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From: Lazlo Zalezac <lzalezac@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Crossroads Rules 01 (MF, Sci-fi, Fantasy)
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Date: Fri,  3 Jun 2005 09:10:03 -0400
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Lazlo Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac


		
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<1st attachment, "Story1-1.txt" begin>

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by 
sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading 
now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes 
without the consent of the author.

Crossroads Rules
Chapter 1
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2005

Cynthia Johnson eased into her seat hoping to be noticed, but 
terrified of becoming the center of attention. Her shoulder length 
sandy hair, complete with bangs that nearly covered her eyes, was 
cut to blend in with the hair styles worn by hundreds of other coeds 
on campus. She wore simple clothes, plain blue jeans that weren't 
tight and a slightly overlarge sweatshirt. Everything about her was 
selected to look average. Shy by nature and plain by intent, she 
managed to disappear into the background.

From her seat in the back corner of the room, she watched the door 
waiting for 'Him' to arrive. Even in her thoughts, there were quotes 
around the word him. As far as she was concerned, Sid was the 
sexiest man she had ever seen. His military posture conveyed a 
manliness that took her breath away. His Mediterranean features 
and excellent physique caused a reaction between her legs that 
spoke of sexual desire. When he answered a question in his intense 
manner, she wanted to faint.

It was easy to tell when Sid entered the classroom. The other 
women in the class raced to the desks around the one where he 
normally sat. Almost as one, they all turned their heads to watch 
him move through the room. Cynthia lowered her head as if to 
examine her desktop. From the corner of her eye, she watched him 
enter and take a seat. Her heart raced at the sight of him, but she 
cursed her shyness. This was as close as she was going to get to 
him.

Sid looked around the room and examined the women crowded 
around his desk. There were fewer women fighting for seats near 
his than a week ago. Apparently, a number of his admirers didn't 
appreciate his description of his ideal woman. At least the ones 
sitting near him were not showing off their navels with metal 
piercings. He sighed and thought of Sally Caretaker. Three more 
weeks before he could see her again.

Professor Susan Smith entered the classroom carrying a stack of 
papers and stood in front of the class for a moment. Rather than 
call the role, she handed out the papers without saying a word. Sid 
accepted his paper and stared at it. There was a grade of A-plus 
and a single comment written across the top, 'I completely disagree 
with your conclusion.' Puzzled, he watched her hand out the rest of 
the papers wondering why she disagreed with him. Sid focused on 
the lecture putting the strange comment out of his mind.

The class passed quickly and without incident. The lecture covered 
the topic of the paper, contrasting the Wife of Bath with Queen 
Guinevere of King Arthur fame. She made all the same points in 
her lecture that he had made in his paper. After making the next 
assignment, she dismissed class. 

Sid waited for the classroom to clear before stepping over to the 
desk. Standing at parade rest, he looked at the instructor and asked, 
"Was there a problem with my paper, Professor Smith?"

"I had a question about it," replied the woman as she studied her 
favorite student. His paper was the best she had ever received from 
a student, but she was confused by his conclusion. It was the first 
time one of her students had argued that Guinevere was a total 
failure as a wife. Very puzzled, she looked up at him and asked, 
"Was Guinevere really that bad of a woman?"

"Of course," answered Sid as though shocked that someone could 
argue otherwise.

"Why?"

"She failed her duties and responsibilities as wife and queen," 
replied Sid surprised that she didn't understand why he answered in 
the manner that he had. He added, "She was the reason Camelot 
fell."

Professor Smith sat back and thought about his answer. It had the 
kind of absolute judgement about duty and honor she had come to 
expect from the young man. She asked, "What about her love for 
Sir Lancelot?"

"What about it? She should have sought out an alternative solution 
to her love that wouldn't bring down the kingdom," answered Sid.

"She had no choice," replied Professor Smith. Changing tactics, 
she asked, "What about Lancelot?"

"He was just as derelict in his duty to king and country," answered 
Sid with his back straight and jaw thrust forward. The idea of the 
knight undermining the authority of his king by putting him in a 
position of cuckold was far more repugnant than he could express. 
In many ways, he blamed Lancelot for his actions more than he 
blamed Guinevere.

"They were driven to their actions by love. They had no choice."

"There is always a choice," answered Sid. The behaviorists talked 
about fight or flight as the two fundamental choices of all animals 
when faced with danger. Humans with their desire for perfect 
solutions often forgot that the majority of solutions to problems 
were imperfect. An imperfect solution was not necessarily an 
unacceptable solution and an acceptable choice did not necessarily 
mean happiness.

"You believe that?"

"It's the sixth fact of life," replied Sid with a curt nod. 

"Name one choice that she had," charged Professor Smith 
expecting him to name the trivial choice of doing nothing about 
her love for Sir Lancelot.

Sid was silent as he considered the number of choices that she had. 
Finally, he said, "She could have told Arthur of her desires. He 
loved Sir Lancelot and would not have stood in their way. He 
might even had invited Sir Lancelot to share their bed."

His answer surprised Professor Susan Smith. She did not think that 
Sid was the type who would think that a reasonable solution. She 
asked, "Are you saying that they could have had a threesome?"

"Why not?"

"And you would have a better opinion of Guinevere if she had 
done that?" asked Susan. 

"Of course. All three of them could have upheld their duties and 
responsibilities to each other and the kingdom," answered Sid. 
With a smile as he thought about his answer in context of the story, 
he said, "Of course, it would have been a very different kind of 
story."

She thought for a moment about his previous answer. Earlier in the 
semester, he had stated the first and second facts of life. Now, he 
had stated what he called the sixth fact of life. Curious about what 
might be the third fact of life, she asked, "What's the third fact of 
life?"

"Physics rules the universe and biology rules life," answered Sid. 

Wondering where he had gotten his facts of life, Professor Susan 
Smith chose not to pursue the topic. She decided it would be a 
better topic for another time. Instead, she said, "Thank you."

Professor Susan Smith watched Sid leave the classroom with 
interest. Once he was gone, she opened her notebook and wrote 
down his facts of life. He was the first individual whom she had 
met who viewed the facts of life as something more than a lecture 
about the birds and bees. The semester wasn't even half over and 
she was contemplating inviting a student to her house. 

After leaving his English class, Sid went to his American History I 
class. For the first time, he went into the class anticipating the 
lecture rather than viewing it as a necessary duty that had to be 
performed. His single experience in Chaos had given him a much 
deeper appreciation of a subject that had been a burdensome 
requirement.

He listened to the subject matter with a new perspective, namely 
one that focused on how people worked and lived. The mention of 
pottery reminded him of the clay field that he had seen worked 
while in Chaos. He wondered if he had made a mistake by taking 
American History I rather than World History I. The later course 
covered an earlier period of human history and probably dealt with 
technologies closer to Chaos than the former.

After his history class ended, Sid went to the student center to eat 
lunch before he was to work in the library. Grabbing a burger and 
fries, he went over to a table and sat down. Opening his notebook, 
he read his notes from class while eating. He had been assigned 
another paper in history and he considered what would be 
necessary to address the assigned topic. 

Concentrating on his notes while absently eating his fries, he was 
not immediately aware that he had company at his table. His 
visitor, Cynthia Johnson, couldn't believe that she had actually 
gathered the necessary courage to sit down at the table with him. 
This was so unlike anything she had ever done in her entire life. 
Summoning the last of her courage, she said, "Excuse me."

Surprised to learn that he had a dining companion, Sid looked up at 
the plain woman. His eyes flicked over her face, down to her body, 
and back to her face without recognizing her. He couldn't help but 
wonder what she could possibly want from him. In as polite of a 
voice as he could muster, he said, "Hello."

"I want to be like her," stammered Cynthia, the words tumbling out 
of her mouth. She couldn't believe that she had actually managed 
to get the whole sentence out. At his confused expression that 
crossed his face, her cheeks turned red. In an attempt to clarify 
what she was talking about, she added, "You know, her, the one 
you told us about in class."

Still not sure what she was talking about, he cautiously replied, 
"Okay. I'm glad to hear that. What is it that you want of me?"

"I want you to teach me how to be like that perfect woman," said 
Cynthia in a very soft voice. She had reached the end of her 
courage and looked around the student center for a second 
preparing to flee the table.

"I don't know if I can," replied Sid surprised by the request once he 
realized what she was asking of him. His eyes flicked over her 
trying to imagine the plain woman dressed and acting like Sally. 
She would never be the same as Sally, but there was potential 
present in the woman. 

"If you can't, then maybe she can," countered Cynthia. 

"I don't think that is possible," said Sid thinking about the 
possibility of taking the woman to Crossroads. He wondered if he 
had been unwise in describing Sally Caretaker to the class. He 
recalled the gossip about his uncle and his references to Elizabeth. 

The idea that Sid thought it was impossible for her to become like 
his ideal woman was crushing for poor Cynthia. At the thought of 
how he must view her, a sudden flood of tears filled her eyes. 
Deciding that she had made enough of a fool of herself, Cynthia 
stood and fled the room leaving behind a very startled Sid Jones. 

Sid had no idea that his reply to her request to have Sally help her 
had been misinterpreted. Her sudden flight forced Sid to consider 
how difficult it had been for her to approach him. He understood 
that she was shy. She was, in her own way, a damsel in distress. 
Her plight touched his heroic side and he wondered what he could 
do about it. 

As Sid sat eating the rest of his meal, he wondered about the rules 
concerning Crossroads and if they were as restrictive as Sally had 
told him.  Then he realized that he didn't really know the rules of 
Crossroads. There were a lot of things that he didn't know. Why 
were the women so willing to risk their lives on Chaos? Why had 
Jennifer and Sally been so happy about the pregnancy? Why had 
Jennifer had to leave so suddenly? Thinking about it, he realized 
that the next visit was going to be spent getting answers to his 
questions about Crossroads. 

Sid returned home from school and wandered around the house 
feeling frustrated by his thoughts about Crossroads and Chaos. 
Entering the study, he recalled the notebook that had been in the 
safe with the letter instructing him how to enter the portal. Curious 
about the information contained within it, he went to the safe and 
removed the notebook. 

Sitting down at the desk, he proceeded to examine the journal very 
carefully. It appeared as if it had been constructed from three 
different notebooks that were bound together to form the journal. 
Each part utilized a different texture paper with different distances 
between the lines. In a few places, pages had been ripped out as 
though his uncle had chosen to destroy them rather than allow 
others to read what he had written. 

The first part of the journal described how Gerald had been 
engaged in a brutal firefight with Japanese soldiers on Kwajalein 
Island and how he had killed a particularly brave man. The man 
had gone down protecting his fellow soldiers in a desperate last 
stand at the naval base. On searching the body, Gerald had found a 
diary and, deciding that he wanted to know more about the brave 
fellow, had kept it. It took him a year to decipher the writing, but 
what he discovered had amazed him. Inside the diary were detailed 
instructions on how to create a portal to another world. 

The instructions for creating the portal were deceptively simple. 
On a doorframe of glass of sufficient size to step through, the 
builder was to place thin films of various metals electronically 
isolated from each other. The layers were to be of gold, aluminum, 
tin, platinum, copper, and zinc in that order with a final layer to be 
made of electrum. According to the diary, passing through the 
frame with a blue sapphire of sufficient size would send a signal 
through the ether to the machinery of a distant planet. The 
machinery would cause the immediate transferal of the individual 
passing through the frame to the distant planet. 

The instructions were sketchy and lacked a scientific explanation 
of how it worked. The journal did say that the frame of glass could 
be mounted inside of an appropriate cover to be hidden from view. 
Curious, Sid went to the closet door and examined the entry to the 
closet carefully. From what he could see, it was clear that Gerald 
must have put the glass frame inside the doorframe. 

The middle part of the journal described a set of experiments that 
Gerald had performed in trying to transport things with him to 
Crossroads. All of his attempts to take weapons across the portal 
failed with Gerald ending up in Crossroads and, as he discovered 
on his return, the weapons remaining on the floor of the closet. He 
had been able to take his clothes and papers, but nothing 
mechanical or electrical in nature. Sid did notice that his uncle had 
never tried to take another person through the portal with him. 

In reading the journal, Sid was surprised to learn that there had 
been occasions when Gerald had not been able to go through the 
portal. Most of these occasions were when he was ill or became ill 
within a few days of the attempt. This convinced him that the 
original inhabitants of Crossroads had put in a failsafe to prevent 
the spread of diseases across the planets. The other time had been 
after Gerald took a prescription with the side effect of erectile 
dysfunction. When his ability to perform sexually had returned, he 
was allowed through the portal without a problem.

There was also a warning that attempting to stay in Crossroads 
would have very nasty consequences. Gerald described how trying 
to stay even a few minutes after the damsel had left had resulted in 
difficulty breathing, headaches, nausea, and cramps. Staying more 
than five minutes was too long. On one occasion, Elizabeth had to 
push him through the portal because he was unable to make his 
way on his own. 

Sid had not been aware of the need to leave so quickly on his last 
visit. He had left feeling a little unsettled at how abruptly Sally had 
sent him on his way. The realization that it was a rule of 
Crossroads rather than a desire on her part was very comforting. It 
confirmed his belief that the relationship developing between them 
was more than just a passing thing.

The last part of the journal described Gerald's relationship with 
Elizabeth Caretaker. In true character of the old man, there were no 
hints of sex in the description -- other a few cryptic remarks that he 
had become close to Elizabeth in the manner of man and wife. 
There had been numerous pages torn out of this part of the journal. 
Of particular interest to Sid were a few reports of arguments 
between Gerald and Elizabeth.

The first argument that caught his interest concerned the first 
return visit after Gerald learned that had made one of the damsels 
pregnant. The circumstances in which Gerald had learned of the 
pregnancy were almost identical to those in which Sid had found 
himself -- a quick exit by the young lady in question after dropping 
the news followed by a quick exit from Crossroads for Gerald.

Sid read how Gerald had returned to Crossroads determined to 
marry the damsel and raise the child. He saw it as a matter of 
honor for him to take responsibility for his actions. Elizabeth 
Caretaker had refused to allow him any contact with the damsel. 
Without her cooperation, there was nothing that he could do. He 
had been shocked by the sudden appearance of jealousy, 
particularly in light of the effort that she had taken for him to have 
sex with the damsel. 

Over the first few visits, there had been many arguments of that 
nature. It was later in the journal when Gerald speculated that he 
had made every damsel pregnant. He decided it was the reason that 
the women of Cassandra participated in the game. Sid considered 
that information along with the fact that Sally and Jennifer had 
both commented on how different men from Earth and Cassandra 
were in bed. He wondered if the men in Cassandra were unable to 
ejaculate. That might mean that the women were so desperate for 
the chance to be mothers that they would accept a total stranger to 
father the child.

Sitting back in his chair, Sid stopped reading and thought about 
what it meant to be a sperm donor. He didn't mind the thought that 
he might be viewed as genetically superior to the men of 
Cassandra, but he did want his role to be placed in a more honest 
context. If he was a sperm donor, then what was the point of the 
game? Then it dawned on him - the whole point of the game was to 
assure that he was genetically superior in terms of survival and 
character. 

He closed the journal and returned it to the safe deciding that he 
was going to have to think about the matter for a while. He had 
learned much, but didn't understand everything he had read. The 
information put his relationship with Sally and the damsels in a 
totally different light. 

Thinking about relationships reminded him of the woman who had 
sat at his table earlier that day. He didn't even know her name, but 
her plea for help touched him. For a long time he sat at the desk 
wondering what he could do for her. 

Sid waited for the young woman after his English class with a note 
in his hand. It seemed to him that she was taking forever to collect 
her books and leave the classroom. He hadn't noticed her in the 
past and wondered if her dawdling was normal. If so, he wasn't 
impressed. As was the case when he had first met her, she was 
dressed in baggy clothes that hid her body. Looking over her attire, 
he wasn't impressed. 

Embarrassed by her actions in approaching him and hurt by his 
comment that she was hopeless, Cynthia hung back in the 
classroom. She waited for him to leave so she wouldn't have to 
face him, but he continued to wait at the door. Firmly convinced he 
was waiting to make fun of her, she hoped that by moving fast 
enough that he wouldn't have a chance to mock her as she passed. 
Scared, she gathered her nerve and, hugging her books to her chest 
as if they were armor, she rushed towards the door. 

Blocking the door in an attempt to force her to stop, Sid said, 
"Excuse me. I have thought about your request and would like to 
discuss it with you further."

Cynthia stopped in her tracks wondering if he was actually going 
to help her become like the woman he had described. She had been 
so prepared to hear a nasty comment that it took a minute to for it 
filter through her mind that he wanted to talk with her. Her face 
turned red upon realizing that she had misjudged him. 
Embarrassing her further, her voice squeaked when she asked, 
"Can you help me?"

"I am not sure if I can help, but I would like to try," answered Sid 
with a serious expression on his face. 

A student tapped him on the shoulder to request he move out of the 
way. Sid stepped out of the room and into the hallway. Cynthia 
followed, keeping her distance out of fear of public humiliation. As 
the student stepped around them to get into the classroom, Sid 
added, "I think we should talk about it in a less public place."

"Okay," she replied relieved that he wasn't making fun of her, but 
wondering what he wanted from her for his help. She bit her lip 
and looked into his eyes -- seeking and finding compassion. 

Handing her the slip of paper he had been holding throughout the 
discussion, he said, "Here's my address and phone number. Call me 
and maybe we can meet Saturday."

Her heart beat strongly as she stared at the sheet of paper and 
mumbled, "Okay."

Glancing at his wristwatch, he said, "Sorry, I have to go to my 
history class."

"Sure," she replied as she continued to stare at the sheet of paper. 
She couldn't believe he had given her his address and telephone 
number. Although she would never admit it aloud, it was her 
greatest hope that he might be interested in having a relationship 
with her. A student sliding around her made her realize she was 
partially blocking access to the door. She looked around the hall to 
discover that Sid had left.

Sid set a platter with pastries from a local baker on the table with 
care. Gerald had always said that a proper soldier should 
understand and practice etiquette. The art of graceful living was as 
important to winning a war as martial abilities. Treating a person 
with good manners and the appropriate respect could turn a 
potential enemy into a friend. Stepping back, he examined his 
work with a critical eye and decided the table setting was perfect. 

A soft knock on the door that he could barely hear let him know 
that his guest had finally worked up the courage to come to the 
front door. He had seen her park her car in the street ten minutes 
earlier. Stepping out of the dining room, he walked briskly to the 
front door afraid that any delay would cause her to flee. Opening it, 
he smiled and greeted the young woman standing at the door. 
"Hello, Cynthia. You're right on time."

"I didn't want to be late," she replied.

Stepping back, Sid waved an arm in a gesture of invitation and 
said, "Come in and welcome my home."

Nervous, Cynthia took a few tentative steps into the house. She 
almost jumped when she heard the door shut behind her. Looking 
around, she said, "Your parents have a lovely house."

He smiled at the assumption that he lived with his parents. There 
was no way that he would bring a guest into his parent's house, but 
there was no way for her to know that. Sid replied, "This is my 
uncle's house. He left it to me in his will."

"Oh," said Cynthia. She wanted to hit herself in the head, but 
refrained from making the gesture. It seemed that every time she 
said something that it was wrong. She hadn't even known that his 
uncle had passed away.

"Please come into the dining room. I have prepared a small snack 
for us to eat while we talk," invited Sid in his rich warm voice that 
sent shivers through the young woman.

She protested, "You didn't need to go to all of that trouble for me."

"Nonsense. It is a pleasure to entertain," said Sid. He turned and 
extended an arm to take her into the dining room. Seeing that she 
didn't know enough to accept it, he dropped his arm before 
gesturing towards the entry. He led the way into the dining room. 

Entering the dining room, Cynthia gasped in amazement. The table 
was polished to the point where it shined. Woods that she didn't 
recognize were inlaid in a rich intricate pattern. Once she lifted her 
eyes from the surface of the table, the first thing she noticed was a 
small vase with a single white carnation. She turned her attention 
to the end of the table. On opposite sides of the table were lace 
place mats. The china plate, saucer, and cup, placed with precision 
on the place mat, were of outstanding quality. Between the place 
mats was another piece of lace upon which there was a plate of 
pastries. 

Cynthia was stunned that this military looking man was able to set 
such a nice table. Almost afraid to touch anything, she said, "It's 
beautiful."

Sid went over to a chair and pulled it out for her. Nodding to it, he 
said, "Please have a seat."

In her entire nineteen years of life, Cynthia had never had a man 
pull out a chair for her. Her face flushed red in fear of making a 
fool out of herself. She walked over to the chair and sat down with 
as much care as she could manage. Sid pushed the chair so that she 
was seated the proper distance from the table. Blushing, Cynthia 
said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Would you prefer tea or coffee?" asked Sid as 
he moved to the end of the table where she could see him. 

"Which ever is fine with me," she replied wondering which would 
be the proper answer.

Since he had expected that answer, he had a pot of coffee already 
prepared. Smiling, he said, "Excuse me for a minute."

"Okay," replied Cynthia feeling as if she was behaving like an ill-
mannered clod. Ever since entering the house, it had become very 
clear to her that she didn't know how to behave in polite society. 
She decided that it had been a stupid idea to ask him to help her 
become a woman like the one he had described in class. 

As Sid filled a small coffeepot with coffee, he thought about the 
young woman in the other room. It was clear that his attempts to 
make her comfortable were not working. There was so much that 
she didn't know and it seemed as if every action exposed her 
ignorance that much more. Yet the reason for her presence in the 
house that day was to learn how to look and act like a lady of 
grace.

He carried a tray with the small china coffeepot into the dining 
room. Also on the tray were a sugar bowl and a small cream 
pitcher. Placing the items on the tray upon the table, he set the tray 
on a sideboard. Cynthia watched his every move, mentally taking 
notes on what he did and how he did it. Smiling at her, he took the 
seat across from her. He had learned her name when she had called 
to set up a time for a visit, but that had been a brief, 'Hello, this is 
Cynthia.' After settling into his chair, he said, "I fear that we have 
never been properly introduced. I'm Sid Jones."

"Oh... Ah... I'm Cynthia Johnson," she stammered.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Johnson," Sid said.

"Ah... Same here," she replied.

Picking up the coffeepot, Sid said, "Could you hand me your cup?"

"Sure." She picked up the cup and held it out for him.

He smiled at the fact that she had picked up only the cup rather 
than the saucer with the cup on it. Gently, he corrected her, "On 
the saucer, please."

Almost dropping the cup, she realized what he meant. Placing the 
cup upon the saucer, she picked up the saucer and held it out to 
him. When he grasped the saucer, he said, "Thank you."

She released the saucer and watched as he filled the cup with 
coffee. Once he had finished, he handed it back to her. She 
accepted it without saying thank you. Pulling the saucer from his 
hands led to a minor spill. An exasperated expression crossed her 
face as she realized why he had the thanked her earlier. It was a 
phrase used to let the other know when you had control of the 
saucer. She apologized, "I'm sorry for spilling the coffee."

"No apology is needed. That is what the saucer is for," explained 
Sid. Diverting attention from the most recent embarrassment, Sid 
said, "In the past, it was expected that the host would add the 
cream and sugar for the guest. Today, that tradition is not kept with 
the same rigor. I hope that you don't mind my adoption of the more 
modern practice."

"Oh... Ah... I don't mind."

Sid picked up the plate with pastries and finger cakes as he asked, 
"Would you care for a pastry or cake?"

She picked up a couple of finger cakes and set them on her plate. 
Once she had been served, Sid prepared a cup of coffee for himself 
and took a pastry. He took a sip of his coffee and then said, "I have 
given some thought to your request."

The sudden reminder of why she was there jarred Cynthia. She 
squeaked, "What have you decided?"

"There are three areas where you need help the most," replied Sid 
wondering how to tell her what he had observed about her. 

"Three?" asked Cynthia thinking it was just a matter of dress.

"First, you need to change your wardrobe," said Sid as he looked at 
the loose sweatshirt and blue jeans she wore. Licking his lips, he 
offered, "I can help you with that."

"Okay."

"Second, you need to take Etiquette lessons. Mrs. Wilson, a very 
nice lady of the old school, has agreed to provide them to you. She 
gave me Etiquette lessons when I was twelve. It will cost you 
nothing."

"Really? Why would she do that?" asked Cynthia wondering if she 
really knew what etiquette entailed.

Sid smiled as he recalled how Mrs. Wilson had reacted when he 
had asked her if she would be willing to give lessons to a young 
woman. The grand old lady had told him how much she would 
love to do that. She explained how she was afraid that manners 
were becoming extinct like the dodo bird -- hunted down by 
radical feminists who hated men. 

He answered, "She wants to pass her knowledge on to a young 
woman before that knowledge is lost for good."

"Oh."

"She would appreciate it if you would come over the next three 
Saturdays. I must warn you that she will expect you to arrive at 
nine in the morning and stay until late in the evening."

Deep in thought, Cynthia picked up a cake, put the whole thing in 
her mouth, chewed a few times, and then washed it down with her 
coffee. Watching her, Sid decided that she definitely needed to go 
to Mrs. Wilson. When she set her cup down, Sid noticed that it was 
empty. He asked, "Would you care for some more coffee?"

"Sure," she replied. 

After going through the process of refilling her cup, Sid said, "The 
third thing that we have to work on is your self image. A new 
wardrobe and the Etiquette lessons will be a tremendous help in 
that area, but you still need to become comfortable with who and 
what you are."

"Oh," said Cynthia in a very flat tone of voice. Her wild idea of 
turning herself into something that would be attractive to him had 
turned into a little more work than she had intended.
<1st attachment end>


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