the pool.

Chris made sure to lead the girls to the deep end of the pool.  When the drug began to take effect, Carmen and Dawn had no chance to get back to safety.  When Carmen suddenly slid to the bottom of the pool, a trickle of realization entered Dawn’s already clouded mind.  She made an effort to reach the edge of the pool, but was still far from the edge when she, too, slid beneath the surface.

After waiting to make sure they were dead, Chris took a few minutes to wipe his prints from any surface he may have touched.  He grabbed the keys to the Mercedes, popped the trunk, and began loading it with valuables.  He had experienced some good years in the past, but this haul was going to be beyond his wildest dreams.  A merry Christmas indeed.

Father Joseph Dugan finally gave in to frustration and set the church’s financial statements off to the side. The once thriving parish was shrinking each year, as the young people went off to college and followed job opportunities out of state. For the last five years, donations had not kept pace with expenses. The parish was having to dip into savings. The account that was intended for capital improvements was quickly being drained.

Father Dugan had more pressing issues to tend to this evening. Agnes Sherrill was being buried in the morning. Agnes had been a parishioner for her entire life – ninety three years. Tonight’s wake had been very small affair. Agnes and her late husband had no children, and Agnes had simply outlived her relatives. There were a handful of friends, as well as people from the parish who turned out to show their appreciation for Agnes’ devotion to the church.

Dugan was always saddened by these types of funerals. It seemed that there had been an awful lot of them lately. Maybe the rotten winter weather was just putting the priest in a pessimistic mood. He shook off the feeling and set his mind to composing a fitting eulogy for such a fine human being.

The next day, as he walked back to the church after the funeral, Father Dugan cheered himself up by thinking of Agnes being with the Lord in heaven. This put him in a better mood, although he knew that Wednesday nights wouldn’t be the same without her boisterous shouts of “Bingo!”.

To Dugan’s great surprise, the mail held good news for the parish. It contained two checks from the estates of deceased parishioners. The money definitely came at an opportune time. The parish would be able to rebuild their capital improvement fund. Perhaps the ancient furnace could finally be replaced, allowing the temperature inside the church to rise back above sixty degrees.

As Dugan thought about the two women who had been so generous, he realized that they had also been honored with very small funerals. Like Agnes Sherrill, they had left behind no living relatives. Once again, Dugan had the distinct feeling that there had been a lot of these types of funerals lately. He decided to prove to himself that he was wrong. He grabbed his calendar and began to leaf through it.

Dugan soon realized that his gut feeling was correct. There had already been six such deaths this year in which the parishioner left behind no living relatives – and it was only March. Most of the previous years had only seen five or six such deaths. Dugan was puzzled. Why was there such a spike this year?

Dugan had no time to ponder such mysteries, and soon put it behind him and immersed himself in church business again.

Father was distributing communion during mass the next Sunday when he noticed that the deacon next to him push aside a couple of hosts, seemingly looking for a specific wafer among the identical hosts. When Dugan saw Deacon Taylor pick up a host whose color was a different shade than the others, the pieces all clicked. Dugan pretended to lose his balance and stumbled into the deacon. Deacon Taylor lost his balance, and dozens of hosts fell to the ground. Dugan handed a host to Mary Davis as Taylor picked up the hosts from the carpet.

After mass, Dugan noticed that the discolored host was no longer present. Dugan was certain that he had seen it, and had a good idea why Taylor had taken it.

Two hours later, Dugan was struggling with a difficult decision when the phone rang. It was a detective from the police department, informing him that Deacon Taylor had walked into the precinct and confessed to poisoning several members of the parish so that the church would inherit money from the estates.

“Oh, Kate, you didn’t have to bring anything,” said Erin, as she gave her friend a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh, it’s just a pumpkin pie. You and Kevin prepared the rest of the food – this is just a token of our appreciation.”

“Well, we definitely appreciate it,” chimed in Kevin. “Pumpkin pie is my favorite. Let me grab your coats. Dinner is ready to be served.”

Kevin hung up the coats while Kate and Tom followed Erin to the kitchen. The smell of turkey, stuffing, corn, and potatoes wafted through the air.

“Everything smells so good. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year. What’s not to like about a national eating holiday?” laughed Tom.

Their hostess grabbed the carving knife. “What part of the turkey do you like, Tom?” she asked.

“I’m a leg man.” Tom held his plate out, and Erin slid a juicy drumstick onto it.

The four friends took their places around the table and began passing around bowls of food. Kevin took a large portion of mashed potatoes, topped the mound with stuffing and corn, and poured a river of gravy over the top. Tom grabbed two slices of Erin’s famous corn bread, and Kate served herself an extra large portion of the delicious cranberries. Erin herself appeared to play no favorite – she took equal portions of each dish.

The foursome began their feast, and a pleasant silence enveloped the room, punctuated only by the sounds of chewing and an occasional burp. During the second helping, the eating began to slow a bit, and conversation resumed.

“Stetson’s going to light up the Sharks,” proclaimed Tom, in between bites of turkey.

Kevin smiled politely. This was not the time to stoke an argument about the relative strengths of the Sharks and Cougars. Tom was a complete moron for believing that the Cougars were on the same level with the Sharks. In the grand scheme of things, it really didn’t matter very much, though.

“He definitely had a good week against Cleveland. We’ll see if he can maintain that sort of momentum. Rookie quarterbacks can hit some bumps in the road.”

“This isn’t just any rookie,” exclaimed his friend. “This is Frankie effing Stetson, number one draft pick in the whole world.”

Erin interrupted Tom’s idol worship. “Does anyone have room for a slice of Kate’s pie?”

In spite of the large meal, everyone seemed to have just enough room for one slice of pumpkin pie. Tom loosened his belt a notch while Erin popped up from her chair. She returned to the table with the pumpkin pie, as well as a container of Cool Whip.

“Awesome,” said Tom. “There’s nothing better than pumpkin pie with Cool Whip.”

After everyone had finished their pie, Erin began to collect the dishes. Kate stood up the help her while the guys headed to the living room to watch football.

“It’s under control, Kate. I’ll handle the dishes. You can go watch the game.”

Kate put up a feeble protest before joined the men in front of the big screen TV. By the time that Kate had finished the dishes, all three were sound asleep, thanks to the turkey and wine.

Erin gently shook Kevin to wake him.

“Kevin! It’s time to get started.”

Kevin hopped up from his easy chair and walked to the closet. He returned with ropes. He bound Tom’s hands and feet together while Erin secured Kate in a similar fashion.

Erin returned to the kitchen and pushed aside a fake wall, exposing two large hidden compartments. She pushed open the two large doors before joining Kevin back in the living room. Kevin had sliced off Tom’s clothing, leaving the man as naked as when he entered the world. As Kevin hefted Tom’s body and took the first few halting steps toward the kitchen, Erin grabbed the knife and cut Kate’s clothing so that it could also be easily removed. A minute later, Kevin returned, grabbed Kate’s still-slumbering form, and made another trip to the kitchen.

Kevin slid Kate onto the grate and closed the door, locking it into place. He hit the button to activate the wash cycle. Tom and Kate were bathed with pulses of water, cleansing their skin perfectly. Kevin hit the button to activate the next cycle.

Tom began to regain his consciousness a bit. He was certain that he was smelling a very strong scent of butter. Butter? Where was that smell coming from? Three seconds later, Tom felt his body be assaulted with streams of hot, liquid butter. What the hell? The wine was having a very strong effect on Tom, but he was slowly coming to the realization that something was very wrong. He realized that he was flat on his back, with his hands and feet tied together. He was trussed up like a pig! There was something in his mouth. He couldn’t place the flavor at first, but soon realized that it was an apple. He felt the room slowly start to heat up and came to the realization that he was being cooked alive!

Tom tried to scream, but was unable to dislodge the apple. He struggled against his bonds, but could make no progress. He was wedged tightly into the oven and had limited mobility. Before long, Tom had been overcome by the heat.

“Go watch the game,” said Erin, giving Kevin a kiss. “Things are under control in here. It will be several hours before supper is ready.”

Kevin plopped down in front of the TV just as the second half was beginning. The Sharks had fallen behind 21-0 in the first half, but this was not to be a good day for Tom’s golden boy, Frank Stetson. Stetson threw four interceptions in the second half, lost a fumble, and was sacked four times. Kevin laughed at the meltdown of the rookie quarterback. Tom really didn’t know shit about football.

After the Sharks had won the first game of the day and the Miners had steamrolled to a win in the second game of the day, it was time for supper.

When Kevin got to the kitchen, Erin had his plate ready for him. A big helping of potatoes, corn, stuffing, and gravy, along with a big chunk of drumstick a la Tom. On her own plate, Erin had a smaller bit of Tom’s leg, as well as a bit of white meat from Kate.

“I always did think turkey was a bit overrated.”

He loosened his tie and took a seat.  A few seconds later, the sole waitress came over and handed him a menu.  As she leaned over to fill his water glass, her low-cut blouse afforded Charlie a pleasant view.  After a moment, he re-directed his eyes to the menu.

“What’s good here?” he asked.

You are, he thought to himself.  He noticed the name on her name tag.  Cheri.  Perhaps you could be mon chéri, oui?  Charlie absent-mindedly fingered the gold band on his finger as he entertained fantasies of the lovely waitress.

” – and the ribeye is very popular, of course.”

Charlie realized this his daydreams has distracted him from Cheri’s description of the specials.  He pulled himself back to reality and enjoyed the real-world vision of his dream girl.

“Yes, I’ll go with the ribeye,” he said, recovering his composure.  His eyes followed her across the room as she gave his order to the chef.  When she glanced back toward him, he turned his eyes to the television, appearing to be engrossed in the news.

Did she just give him a wink – or was it just his imagination?

The ribeye wasn’t bad, considering the locale.  As Charlie finished the last of his bourbon, the waitress brought out his check.  He gave her a generous 30% tip, and charged the bill to his room.  He hated to part company, but perhaps he would bump into Cheri again.

At first glance, it appeared to be a credit card – but Cheri noticed that it was a room card.  It would be easy to just take the card out to the front desk … but Cheri could also provide some personal service and return the card personally.  The gentleman had charged the meal to his room – room 319.

She had caught him giving her long glances – or had she?  Had fifteen years of marriage given her an active imagination for such things?  Cheri tossed the card into her apron – she could make a decision at the end of her shift.

Cheri spent more time than usual counting her tips.  She held the stranger’s card in her hand.  Should she go up to the room?  Her husband wouldn’t be home tonight.

The elevator chimed as the doors opened.  Cheri turned left and walked a few steps.  She stood nervously in front of room 319.  Then she made her decision.  The card slid into the door and the small light flashed green.  Cheri quietly opened the door and entered the dark room. 

The room’s occupant was asleep in the bed.  He hadn’t waited up for her.  Was this all a misunderstanding?

In for a penny, in for a pound, Cheri thought.  She kicked off her shoes and began to unbutton her blouse.

A moment later, Cheri slid her nude body into bed next to the stranger.  She reached down to awaken him.

Charlie awoke with a start.  When a momentary fog cleared, he was looking into the eyes of the beautiful waitress.  Sometimes dreams do come true, he thought, and moved to embrace her.

Cheri left the room as the sun was beginning to peek above the horizon.  If she hurried, she would still be home before her husband.

Charlie checked out of the hotel around nine.

“Hey Charlie,” said the woman behind the counter.  “Did you and your wife enjoy your date night?”

• 1. Chapter 1: The Game Begins
• 2. Chapter 2: Cheryl's Den

Cheryl sighed, and pulled herself out of the soothing bubble bath.  If she stayed in the bath much longer, the wrinkles in her skin would become permanent.  She dried herself off and changed into a pair of comfortable sweat pants.

This was the life, she thought.  She didn’t have to wait tables, didn’t have to waste time putting on makeup, and could sleep in as late as she wanted.  All she really needed to do was kill time while the rich boys tried to figure out where Nate has stashed her.

Where had he stashed her?  That was a good question – and one that Cheryl didn’t have an answer to.  Toward the end of the long plane ride, she had been blindfolded before being shuttled to a secret location.  While she had been getting comfortable in her new home, Nate made his escape … but she had no idea how.  She hadn’t been able to find a door, nor were there any windows.  She was essentially trapped within the building.

It made sense, she admitted grudgingly.  If she could just pop out and waltz around town, it would destroy the integrity of the game.  She would be forced to spend the duration of the game inside.’

The freezer was stocked with food.  Not just TV Dinners and frozen pizzas – although Nate had included some her favorite junk food items.  The bulk of the freezer contained meals that could be popped into the oven with no prep work.  Defrost for a day in the fridge, pop in the oven for 45 minutes, and she had a nice “home cooked” meal.

There was no internet in the house, since this would be an easy way for Cheryl to cheat by contacting one of the players.  Cheryl admitted that she could probably do without Twitter for a little while – especially with the amount of money she was being paid.  There was a TV, but no cable connection.  She was limited to watching DVDs.  This wasn’t as much of a hardship as it seemed, as there was a massive collection of movies.

Finally, Cheryl had brough about a hundred books with her.  She’d been trying to catch up on her reading for years.  This seemed like an optimal opportunity.  She lay down on the couch with the book she had been reading.  With any luck, she could stay in the same position until she was hungry for another meal.  Whether the next meal would be breakfast, lunch, or dinner was up for debate.  After a couple of days, she had tossed her watch into a drawer.  Time was of no consequence here.

The light in the corner of the room flickered before turning a bright red.  This was an indicator that the video cameras would turn on in a minute, unless she reset the timer.  Cheryl got up from the couch and set the timer to 180 minutes – the maximum allowable time.  If she failed to reset the time, the video cameras would be activated and Nate would be able to see her every move.  The exception, naturally, was the bedroom, where the time could be set to ten hours. 

Cheryl knew that this was a safety mechanism, alterting Nate to possible trouble she may be having.  Cheryl wasn’t sure how much good it would do to alert him three hours after a heart attack, but sometimes life had risks. 

TO BE CONTINUED

• 1. Chapter 1: The Game Begins
• 2. Chapter 2: Cheryl's Den

“The problem with money,” Lawrence Peters opined, “is that the ability to buy anything you want takes away the thrill of the chase.”

The others at the table nodded their agreement. None of them had yet reached forty-five years of age, and all of them had wealth measured in the hundreds of millions of dollars and growing steadily with each passing year.

Nate Bolton took a long sip of his Irish coffee before responding. “You know what I enjoyed as a kid? A treasure hunt. It’s too bad they don’t have treasure hunts for adults.”

Barry Julian snorted. “And what would the prize be? A car? A house? Some cash? That doesn’t seem like much incentive.”

“I could be the prize,” came a voice from behind them. Cheryl set down fresh cups of coffee and cleared away the empty ones. The four men gazed at her as they tried to absorb what she had said.

Marc Billups was the first to recover his composure. “What, exactly, are you proposing?”

Within an hour, the idea had been fleshed out. The young waitress would become a pawn in their game. The goal would be to hide her somewhere within the continental United States. One of the four men would pick a location, stash Cheryl there, and develop a treasure hunt that would lead the other three to the location. If everyone was stumped by a particular clue, the answer would be revealed one week after the clue had been given. The first to arrive at the destination would get three weeks alone in Honolulu with Cheryl.

For her part, Cheryl would be well compensated. There was a $250,000 signing bonus just for agreeing to the deal, and a salary of $1 million per year, deposited into her account in monthly installments. Her hideouts would be designed to be very comfortable – a luxurious bed, fully stocked kitchen, and cable TV among the amenities. The only limitation was her contact with the outside world. Cheryl would be forced to remain within her hiding spot, and she would only be able to communicate with the organizer of that particular game – to avoid her tipping off any of the players.

Cheryl would get six weeks in Hawaii at the conclusion of each game. The winner would leave after three weeks, setting up the next game.

Cheryl made it very clear – she was no prostitute. She was being paid for her companionship and for her time in isolation as the game’s prize. The four men readily agreed with her.

A month later, the game was ready to begin. Cheryl had been sequestered in a hidden location, and Nate Bolton was ready to kick off the great treasure hunt.

“OK, guys. The first clue is –“

And he promptly dropped dead.

 This is the first story in a new series.  New chapters will be added periodically (and I’ll include a table of contents once there is more than one chapter).  Where is Cheryl – and how long will it take the guys to find her, now that Nate isn’t around?