He took a closer look at Laura Kingsley and found he liked what he saw. She was, as the author of the email suggested, pretty fucking hot. She had a cute, innocent looking face, copper colored hair that spilled out from beneath her beanie, and her feminine curves were easily discernible. And she liked doing women! How was it fair that Jake fucking Kingsley ended up with a hot chick like that when he, Daryl, computer genius and D&D dungeon master, could not even get laid by known skanks who slept with anyone? How was it that Jake fucking Kingsley could buy an airplane like that just because he could sing a little? The world just sucked!
His eyes turned back to the girl standing between the two of them. He wondered again just who she was. He noted that there was some writing on the front of her sweater. He could not quite make out what it said so he used the zoom function to bring it in a little closer. The image pixilated a bit, but he could now read the writing.
FBO Services
Ron
Ron? A girl named Ron? What the hell kind of name was that? And she worked for FBO services? What was FBO services? Some kind of escort service?
He moved the photograph a bit until he was zoomed in on the girl’s face. It was then that he started to wonder if Ron was actually a girl at all. True, the face was feminine, without a hint of facial hair, but when you looked closely there were a few masculine features that were nearly buried. Ron’s larynx was a little bit pronounced. And his cheek bones were a little bit sharp. And there was just a little bit of hair on the back of Ron’s hands. Maybe Ron was a tranny? After all, a guy who snorted cocaine out of butt cracks and let his wife eat pussy would be the sort of man who might be into trannies, wouldn’t he? In fact, wasn’t there a story a few years back about how one of the members of Intemperance had been caught screwing a tranny? He seemed to remember something about that.
Daryl minimized the email server and the open jpeg and called up his search engine. He typed in “FBO Services” to see what that was all about, expecting to find links dealing with prostitution and escorts and bondage and discipline. Instead, he found that FBO stood for “fixed base operator”, which was apparently the generic term for a company that provided aviation services for pilots at airports. Such entities were contracted to sell fuel, provide ramp services, rent tie-down and hangar space, and sometimes even provided maintenance. They were not, as a general rule, in the business of providing transexual prostitutes for rich people.
How fucking mundane, Daryl thought, disappointed. He clicked back over to the photo again and looked even closer. Yes, the person standing between Kingsley and his wife did look extremely effeminate and might very well be a faggot, but he probably was not an actual tranny and definitely was not a biological female. He was probably just one of the airport workers at whatever airport the shot had been taken at posing with a celebrity couple who happened to be utilizing his services. This was completely and thoroughly uninteresting.
He returned the zoom level to normal and was, once again, about to simply delete the email and then maybe pull up some porno pictures of hot redheads and have a good wank. But then he looked at the image of Jake Kingsley again and the hatred of him began to surge anew. Maybe the guy in the picture wasn’t a tranny that Kingsley and his so-called wife were fucking, but they had probably done things like that in the past, hadn’t they? Undoubtedly! And shouldn’t people know that Kingsley was into shit like trannies and threesomes with them? They really should. Maybe if they knew he liked taking a tranny cock up his ass they would stop worshiping him like he was some kind of god.
Maybe someone should take his ass down a few notches, he thought, a plan starting to form in his head.
The hatred now turning to determination, Daryl saved the jpeg to his hard drive. He then opened up his Photoshop program and went to work. It did not take him long to remove the name Ron, the logo for FBO Services, and the patches of hair on the back of Ron’s hand from the shot. It took only a little longer to change the color of Ron’s sweater to a feminine pink. He then saved the doctored photo separately from the original and opened up his web browser. He brought up his Hotmail account, where he kept an email address separate from his main email account. He generally only used the Hotmail account for subscriptions to porn services and to prevent spam on his main account. Now, however, it would serve a new purpose. He painstakingly copied all of the contacts from his primary account onto the Hotmail account and then composed a new email that was addressed to all but that came from noneofyour_bizness@hotmail.com instead of DungeonMasterSupreme@BDI.net. He attached his doctored photo to the email and then began to compose his own description of the photo into the body of the email. But then he decided he needed a few more details to make what he was alleging seem more realistic.
He returned to the web browser and began to research Jake Kingsley and his whereabouts of late. He was able to pull up quite a bit of information in this regard as the Kingsleys had just been on a public relations jaunt for a ski resort in Idaho.
A story formed in his mind and he began to put it down in the email he was composing. Being a dungeon master, he was actually pretty good at writing prose and developing plots. He was smiling as he worked.
Celia arrived at Pauline’s house just past noon on Tuesday morning, December 10. The rain had finally gone away and it was bright and sunny outside, with the temperature just edging into the sixties. The sky was bright and blue (for LA anyway) thanks to the pollution-clearing bath it had just received from the winter storm that had blown through. Jake’s pickup truck was already there, parked at the curb next to the driveway. The Honda belonging to the Nerdlys was there as well. She parked her Mercedes behind Jake’s truck and walked up to the door.
She was pleasantly surprised when Laura opened the door to her knock. Teach did not usually attend the monthly KVA business meetings, declaring that they were boring (which they often were, Celia had to admit). She hugged her friend and one-time lesbian dallier warmly. They had not seen each other in several weeks now.
“What are you doing here?” Celia asked. “Did you decide our business meetings are interesting after all?”
“Not in the least,” Laura said. “I have a doctor’s appointment at two today. Jake said he would drive me there after the meeting.”
“A doctor’s appointment?” Celia asked. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Laura assured her, a strange little smile on her face. “Just a routine checkup.”
“Oh ... well that’s good to hear,” Celia said, sensing that Laura was not being entirely truthful with her—Teach was a terrible liar—but not that she was trying to conceal bad news. Interesting.
“How are things going with you?” Laura asked, changing the subject. “All ready for the big move?”
“Pretty much,” Celia said. “Everything that I don’t need on a day-to-day basis is packed up and waiting for the movers. I can’t wait to spend my first night there. To listen to the ocean like I do when I stay at your place or in the Oregon house.”
“That is one of my favorite parts about living where we do,” Laura agreed. “And I’m looking forward to seeing how you decorate the place.”
“Me too,” Celia said with a laugh. She would not be doing the interior design herself as she really had no knack for that sort of thing. She would just be approving the plans the design firm she hired for the job came up with.