Tami Beethoven

"If only -- " Barbara said.

"NO," Tami said, sternly and playfully at the same time, closing her legs, the toes of one foot wrapping over the other.

The friends went to nibble on the little snacks on the bar. Rod felt his stomach growl but resolved that, if Tami couldn't eat because of her tail, he wasn't going to eat either. As usual Tami's nipples picked up his thoughts. "Go ahead, my hungry man."

"No."

Tami took another sip. She was about halfway through her second martini and, being Tami, none the worse for wear. "I have to pee. Hold this, OK?"

He watched as she cantered gracefully away, her tail swishing behind her, looking into her little purse probably for her lipstick. Those pony tails that white girls like to wear that go down their back; he would never look at one the same way again. He could probably count every vertebra, from her neck down to the crack in her butt. Having the tail in her made her stand and walk a little differently. She had to arch her back a bit, a little like bikini models do when they're trying to look "hot". Once again he counted his blessings. So many guys, and a lot of women too, lusted after her. But she was his.

After she was gone Rod tried another sip of the wine. Bleacchh. Then despite knowing better he tried a sip of Tami's martini and almost choked. Martinis were her favorite bar drink but he didn't know how she managed it. They were like pure alcohol.

Tami's tastes, he noted, tended to be extreme. She liked the shower water scalding hot, so hot he could never get in with her. Well, maybe that was understandable, maybe she was hoarding heat for when she had to go naked in the snow. But her coffee was the strongest he'd ever tried to taste. She liked spicy food -- at the campus snack bar she used to order her burritos "suicidal", whereas he could manage only up to "medium hot". When she put on her iPod headphones while studying, the music was so loud he could hear it from the next room.

He loved Tami more than he had ever loved anyone, they were a team, they shared a life and knew many things about each other that no one else knew. He had seen her in all kinds of moods, in good situations and bad. Yet somehow he felt like he didn't know her. There was something about her that was as inscrutable as a sphinx.

Why was that?

It must be because her experiences were so different than anyone else's. That awful freshman year, in particular. Bad things happen to people, of course. What happened to Trent, for example -- he thought this as he saw "Adam", across the room, holding hands with "Steve" -- loosing your lover on 9/11. A horrible tragedy. Yet people lose loved ones, albeit not so dramatically. It was part of life. He thought of losing his own father two years ago, now his lonely mother had to sell that old house that was too big for her to take care of, and move in with his aunt.

But Tami -- the terrified freshman forced to go naked all year, terrified to show the slightest sign of modesty. Strapped to that dildo machine at Chalfont, hundreds of unwanted orgasms, often while having to look at creepy people like McMasters and Henry Ross right in the eye. Having to go across the country naked, then captured on that pony farm. Nobody could imagine what all that must be like. You couldn't say all that was just "part of life". But looking in her eyes you knew all that hurt and pain was in there somewhere, a hurt unlike anyone else's.

And now she seemed OK. In fact, with this tail, like the one that was stuck in her at that pony farm, she seemed to treat the past like a little bit of a joke. How can she do that? Did her psyche have some superhuman ability to survive?

Maybe she was in denial. Maybe all those horrible feelings, all those memories, were being repressed, just so she could get through life. He could almost sympathize with Dr. Abu Jamal and Dr. Kantor over at Chalfont. It had been two and a half years and they hadn't been able to cure her allergy to clothes. Apparently the "treatment" had all been external, testing her skin responses. Maybe the real problem was in her mind and they were afraid to go there, fearing the can of worms they might open up.

For now he just had to hope for the best. Presumably she could continue the naked life after graduation by staying on at the college as a graduate assistant. As a certain valedictorian she would have no trouble finding such a job. But how long could that go on? He chuckled, thinking of her newfound determination to get into the finals of that International Fashion thing. What if she actually got that fellowship? Going back to Providence -- naked!

Well maybe he shouldn't chuckle. That her parents were supportive had apparently been a surprise to her. Once again, she wanted to make them proud.

And what about these dreams he'd been having?

Tami came back and got her martini and then who wheeled up to them but Homer Winant, working his wheelchair manually as always, in a business suit with his "Grafton Transmissions" cap.

"Hi Homer," Tami said.

"Hi," Rod said, still not being able to fully trust this guy.

"Hello friends," Homer said. "Congrats on having the best costume in this freak show." What might have been an insult came out as a compliment, the way Homer said it.

"Thanks," Tami said, turning to show her tail, making a leg, one bare foot up on its toes.

They stood around for a moment as Homer ordered a beer. Then he said, "Got something for you." He brought a bag out from under his chair and gave it to Tami.

Part 44

"Wow," Tami said, opening it up. Wooden platforms with metal runners underneath. "A new pair of skates."

Specially designed by Homer so that Tami could skate at the little rink outside the gym building, which during warm weather served as an outdoor basketball court. They were just hard soles, without tops, molded to the contours of Tami's feet, with ridges between the toes so that she could grip them without relying on any strap which would trigger an allergic reaction. "The old ones broke," she said to Rod.

"Yes I remember," he said. That was about a month ago.

"These shouldn't break," Homer said. "The old ones were wood, these are fiberglass. Go ahead, try 'em."

Tami dropped them to the floor and set them under her feet, balancing on the runners. Of course she could not jump in them but it was possible to grip them, with her well-developed foot muscles, so as to skate pretty fast. Others came around and looked down. She even managed to lift one and then the other, by squeezing her toes together. "Thanks Homer. You're a genius." Which of course everyone knew. She put them back in the bag. "It's a little late for this year though."

"Nonsense. We always have an April blizzard, and a cold snap. You know that better than anyone."

"We didn't have one last year," Tami observed.

"Then we're due," Homer said.

Tami sipped her martini and then said, "Rod, I'd better chat with Ling and Gretchen." And she left Rod at the bar with Homer.

Rod watched her go. As she chatted with the Professor, Mrs. George joined them, and then some guy from the local Chamber of Commerce. Tami knew how to comport herself on occasions like this. He thought of her adjusting valves the other morning, smeared with grease. And now here she was, as graceful and polished as a princess. He thought of the last time they had been at an elegant affair, last fall at that faculty - administration cocktail party they'd been invited to, that black tie affair. Tami gracefully made the rounds, saying exactly the right thing... totally naked, yet elegant in her braided hair and perfectly done fingernails and toenails, the carefully tended pubic hair. Acting like she clearly had the most beautiful and luxurious gown, yet was too modest to seem to be aware of it.

It was her hair, upper and lower. She considered her hair to be her "clothes". So she didn't really feel naked. Or at least that's what she said.

"How's the engineering life?" Homer said, waking Rod from his reverie.

"Oh, OK." He forced himself to take another sip of that wine, then looked out at the blackness through the glass walls, the lights of the runway, lights of a little plane coming in for a landing. A thought hit him and he got concerned. "Can't everyone out there see in here? Seeing Tami might distract them. Could be dangerous." It sounded like a joke but he was serious.

"Oh I don't know," Homer said, looking out. "Sure is pretty with that full moon. Everyone's too far away to see anything."

Rod looked up at the FAA control tower looming over them. "What about that tower? It looks like tinted glass. They could be up there with telescopes."

Homer laughed. "You're getting paranoid. That tower's got to be a hundred feet away or more."

"Well..." Rod looked up at the tower, then down at one of those guys on the runway in the orange vests, hoping the guy wouldn't look up at them.

To his relief Homer wheeled away to chat with Ms. Congi. Then Tami came back. A waitress passed by with snacks.

"I keep telling you, EAT," Tami said.

"No... Babe, were you ever in band in high school? Were you ever a drum majorette?"

"No."

"A cheerleader?"

A sip from her martini. "No."

"Do you have an uncle who's a cop?"

"I have THREE uncles who are cops," Tami said, pulling back a wayward strand of hair from her face and then scratching a nipple. "I thought you knew that."

Oh, right. He met them at a family gathering last year.

"These are weird questions. What's bothering you Baby?"

"Well... lately I've been having these strange dreams about --"

"WHOA! OHMIGOD!"

It was Terry, Tami's old roommate from Pilgrim Hall! Dressed up in a killer outfit, white sleeveless blouse with a plunge neckline, a black miniskirt, fishnet stockings and spike heels. Leading by the hand a dark-skinned, Indian-looking guy in an open collar and brown jacket and dockers.

Rod got his share of hugs from Terry, and shook hands with the guy, who seemed about 40. In the rapid female exchange that followed he gathered that he was a publishing company executive, had a name that sounded like Karu, and they had been living together in Boston for the past two years. Terry hadn't changed. Always full of energy, admiring Tami's tail, catching up on the doings of Jen, Mayree, Dawn, the old gang. Rod thought of the great unspoken sadness, the third roommate in that room, Mandy, gone forever.

And now, Professors Girardo and Wanamaker, with something to say. They both seemed a little nervous. Did they already have a grade for Tami's entry in the Spring Zing? It seemed too early for that. What with the reunion of old friends, they knew they had come in at a bad time but whatever they had to say somehow couldn't wait.

Terry and Karu ordered drinks and it was as they were sipping them that Professor Girardo spoke.

"Tami, we were impressed with your entry in the Spring Zing," he said. "I, uh, want to prepare you for something. I apologize but it was out of my control. Dr. Lambert is here." Pronounced, of course, Lam-BARE.

Behind him loomed a very tall man with a distinguished-looking beard, a high forehead, and a three-piece suit that looked like it was from 1920 or so. Complete with watch chain going into the vest pocket.

His presence was such that conversation around them ceased.

"Tami Smithers, meet Doctor Francoise Lambert," Girardo said. "Dr. Lambert, Tami's husband, Rod -- uh -- "

"Sykes," Rod said, shaking his hand.

The Doctor looked down at everyone like a king surveying his court. His words were pure noblesse oblige. "Sorry for this interruption, and sorry for doing this to you, Ms. Smithers, but I am a very busy man and unfortunately I am being called away to Tokyo tomorrow on business. I will have to conduct your International interview now."

"Oh -- well -- " Tami turned and pushed her tail back, embarrassed by it. "I can -- just give me a moment -- "

Dr. Lambert laughed gently. "That's perfectly all right dear. You might not believe me but I have seen stranger, shall we say, 'costumes'." He looked up into the middle distance. "Personally I find myself more disturbed by the purple dinosaur with the brassiere."

There was polite laughter, sycophantic, but actually it was kind of funny.

He looked at Tami's martini. "I must say, I will give you a pass if you have had a few drinks. I want to be sure you answer the questions with a clear head."

Tami replied without hesitation. "No, I'm OK." She put her martini on the bar, took a deep breath, and stood up straighter; her nipples sticking out and up at Dr. Lambert as if saluting.

Girardo's and Wanamaker's faces he saw that the fault was not theirs. And he could tell that they were hoping like hell that Tami would do well at this interview. Having one of their students make it to the finals in Montreal was important for the school. And, of course, important to Tami's parents and therefore to Tami. At the very least, even if she didn't get in, the way she conducted herself and how she answered the questions would be buzzed about around campus, and around the International design community, to her credit no doubt. He didn't know anything about fashion design but he was sure Tami would make everyone proud.

Dr. Lambert retreated and asked Tami to join him. He sat down at a table behind the bar where he had some papers out and a checklist of some kind. He asked Tami to sit across from him but she motioned that it was impossible with her tail. So she stood obediently, feet slightly apart, tail flowing down past her calves, waiting. At her request Rod stood by. Behind them, Girardo and Wanamaker sat at the bar, on tenterhooks, nervously sipping their wine. Gretchen was close by also.

It was like Tami was a finalist in a spelling bee. Rod watched as Dr. Lambert began with some kind words.

"Let me say I was quite impressed with your efforts at the polymer you and Ms. Spaulding are developing." He looked at Gretchen, who was now joined by Professor Ling and Mrs. George. "You are working on the 3,2,5 ester, from what I understand."

"Y - yes," Tami said, evidently surprised that this man had such technical knowledge.

"I have here a series of fifty questions," he said with some weariness, as if the long checklist was not his idea but he was resigned to it. "I'd like you to answer them carefully." He looked up at her. "Of course for any fellowship given by the International, your composure during this interview is important and it will factor into your score. I apologize for the beauty contest aspect of this, but that it just how things are, if you want to represent the International and become a success in this business."

Tami cleared her throat and nodded. This was a heavier deal than expected. It was like she was being tested for worthiness to enter the outside world of adults.

He launched into the first question.

"What do you see is the purpose of fashion design?"

Tami must have expected this one. "To make -- uh --"

Her eyes opened wide in surprise as the Doctor looked down at his papers, then she regained her composure as he looked up again. "To make clothing that is useful, satisfies the wearer, and makes that person a -- visual asset."

The Doctor wrote the answer down, as Tami looked at Rod with daggers in her eyes.

Rod knew exactly what had happened. Inside Tami, the tail had expanded into a three-inch bulb. As if he had pressed the white button on the remote.

He fished out the remote as quickly yet unobtrusively as possible, and showed it to Tami, the little door swinging from the empty battery compartment. He shook his head helplessly.

Then her body jerked and she gasped, a tiny gasp, and straightened up as the second question was asked.

"What is the secret to a good line? You can give different answers for men and women if you like."

"Well, it's the same for both." Just a tiny quiver of the tail filaments betrayed what must have been happening.

Rod went into a silent panic, as Tami, suppressing an increasingly intense series of quivers, answered the second question in as even a voice as she could. Behind her, Gretchen and Girardo and Wanamaker watched intently, rooting her on. So much depended on this...

Part 45

Dr. Francoise Lambert continued the interview that, if passed successfully, would qualify Tami Smithers for the final phase of the International competition, the fashion show and presentation in Montreal.

"What type of shirring do you prefer in synthetic overgarments?"

"I should say... bias style, to reduce the risk of bunching."

Rod knew that the short pause in Tami's answer was to keep a gasp from interrupting the flow of her voice. From making love to Tami he was well acquainted with the telltale quiver in the legs, the slight tensing of the taut muscles in her tummy. The spreading of the toes. Dr. Lambert might have ascribed this to basic nervousness which would be only to be expected during such an important interview. Rod knew it was something much more profound, explosive, deep, disruptive...

Tami's body jerked slightly. Fortunately the Doctor was looking down at his questionnaire at the time. Her nipples got even stiffer than usual.

As the Doctor recited his fourth question, the tail behind Tami quivered. Then it began waving back and forth like a dog's.

Rod looked on in horror and suddenly Barbara and Melissa were at his side. They were fixated on Tami anyway, no matter where in the room they were, but the glimpse of the wagging tail was like an alarm -- they knew exactly what it meant and they were there like a shot. Rod and the two TL's looked at each other and then at the tail, still wagging from side to side, then at the face of poor Tami as she struggled to answer the fourth question.

Tami, bringing her hand up in a carefully controlled motion, scratched her head and paused, as if pondering what to say. Then after the last uneven wag, she gave her answer, no doubt having "played back the question in her head", as she would have put it.

"What's happening?" Barbara said.

"I don't know!" Rod said. Once again he brought the empty remote out of his pocket to prove his innocence.

"Someone must have another remote around here!" Melissa said. The three of them looked around, glances darting all around the room in as subtle a way as possible.

"Jesus," Rod said, watching his naked wife listening to another question, standing straight up in her nakedness before the seated personage of Dr. Francoise Lambert, bare feet placed a foot apart on the carpet, her hands clasped primly in front of her plum-colored lower hair. "Tami's really suffering!"

"She should excuse herself," Barbara said.

"No, Tami wouldn't do that," Rod said. "I know her. This interview means a lot to her parents. And to the school, I bet."

"I like to see her come, but not like this!" Melissa said. She looked around. "Some evil person is around here!"

"I didn't even think there was another remote!" Rod said. Then he exhaled and gathered his thoughts. "Let's split up and check every person!"

They tried not to be frantic but each of them bumped into someone as they turned. Rod scoured the main area between the bar and the entrance. Melissa checked around the edges of the room. Barbara checked around the circular bar itself. As it turned out everyone's hands were visible and nobody was holding anything except drinks and hors d'oeurves.

They met in front of the bar and watched Tami from a distance of fifteen feet. They saw the clenching butt muscles, and now the tail began moving back and forth again, back and forth, back and forth, every 0.8 seconds... all the time she was carefully answering the Doctor's latest question. They thought of the explosive energy the tail detonated inside her, how it made her jump halfway to the ceiling... all that energy now contained in the iron vise grip of her self-control, finding a crimped outlet now in the slight motion of her hand up to her head, smoothing away a lock of hair that had gotten loose from its braid...