Meeting Carmen Ch. 03.5

Item 2 was a cropped T-shirt top. Also white. Also small. The front read "hottie" in a typewriter font: a look for which Lynn was already too old. She wondered if the farmer had considered shooting his own daughter in the ass for wearing something so provocative. She put the top on; it was better than going topless, but not by much. It didn't even cover her modest breasts completely; the fabric ended an inch or so too high, just below her nipples. She raised her arms experimentally, and the top rose too. Lynn marveled at how useless it was: tiny and flimsy as lingerie, but meant to be worn by itself. By reaching up, or leaning forward, or doing much at all besides keeping her upper body straight, she would be exposing herself.

Still, it was better than nothing; she was pleased to be clothed again, top and bottom. It was plenty suggestive, but would probably get her home. She imagined how someone like Carmen would look, with the top not even starting to cover her fuller breasts, and her nipples out at all times. Lynn smirked. Carmen would probably love it. She might even own a top like that, and wear it to parties. Dancing bare-assed in the living room, letting guys fondle her swaying breasts and lick her nipples and probe her moist, hot pussy. Standing behind Carmen, fondling her bare skin, slick with sweat, helping her take the top off...

Lynn shook her head; her imagination had run a little too far with that scene. Her contempt had quickly melted away, leaving... what?

It occurred to her that Carmen wasn't the real villain today. Technically, yes, it was Carmen's fault Lynn was naked now. She had taken the clothes. But it could have been an honest mistake. And Lynn had actually proposed the dare that got them topless. All Carmen had done was go along; yes, she did take it further, leaving the women nude. But Gary had done the worst, and made things unrecoverable. Without his stunt, she'd still be with him; he could have offered his shirt and driven her home. Easy.

Another image of Carmen appeared in her mind, unbidden: Gary pawing her breasts, and then pulling down those trademark sweatpants. It no longer triggered much jealous outrage in Lynn; she had already written Gary off. And Carmen: she was younger, not as mature, was just having some naughty fun, and didn't realize when she had gone too far.

The sun ascended to its zenith and the air grew sweltering; Lynn was ready for some shade. Ahead stood a dense row of tall firs, planted in orderly intervals, their branches close. Since she had acquired clothing (of a sort), her next pressing need was her thirst. Possibly the trees shaded a park, or a school; something with an outdoor water fountain. Her feet crunched the soft bed of fallen pine needles as she made her way through.

She stepped onto a lawn, bedsheet-flat and flawless green, larger than a soccer field. At the far end was a stately brick manor with no indication of its function. A boarding school? Senior center? An asylum? Lynn stopped, reconsidering her route.

A frisbee dropped at her feet. A young man and woman, both college age, ran toward her. She tried to assess how dangerous they might be. At least they didn't look insane.

The man wore gym shorts and a Packers tee. He registered surprise at Lynn's appearance, but only for a moment. "This is private property."

"Are you lost?" his companion said. She was better dressed, with tan shorts and a pastel yellow shirt. She was fashionably thin, lightly tanned, with whitened teeth. She radiated a genteel disapproval of Lynn's outfit.

"Sorry," Lynn said, now wanting to cover up. This was the most clothing she'd had since the Gary incident, though she knew it was still suggestive, bordering on indecent. The guy was repeatedly checking her out; did his girlfriend notice? "My stuff was stolen and I'm trying to get home."

More people joined them, three men and two women. Probably all students, enjoying a free afternoon. Lynn had interrupted their frisbee game. Feeling extremely outnumbered, she fought the impulse to just turn around and flee. That would be a foolish choice if these people could help her.

"Who's this?" said a pretty blonde girl. Tight denim cutoffs, worn low on the hips, showed off tanned legs and a flat belly. A pink string bikini top cradled an enviable pair of breasts. Lynn realized she had spent a moment too long with this assessment to be polite, and looked the girl in the eye.

"My name's Lynn. I'm sorry to trespass, but-"

"Lynn?" said another man. He stared at her, but wasn't addressing her. For some reason, the name had caused him considerable alarm. He fished in his pocket for a cell phone and flipped it open.

"Bob, what are you doing?" said the pink bikini-top woman in a casual tone.

"It's her!" Bob cried, punching in numbers.

"What are you talking about?"

"We're supposed to call in and report if we see her!"

"What?? Bob, put that away."

Bob stood motionless for a second.

"Bob," she said.

Bob put the phone back in his pocket. The blonde girl had some influence over him. Dating, Lynn guessed.

"You know her?" the first girl in the yellow shirt said.

"Haven't you seen the news?" Bob said. "We really should call."

"Call about what?" Lynn said, incredulous.

"Bob, what are you talking about?" said the blonde girl.

Bob put his hands in his pockets. "If you won't believe me, come see the news. They're showing it 24/7. Why don't we all take a look."

"Let's do that," Lynn said, her guard up.

They walked toward the brick building. To Lynn's feet, the lawn felt like a chilly, plush carpet.

"I'm Heather," said the blonde bikini girl. She introduced the others: Todd and Cissy, who had encountered Lynn first; Tyler, Kaitlyn and Chad; and Bob. They all had the similar, compatible good looks of clothing catalog models, maybe Land's End, but younger. The type of attractive people who tended to gravitate to each other.

Lynn didn't understand why Bob had tried to report her. To whom? And why? Did someone get footage of her naked in the park? Even then, why would it get much run in the news? Why were people looking for her? Sure, it was titillating, but not the sort of story the cable news networks could chew to death for hours on end. Was indecent exposure a felony? She didn't know.

They entered the manor, walking into a central room where the skylit cathedral ceiling vaulted above three oversized couches, arranged in a U shape, surrounding a glass coffee table and facing a flat-panel TV. Bob switched it on.

"Fox News Alert: Terror in the Heartland!" a headline exclaimed. Graphic bands of saturated red and blue waved underneath a translucent outline map of the Midwestern states. An uptight-looking pundit in black suit and red power tie was speaking with his Asian female partner:

"... matter of time before we saw a new strain of terrorists in our midst, this time taking orders from Beijing. But Michelle has a strong suggestion for Washington's next step."

"That's right, Sean," Michelle said. "We need right away to identify and track Chinese living in our country, and temporarily relocate them until the threat subsides."

"You're suggesting camps, then, for these Chinese."

"What are they talking about?" Lynn said, fear seeping into her.

"That's right, Sean," said Michelle. "Some people don't like the word 'internment', but our War on Terror forces us to take strong measures."

"But many of these people will be innocent, don't you agree?"

"It's not as if the liberals don't have enough to whine about." At this they both chuckled, then Michelle was once again serious. "Our country is at war. We cannot afford to let Sino-terrorism gain a foothold in our homeland."

"Oh, for god's sake," Heather said, wresting the remote away from Bob.

"Do they think-" Lynn started to say, and then saw what was on CNN.

"... to all appearances, a quiet, suburban American home," a blonde reporter intoned, standing in front of a white bungalow. "Today we find it may be the central point of a frightening new breed of terror."

"That's my house!" Lynn blurted out, and immediately wondered if she should have kept silent. The others turned to her with newfound suspicion.

CNN returned to an older anchorman in studio, standing in front of a magnified photo from Lynn's driver's license. It was two years old, and her hair was shorter, and the bad light had washed out her fine skin tones, but it was obviously hers. Beneath the photo blared the bold legend "Lynn Sway / US Terror Suspect".

"It can't be!" Lynn cried.

The anchorman stared down the camera. "Again, if you encounter this woman, do not try to approach or detain her. Immediately get to a safe place and call 911."

"What did I say?" Bob said, reaching for his phone.

"Wait. Stop it." Heather said. "This doesn't smell right."

"There has to be a mistake!" Lynn protested.

"Something seems off," Heather said. She changed channels again, this time to PSN. Gwen Fallon, a glamorous reporter with glossy russet hair, stood in front of the FBI field office in Milwaukee.

"She's hot!" marveled Todd. Cissy rolled her eyes at him. So they're probably together, Lynn thought.

"... at this time," said Fallon. She reappeared in a small inset box as the anchor, Marie Endicott, spoke with her.

"No information at all from local and state agencies, then," Endicott said, looking to summarize.

"No, Marie, none at all," said Fallon. "As you noted, DHS is tight-lipped, and as you could see from our interview with officials here, the Lynn Sway issue appears to be news to them, too."

"Is it possible DHS has made a mistake?"

"Yes, it's possible!" Lynn said.

"The local agency has said nothing of the sort," said Fallon. "But the timing and substance of the warning has taken everyone here by considerable surprise."

"Thank you, Gwen," said Marie Endicott, and Fallon's inset disappeared.

"Marie's cute, too," said Chad. "Gotta look them both up."

"Stop it," Heather said, curtly, without looking away from the screen.

"For those of you joining us," Endicott said, "The Department of Homeland Security has issued a terror warning regarding Lynn Y. Sway, 26, a U.S. citizen living in Konowoc, Wisconsin. DHS is providing no information regarding what Sway is suspected of, and there is no evidence to date suggesting her involvement with any terrorist groups.

"We will update you as more information is uncovered, but frankly, right now there isn't any. If you spot Ms. Sway in person, or have information on her location, DHS asks you to call 911."

Heather switched the TV off. "That's all we're going to find out. It'll be the same stuff over and over. At least PSN seems to have their heads on straight."

Lynn had an idea of what might have touched everything off. "Listen. My purse was stolen. Back at the park. Maybe someone saw it left unattended, reported it as a bomb threat. Then my ID's in there and that's how they link it to me. I don't see how else this could have happened!"

"We'd better think about this," Bob said.

"We are," said Heather. "It's obvious somebody screwed up. Lynn's an innocent victim here."

"How do you know that?"

"Maybe I should go to the police," Lynn said.

"No way," Heather said. "You'll disappear."

"But I'm innocent! If I can show that it's all a big mistake..."

"Almost no one in Guantanamo or any of the other places has even been charged yet. They'll just throw you in there."

"So I have to hide out? Forever?"

"Hopefully your name will be cleared soon. So you'll never go in."

"We're jumping to conclusions here!" said Bob. "We don't even know her!"

"How can she be a threat?" Heather said. "Look at her. Where's she going to conceal a bomb?"

"I'll check!" said Chad, grinning.

"Chad!" he was scolded, in 5.1 surround sound.

Lynn glared at him. Did he take anything seriously? Still, it appeared he was on her side, unconvinced she was a threat.

"OK, you've got a point," Bob said, gesturing at Lynn. "It doesn't exactly say 'terrorist' here." Lynn thought this was another Bobian non sequitur until she remembered the word printed on her cropped top.

"'Hottie' is right," Chad said. Lynn scowled, and turned away. He was cute, and she normally favored funny men, but she was really put off by his clumsy flirtation. The situation was wrong. His timing was awful. He had no sense of tact.

"Lynn's not a terrorist," Heather said, "and even if she was, she's not in a position to hurt us. It shouldn't be long until everyone figures out they've screwed up. Until then, I think she'd be safest right here with us." She turned to Lynn. "That's if you'd like to stay."

"I'd like to," Lynn said, but glanced at the bay window, warily. A helicopter (one of those she saw earlier; she realized they really were searching for her) would be able to peek in from a mile away.

"No, we're not going to put you in a closet. You can hide in plain sight, with the group."

"How do we know it's safe?"

Heather beamed. "Well, Tyler -- this guy over here -- His last name happens to be Takris."

"As in Governor Takris?" Lynn said.

Tyler nodded noncommittally. He didn't seem comfortable waving his family's name around.

"His son," Heather said. "The gov owns this place. I don't think we're going to have G-men busting in here."

That was that: Lynn agreed to stay, and the others agreed to let her; a consensus that Heather had pushed through. Lynn was relieved the group's apparent leader was solidly on her side.

"So; Lynn," Heather said, "we know the news guys have it all wrong... what really did happen?"

Lynn took a deep breath, as if it would have to last throughout her story. She considered glossing over all the embarrassing parts, but decided she would present a stronger case if she included everything. Lying or omitting things, and trying to keep the story consistent, required energy she didn't think she'd have. She braced for editorial comments or scolding, but no one went after her. After the part about the foiled rape, she had their sympathies. At the part about getting shot, Heather looked ready to cry: "Oh god, you poor thing!" Chad was no longer cracking jokes. Bob had put his cell phone away.

"Nobody," said Heather, "is going to do you any more harm today. You're staying with us, for as long as you need."

"Thank you," said Lynn. She slumped back in the seat as fatigue caught up to her, and remembered her thirst. "I'm sorry to ask, but ... could I get a drink of water?"

"Better than that," Heather said, and took Lynn's hand. "Let's eat."

An expensive-looking outdoor dining set stood atop warm sunlit patio stone. Tyler manned a grill the size of an air traffic control console, cooking garlic bread and steaks, and Kaitlyn tossed a salad. The aroma made Lynn aware she was starving as well as thirsty. Heather gave her a bottle of water, which she chugged down at once; Heather laughed and fetched her another. Lynn took a seat at a redwood table. "I guess I'm better off hanging out here than actually going home."

"You are," said Heather. "Gotta wait for this to blow over, for the news people to start chasing the next big story."

Lynn noticed bottles of green and blue in the ice bucket: wine coolers, in berry flavors and unnatural colors. She opened one, and took an experimental sip. It was pretty good.

"I like those," said Heather. "Never got a taste for beer. Just watch yourself. They're alcoholic. They sneak up on you." Heather passed a few bottles out, and took one for herself.

Kaitlyn squealed; Tyler had pinched her bottom. She smacked him with the salad tongs before he could dodge the blow. "You gotta wash those now," Bob said.

Chad offered Lynn a plate loaded with salad and a slice of garlic bread. "First course?"

"Thanks." She took a bite of bread. "Oh, this is awesome. I basically haven't had anything since breakfast."

"Well, that was very nice of you, Chad," said Heather. Chad raised his eyebrows, playing innocent, and opened a beer.

Lynn felt a flush of gratitude for these former strangers who had invited her in, just when she thought she had lost her faith in people in general. She even felt a bit of affection for Chad, and his goofy, harmless crush, even though his frequent glances reminded her how scantily dressed she was.

After filling up on steak and sides, they returned to the TV room. The story had progressed: PSN was showing footage of a young man, flanked by officers, being led into a police van. "Witness in Sway case turns self in" said a banner. Lynn gasped when she saw who it was.

"Gary William York reported to police earlier today, saying he knows Lynn Sway and can clear her name," said a reporter. "He is being interviewed at a DHS field office in Milwaukee."

"Do you know him?" Heather said.

Lynn nodded, still taken aback. "He's my ex. He's the reason I'm here instead of home."

"I hope they don't send him to Gitmo," said Bob.

"Bob..." Heather warned.

"I mean, he's going out on a limb. Trying to make things right. Could be a hero, actually."

"No, he's not a hero," Lynn said. "He's doing the minimum possible. They would have tracked him down and brought him in anyway." On further thought, this was a bit of good news: at least her ordeal might sort itself out a few hours sooner.

CNN had Gary footage as well, but nothing about a statement or other updates. The terror alert was still in force. On Fox, an uptight-looking man in wire-frame glasses was reminding viewers that Chinese people are Communists. Heather shrugged: "That's probably all we're going to get for a while."

Chad tossed a neon yellow Nerf football in the air. "Touch football?" A few mumbled their preferences to stay seated a while longer. Bob patted his stomach: "I'm still stuffed." Lynn found herself checking, and noticing that Bob wasn't in bad shape at all.

"That's why you gotta work it off," Chad said. "We'll start off slow. C'mon, get up!"

The others got up and filed outside, except for Lynn. "We'll catch up with you later," Heather said, and turned back, to sit down next to her. "You'd rather not?"

"Sorry. I'll stay in and keep up with the news."

Heather lay a hand on her shoulder. "I'm worried you'll drive yourself nuts if you watch continuously. Come out for a while, and we can check later." Feeling she had overlooked a potential concern, she added: "The game's just for fun. These guys will razz each other, but we're not hardcore about it. You've seen; everybody likes you."

Lynn glanced down at her outfit. "It took long enough for me to get comfortable just walking around like this. I don't want to be running around, and..."

"I swear, you don't need to worry. I'm not wearing a lot either, and ... okay, I know what," Heather said, and reached behind her back. Lynn had a moment to think "no, she couldn't possibly be doing that" before Heather took off her bikini top. Her bare breasts quivered as they were freed. Lynn's mind swirled, as sudden memories of Carmen standing nude in the park dissipated to reveal Heather, with almost the same outfit. Later, Lynn would worry just how impolite she had been, as she belatedly brought her gaze up to Heather's face. Heather leaned forward and her shapely breasts took more form, not as large as Carmen's but very curvy, with pink nipples that puffed out slightly.

"Heather..." Lynn said, not yet able to precisely say how unnecessary this was, or inappropriate, or what the hell was she thinking?

Heather looked Lynn up and down, as if making a point about Lynn doing the same. "I'm not saying you're not cute," she said, with complete self-assurance, "but at least everyone will have someplace else to look."

Lynn shook her head, gathering her objections. "That's really... thoughtful, I mean that; but after all I've been through, I just want to hide. I don't want to be part of another spectacle." She caught herself gazing at Heather's body again, clad in nothing but faded denim shorts, narrower than her hand at the hip, and forced herself to look up.