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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Subject: Repost TG: The Adventures of Samantha      (09/14)
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Hi.

  One of my favourite stories for which I would like to find an
end. Tigger do you hear me?

  A not so thoughtfull person had messed with the wron women. It is
not exact what you think, but it come close.

  As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.

  If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.

Enjoy the story.

Ciao
	Nostrumo

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

_The_Adventures_of_Samantha___________________________________________ 9


Sam was trying to figure out how to discourage Greg, and particularly to get
the hand off his leg before Greg got somewhere sensitive.

Greg kept right on talking, and feeling Sam's leg.

In spite of himself, and his dislike for the situation he now found himself
encountering, Sam felt his nipples stiffen.  He felt them pushing at the
thin fabric of the dress.

Greg moved his hand off Sam's leg, but continued talking.  He pulled the
hand up, and touched Sam's breast with the back of the hand, seemingly by
accident.

Sam knew it was no accident.  He had done it before, though not for quite
some time.  He was disgusted, but his nipples got harder, betraying his
conscious mind.

Greg picked up his beer, and began gesturing wildly.  Suddenly, he lost
control, and the liquid splashed all over the front of Sam's dress.

Sam drew his breath in quickly, as the cold beer contacted his skin.  He
automatically started brushing the excess liquid off his front, when he
noticed that Greg was now openly staring at his bust.

Sam glanced down, shocked to find that the thin fabric had not only welded
itself to his breasts, but had turned transparent as well.  He turned a deep
red, seeing his breasts with the tell tale hardened nipples standing out so
plainly.

Sam was in panic, but he did not know what to do about it.  He did not even
know where the ladies room was in this place.  Even with all the time he'd
spent here as a man, he did not recall ever having seen the ladies room.

Sam felt a soft hand on his arm, as a waitress pulled gently.  He got up,
and followed her.  She led him through the stage door, and the ladies room,
immediately behind it.

Sam smiled his thanks to the waitress, who was now disappearing back into
the bar.

Sam went into the ladies room, and was shocked.  The ones he had been in
with the women of the group were clean, fairly airy places.  This one was
tiny, and dingy.  There was one stall, and a mirror over a sink about three
feet in front of him.  A paper towel dispenser hung on the wall, and the
walls were covered with graffiti.  In fact, the only way he could even tell
it was for women was by the coin operated Kotex machine hanging on the back
of the door.

Sam grabbed a hand full of paper towels, and tried to dry himself off.  He
got a lot of wet towels, but the dress was still plastered to his body, so
he went into the stall and just sat on the seat.  Maybe it would dry off
quickly.

He was sitting there as someone entered the rest room.  He heard the
clicking of high heels, much like his own shoes, walking across the small
room, and trying the stall door.  He knew he would have to come out, dry or
not, and let the woman inside.  He was recalling the urgency of when his own
bladder filled.

He got up, and opened the door.  The woman, dressed in a strapless evening
dress, looked at him in astonishment as she quickly moved behind him and
into the stall.  He heard her giggles as she began to do her business.

Sam stood in the small area, waiting for the woman to finish.  He fully
intended to hide in the stall when she was finished.  Just then, another
woman came into the room, again staring at Sam's wet dress.

Sam knew that his hiding place was out of the question now, but going back
into the bar was also not an option.  He pretended to fix his face as the
women exchanged occupancy of the stall and the first one left.  He
recognized many of the women who kept trickling in as strippers.

He walked out of the rest room, finally deciding he would get no privacy in
that place.  He just stood by the door, not daring to go into the bar again,
and not wanting to explore the unknown realm of the backstage area,
especially in his exposed condition.

He stood there for a long time, and felt the fabric of the dress release his
breasts.  He put his hands to the dress, and found it was still damp and
clammy, but had regained some of the minimal cover it was supposed to give.
At least his whole bust line was not fully exposed now.  Steeling himself,
he went back into the bar.

As soon as he walked into the darker area, the manager came up to him.

"Oh, there you are," he said lightly.  "I thought you had gotten lost."

Sam did his best to smile at the man.

The manager, took his hand, and led Sam back through the back stage door.
They continued past the ladies room.

An older woman was seated at a small table inside the back door.

"ID," she demanded curtly.

Sam fumbled through is shoulder purse, finally pulling out the laminated
card.

The woman looked at the card, and grunted, "OK."

"You can put your purse in the bins over there dearie," she continued, and
wait in the room as the top of the steps.

She had a feeling of not wanting to take any nonsense, so Sam did as he was
directed.

The manager led him up a flight of two or three steps, and into a room
filled with mirrors.  It was brightly lighted, and Sam saw a half dozen
women here, either fixing or applying makeup.  The manager sat Sam on one of
the chairs in front of the makeup tables.

"Wait here," he said.

A few minutes later, a woman came in carrying a tray full of cosmetics,
brushes, and other things Sam was not familiar with.  She stopped right in
front of Sam, placing the tray on the counter.

"Just sit still," the woman counselled.

She began putting makeup all over Sam's face.  Then, she worked on his hair
for a while.  Finally, she got up to leave.

Sam looked in the mirror.  The face looking back at him was definitely
female, but the makeup sharply defined various areas of the face.  The lips
were a much darker red now, and the cheeks.  His eyes were now outlined in
black, and had blue all over the lids.  Even the skin tone was different,
not unnatural, but contrasting starkly with the made up areas.  He did not
like the look.

He looked around the dressing room, and noticed the other women were made up
very similar to himself.  It did not console him, since he recognized two of
them as strippers he had known previously.

A different woman came into the room.  She looked around, then at Sam.

"Samantha?" she queried.

"Yes," Sam replied automatically.

"Come with me."

Sam followed the woman into another small room.  This one was not filled
with mirrors, though it did have a full length one on the wall.  It held two
vinyl covered couches.  The woman led Sam to one of them, and had him sit
down.

"Just wait here," she said, smiling.

"Someone will be along when we're ready."

With that the woman left Sam alone in the room.

Sam sat by himself for a few minutes before another woman came into the
room.  The other woman sat on the other couch, and picked up a much used
magazine she found on the seat.  It was one of those men's magazines that
Sam had liked so much.  The woman was looking at it in a bored fashion.  She
dropped it back on the seat a few minutes later.

"First time?" the woman asked.

Sam felt a sinking sensation.  He now knew what all this preparation had
been about.  Susan, in her anger, had arranged for Sam to do a striptease
here, in front of all the men in the bar, many of whom Sam knew from
earlier.

He tried to compose himself, and choked, "Yes, it is."

The woman looked at him, with some degree of amusement in her eyes.

"Don't worry, honey," she said.  "It isn't all that hard."

A man stood in the doorway, pointing at the woman.

"Your turn, Lily," he said, and the woman followed him.

A few minutes later, the bar manager came into the room.  He joined Sam on
the couch.

"OK, " he began.  "The rules are simple.  Go on out on the walkway and begin
dancing.  Make sure you keep going toward the far end, so you cover the
whole walkway.  As you are dancing, strip down.  Make sure your clothes fall
on the floor of the stage.  If you don't watch them, some of the customers
might not give them back."

The manager smiled, and continued, "After you are unclothed, finish dancing
to the song, and dance through the next one.  Then, collect your clothes and
come backstage."

" Any questions?"

Sam was in shock.  He was too stunned to ask any questions at any rate.

As the music began again, the manager said, "You're on."

Sam numbly followed the manager until they were standing behind some heavy
curtains.

In a distance, Sam heard the bar announcer saying something about a special
treat.  A new girl was going to entertain them, and they should pay
attention, and be appreciative.

The manager held the curtain back and gently pushed Sam onto the walkway
stage.  It was impossible to see the audience from under the spotlights
illuminating the stage, but the loud whistles and cat calls left no doubt
that the audience was out there.

Still numb, Sam stood for a moment, then let his body begin moving to the
pulsing beat of the music.

Already on stage, he couldn't figure out how to get out of this mess.  Sam
began fumbling with the buttons on the front of his dress.

Sam slid the dress off his shoulders and let it lay in a heap on the floor.

He continued moving through the hypnotic beat of the music.  He still was
not fully aware of his surroundings.  In fact, he missed the slight pause as
one song changed to another.  All he could recognize was the pulsing beat.

In his daze, and still moving to the music, Sam stepped out of the heaped
dress, and around the stage.  The music seemed to drive him.

At long last, the spotlights dimmed, and he ran to pick up his clothes and
go back stage.

Hhe could now see some of the nearer faces in the crowd.

Greg was seated in on of the chairs right next to the stage.  Actually, he
was half standing and whistling at Sam.

He got another shock when he recognized Tom, Susan, Jane, Lois, Gwen and
Carol, all seated in seats next to the stage.

Somehow, he managed to get his dress picked up, and get backstage.

He was still in a daze when the lights came back up, and the bar announcer
began talking.  He heard the sounds, but the words were not making any
sense.  He heard a drum roll, and some loud whistling and cheering.  He felt
a hand grab his dress and some fingers on his back, propelling him through
the curtains.

The push caused him to stumble a bit, and take several steps to try and
regain his balance.  He found himself about halfway down the runway.  The
thunderous applause, cat calls, and whistles did not register to him.

Once again, the hypnotic beat of the music propelled him around the walkway.
At last the lights dimmed, and he managed to get off the stage.  He was led
back to the small room where he had waited on the couch, and the manager
indicated that he should get dressed.

When he was dressed, they went down the stairs, and out the stage door.  The
manager hugged him, and kissed him wetly as he walked out.

"You are welcome to dance here any time," the manager whispered.

>From the bright lights in the backstage, even the lighted area of the bar
was too dark to see.  He felt a waitress take his arm and lead him to a
table.

Greg was at another table now, holding Renee, the one who had danced on
Tom's table the other night, in his lap.  He pointed to Sam, gave a thumbs
up gesture, and went back to paying attention to her.  The group he'd seen
from the stage were sitting at this table.

Sam turned a very bright red as he recognized them, and realized that they,
as well as all the other patrons of the bar had seen him stripping in
public.

They all laughed at his sudden modesty attack.  Tom put his hand over Sam's
and patted it gently, as if to say that everything would be fine.

In a few minutes, the group left the bar.  Sam, on Tom's arm now, heard the
whistles and cat calls as he was leaving the bar.  He was not sure whether
they were directed at him or the dancers, but flushed more deeply as he
suspected the answer.

Everyone piled into Tom's car, and they drove off to the suburbs, giggling
and laughing.  They pulled up in front of a big house Sam had not seen
before.  He could tell it was big, but it was too dark to make out any
details.

Tom unlocked the door and led the party into a large living room.  The women
seated themselves, pointedly leaving a love seat open for Sam to sit on.

As they got situated, Tom was laughing, "Sam, you have a nice body, but I
don't think you'll ever make a living as a stripper!"

Sam turned even redder as the whole group laughed.

Tom and Susan went to the kitchen to make coffee, and the mood subsided.

Gwen came over to Sam, and kissed him.

"It's OK, Sam, dear," she whispered.  "I forgive you."

"But I think you need a bath," she continued.  "You smell like a brewery."

Just then Tom and Susan returned with the coffee.

"I think you may have learned your lesson, Sam," Susan laughed.

The whole group laughed, as the tensions and anger of the day seemed to melt
away.

Tom sat down next to Sam, and put his arm over his shoulders.  He squeezed
tightly, then raised his coffee cup.

"To the cutest stripper at the Booby Trap," he toasted.

The others lifted their cups in response to the toast.

Sam turned a deep red.

The women began talking amongst themselves, and Tom leaned over to whisper
in Sam's ear, "They are having a dance at the Country Club on Saturday.
Would you like to come with me?"

Sam was shocked again, but whispered, "I would love to, but," and his voice
trailed off.

"No problem," Tom assured him.  "The others agreed that you could come with
me already." He squeezed Sam's shoulders tighter.

After coffee, everyone went back to Susan's apartment.  They all sat, as Sam
was told to make coffee.  As he served it, Susan told him to go to his room.

Sam heard the door lock behind him.  He just lay on the bed, listening to
the voices in the other room for a while, unable to make out what they were
saying.  Then he drifted off to sleep.  They had never returned to call him
back.



29 Chapter -    Wednesday Morning


Sam awoke feeling a chilly coolness on his legs and belly.  He rolled, still
only partially awake, to his side, but the coolness remained, bringing him
to full awareness.

He opened his eyes, and saw the pink, transparent fabric covering his
breasts and the bunched fabric of his skirt around his waist.  These
revelations confirmed that his nightmare was still reality.

As he rolled again, the familiar, unpleasantly sour odor of stale beer
assaulted his nostrils.  The smell brought back memories of Greg spilling
his drink last night.  In turn, the events of the night came back to him
with vivid clarity.

Sam blushed, recalling the humiliation of being on display before the men in
the bar.  The blush died quickly, though, as he realized that the experience
was over, and he could do nothing about it now.

The events of yesterday came flooding back to him, as his awareness came
back fully.  He recalled how Gwen and Susan had been so mad at him.

Susan!

He just knew Susan was going to be even madder this morning, after he'd
slept in his dress all night.  She would be even madder, he knew, with the
stale beer smell permeating the dress and his body.

Sam got off the bed, and stripped the malodorous dress from him.  He
couldn't do much for the dress, but he thought he could do something about
the smell clinging to his body.  He went into the bathroom, and drew a tub
of water.  Sliding into the tub, he began to soap himself vigorously.  The
perfume in the soap soon replaced the stale beer smell in his nostrils.

Sam got out of the tub, and dried himself.  He went back into the bed room,
and figured he may as well get dressed.

He went to the dresser, and pulled the underwear out.  He quickly donned the
bra and panties.  He must be getting used to these strange clothes, he
thought, as he had no trouble hooking the bra behind his back.  He had no
trouble with the garter belt either.

Sam smelled a lingering scent of stale beer while he was dressing.  It was
not nearly as strong as before, but still quite distinct.  He knew he had to
get rid of it, so he went to the dressing table, and sprayed the cologne
liberally on his body.  Smelling like a flower was certainly more preferable
than smelling like a brewery, he thought.

Just as he put the cologne bottle down, Susan walked into the room.  She
went straight to the bed and picked up the dress Sam had left there.

She picked the dress up with two fingers, holding it well away from her.

"Yuk!" she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose and taking the dress to the hamper
in the bathroom.

Sam quickly smoothed the bed covers while she was gone.  There was no sense
in angering her even more, he thought.

Susan stopped at the closet on her way back, quickly choosing a dress for
Sam.

Sam marvelled at how quickly she could select clothing.

As Sam put the short, halter style, sun dress on, he noticed that Susan was
wearing a soft, silky blouse and a straight navy skirt.  His sun dress came
to the usual spot, well up on his thighs, while her skirt fell to just above
the knees.  He wondered if he would ever be allowed to wear the longer
styles she did.

Susan looked at him critically.  "That's a cute dress," she smiled.

Sam looked down at the dress.  Well, it was kind of cute.  There was a big
yellow sunflower on the front of the dark pink skirt, and two smaller ones
over each breast.  Of course, the fabric of the top followed the flowers,
leaving quite a bit of bare cleavage showing.  Sam still didn't like showing
so much, but he was getting used to it by now.  Besides, it showed a whole
lot less than what he'd shown at the Booby Trap last night.

He put his stockings on, and went over to the dressing table to fix his face
without a word from Susan.  He knew he had better be on his best behavior
this morning.

As soon as his hair and face were done, he joined Susan in the kitchen for
coffee and pastry.  The calcium supplement pills were next to his cup, as
was the plastic holder full of birth control pills.  He took the pills
without comment.

Susan looked at Sam curiously, as if she was about to say something.  Just
then the telephone began to ring.

"Hello," Susan said into the handset.

"Oh, hi, George, it has been a while since I've heard from you."

"OK."

"Today?"

"Is it REALLY important?"

Susan's voice turned from bright cheerfulness to a brisk, business tone.

"Well, OK."

"I'll be there around noon, I think.  I'll have June arrange the flight and
call you with the arrival time."

"OK. I'll see you later, then."

"Bye," she finished, hanging up the phone.

Sam sat at the table, curious but not going to press his luck asking about
the call.

"Darn," Susan said.  "I have to go to Washington today to see an old
client."

"After the way you treated Gwen yesterday," she continued sternly, now
looking daggers at Sam, "I can't leave you with her, or take you to Lois'
office.  And the other girls are tied up this morning too."

Sam looked down at his cup of coffee.  For some reason, he felt ashamed at
being reminded of his incident with Gwen yesterday.

"Well," Susan said, after some thought, "I guess I'll have to take you with
me." She sighed audibly.

"I won't be any trouble," Sam offered shyly.

"You had better not be!" Susan exclaimed.  "Do you think you can act like a
perfect lady today?"

Susan's tone of voice in asking the question left no doubt in Sam's mind
that he had better answer in the affirmative, and mean it.

"Yes, I'll try," he said in a small voice.

"You had better do more than try," Susan said.  "Step out of line just a
little bit one time, and I'll have that needle in your butt before you can
even think about it."

"And, remember, Gwen won't be around to protect you either," she said, going
into her bedroom to change clothes.

Sam sighed.  He had gotten the message very clearly.

He got up, and washed the dirty dishes, then began to wonder what to do.

"Go change into the suit you wore to church," Susan called from her bedroom.

Sam went into the bedroom, took off the sun dress, and began putting the
blouse and skirt from the suit on.  He was having trouble with the buttons
on the back.

Sam could hear Susan making some phone calls from her bedroom.  He could not
hear what she was saying, but the tone of her voice was brisk and
business-like.

She came into the bedroom a moment later, looked at Sam, and shook her head.
She came over to him, and buttoned the back of the blouse for him.

"We don't have much time," she explained.  "but you are going to have to
learn how to do that by yourself."

Susan now had a matching jacket on.  It fit snugly over her body,
emphasizing the curves at her breasts.  Sam kind of liked it.

She dumped all of Sam's stuff from the purse he'd had last night into the
blue shoulder bag.  Then, she dumped a hair brush and the cologne into the
bag as well.  She handed the bag to him, and went into her room as Sam put
his jacket on.

Sam went into the living room to wait for Susan.  She was only a moment,
returning with her bag slung over her shoulder, and carrying two briefcases
in her hands.

"Let's go," she said simply.

Sam followed her down to the lobby of the apartment building, where they
waited.

Susan got up and began pacing around the lobby, looking out the glass door
frequently.  She seemed impatient.

At last, a yellow taxi pulled up to the door, and Susan led Sam out to the
cab.  They both got inside, and the cabby began driving off at Susan's brief
direction, "Airport."



30 Chapter -    Flying


The municipal airport is on the southeast side of the city.  It is a large
place, and located in an almost rural setting.  It is about a thirty minute
drive from Susan's apartment to the passenger terminal.

Sam was curious as to why Susan had to go to the nation's capitol on such
short notice.  He would have asked, but her warning was still fresh in his
mind, and she had pulled one of the briefcases onto her lap.

Susan had opened the briefcase, and Sam was a little surprised to see that
it was a laptop computer, not the briefcase it looked like.  He could tell
it was an expensive one, too.

Susan was typing things on the keyboard, and looking at the large LCD
display.  She was obviously reviewing something for the upcoming meeting,
but the rows of numbers and terse text labels were meaningless to Sam.  He
quickly got bored, and watched the scenery flash by.

As the entrance to the airport became visible, Susan closed her computer,
and sat back in the seat, obviously resigned to not being able to complete
her studies.  The cab continued driving right up to the main doors of the
passenger terminal.

Susan and Sam got out of the cab.  Susan bent over to pay the cabby with a
few bills from her purse.

Sam looked around.  He'd been through the terminal a number of times.  It
did not look much different, but it seemed to him that there were quite a
few more people around than he recalled.  Perhaps, he had not been so
conscious of them previously.

Susan and Sam went inside, and Susan went up to the counter for one of the
bigger national airlines, after telling Sam to stand just outside the velvet
ropes.  She returned a few minutes later, clutching two ticket envelopes in
her hands.

Sam was conscious of all the people around the terminal now.  It seemed like
most of them were men, and their stares at his chest forced him to recall
how differently he was dressed than last time he had been there.  He was
somewhat uncomfortable at being stared at.

Susan did not seemed to be so uncomfortable as she led Sam through the
concourse to the gates.  She stopped at one gate, exchanging her tickets for
two boarding passes.  She led Sam to one of the rows of hard plastic seats,
and they both sat down.

Sam felt very conspicuous as he sat on the chair.  He had been conscious of
the men looking him over ever since he'd been in the building, and the frank
stares he and Susan were getting now did nothing to ease his disquiet.  He
nervously recrossed his legs several times, sure the men were looking up his
skirt.  Susan did not seem to be bothered at all.

They sat in the holding area for a long few minutes, before the PA system
announced the boarding call.

Susan stood, and Sam followed her to the line forming at the gate to the
airplane.  He felt the eyes on him all the way.

Susan gave the hostess the boarding passes, and led Sam down the metal
corridor and into the airplane.  She showed the passes to the hostess at the
door of the airplane, and was instructed where to find the seats.

They walked only a few feet into the airplane, when Susan spotted her row
number.  She stopped, then opened the overhead cabinet.  She stuffed the
briefcases into it, then took off her jacket.  She folded it neatly, and the
jacket followed the cases.

"You will be more comfortable without your jacket," Susan said, as she slid
into the window seat.

Sam took his jacket off, and folded it neatly, as he had seen Susan do.  He
put it in the cabinet, closed the door, and sat in the aisle seat.  They
were in first class, so there was not much choice as to which seat to take.

As he sat down and buckled his seatbelt, the rest of the passengers began
pouring into the plane.  Sam was acutely aware of the frequent stares his
chest was getting as the male passengers moved rearward, toward their own
seats.

Sam found one of those in flight magazines in the pocket behind the seat
ahead of him, and began looking through it, more to keep his mind off the
obvious stares he was attracting than from any interest in the magazine.  He
was still leafing through the publication when the hostess checked
everyone's seatbelt, and the airplane began to move.  He was reading an
article on shopping for fashion in Dallas without much interest when the
plane got airborne, and the seatbelt sign dinged off.

Susan unlatched her seatbelt without taking her eyes off whatever article
she was reading in the magazine.  Sam followed suit, though the article on
Dallas was not interesting enough to keep his interest through the process.

The flight attendants went through their mandatory spiel about aircraft
safety, with no paying attention as usual, and began wheeling carts through
the aisles.  They stopped at each row, passing a tray to each of the
passengers.  Airlines know that feeding passengers keeps their minds off of
such distasteful subjects as crashes.

Sam looked at the tray set before him.  Scrambled eggs, two strips of bacon,
some toast, a couple of slices of grapefruit and a plastic glass of orange
juice were on it, along with some silverware wrapped in a napkin.  He
unwrapped the silverware, and began digging into the grapefruit when the
hostess was back with coffee.  He added the cup of coffee to the tray, and
began to eat the breakfast without any more interruptions.  Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw Susan doing the same.

He and Susan finished the breakfast at about the same time.  Susan was
sipping coffee, but Sam's was gone.  The attendant magically appeared, and
whisked the trays from them, refilling the coffee cups without asking.  Sam
sat back in the seat, and began sipping the fresh coffee.

Susan finished her coffee, and dug a lipstick and compact from her purse.
She applied the lipstick, and put it back into the purse.  Her glance at Sam
made him dig into his own purse.

Sam opened the compact to the small mirror in its lid, and opened the tube
of lipstick.  He dropped the puff in his lap as he was trying to get the
mirror arranged to see his lips.  It was much harder to put the lipstick on
with only the small mirror to help him, but he managed to get the greasy
stuff on his lips.  He picked up the puff, and closed up the cosmetics,
stuffing them back into the purse.

Susan laughed lightly, then pulled a tissue from her own purse, dabbing it
at Sam's lips to remove an errant bit of red, where he'd missed the lip
line.  She put the tissue back into her purse, then leaned over to him.

"Sam," she whispered, "you will have to be on your best behavior today.  I
have a business appointment, and you will have to come with me.  If you do
anything to mess it up, you will find yourself with a sore butt, and I'll
dump you in the middle of the red light district of Washington."

The vision of being dumped on 14th Street, with just the clothes on his
back, no money, and a female identification, sobered him.  He was determined
to keep it from happening, and he saw from Susan's determined look that she
was prepared to do it if he screwed up.  He sighed, and leaned back into the
seat.

Sam was still thinking about Susan's threat when the plane began to descend.
Breakfast and coffee had consumed most of the flight time.  They landed
minutes later.

As the airplane came to a halt at the gate, Sam stood, recovering his jacket
from the overhead compartment.  He slipped it on, not buttoning it, and got
Susan's things from the compartment.

Susan smiled as she accepted her jacket and two cases, She half stood, and
slipped her jacket on while Sam buttoned his own.

Susan stood as the plane's front door opened.  She moved past Sam, and began
walking through the metal tube between the plane and the terminal.  Sam
followed meekly.

They walked into a waiting room, almost a clone of the one they had left a
short time earlier, but did not stop.  As they clicked their heels on the
hard floor, Susan spotted someone and a big smile came on her face.

"George!" she cried cheerfully.

George saw her, and came over to wrap her in his powerful arms.

"Susan," he said, "I am glad you could make it so quickly."

As the middle aged man released Susan from the hug, he glanced at Sam.

"Oh," Susan said, laughing, "George this is Samantha.  Sam, George."

George smiled, and shook hands with Sam.  He then took each of them by an
arm, leading them through the terminal.

"When June told us your flight number," he spoke to Susan, "I decided to
meet you personally.  My car is right outside."

As the three of them walked through the terminal corridors, George and Susan
chatted lightly about mutual friends, and brought themselves up to date on
what had been happening since they had seen each other last.  Every once in
a while, George looked to Sam, who smiled politely back at him.



31 Chapter -    Washington


They walked out of the terminal building, and a long, black limousine pulled
up.  The driver got out, taking Susan's cases to the trunk.  Then, he opened
the door so the three of them could slide in the back.

Sam tried to enter the car in a lady like manner, but his legs did separate
once while he was trying to get seated, much to the appreciative glance of
the driver.  He composed himself, and relaxed into the luxurious seat.

Susan and George kept up their banter all through the drive into the city.

The limo pulled up in front of a tall building, and the driver got out to
open the door for them.  They all slid out, the driver keeping a close eye
on the ladies, obviously longing for another flash of leg.  He seemed quite
satisfied when he went to the trunk to recover Susan's cases.  George, Susan
and Sam went into the building, arm in arm, while the driver drove away with
the limo.

George stopped at the reception desk, picking up some plastic covered
squares from the receptionist.  He clamped one to Susan's coat lapel, then
repeated the process with Sam.  Then, he took a similar badge from his
pocket, and clipped it to his own coat.  They all went to the elevator.

Sam looked at the badges while they walked.  George's badge had a full color
picture of him on it.  Susan's badge also had a picture, wearing a blouse
Sam did not recognize.  His own badge just had a big V where the picture
would have been.

Still arm in arm, George led them down a long, plushly carpeted hallway
after the elevator arrived.  They went into a small conference room.

Sam looked around, as George was seating both he and Susan.  The room was
panelled in a light wood, and the table matched.  There were a number of
pictures on the wall, running the gamut from supersonic jet airplanes to
some sort of Army vehicle.

As they were getting situated at the table, two more middle aged men,
dressed in dark suits, entered the room.  They pulled up chairs opposite the
ones Sam and Susan were sitting in.

"Susan," George introduced, "I think you know my comptroller, Ed Stewart.
The other gentlemen is my operations vice president, Ralph Eggleston."

Both men nodded politely to Susan and Sam as they were introduced.  Susan
flashed a big smile to both, and Sam followed suit, seeing what she was
doing.

"The reason we called you here," George continued, "is that we are having a
temporary cash flow shortage."

"One of our bright, young engineering geniuses designed a fantastic video
game.  We are so sure that it will be THE hit of the Christmas season that
we tooled up our Maryland plant to produce the games for the consumer
market."

"Well, after we made that decision," George kept going, "Admiral Kuntz, from
the SDI project, issued a RFP on a black project.  We were invited to bid.
Our first black project."

George paused before continuing.

"Anyway, we were informed this morning that we could have the contract if we
could guarantee first production within 18 months."

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