The Empath Cycle: 2001 It Takes One - Book 2

She desperately willed herself to become invisible in order to avoid an unnecessary confrontation. Usually not one to back down from the good fight, she just thought this was the wrong time and place. She didn't want to get a reputation as a trouble maker from the get go. Time enough for that later she thought with a grin.

So, when she was jostled, she gritted her teeth and ignored it. It could be an accident, after all.

The second time, she looked over her shoulder and only said "Hey, watch out. It won't go faster if you push." The laughter which answered her comment did not bode well, but she could not make sense of the deep growl.

The third time, the comments about her being queer and not belonging there were just too much to ignore. She put her knapsack down and set her shoulders for the inevitable confrontation. Before she could spin around and let her fists do the talking, she heard a quick commotion.

When she turned around, there were two men looking scared as the tip of their toes barely touched the ground. Claude looked up and up to see a wicked grin on the giant holding the two jerks up. His hands were completely encircling their necks.

"Now, you boys will apologize to the lady for your ill-advised remarks then get your things and scoot." He said politely, though the deep rumble added a level of menace that could not be ignored.

Claude stood with her fists on her hips, glaring, as the two jerks did just that.

"You didn't have to show off, you know." She told her savior. "I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt it for a moment, but I plead force of habit. I come from a very tolerant family and we were taught from a young age not to stand by when we saw something wrong happening."

"Well... Good for you. I wish there were more like you. Hum. Are there?"

"You mean in my family? Yes. I have three brothers and a younger sister. I'm the runt of the family, except for Andrea who favors our mother. She's short like you."

"What do you mean 'short'? I'm five-ten. Not everyone can be a giant like you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You look a bit like her and it came out automatically. We're always teasing her."

Their banter was cut short by a bespectacled head poking around Andrew. "Ahem, I don't want to interrupt this love fest, but the line is moving and we all have better things to do."

By the time the three had all checked in, the foundation of friendship had been laid.

Her arm around his waist, Claude let Andrew guide her to their friends' table. Before she began her round of hugs and kisses, Gaétan, her friend and fellow TA, thrust a beer in her hand.

"I know you're our resident teetotaler, but we had a vote and the result was unanimous. Tonight you need to get drunk and have fun."

"Hey, don't I get a vote too."

"Nope. We will get you rolling under the table, then we'll find a wild woman to rape you, just as a reminder that you're not a nun. You can't let that slut ruin the rest of your life."

"I'll get you for this, runt." She growled. "I'll get you all!" She waved around. "It is my inalienable right to wallow in misery and to...."

"Oh, no! Stop her! She's winding up for a speech."

"She's on a roll from this afternoon."

"This is a party, we don't deserve that."

It was hard to feel sorry for herself in the face of so much love. The cold knot in her heart thawed... if only for the evening.

"All right, then. No speech, but..." In a display of the particular talent which had eventually led her to quit drinking almost completely, she opened her throat and downed the content of the plastic cup in a single gulp. "What does a girl have to do to get a beer around here?" She bellowed, slamming it on the table.

Claude was feeling no pain as she sat between Andrew and Gaétan, a contrast if there ever was one.

Andrew, six-seven, three hundred pounds of muscle, was the gentlest man she had ever known, which was saying something about the most feared offensive guard in the varsity football league. He was putting his sports scholarship to good use, working on a doctorate in child psychology. Kids love him and he loved them back. After the football season, he spent his week-ends doing volunteer work at the Montreal Children's Hospital.

Gaétan, five-eight, a hundred-thirty when wet, still wearing the same black rimmed glasses he had sported when the three first met, was a born diplomat. He always had to right word to diffuse tense situations. The class clown and a man without fear, he did not hesitate to get between the fiercest opponents and soon had them laughing together or... on the ground while he patiently explained the reasons why violence was the wrong way to resolve their differences. Being the co-owner of a successful karate dojo had allowed him to attend school and he was working on a doctorate in sports psychology. As he repeated to all and sunder, he was a TA only for the free coffee and the good company.

The three had hit it off on a personal level from the beginning and their shared passion for psychology had cemented the friendship.

"Do you want to dance, Slim?" Gaétan asked.

"You don't want to dance with me, Runt. When are you going to ask her out?" Claude answered, nodding toward the blonde a few tables over. "You've been pining for her forever and I know for a fact that she's available."

The woman in question was surrounded by her friends who were effectively running interference with the succession of men coming to their table to ask her to dance.

Claude could well understand their interest. The woman was knock-out in a small package. Petite was the exact word for her. She looked to be barely five-one and she couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds. Her straight light blonde hair fell to mid-back and framed an angelic face. She wore a short plaid skirt and a button down white blouse. Black shoes and knee-high white socks completed the schoolgirl outfit which put her well-rounded figure to its best advantage.

When Claude had noticed that she was rebuffing all advances, she thought her shy, but she was outgoing enough with her friends, either at her table or those stopping by to say hello. 'What's her story?' she wondered.

Getting up to go to the bathroom, Claude saw the woman get to her feet.

"Is your friend ever going to get off his seat?" She heard from behind her as she waited in line.

She looked around and... down to angry eyes and a beautiful pair of breasts straining their confines.

"Stop staring at my boobs and answer me" The pixie told her.

"They are difficult to avoid even if I look you in the eye." Claude answered with a straight face.

The woman giggled. "I know. I usually button up so you tall people can talk to me without the distraction, but tonight, I thought I could make your friend finally notice me. I've been after him since last winter and I'm getting desperate. Every time I try to talk to him, he mumbles something and runs off. The only times I can get him to stay put is when I ask him something for class. What?"

By that time, Claude was having to hold to the wall she was laughing so hard.

"Stop. Please. I'm going to pee right here. Wait until we come out." Fortunately, it was her turn and she ran to the empty stall.

She had just gotten her laughter under control by the time the woman came out, but the look of indignation on her face got her going again.

"What's so funny?" She asked petulantly.

Claude tried to speak without success. Every time she looked at the diminutive woman, she lost it again.

"I... He... You... Ouch! What did you do that for?" She exclaimed, rubbing the nipple the woman had just pinched.

"Well, it got your attention didn't it? Now, tell me what's so funny."

"Your name is Cherryl, you are a second year student in psychology, you like cats. You are a vegetarian, but hate broccoli. You love action movies and your favorite James Bond was Pierce Brosnan. You love..."

"Stop. How do you know all that? I don't know you. Oh, I know who you are, but I've never met you."

"But I know you. Or I know of you. In fact, you're all Gaétan's been talking about since last year."

"Why won't he talk to me, then? And why did he avoid me like the plague all that time? The only thing I didn't do was jump him, which I had decided to do tonight. Why do you think I bought this outfit? I normally don't wear a push-up bra and unbutton my shirt almost to my navel with such a short skirt and a g-string so my ass is on display for all to see. The only one I want to show off for is him and he hasn't even looked at me once since I arrived."

"He looked, trust me. Why do you think he changed chair earlier?"

"He's sure discreet about it and he's the only one. Every other man in the place has been ogling me and most have asked me to dance for a chance to stare down my cleavage and hoping to get into my pants, so to speak."

"I could see the parade and a nice cleavage it is if I may say so."

"You may, but looking is all you're going to get. I play for the other team, Miss Xavier."

"Claude, please. Ah well, too bad." She let out a long suffering sigh. "Back to my friend. Though he's a fifth dan black belt in karate, a successful business man and I've never known him to back down from a tough situation, he's extremely shy when it comes to dealing with women on a personal basis. Your plan had a good chance of working, but he will never make the first move."

"Shit! What am I to do then? Strip in front of him? It's not such a stretch since I'm already almost naked already."

"I can help you with that though I must warn you first. You seem like a nice woman and all, but if you hurt him in any way, I'll make you regret it. He's a nice gentle man who deserves to be treated right."

"Hold on there. I'm not the aggressive type..."

"Could have fooled me."

"I told you. This is a desperation move. Take a good look at my breasts... Well another good look." Cherryl laughed. "Because it's the last you'll get. I'm the shy, demure type. Oh, stop laughing or I'll tweak your nipple again. You beast, drop your sweater. That was a figure of speech. So, what's the plan?"

"As you know I've studied psychology for years, so I am what you would call an expert in human behavior."

"Yes, so?"

"So I'm going to teach you a basic lesson. Follow me."

All Claude's friends recognized the evil grin she sported as she made her way through the crowd. They elbowed those whose attention was elsewhere so they wouldn't miss the show.

Gaétan was looking around to see if he could spot Cherryl who seemed to have disappeared between two discreet looks her way. He grinned when he saw Claude coming back to their table. He knew that look. Wondering who was in for it, he tried to find her intended victim without success. Then, seeing who his friend had in tow, all color drained from his face. He would have made a break for it if not for the huge hand on his shoulder.

Once at the table, Claude waited a moment for the anticipation to build. Pushing the petite bombshell before the flabbergasted man, in one swift move that took Cherryl by complete surprise, she spun her around and lifted her skirt. "Look at that ass, man. And those bazongas are nothing to sneeze at either. She's all yours. Go forth and be fruitful, my children!" She finished, arms raised to the heavens in her best predicator imitation.

She bowed to the four corners in response to the thunderous applause, boisterous laughter and scabrous catcalls.

"Either drag him to the dance floor or sit on his lap and kiss him. He won't move from there if you don't do something first." She whispered to the mortified woman.

After a few seconds of indecision and encouraged by the chanting crowd, many of whom knew of Gaétan's adoration from afar, Cherryl, straddled his lap and looked into his glazed eyes.

"I've tried everything else. If this is what it takes, so be it." She told him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she proceeded to give him the best kiss of his life.

Literally struck dumb, Gaétan just sat there until Claude took his hands and wrapped his arms around the bundle of joy on his lap.

They would have kept at it forever, oblivious to the cheering crowd. Only the need for oxygen eventually forced their lips apart.

"You're mine, baby. You've been mine all along. So get used to it. Now, do you want to dance or should we leave these children to their games and go to my place for some serious grownup stuff?" She whispered in his ear.

"I... Yes... I... Whatever you want, ma'am." He stammered.

"Don't move, I'll be right back."

Cherryl walked to her table to collect her vest and her winnings which were paid up with much of laughter and raunchy advice.

Head held high, a triumphant smile on her lips, she took Gaétan's hand and asked loudly. "Your place or mine, sailor?"

"That was easy enough." Claude said, grinning at the departing couple. "Now that I've done my good deed for the day, what do you say we flip for the next round?"

"No way, Joséphine. You cheat. And it's your turn to buy anyway." Andrew laughed.

"Aw shucks. You're no fun. All right then. I'll be right back."

It took her quite a while to make her way to the bar. Everybody, it seemed, wanted to congratulate her on her latest exploit. No few of these were women who insisted on showing her their asses and tits. She made a show of admiring said assets, grabbing a cheek here, smacking her lips in admiration there, but her heart wasn't really in it. Its shattered pieces a puzzle she felt she would never put back together.

Waiting her turn at the bar, she was surprised to see the girl from class behind it and she wasn't shy anymore. Quite the opposite. She talked every client over, smiling brightly to all, never missing a beat at the off color jokes, from men and women equally, Claude noted. She went from one end of the bar to the other, twirling around to the ice coolers for bottles of beer and back to the front to pour them in plastic cups with a minimum of foam.

'Now, that's a pro.' Claude admired. 'Too bad she's straight, though. I'd sure like for those baby blues to look my way.'

The unexpected thought brought her up short. "What the hell? I'm not ready to get involved.' She told her libido. 'Why not? Look at those tight shorts. You can almost see the contour of her goodies. Speaking of which, check out those magnificent titties.' It replied. 'I am NOT looking at that succulent ass, nor drooling at...'

"Hi, Miss Xavier. What can I get you?"

Caught in her reverie, Claude was speechless for a moment. A fellow TA came to her rescue.

"Don't break her rhythm, Claude. We're thirsty too."

"Oh, sorry... Hum... I've been drinking Black Label all evening, but I feel like something cheerier now. What do you have that fits the bill?" She asked.

"I've got the usual Corona and I think I still have a few Brahma."

"I'll have a Corona with lime if you've got any."

"Sure thing. One sun in the bottle coming right up."

Claude had the time it took for the woman to get the beer and turn back to catch her breath before it was taken away again as the ice blue eyes bore into hers again.

"How do you take your lime? Diving, swimming or reclining by the side?"

"I... What?"

"Squeezed, floating in the beer or hooked to the cup?" The woman's laugh was infectious and Claude found herself laughing with her and the rest of the crowd.

"Squeezed, please, and I'll have a Bud Light too."

"Squeezed it is and a Bud Wimp."

She was still looking into the mesmerizing eyes when she handed the money over. As she turned away with her order, Claude didn't remember how much she had pulled from her pocket, but she knew it was too much... At least she hoped it was. She would be mortified if she had been cheap.

For the rest of the evening, she sent her friends on the beer runs.

All in all, it was a fun party and she was glad she had come. She was also glad for Bear who almost had to carry her home.

The next morning, Claude was reminded forcefully of why she had quit drinking so much.

She tried every remedy she knew but the hang-over resisted them all.

"Whose bright idea was it to get me drunk last night?" Claude asked the empty apartment. "Yeah, right. I'll get the so and so back. And he didn't even get a wild woman to rape me as promised."

That reminded her of the blue-eyed barmaid. What had gotten into her? She never got tongue-tied like that. It had to be the booze. Yeah, right. It was the booze, she rationalized, conveniently forgetting her younger years of bar hopping with forged id cards at first, of her numerous conquests and how she had sweet-talked herself into their beds before she had realized that drinking was destroying her health. Once sober, she had also realized that she had lost much of her self-esteem in favor of a long string of one night stands and a reputation as a player.

Anyway her infallible gaydar pinged the woman as straight which was a major no-no as far as Claude was concerned. One... Well, two... Okay, three disastrous romances with bi-curious women were enough to last her a lifetime.

Shaking herself as much as her major headache permitted, she set about her regular Saturday chores if at a much reduced pace.

Sunday afternoon, Claude was at the library, following references from one book to the next in search of inspiration.

She had been sure she had come up with the perfect subject for her thesis. She had been so proud when she submitted it with pages and pages of references and what she thought was a brilliant presentation. Professor MacDonald had been nice about it as he gently guided her to the conclusion that it wasn't good enough and that she could do better.

Her problem was that while she had specialized in clinical psychology, there was no specific aspect which interested her more than any other.

After finding herself at another dead end, she was staring at the ceiling, searching for inspiration in the random pattern of the holes in the acoustic tiles when she became aware of a presence near her. Female. Friendly. No threat. Heaving a sigh of exasperation at the interruption, she turned around before the intruder could even speak.

"What!" She hissed. She regretted her outburst immediately. "Oh, it's you. Sorry. I'm going around in circles here and it was the frustration talking."

"I apologize for bothering you." The barmaid said. "I only wanted to give this back to you."

She handed an envelope to Claude.

"What is it?" She asked.

"You over-tipped when you came to the bar. Sixteen dollars if way too much for a four dollars order, unless you expect something in return and I... you are... well..." The woman stammered, unable to finish.

'So, I was right. She is straight.' Claude thought. "No, I didn't expect anything in return and yes, I'm a lesbian. Listen, I was drunk and made a mistake. Don't look for any hidden meaning. I don't go hitting on straight women and I certainly don't try to buy favors from any woman either, gay or not."