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Subject: {Bombadil}JDR"Chosen A"( FF bd nc )[1/2]
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                             JOHN DARK REPOST
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                           =====================
Disclaimer:  All the standard rules apply.  If you are offended 
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is 
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are 
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you 
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this 
text from your computer.

This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions
described by me coming straight out of my imagination.  As a work 
of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities 
or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real 
events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my 
friends or relatives.

You've been warned.

Copyright (c) Tom Bombadil Nov 1996
I give permission for anyone to share or archive this story.
********************************************************************

                           =====================
                                  Chosen 
                              Short Story # 7
                              by Tom Bombadil  
                           via stbush@iglou.com 


Section A:

This whole situation started with a strange letter I received in 
the mail one day.  It came in a plain white envelope, was typed 
(not laser printed) on plain paper, and simply said that I'd been 
chosen.  Also on there was an address and a date, along with 
instructions that I was to show up there with nothing but myself 
and my purse.  The date was three weeks in the future.

It looked like a joke.  It felt like a joke.  It had to be some 
weirdo's idea of something funny.  So I threw it onto the pile of 
junk mail on the shelf beside the door.  I thought that would be 
the last I'd hear of it.  Naturally I forgot all about it within 
five minutes.  

Two days later, at work, after I'd spent a few hours searching 
through old case files, I got called into the boss' office.  Since 
I'm not yet a partner in the firm, he's still my boss.  I expected 
that to change soon, though, after saving those three patent cases 
he thought we'd blown.  Sixty five million is a lot of money.  Our 
fee for winning was not insignificant.

The plaque on the door read "Harold Reuter".  Simple, elegant, 
no pretension whatsoever.  Just like the man behind the door.

"Hi Harold.  What's up?"  He disliked formalities around the office, 
unless there was a client nearby.  He also hated to waste time on 
little things like pleasantries and small talk.  

"Hello Virginia.  I was just trying to figure out how to spread 
your workload around, and I'd like some input on who you think 
should handle the McGruder problem."

Alarm bells went off in my head.

"Spread my workload around?"

He looked at me like I should know exactly what he's talking about.  
My confusion was evident.

"Well, yes.  The work still has to be done while you're away.  
After all, this is a business."

"Away?"  He had lost me.  Totally and completely.

"Exactly.  While you're away.  Didn't you get your letter?"

"Letter?  What letter?"  If I sounded confused, it's because I 
was.  He wasn't helping me any.  Not at all.

"You know, the letter.  The one saying you've been chosen.  I got 
word of it yesterday, so I've been trying to figure out how to get 
you your two months off.  Paid, of course.  The only snag is these 
damned McGruder cases."

Memories of that thing I'd received began to filter back.

"Harold, what kind of a joke are you trying to pull here?"

He looked at me with a rather pained expression on his face.

"I don't joke around, Virginia."  He was right, of course.  In my 
ten years with the firm, I'd never heard of him joking about the 
work, the clients, or the company.  Something began to feel bad, 
deep in the pit of my stomach.

"What's going on?  I get some wacko letter in the mail telling me 
that I've been 'chosen', and the next thing I know you're trying 
to book me time off work.  What gives?"

The expression on his face didn't change.

"You've been chosen.  What else is there to say?"

"All right, I'll play this silly game for a while.  I've been 
chosen.  By whom?  For what?"

He shook his head.  "Unimportant details.  I don't know the answers, 
and even if I did, they wouldn't help you anyway.  All that matters 
is that you have been chosen, and I have to make it so you have the 
time to go."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence while I tried to find my 
voice and my composure.

"Forget it!  I'm not falling for some idiotic joke!  No matter who's 
trying to pull it off!  So you can forget about scheduling time 
off for me.  I'll be here working right through to Christmas, at 
least."  Since it was late spring, that meant long after any 
deadline for being 'chosen'.

He smiled before he replied.  I didn't like the look of that smile.  
It was the same one he used when closing in on an unsuspecting 
opponent in court.  "Fine.  It *is* your choice.  I'll just finish 
up this little chore though, just in case you change your mind.  
Thank you for your help."

I stared at him for a few seconds.  He stared back, waiting for me 
to leave.  So I did.  Just before I got back to my office, I got 
hit by a freight train.  That's what it felt like, anyway.

Belinda, my assistant for the past four years, was holding me in 
a tight, very intimate hug, and she was kissing me.  I mean, she  
was *kissing* me!  It took some time, and not a little arm bending, 
to get her peeled off my body.  It was the first time in four years 
that I'd seen her act in anything other than a strictly 
professional manner.

"Virginia!  I'm so excited!  I just heard the news about you being 
chosen!  It's so wonderful!  I can't wait for you to get back!  I 
just know we'll have so much fun together!"

She knew too.  How far was this joke going to spread, I wondered.  
Then there was that kiss she'd given me, and the hug.  She was 
nicely put together, well padded in all the places I liked, and I 
*had* fantasized about her a fair bit, but I had never hit on her 
or made any kind of advance whatsoever.  I didn't even know if she 
swung that way.  She had to have been put up to it.

"All right, Belinda.  Enough's enough.  Who put you up to this?  
Harold?  Steven?  Thomas?"  Steven and Thomas were the two main 
funnymen and practical jokers in the building.  Ninety-nine percent 
of the time, if something strange was happening, one or both of 
them were involved.

For a second she looked at me like I'd lost my mind.  "What would 
those idiots have to do with it?"  She grinned again and grabbed me 
in another bear hug.  "You've finally been chosen!  I knew it would 
happen some day!  I just knew it!"

It took a while to extricate myself again.

"Belinda, I have no idea what this chosen business is, and I have 
no intention of finding out.  Now please, just tell me who's behind 
this joke, then we can all have a little laugh, and get back to 
work."

I can't really describe the look that came over her.  It was a 
mixture of shock, denial, a hint of fear, and several other 
things.  She shook her head as if to reject what I'd said.  Up 
until that moment I had considered her a very level headed, 
intelligent, and stable person.  The bad feeling that had started 
in Harold's office got a little worse.

"Virginia, you've been *chosen*!  It's no joke, it's an Honour!"

I swear that I heard her pronounce that capital 'H'.  She looked 
like she was completely serious.

"Look, Belinda, this has gone far enough.  I have no intention of 
following up on this 'chosen' thing.  None whatsoever.  So whoever 
is behind it, whoever put you up to this, they can just take a 
flying leap."  She looked like she was about to say something, so 
I cut her off.  "No, no, I don't really care all that much about 
whose sick joke it is.  I'm not interested in playing this game.
Just forget it, and let's get back to work."

She looked like she was about to cry.  I had no idea what her 
involvement was, in what looked to be an elaborate charade, and 
didn't really care at that point.  It was giving me bad vibes.  
Ignoring the whole business seemed like the best thing to do.

Just before I closed my office door, I heard her whisper something 
to herself.  I was sure I wasn't supposed to hear it, but I did.  
Her words, their implication, and what I remembered, shook me.  I 
got virtually no work done for the rest of the day, and Belinda 
never said anything else about 'chosen'.  The sad, puppy-dog looks 
she gave me were reminder enough.

I stayed home that night, feeling a little shaken about the whole 
business.  A nice hot bath, a quiet dinner, time alone with my cats, 
and a decent Steele novel made me feel a lot better.  Around ten 
I got a call that made me feel a lot worse.

Anna was one of my closest friends, despite the fact that we had 
never been intimate.  I'd known her since my freshman year at 
UCLA.  She was the one who introduced me to the nightlife.  As a 
sophomore, she'd already been around everywhere, seen everything, and 
knew what and who to avoid.  She was also one hell of a fun person 
to be around.  I thought I knew everything about her.

"Virginia!  I just heard the news!  Isn't it exciting?"

"What news?" I asked.  That feeling in the pit of my stomach warned 
me.  I knew the answer, but had to hear her say it anyhow.

"Why, about you being chosen, of course!  Have you told your mother 
yet?" 

That was getting to be too much.

"Anna, what the hell is going on?  And don't wimp out on me, I want 
answers!"

"Why, you've been chosen.  That's it."

"This is getting monotonous.  Anna, who chose me?"

"That's immaterial."

"You've been chosen?"

"Oh yes, for five years now.  I tell you, I didn't know what living 
was until after I'd been chosen.  Until you experience it, there's 
no way to describe what it's like.  It's the best thing that could 
ever happen to you!"

"Hold it.  Stop right there.  Cease and desist.  I have no idea what 
this 'chosen' thing is, and, to be perfectly honest, I don't 
particularly want to.  I'm getting really sick of it.  I've never 
heard of it before, and I don't want to hear about it any more."  

"But Virginia, you've been chosen.  You can't just ignore an 
opportunity like this.  Trust me on this one.  It's too precious 
to pass up!"

"So far, Anna, three people I know, including you, know about it, 
but nobody has told me anything about what it means.  Nothing!  
Frankly, I'm getting pissed off!  Please, Anna, it's starting to 
really bug me.  It's not even remotely funny any more.  Who's 
behind this joke?"

She was silent for several seconds.

"Virginia, it's not a joke.  You've been chosen, and eventually 
you will come around.  Everyone does.  I thought it was some sort 
of prank too, but I went.  It was the one most important decision 
of my life, and I chose the right path.  You will too."

She sounded absolutely sincere and honest, as serious as I had ever 
heard her.  That feeling in my stomach got worse.  I also got mad.

"No way.  I don't go walking into practical jokes.  I don't know 
who's behind this, but I'm really starting to get choked."

"All right Virginia.  I won't talk about it any more.  One of the 
reasons I'm calling is to offer to put up your cats while you're 
gone.  When you change your mind, call me back and we'll make 
arrangements.  Oh, and call your mother.  She'll want to talk to 
you about it too."

I'd forgotten that she'd mentioned my mother.

"So my mother is involved in this plot too?"

"She was chosen twenty five years ago."

I sat there and stared at the receiver long after the dial tone had 
changed to beeps.  It was past eleven, and would be after midnight 
where my mother lived, but I called anyway.

"Mom?"

"Virginia?"

"Yes, Mom.  It's me.  Sorry to call you so late, but something weird 
is going on here.  Someone suggested I call you."

I could hear her yawning herself awake.

"It's okay dear.  I'll just sleep in a little later in the morning.  
So what's got you worried enough to call your old Mom in the middle 
of the night?"

"Mom, have you ever heard of someone being chosen?"

There was a long pause, and when she finally spoke, her voice 
quavered. 

"Chosen?  Whatever do you mean, chosen?"

"A few days ago I got a letter in the mail saying that I've been 
chosen.  That's it.  No details, no nothing.  Just an address and a 
date."

"Are you going to go?"  Anyone else would have thought she was 
talking casually.  I'd been with her through three marriages, two 
funerals, and two divorces.  I knew better.  She was tense with 
something.  I couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement though.

"You know about this chosen thing, don't you."

She sighed.  It was fear.  She sounded scared of something.

"I've been chosen for a long time, dear."

"Tell me about it."

"There's nothing to tell.  If you've been, you don't need me to 
describe it, and if you haven't, it wouldn't do any good."

"That helps a whole lot."  Sarcasm was dripping off the phone, at 
both ends.  "You know what I think?  I think someone's playing a 
really big, really tasteless practical joke on me.  You're in on it, 
Anna's in on it, Belinda's in on it, and even my boss is in on it.  
Well, you can all take a hike because I'm not buying it!"

A few seconds later, my mother spoke again.  "It's not a joke, 
dear.  It's completely on the level."  Her voice dropped to a 
whisper.  "Ginny, whatever you do, don't miss your date!  Please!  
Trust me on this!  I waited for three months before I went, and, 
well, it was much more difficult than it should have been.  And 
don't let anyone know I told you!"

"Mom!  What happened?  Come on, tell me!"

"No dear, I can't.  I've already said too much.  I've got to go 
now.  Luv ya!  Bye!"

The dial tone came back.  I couldn't believe how panicky my mother 
sounded at the end.  She made it seem so real!  The whole situation 
made no sense.  It went well beyond any kind of practical joke 
anyone at work, or any of my friends, could possibly arrange.  I 
decided to sleep on it.



The next day in the office everything was mostly back to normal, 
except for the looks I got from Belinda.  She kept glancing at me 
with those big beautiful blue eyes of hers, making like a sad 
puppy.  It didn't hinder her work, but it sure did mine.

The day after, just as she was leaving, she cornered me and 
surprised me with a kiss.  I melted into it.  She then ran off, 
sobbing.  Being Friday, I knew I wouldn't be able to talk to 
her for a while.  Not until Monday, at the earliest.

I decided right then and there to find myself some company for the 
evening, someone to help me lose touch with reality for a while.  
After I got home, I had a light dinner and prepared myself.

A shower.  Shave my legs.  Shave my lips.  Trim my bush.  Brush, 
tease, style, and put up my hair into a wild, arrogant mass of 
curls.  I can get away with it.  Sheer black nylons, red satin 
garter belt, red satin panties, strapless red lace push-up bra, 
black silk mini dress, black heels.  A few bangles, a gold necklace, 
matching dangling gold earrings, black opera gloves, and a black 
patent clutch purse completed the look.  Makeup a little heavier 
than normal, a little wilder.  A few touches of perfume in 
strategic locations.  I was going hunting, and wanted every 
advantage.

There was never a time when I lacked for dates or attention.  I 
matured early, discovered my preference early, and learned quickly 
how to get what I wanted.  Now, at five nine, 128 pounds, with an 
ungodly good shape for my thirty five years, with fiery red hair, 
a beautiful face, and absolute confidence, I can have almost anyone 
I want.  

Trust me to take a career path where my beauty means nothing.  I 
just had to prove I had brains as well.  I worked my way through 
college and got a degree in business law, passed my bar exam with 
flair and style, and now work for a very prestigious firm as 
a patent lawyer.  Nowadays I get handed most of the high profile 
cases.  Life treated me well.  Up until that letter came.

I took a cab down to one of my favourite nightclubs.  The doorman 
let me in with a nod and a wink.  I came back home two hours later 
with an absolutely delicious looking little brunette.  Sleek, 
lithe, and properly padded, the way she moved in that white leather 
thing she was wearing had me hot and damp.  I just had to take 
her home with me.  

We walked in my door, laughing and giggling, both a little giddy 
from the show we'd put on for the cab driver.  I couldn't wait 
to get into the bedroom.  I wanted to unwrap her and continue on 
with what we'd already started.  Thoughts of work, and the other 
thing, were completely absent.  That is, until I noticed she wasn't 
following me.  She was standing in the foyer, looking a little 
shocked, staring at that letter.  I'd left it lying there, and 
hadn't gotten around to throwing it out.  She put it down, gave me 
a *look*, and left.  Just like that.  No explanation, no goodbye, 
no call-me-a-cab-please-I-have-to-go-now, nothing.  I was beginning 
to wonder if this chosen thing was some sort of world-wide 
conspiracy.

The mood was lost.  I packed it in and went to bed.  Thoughts of 
anger, of revenge, and of doubt, haunted me until the wee hours.  
They continued right through the weekend.  What Belinda had said 
also haunted me, as did my conversations with Anna, Harold, and my 
mother.  Nothing made any sense!


                           =====================
                                  Chosen 
                              Short Story # 7
                              by Tom Bombadil  
                                 Section A
                                   -30-


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