Tara’s Game\r\n\r\nOr\r\n\r\nNever Talk To Strangers\r\n\r\n*\r\n \r\nIt was about seven in the morning, and Tara was in the kitchen, scrubbing away the dirt left by her morning chores. Tara lived on a farm. Not a quaint family farm, as one sees in many “coming of age” type movies. Tara’s farm more resembled a small compound; the type favoured by religious cultists and private militias. Tara was neither, though. Tara was a Southern California sweetheart that simply did not care for city life of its trappings. She used the land as her private grocer, growing her own vegetables and raising her own meat. She even slaughtered her own animals. This last fact kept many potential suitors at bay, much to Tara’s relief. \r\n\r\nAt 30, Tara was still quite a stunning woman. Attractive in the way those women of the 1940’s were attractive; she had a full figure, but was by no means fat. Her body formed a near perfect hourglass, and her natural breasts were still as perky as they were at 25. Her creamy pale skin did nothing to tell a casual onlooker of her rough existence, and her medium brown hair contrasted her skin tone perfectly. For all of her attractive features, Tara did little to showcase them for the world. Her taste in clothes was simple; blue jeans and a tank top, with a long sleeve camo shirt to keep her arms from getting sunburned. Tara had never had much luck with men. All of the men she had previously been involved with had been abusive, some to an extreme. She had no intention of dressing to please anyone but herself. \r\n\r\nAs she was drying her hands, the telephone rang. She walked over to pick up the telephone, and a stern male voice on the other end instructed her to play a game of solitaire. Tara’s countenance changed at the suggestion. Her face became neutral, and her eyes fixed straight ahead, as though she were in some sort of trance. Tara had no idea that the reaction was all part of her programming, a post-hypnotic suggestion. \r\nShe hung up the phone; pulled a deck of cards from the junk drawer in the kitchen, dealt and played as instructed. As she drew the Queen of Hearts she stopped playing, awaiting the next portion of her task. \r\n\r\nWithin a minute, the telephone rang again, and she dutifully answered. The same voice instructed, simply, \

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