Crystal's StorySite


Meet The Author
By : RJMcD


"'The Bridges of Madeleine County' - The new TG thriller from Ann Nice! Mike County thought when he awoke in the dentist's chair the only difference would be a new appliance in his mouth. Was SHE in for a surprise!"

Richard Canarsie did a character count on the blurb. Two hundred and thirteen spaces. Perfect. Halfway between the 200 to 225 space parameter Duncan Frumble set for the blurbs that appeared on the back three pages of every one of his paperback transgender novels. Now all Richard had to do was read the manuscript and find a cover scene. Time to feel self-conscious.

This was not what he'd had in mind when he first enrolled in art school. The problems - the pay was low and it was no way to get famous - were offset by the positives: it was almost a living, and it did allow him flexible hours and the ability to work at home. It seemed that ten years ago everyone had decided to become a computer artist, so it was difficult to scare up decent assignments on anywhere near a regular basis. Even when he did, he sometimes didn't get paid, or at least didn't get paid on time. When the supply was bigger than the demand the crooks came out of the woodwork.

At least "Dunc" Frumble was honest and regular. When Richard had started doing the illustrations and blurbs Frumble had put out one paperback TG novel every ten days. Then he started the "Trans-Am Series" of TG novels about American racecar drivers. The biggest seller so far had been "The Girls with the Grand Prix!", but novels about everything from TG hotrod mechanics and pit crew members (oh, how those phrases were fraught with blurbing opportunities!), to TG fans seducing drivers, to TG NASCAR drivers were popular. So far he was milking the topic the way Dick Francis milked horse racing, and readers could count on a new Trans-Am novel every four weeks. That meant Richard had to turn in a total of four covers, four back covers, and four blurbs every twenty-eight days, just like clockwork.

He emailed the latest blurb to Duncan Frumble Publishing - a company of Panamanian incorporation (tax purposes), operating through a representative in Delaware (U.S. operating purposes), but located in Secaucus, New Jersey (cheap rent purposes). Five minutes later he received this reply:



Wonderful blurb! Hemingwayesque! Looking for your illustrations! Coming soon? I know they are! Good news! Call me ASAP! Money! money! money!!

Duncan Frumble!


Duncan Frumble Publishing!

"Switch to a Frumble Book and You're Transformed!"

Duncan's computer had crashed two months previously when he'd spilled a cup of coffee (with sugar) on his keyboard. Now every time he hit the "." or "," keys the screen registered an "!", so Richard didn't ascribe any particular excitement to Duncan's email. Not, that is, until he got to the end of the string of "Money! money! money!!" and saw the double exclamation points. Since the crash hadn't effected Duncan's key for an exclamation point, the double exclamation point probably meant that Duncan had typed actual exclamation points. That, or he'd accidentally hit the period key twice.

"Duncan Frumble Publications. Switch to a Frumble Book and You're Transformed. How may I help you?"

"Hi, Molly. Richard here. Is Dunc' in?"

"Oh, hi, Richard. I loved your blurb. Duncan showed me. Did he tell you it was my story?"

"You're Ann Nice?" Richard said, astounded at the news.

"I am this month. Ann Nice is a house name. It's my first published novel!"

"Congratulations, Molly," Richard said. "If I'd known I would have said something."

"Your blurb was reward enough. You're a good person, Richard," Molly said. "Hold on and I'll get you Duncan."

Richard thought: My blurb meant something to someone. That's inconceivable.

"Hi, Richard. Duncan here."

"You and Molly are the only ones in your office, Dunc'. I just talked to her. Your voices are very different," Richard said.

"So you knew it was me is what you're trying to say? Of course you did, Richard. It's called the social graces. Politely easing into a conversation. Being casual. Not being abrupt. You need to get out more, Son."

"You're right, I do," Richard said.

"I thought you were dating someone...?"

"I was. I am. Hagar Esturtle. Seven dates so far."

"Richard, Richard. Isn't Hagar a man's name? Are you trying to tell me something, Richard?"

"No, Dunc'. Only with the Vikings. She says it's a Hebrew name and I looked it up. It's a girl's name, alright. It means 'forsaken'."

"Upbeat," Duncan Frumble said.

"Yeah," Richard said.

"Hebrew, eh? Jewish girl, is she?"

"Scottish and Welsh," Richard said. "She says her parents are Quaker and Presbyterian but non-practicing."


"That she is," Richard said.


"'Meaning?' meaning?"

"And you're my blurb writer, eh?"

"Well," Richard said. "I didn't mean anything by 'interesting', so I meant what did you mean by 'meaning'."

"Hmmmm," Duncan Frumble said. "Well, enough idle chit-chat. Down to business. Missy St. Missy wants to meet you."


"Richard, this conversation is not one of your best," Duncan said.

"I mean: why?"

"Because she likes the blurbs you've done on her books? The answer is no," Duncan said. "Because she likes your illustrations, and because she is writing the first book in a new series from Duncan Frumble Publishing called DFP/TG Illustrated Classics? The answer is yes."

"An illustrated series? Cool. Tell me more," Richard said.

"Amazing how money makes a person coherent," Duncan said. "I've been thinking about this for a while. The DFP/TG Illustrated Classics will be commissioned stories, at the rate of one every twenty-eight days, from different authors, all original, with an illustration opening each chapter. Twelve chapters per book. Not at the cover rate."

"Not at the cover rate?" Richard said. "They should be."

"You're quite right," Duncan said, giving in easily. "But I can't afford it. Think of it this way: instead of four covers every four weeks you'll be doing five, and then doing variations on one of them for the inside."

"Twelve variations," Richard said. "Think of it this way: instead of four covers and four back covers for a total of eight illustrations I'll be doing ten plus twelve more for inside totaling twenty-two illustrations."

"No can do, Richard. I'm going out on a limb with this. Better paper for the twelve inside pages with your illustrations. A fifth book a month. I'm not sure we won't be saturating the market. We can work out a temporary lower rate, I'm sure, and if the DFP/TG Illustrated Classics are a hit I'll pay you full rate. Fair?"

It was. Not only was the illustration market bad at the moment, but Duncan Frumble was a man of his word and Richard knew he wouldn't get screwed.

"Fair," Richard said.

"Good. Now Missy St. Missy wants to meet you to discuss the illustrations of her story."

"She doesn't like my blurbs?"


"You said 'because she likes the blurbs you've done for her books? The answer is no'," Richard said.

"She likes the blurbs, Richard. But that's not why she wants to meet you, so that answer to that question would be 'no', wouldn't it? All clear? Ego check. All safe and secure again?"

"Ah," Richard said.

"I think it's a good thing that you never come to the office, Richard," Duncan Frumble said.

"There's no need to," Richard said.

"Absolutely correct. Until now," Duncan said.

"Dunc', I really don't want to get involved at that level," Richard said.

"I know, but she insists."

"What's she like?"

"I've never met her," Duncan said. "She lives in California. . ."

Richard moaned.

"Now, now," Duncan said. "She lives in California and is flying east to see her sister in Piscataway. They're just now back on speaking terms."

"Convenient for you," Richard said.

"It'll take you an hour to get here."

"An hour and a half."

"Okay, an hour and a half," Duncan said. "She's only going to be free this Tuesday and she's going to rent a car and drive up."

"Have you ever met any of your authors, Dunc'?"

"A few," he said evasively.


"Richard, I always envision Karen Dior and end up with Divine, but Miss St. Missy sent me a picture with her email. This time it is Karen Dior - with big jugs. Anyway, that shouldn't concern you. The point is, she wants to present her vision of what her characters look like."

"Have her email me," Richard said.

"The author wants to meet you," Duncan said. "That's a perfectly reasonable request."

It was, and Richard knew it. "Two dollars a mile," he said. "I checked it when I went for my job interview. A hundred and twenty miles round trip."

"Done. See you Tuesday morning, ten o'clock. Gotta run so I'll let you go. Bye, Richard," Duncan said and broke the connection.

Richard thought: Why do I feel I've just been had?



Chapter Two


Tailpipe Thunder! By Ernestine Samuels, Jr. The latest and hottest in the DFP Trans-Am Series! Join Sam/Samantha in the Pit as she teaches the crew how to get things switched in a hurry! Look out for those hairpin curves!

Richard counted the spaces. Two hundred and twenty-one. Perfect. He saved the blurb to his hard drive. Somehow he thought that sending in two blurbs in one day might make Duncan regard his blurb writing as too easy, so he always waited a day or two between submissions.

Richard thought: Duncan's not that dumb, so why do I do that?

He didn't know the answer.

The illustrations were tough. He had done almost fifty books for DFP and had developed a style that was somewhere between the ripped-bodice covers of Historical Romances and contemporary male action paperbacks, with an occasional foray into TG/Sci-Fi in a style he thought was a modern take on '30s pulp fiction magazine covers. His work had become the signature Duncan Frumble Publishing look. It was sexy without nudity. The men and girls had low body fat (except for the hooters) and the bulge in the girls' panties, swimsuits, skirts, dresses, leotards, tutus, lingerie, or jumpsuits (the Trans-Am Series) was always prominent. At first, that bulge was the most difficult part for Richard to draw ("Your bulges are getting bigger, Richard." "I know." "Unrealistically bigger." "I know." "Stupendously unrealistically bigger, Richard." "Sorry."). But after a dozen covers he got used to it. Now his problem was creating something unique for each auto racing cover.

"Richard Canarsie Designs," he said into the phone.

"Hi, Richard." It was the soft voice of Hagar Esturtle.

"Hi, luv," he said. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Thinking about you," she said.

"Hmmm, that's nice. Are you coming over tonight? I was thinking of that Italian place we went to last time."

"That was pretty good," Hagar said. "Did you know there's a little French restaurant just down the road from there? Boxtop says it's cool." Boxtop lived in the next apartment but Hagar didn't know his real name. She really did want to find out but when she'd asked him he'd just laughed and said, "Everybody calls me Boxtop." Even his roommate, a guy named John, said he didn't know Boxtop's real name. Richard wasn't even curious because how could you be about somebody who wanted to be called "Boxtop"?

"Well, with a gourmet recommendation like that I'd say it's worth a shot," Richard said.

"You're so cute," Hagar said. "I'll be over at sevenish."

"Sevenish it is," Richard said.

"Bye, hon," she said.

"Byeish," he said.

Richard thought: She's beautiful and she obviously likes me a lot but what's really happening here?

There was no sex. At least none to brag to anybody about if he was going to brag to anybody about sex which he wasn't going to do. On their first date they'd talked for hours and kissed for minutes. On their second and third dates Hagar had let him play with her breasts, and on their fourth date she had given him a handjob. The fifth date was back to talking and kissing, and it really hadn't changed much since then. He had explained to her that this was the twenty-first century and things moved a little faster than that, and she had explained to him that no they didn't.

She was up on new music and clubs, but not really "in" it, at least as far as Richard could see. Modern but secretly old-fashioned? He didn't know, but he enjoyed her company a lot, and it wasn't like there were dozens of girls beating down his doors. Or even one. Even knocking.


Chapter Three


"A Bull In A Cheongsam Shop!" The explosive new novel by Hugha Toppinghama Lee! Famed Egyptologist Stagger Lee opens the wrong tomb and is transformed into a beautiful Asian girl! Lee puts that extra X in hot XX fiction!

"Richard Canarsie, I'd like you to meet Missy St. Missy," Duncan Frumble said. "Missy, this is Richard, our star illustrator."

Missy St. Missy was indeed a Karen Dior with bigger jugs - much bigger jugs - and blonde hair. She was drop-dead gorgeous, maybe twenty-one years old, standing slightly taller than Richard's height of 5' 10". But of course she was wearing petite heels. Above the heels were a pair of fantastic, curvy legs, slightly flaring hips, a tiny waist, and a pair of solid Ds encased in the lowest of low cut dresses. With a face to challenge any ingénue, she presented a package that was a tad overwhelming.

"Wow," Richard said. "I mean, How. I mean Hi. Hi is what I mean. Hi."

"Richard is our star blurb writer, too," Duncan said. "He has a certain facility with words, which I'm sure you've notice."

"He's charming," Missy St. Missy said. "How do you do, Richard?"

"Fine," Richard said. "Hi."

"That's what he means to say," Duncan provided.

"I've enjoyed your books," Richard said, trying to recover lost ground.

"And I've enjoyed your illustrations. They give me a hard on," Missy said.

"AH!" Richard exclaimed, flustered.

Duncan Frumble was about to unleash another sarcastic remark but Missy St. Missy giggled at Richard's reaction so he decided to lay low. A publisher, even a publisher in Secaucus, had to keep the staff happy with each other after all.

"As Duncan probably told you," Missy said, "I just came back to reconcile with my sister. I'm afraid my family sort of disowned me after I got my first implants." She wiggled her chest at him and Richard took a quick step back. "But we've all made up now, and everything's just sugar and cream. I've changed my plans and I'm staying for the rest of the week, so we'll be able to work closely together."

"Ah!" Richard said.

"That's my boy," Duncan said.

"Have you read the manuscript yet?" Missy asked.

Richard looked to Duncan for help.

"I was going to give it to him today, Missy," Duncan said. "You'll like it, Richard. It has great illustrative possibilities. It's a Sci-Fi - TG - Romance set in the Wild West of 1860. Wyatt Earp gets transformed by aliens."

"Ah," Richard said. "Good."

"Yes, good," Duncan said. "Take a deep breath, Richard. Well, I'm going to step out for a while, so you two can go over the ideas Missy has. I understand she has the characters pictured in her mind, and once you read the manuscript, Richard, I don't think you'll have a problem. You two can get together here again tomorrow, or whenever you decide. Now, I have another appointment so I'll leave you. I should be back in about an hour. Don't let Richard talk your ear off, Missy."

Missy giggled. As Duncan was moving his bulky frame through the doorway Missy St. Missy turned to Richard and winked at him.

"Ah!" he said.



Chapter Four


"Bringing Home The Bacon!" By Ambrosia Bierce! Buck Beare tries a new steroid, but the formula isn't perfect and when he looks in the mirror the next morning he sees Bridget Beare! Back to the gym - with a new goal in mind!

Library Science.

Richard thought: That can't be a real Major. Science?

Hagar Esturtle dropped her textbooks on Richard's couch (plaid cushions, bought second-hand. Hey, it was cheap), and put her arms around Richard's neck.

"Inviting a girl up to your apartment to see your illustrations?" Hagar said. "Does that have a double meaning, Richard?"

"You've seen my illustrations," he said, and kissed her.

He loved the way she kissed.

"Computer graphics," Hagar said. She liked the way he kissed, too. "More modern than etchings, I suppose."

"You don't like them?" Richard was sensitive about his art.

"I love them and you know it," she said. "They're fabulous."

He did know it. Hagar loved to watch him work on the covers for Duncan Frumble Publishing books. She asked questions. She even made suggestions. She took a sincere interest. She didn't like the Taj Mahal.

The Taj Mahal was Richard's pet project. Whenever he wasn't working on a slightly lurid paperback book cover he was working on a very unlurid and very big drawing of the Taj Mahal. It may have been built by love (and lots of Sports Creme and oodles of rupees), but Hagar thought Richard's rendition was "draftsman-like". That hurt. Richard was an artist. Of course the Taj Mahal was going to have some draftsman-like qualities about it. It was a building, for god's sake, But it had feeling, too.

"It has no feeling," Hagar said, looking at the unfinished project Richard brought up on his screen. "Your book covers have emotion, human interaction, excitement, lust, love, and people. This has no flesh."

It was hard to argue with Hagar. No flesh. What could he say?

Richard thought: A herd of yak in the pool?

"How about a swan in the pool?" Hagar suggested.

"Hmmm, maybe," Richard said.

"Or a fox and hare up front by the bench," she said. "Or a bhaalu ka waatch?"

"A what?"

Richard thought: I wish she didn't work in a library to pay for her tuition.

"A dancing bear," Hagar said. "They're illegal now, as they should be. What time frame is this picture?"

"It's the Taj Mahal, Hagar," Richard said. "It's timeless."

"Then the fox and hare."

"In India?"

"Sure. They still have foxhunts. They're illegal, too, but they have them. Colonial crap. Have a fox and a hare nuzzling up against one another."

"They have foxes in India?" he said, astonished.

"Oh, you're being silly," Hagar said.

"It just doesn't seem like a fox place?"

"A fox place?"

Richard thought: Why did I say that?

"A fox and hare? I dunno, Hagar. . ."

"Well something alive, Richard. This is so cold."

"It's a monument to love, Hagar."

"A cold and distant love. Your covers have immediacy, honey. They're warm. They're passionate about life. It's what I love about you."

Richard thought: Love? Did she just say love? Hmmmmm.

"Well, this is really just something to take a break with. Sort of the opposite of my covers, just for a breather."

"I can understand that," Hagar said. "Got any new cover assignments?"

"I was going to tell you: Duncan is going to start doing illustrated books. Twelve drawings per book, one book a month. He wants me to do them all."

"Oh, that's wonderful, darling!" she said, and threw her arms around his neck again. "I know you're going to knock him off his feet with your artwork. It's hot!"

Richard thought: Life is good.



Chapter Five


"Madame Ovary" by Gustavia Flambeau. The Mistress of FemDom heats up the French countryside with this transformation tale! When Madame O comes to town she leaves everyone with a story to tell! This is Flambeau's hottest yet!

"Do I make you nervous?" Missy St. Missy cooed.

"AH!" Richard said.

He'd been so deep into his drawing that he'd forgotten for a moment that she was there in Duncan's office with him.

"Ooooh, I didn't mean to startle you," Missy said.

"Sorry," Richard said. "When I sketch I sometimes lose track of where I am. Oh, golly."

She'd bent over his shoulder and her bosom now pressed lightly against his head.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. 'oh, golly', I mean."

"I make you flustered, don't I?" Missy said with a mischevious smile. She pressed a little harder.

"What? Who? Me? No."

Missy smiled. She turned slightly and wrinkled her cute little nose at him.

"Ohhhh, golly," he groaned.

"Have you ever been to San Diego?" she asked.

"San Diego where?" he asked suspiciously.

"California, silly," she said.

"AH! Of course it is. It's in California. Could you please step back a little bit? I can't breath."

"Certainly," she said, and did.

"My girlfriend's been," Richard said. "To California, I mean. Not to San Diego, I don't think, but maybe. I'll ask her when I see her tonight. We have a date tonight, and I'll ask her."

"Enter the girlfriend," Missy muttered, her voice suddenly much less seductive, and just a mite deeper.

Richard looked at the door to Duncan's office. No one had come in.

"Show me your drawings, Richard," Missy said. "We have work to do."

He held up the sketch pad.

Missy, who was dressed in an even shorter and even more low cut dress than the first time they'd met, studied the drawings.

"Not a very big package on Wyatta," she said.

"Package? Ah! Well. Well, Duncan likes to keep it realistic," Richard said.

"Not a very big package on Wyatta," Missy said again.

Richard thought: Oh god, she's trying to tell me something.

"We'll show it to Duncan and see what he thinks," Richard said.

"Oh, the diplomat," Missy said. "There are so many sides to you, Richard."

"How about the rest of it?" he asked, trying to get things back on track.

Missy studied the sketches.

"Yes," she said. "They're very sensual without being too forward. They're erotic as all get out. I especially like the one where Bat Masterson and Doc Holliday are fighting over Wyatta Earp. And in this one. . ." She pointed to a very preliminary sketch. "The alien look is good. Not too alien, but still alien. That's exactly it." She straightened up behind him. "You really have a flair for this."

"Thank you," he said.

"Are you going to take me to lunch? A girl shouldn't really have to ask, you know," Miss said.

"I'd be honored," Richard said.

Richard thought: Help!



Chapter Six

Richard was caught up on his blurb writing, though Duncan said he was mailing him two more manuscripts in the morning.

"I want you to get ahead on these so you can be free to work on the illustrations," Duncan had said, failing to explain exactly how giving Richard more work to do would actually be freeing him up to do more work. "Miss St. Missy tells me she has to return to California tomorrow but she has total confidence that you're on the right track."

"I think so, too," Richard said. "She had some ideas for a couple of the chapters and they worked. I've got preliminaries of all twelve."

"And the cover," Duncan Frumble said.

"But not the cover," Richard said.

"Not the cover?"

"Not the cover."

"Uh-huh. But you have an idea," Duncan said.

"Huh-huh. I have no idea at the moment," Richard said.

"But you will have soon?" Duncan said.

"But I will have soon," Richard agreed.

There was a short silence before Duncan said, "Richard, either you've written too many blurbs or I've read too many. I have to go now."

And that was how the conversation with Duncan Frumble about the illustrations for his first illustrated Duncan Frumble Publishing book had gone.

It was Hagar who came up with the idea.

"Romance. Aliens. Western. Why, it could only be one thing, Richard," Hagar said.

Richard frowned.

"Bat Masterson and Doc Holiday are standing at the bar in a saloon and in walks Wyatta Earp on the arm of two aliens, 'Here she is, boys. Which one of you is man enough to take her?'" she said.

"Covers don't have captions," Richard said.

"That's what the picture says,' Hagar said.

Richard thought about it. "You're right," he said. "You're absolutely right. That's perfect. Hagar, you are the smartest, most intelligent, most perceptive person I have ever known. I have a huge amount of respect for your mind."

Richard thought: Please let me have sex with you.

"Thank you, Richard," she said. She did a little curtsey.



Chapter Seven


"Redline Redhead!" by Dereka Peacock. Champion driver 'Red' Bubba disappeared after his near-fatal accident. Now Darlington has a new star - sexy redhead Tabitha Jean Bulb! You'll blow your engine reading this racy new novel!

"I stammer and babble."

"No you don't, Richard," Molly said. "You're sweet and you're articulate."

Richard switched the phone to his other ear. "I am with you," he said. "I'm not trying to sound conceited, but at least I don't trip over my sentences or act like I can't speak. Do you know what the most common thing I said to Missy St. Missy was? 'Ah!'"

"Ah?" Molly said.

"Yes, 'ah'. I was flustered every second I was around her," he said.

"Ah," Molly said, understanding. "She is a big, beautiful girl."

"With a big bulge in her panties, if you'll pardon the expression," Richard said. "At least according to her."

"Is that what bothered you? After all the books you've illustrated for Duncan Frumble Publishing I'm surprised to hear you say that," Molly said.

"In a way, so am I," Richard said. "I'm inarticulate with Duncan, too."

"Well, he can be sort of blustery at times," Molly said.

"But I'm not that way with other people." Richard said.

"Not with your girlfriend? What's her name?"

"Hagar," Richard said.

"I thought that was a man's name," Molly said.

"Only if you're a Viking," Richard said. "Otherwise it's a girl's name. I looked it up."

"Oh. Well, you're articulate with. . .Hagar?"

"Usually," Richard said. "She sort of flusters me sometimes, too."

"So it doesn't have anything to do with sexual attraction because you're inarticulate with Duncan, and it doesn't have anything to do with being TG because you're articulate with me, so my guess is that it has to do with. . ."

"What?" Richard interrupted.

"What?" Molly said.

"Run that by me again. The part about TG," Richard said.

"I said it couldn't have anything to do with being transgendered because you're articulate around me," Molly said. "So I think that it has to do with pressure. If you're under . . ."

"You're TG?" Richard said.

"Of course, silly," Molly said. "Duncan never told you?"


"You didn't guess when you came into the office?"


"Oh, thank you, Richard," Molly said. "That's such a nice thing to say. I'll have to tell Duncan tonight. He'll think it's so sweet, I'm sure. To be truthful not many people gues. . . "

"What?" Richard interrupted.

"What?" Molly asked.

"Again. The 'tell Duncan' part."

"I said I'll to tell Duncan tonight that. . ."


"Yes. At home," she said. "Oh! You didn't know we were married?"

"You and . . ." He stopped.

"And Duncan," she said. "We're a little Mom and Pop company here, Richard. I'm the Mom and Duncan's the Pop."

She heard a muffled thud.

"Richard?. . . Richard?. . . ."

She thought she heard, very faintly, a low moan that sounded like, "Ahhhh. . . "



Chapter Eight

"You sound funny," Hagar said.

Richard held the phone gingerly in one hand, as if it was something that could come alive and bite him. "I've had kind of a tough day, honey," he said.

"Oh, my poor baby," she said. "Do you want to call off our date tonight?"

"No!" he shouted. "I didn't mean to shout. I'm a little. . .under pressure."

"The illustrations? Did you do a blurb today?" she asked.

"First thing this morning," he said. "For a new Trans-Am book."

"Did you work on the illustrations for Miss St. Missy's book?"

"No. I couldn't. I just. . .I had artist's block."

"Artist's block, Richard?"


"Oh, honey. Listen, we don't have to go out tonight. Why don't I just come over and we can spend a nice quiet evening at your place? I'll fix us something for dinner and we can rent a movie or something."

"That's good," Richard said. "I think that sounds very good. I'm sorry I'm not. . ."

"No," Hagar interrupted. "This will be nicer. As a matter of fact, it's perfect."

"It is?"

"Yes," Hagar said. "I wanted to make tonight special and it'll be so much better not going out to a club or a movie."

"What's special about tonight?" Richard asked.

Richard thought: It's some girl thing guys should know about. Some kind of 7.35 week anniversary or something.

"I'm going to perform oral sex on you," Hagar said.

Richard thought: !

"Now don't go thinking I'm going to do that all the time," Hagar said. "Not until we're married. Then you'll probably get tired of it because I'll want to do it so much then."

She heard a muffled thud.

"Richard?. . . Richard?. . . ."

She thought she heard, very faintly, a low moan that sounded like, "Ahhhh. . . "



Chapter Nine

"I never knew that Hagar was Gustavia Flambeau," Duncan Frumble said into the phone.

"Neither did I," Richard said.

"We did everything by e-mail and I made out all the royalty checks to Henry S. Turtill."

"That was her name before," Richard said.

"Well," Duncan said. "The world is just full of surprises, isn't it?"

"You don't have to tell me that, Dunc'."

"No, I suppose I don't," Duncan Frumble said. "When are you two coming back from your honeymoon? Missy St. Missy's second illustrated classic is ready to go."

"I'll e-mail you," Richard said.



Chapter Ten

"The Illustrator & I" - by Gustavia Flambeau! Henry had been transformed into a beautiful college student! Little did she know she'd fall in love with the fast rising and brilliant illustrator Randy Carney! A hot tale of true love!

Dear Duncan,

Sorry about the extra spaces in the blurb. This one deserved it.


Mr. & Mrs. Hagar and Richard Canarsie





© 2001 by RJMcD. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.