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Blue Moon 7.1

by Donna Lamb

Richard stuck his head in, "Yeah, I need to head to the airport pretty quickly. Patch will send another driver to meet us with my car but Lorio has to come up from Torrance so the client at the airport may be ready to ride before he can get there." He paused. "Nice glasses."

Jo frowned at him. "I don't know how to w-wear contacts, so I don't have much choice."

"I wasn't kidding, they look nice. But you don't really need them unless you're driving or working on a computer, huh?"

"I guess so, though it's nice to actually see stuff without f-feeling like I need to squint." She pulled the glasses off and looked at him. "Anything further than arm's length is b-blurry and at ten feet or so, I start seeing double."

"Well, I guess you traded your twenty-twenty for that body," said Richard then ducked back through the door as she looked for something to throw at him. "Just kidding. Think you can find some black slacks and jacket and a white blouse in that warehouse?"

"I guess so. B-be good to get out of this short skirt," said Jo. "Do I have time for a quick shower?"

Richard, still on the other side of the door considered. "No. You're a girl now, there's no such thing as a quick shower for a girl."

"All right f-for you, Richard," she threatened but without conviction. Taking a shower had been a momentary impulse and she really did think she might dawdle to explore if she had the time. Now that she felt convinced she would probably be female for the rest of her life.... Wait. When did I decide that?

"Hey," Richard called through the door. "You've got a regular studio in here." He'd found the long room full of musical instruments and electronics.

"Later," she said. She found the light switch in the walk-in closet and began to search though the clothing, looking for some full-length black slacks and a jacket.

Richard explored the studio, finding the equipment to be mostly new, expensive and of high quality -- as far as he could tell, at any rate. A large studio-style soundboard with computer monitor and keyboard dominated one corner with cables snaking to various stations around the room. The walls and windows had been covered in some thick, but detachable sound-proofing and the ceiling rehung about a foot lower than the rest of the top floor. Sound could apparently be recorded and mixed both acoustically and electronically. Half a million dollars, at least, Richard guessed.

He sat at the drums and tapped out a thoughtful rhythm, feeling for the skill he'd once been proud of. He'd never been a stylist or a real professional but a good, amateur drummer who'd begun to make a living at it before his band self-destructed. He set a strong backbeat on the bass and played with the snare and cymbals like he might while warming up a crowd. And he smiled. After a bit he ventured into a drum solo, using the toms and cymbals. He'd left the door to the bedroom propped open in case Jo called him.

In the walk-in, Jo finally found a full-length pair of lightweight black trousers. Half a dozen pairs had either been too short or too heavy. "Oh, my gosh, I think these are silk," she said, awed. A short jacket on the next hanger proved to be the match for the slacks but she could find no simple white shirt. The plainest shirt, okay, it's a blouse, had pleats down the front and a lacy self-bow at the collar. It too seemed to be made of some silken fabric, one Joel had never encountered.

The silky, sensuality of the cloth gave Jo a peculiar thrill. She felt her nipples crinkle just running the blouse though her fingers. "Damn it! I'm going to have to w-wear a b-b-bra w-with this!" With perfect timing, Richard did a drum roll ending with a clash of cymbals in the other room. "Oh, b-be quiet," Jo said. "I've got to start some time, I guess."

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