The Review Club Forum Chain story

Okay the last one of these that I started kind of fizzled out. So I thought I'd start a new one, in case anyone is interested. Remember add about 150-200 words on the end of this. And here it comes.

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�Hold on, hold on, hold on,� Steve burst out of the bathroom, making the mad dash for the phone. This call would be Cynthia. He was positive. Well maybe not positive, but judging by the way she flashed her pearlies at him last night, he had a pretty good idea that it would be her.

Tripping over the cat, his knee slammed into the side table, sending the receiver off of the cradle. �Crap.� he muttered, picking it up.

He caught the end of the mechanical woman�s voice saying, �Please hold for your connection,� as he held it to his ear. Now what was that all about? Twisting the LCD display on the Caller ID, so the light wasn�t washing out the numbers, he saw: �RX-2300, 1-800-000-0000�

And then someone picked up on the other side.

�Steve ca�ou�ee,� the line had all the snap, crackle, and pop of cereal commercial. He couldn�t place the voice though he thought he should know it.

�Hello. Come again.�

�Ste�th�iz,chushhhhhh� the line turned to static.

�You�re breaking up. I can�t here you.� He yelled it knowing darn well it wouldn�t make a difference.

�I�m sending � pack�to yu�P.O. box. It---(chushhhh) pu---- get it.� P.O. BOX? Who the hell knows I have a�Then it hit him. The only other person that knew he had a P.O. BOX was Amy Bellefonte. Her voice may be coming over choppy and tin-man-like but it was her. It had been at least a year since he had last thought of here. Well besides the little flashes of memories every time he saw someone in hand cuffs or a long fuzzy quill. She had been the reason he had gotten the P.O. Box. More than a few packages left by UPS had disappeared off of his door steps and while he hadn�t been concerned about the theft so much he had been concerned about a thieving neighbor finding his order of pink fluffy hand cuffs and tickle package. Her fantasy not mine� But in the end, he couldn�t deny, she had woken something in him. �Th--P.O.�you still have it?�

� Yea, yea.. Sure do Amy.� He shouted over the line, jubilee clear in his voice. I wonder what she is sending.

�Great, see you in two--, a series of clicks, a dash of silence, and a dial tone broke through like stuffed ears giving way to clear eardrums. She�s gone�

* * *

Amy Bellefonte turned up two hours later, on Steve�s doorstep. So did Cynthia Prim.

�Steevie!�Amy blew a kiss that floated from blood red finger nails. She barged aside a flustered Cynthia. �So sorry.�

Amy threw Steve a vampish smile, replete with promise and caked raven black mascara. �I just wanted to give you these, Steeevie,� she purred. Her voluptuous black latex-clad hips brushed past Steve. She turned and swirled a pair of pink, very fluffy, handcuffs around a little finger and then held Steve with a brazen stare. �In memory of old times.� Ami giggled then conjured a long fuzzy quill from the lush folds of her bra. She thrust her pale throat skywards, �Remember this?�

Steve felt his groin stir.

Cynthia marched in and stood between them. �Well, aren�t you going to invite us both in then?�

�Of � course...of course.� Steve fumbled with the belt of his snoopy bath robe, which now hung open to showing a cod white hairless chest. �Damn cat.�

Both women shot Steve confused looks.

�I tripped.�

Cynthia recovered first. She darted in between them in scampering steps, mousey blonde hair bobbed with suppressed fury. Arms akimbo she faced Steve, her rodent sharp pearlies flashed. �Well, really now! You told me you were single. Besides,� she flicked a tapered finger behind her shoulder, �who is that?�

Ami�s smile sunk like lead, eyes narrowed to venomous points. �And who the hell are you? Lost your way out the convent did we, daaarling.�

�It�s ok, ladies." Steve's palms fanned downwards. He grabbed the robe hem and fumbled again. �I can explain, really, if you'd just��

A horn, tinny and urgent, blared. The crunch of gravel and the thunk, thunk, thunk of summer tires rolled on the weed studded driveway. A gun metal gray Cadillac coasted into view.

S**t, thought Steve. That�s all I need.

---- Sorry blew the word limit but cut as appropriate ----

Amy and Cynthia turned as one to stare out the bay window while Steve scrambled for the front door. Looking over his shoulder, he ordered, �You two, in the kitchen. Now!�

�Why?� Cynthia�s eyebrows reached for her hairline.

�No.� Amy stood defiantly with hands on hips.

�Please!� Steve wailed and jerked his head at the sound of his name from outside.

�Steven. Hello, dear!�

�Hi, Mom.� Looking over his shoulder once again, he hissed his misery to the two women behind him. �Please.�

�Steven?�

�Coming, Mom.� He took five long strides out the door and across the porch, pulling his robe tightly around his chest. When he neared her, he reached to give the immaculately dressed woman a hug, but her expression at something behind him stopped him. Turning around, his eyes froze in horror.

�Mom?� Amy stood on the porch. She boosted her revealing cleavage higher with her right hand while her left rested on her hip, pink handcuffs dangling against one luscious thigh. �I�ve always wanted to meet you.�

---- since no one jumped in I couldn't resist... --

�I�m Amy,� Amy held out her hand. Smiled brightly.

�Brenda,� Brenda stared at a point behind Amy's head, �delighted to meet you.� She strolled into the hallway, hands clapsed on her belly.

Amy�s grin dimmed and she rubbed her palms as if they had ink on them.

�Amy�s undercover.� Steve pointed to Amy's handcuffs and fingered his robe collar. �Right, honey?�

Brenda held Amy�s stare then let her gaze drop, slowly, to drag along Amy's body. Her nose crinkled. �You certainly dress for the occasion.�

Amy caught herself then grinned at Steve. �Sure. Steevie.� She held Brenda�s eyes, chin to chin. �Vigilante, um, enforcement. Looks a wild get up, I know, jeez the way people stare all the time, but, hell," she tapped her forehead with her finger nail, "keeps me unseen and safe. After all,� Amy gazed pointedly at Steve, �in this business theres some real freakos on the streets, you know. " She strode in the centre of the hall. "Tell the truth around fifteen percent of New Jersey�s April convictions were all done undercover, so must be some sense in it all.�

Cynthia�s screech pierced the tension. �Hey, you said you were an animal lover?�

All eyes turned to Cynthia. She pointed accusingly at a hunting rifle, which stood in an antique teak cabinet. The foreshadow of the cabinet�s glass door draped over the faded shag caret and the small very chipped side table.

�That�s my uncle's,� said Steve.

�He means Che. Khov,� said Brenda. Her eyes misted over. �Man was a law unto himself. Used to hunt. Mallards. Bears. Moose too. If he could pot it.�

---- Ok so I went a tiny bit over, again, whats a couple of hundred words between writers --