The Adventures of Dakota Grange

"Are you all right? I saw you shake and... what happened to you?" A woman sat down next to her, dressed conservatively in a suit and blouse. A name tag announced she was Ellen Devries, Reference Librarian. Though her clothes screamed, citizen, her eyes held a completely different look, one Dakota recognized all too well from the mirror.

"Sorry. What?" she said in genuine confusion.

"Your face. You've been beaten. I can call the police."

"No, I'm fine." Dakota put her hand on Ellen's wrist; a strong longing for excitement flowed into her along with a profound dissatisfaction for a humdrum and wasted life. "I, well, I box, as a hobby. I had a bout last night. A draw." Ha. Some draw, she thought. "You should see the other woman." Ellen laughed and then caught herself.

"Women box? They fight? Really?"

"Yes, really. Some of us are pretty good at it. There's no need to call the police. I basically did this to myself by letting my face get in the way of my opponent's gloves." And fists, and tongue, and cock, and... she stopped her train of thought before she went too far down that road and got a noticeable erection. "Thank you for asking... Ellen. Can you help me, though? I'm looking for a template for a resumé, thinking about changing jobs. Got any suggestions?"

Ellen showed her how to find sites with interesting resumés, but was called away to help someone else look for books on genealogy. Dakota finished her searches, printed some samples of things she needed, and put it all away in her new duffel. Damn, it even smells like Kat.

The clock showed 11:45. She had time for her last bit of business and then lunch before her train. On her way out, she fished Jerry's card from her jacket pocket and handed it to Ellen, making sure squeeze her forearm enough for the woman to notice, but not enough to notice what Dakota did. "Think about it. If you decide to try, this guy's good." She left, with Ellen staring at her back, slowly fingering the frayed card, the notion of a more exciting life planted in her mind.

Dakota stopped at a nearby branch of the First Chicago State Bank and closed her account, putting the money with the rest of her bankroll: eight hundred and thirty-two dollars, more than enough to get the background she needed for her new career and live comfortably for six months. She made the leisurely fifteen-minute walk to Union Station and picked up her ticket--first class, thank you very much--and splurged on a fine lunch at one of the station restaurants. As she ate, she wondered about what Kat had said, what had she been given from the amazon. A sly smile crossed her face, which she suppressed, but the thought of actually becoming a physical education teacher--a steady job--by conning a fancy girls school fascinated her.

She hadn't the same sensation since... she'd gotten smart with her foster father and he'd taken her out to the woodshed with a willow switch he'd made her cut herself. He was stern but not cruel. The lashes from the switch didn't hurt much. He'd stopped abruptly, told her to behave herself, and walked off. She knew she'd made him stop, it was the same snarky feeling she had now. The odd part was she remembered the milkman driving his horse-drawn cart down the alley, making his morning deliveries. She'd been, she thought, five or six at the time, but it wasn't possible. Horse-drawn anything was long in the past except for hay rides and long night drives in the park. It couldn't be true.

She boarded her train at 1:15 and settled into the soft leather seat. By the time the train pulled out and got up to speed, she was fast asleep. She dreamed of odd, pleasant things, one of which was her standing in a field with a clipboard and a whistle, while young women played field hockey. PE instructor. That might be nice. The only disturbing part was the mangy dog who watched her from a distance. Dakota could swear it was smiling.