The Women of W.A.R.M.

Charlotte got up from her seat, and moved towards the window of the meeting room they were in.  Sandra had to give it to Charlotte.  She was looking absolutely stunning these days.  When she had met Charlotte she had been a healthy size 16.  Her 5’ 8” stature made most of it look really good, but you could tell she was unhappy with herself, and her appearance.  The blonde had gone from buxom to downright tempting in the next 3 years.  She was now a modest size 7, very happy there, and had kept to that size for the past year.  She had always been pretty with her big blue-green eyes and her wide expressive mouth, but she was alluring now.  Her cheekbones were defined and her nose was slimmer.  She had cut her hair to a long in front bob that showcased her long neck and ultra-feminine shoulders.  It also showcased a head of hair that went from light brown to golden blonde in a natural process that women paid hundreds of dollars for.

Charlotte had a women’s build.  She had become lean with modest sized breasts. She was slim, but not too so skinny you wanted to feed her constantly.  Her waist, shapely hips, and derriere made those low-rise jeans look fantastic on her.  Sandra had started feeling unattractive around her, and that made her feel shallow, and a slave to the very nature that she was trying to eliminate.  Sandra was exotic, but Charlotte was classic.  And unless you liked your women with big boobs, an abnormally narrow waist, giant hips, giant ass, and those oh so sexy linebacker shoulders, you probably wouldn’t want Sandra.

“Hello ladies.”  Brenda blew into the room in her usual fashion.  First the smell of Liz Taylor’s Black Diamonds, and then a whiff of Vanilla from her over coiffed naturally straight blue-black hair that was piled on top of her head.  She had a designer hairspray that smelled of Vanilla.  Her Gucci clutch landed on the table near Sandra as she took a prim seat in the chair next to her. A red plaid Liz Arden suit with gold toggles matching her black & gold Christian Dior pumps adorned her figure.

Brenda was not an attractive lady in the conventional sense.  She was average height, 5’ 6”.  Not too much leg; not too much torso; not too meaty; not too slender, and a real primo nice set of breasts though.  In her own words, ‘you don’t often see real ones this perky’.  Her intense ice blue eyes startled you in their paleness.  To maximize this affect she usually kept them fringed in heavy mascara and thick black eyeliner. Facial features that met you were sharp and blunt all at the same time, swimming heavily in her Italian ancestry, and merely wading in her Welsh.  The combination as a whole was stark and startling.  The oddity of her features was entrancing, and in the oddest way quite lovely. Add that with her healthy amounts of confidence, and the way she exuded power.  She held great beauty.

Brenda was a self-made woman.  She had graduated as an architect 12 years ago, and had instantly scored the biggest business venture ever.  It had taken sixteen months, but she had successfully designed and copyrighted the infamous bank building in Downtown Dallas that featured a most interesting architectural design that resembled a keyhole at the top of the building.  One of her graduation projects had been the interior of the city’s best symphony hall.  By studying the configuration of wind instruments she had figured out a way to stack the walls that caused sound to vibrate and bounce at a higher magnitude than most other symphonic halls.  Of course the architect she understudied for took all the credit.  He claimed who was better qualified to make such a discovery, him or his assistant, who was also a woman. Guess whom the board sided with.  Being completely miffed by this Brenda had reworked the layouts so that he ended up stacking the walls wrong leaving her to have to go in behind him and fix them.  This proved once and for all who had really been the mastermind behind the center’s design which was what actually scored her an arts center job.  From that day forward Brenda had resolved to stand behind no one.  Her projects would be her own, and the construction companies would deal with her and her alone.

Charlotte had been responsible for Brenda being in their lives.  Four years ago Charlotte had put her BA in interior design to good use and founded Not Just Ceilings and Walls. The company had designed the interior of Brenda’s first independent project, a restaurant in North Dallas called Avanti.  They had met and hit it off prompting Charlotte to tell her about W.A.R.M.  Brenda was instantly on board being sick of the male influence in her day-to-day life thanks to her career.  So Brenda got to soon add being an active member of W.A.R.M to her hobbies of being a clotheshorse, and a social butterfly.

“How are those red Prada sling backs I gave you?”  Brenda’s ice blue eyes lit up as she leaned over to pat Sandra’s hand.

“They are as wonderful as you said.”

“Worth the $350?”

“Every penny.”

Looking every bit like Jackie O in her prime, Brenda clucked as she started digging through her Gucci clutch. “I swear they are sexy. It’s a shame I could only wear them twice.”

Charlotte looked at Brenda questioningly, as usual confused by the woman’s sensibilities.  “Why only twice?”

“The dress that went with them, I wore it to the President’s Arts Gala last fall and to the TCU alumni anniversary dinner this past spring.  I was photographed at both occasions.  Anyone paying attention would notice.”  She put a dramatic hand to her forehead. “It would be so embarrassing; it’s not like I’m a pauper after all.”

Both Sandra and Charlotte simply looked blinkingly at Brenda.

Completely oblivious, Brenda huffed and continued.  “Speaking of galas, I’m hosting a fundraiser at the house in Willow Bend. Charlotte would you be my hero and update my living and dining rooms. Last time is still great, but—”

Charlotte interrupted, “I know, you wouldn’t want them to see it twice.  I’ll send Megan over in the morning, and I’ll look over her notes, and get back to you by Friday.”

“You are an angel.”  Brenda smiled as she refreshed her lipstick.

“You just don’t forget to mention my design company when those high society rags come through.” She smiled indulgently at Brenda.  She didn’t always understand the woman, but she really enjoyed her nonetheless.

Brenda gave her a brilliant smile. “Never darling,” she said in a droll self-mocking tone.

The door to the meeting room flew open and two women stood there, one glaring one laughing.  On the left, the glaring redhead turned flashing green eyes to Sandra, and then back to her companion.  The redhead’s normally pale skin tone was emitting tones of red in her fury.  She was dressed super business casual, as was her style; a basic white scoop neckline short sleeve top, and tan wide-legged slacks with no fuss no muss light tan flat sandals.  Deborah was the anti-Brenda if ever there were one.  She kept her outfits simple, and easy to maintain which was interesting since she was without doubt the one out of the group with the looks.  Her heart-shaped face, larger than life green eyes, her sharp pert nose, and pouty lips were a perfect picture framed by fire red hair that was laced with golden red strands and auburn highlights; all natural by the by.  She was definitely gorgeous in the drop-dead sense.  She kept her body fit and toned and stood about 5’ 2”, which most men found absolutely adorable.  Made her easy to physically manipulate Sandra had once jokingly explained to the group to get the little redhead’s ire up.

But the laughing lady to the right, Rachel, did something that Deborah’s beauty couldn’t.  She emitted sex. It was always unintentional, but potent, like Brenda’s “Black Diamonds” perfume.  It poured off of her when she walked into a room.  Her chocolate skin tone looked creamy, and her shoulder length curly ash brown hair whispered how soft it was. Dark brown eyes were always warm with invitation.  She stood a little intimidating at 5’ 9”, but it was fetching.  When she wasn’t on a job, RJ always wore long things, like the simple sleeveless turtle-necked black dress she was wearing that nearly touched the floor beneath her black strappy sandals.  Outfits like that showed off her long legs and smooth curves that practically beckoned for a man’s touch. Top this package off with an exquisite face. Not the pure beauty that Deborah was, but a more flamboyant look.  Her features were broad; her eyes, lips, her nose, and it made you stare without realizing that you were.  Right now those broad features were alight with mischief and humor.

“I can’t believe you did that,” exclaimed Deborah looking sidelong at Rachel.  “What is wrong with you?”

Sandra, welcoming the break from the drama that is Brenda, looked to Deborah and asked, “Did what?”

Deborah started shaking her head, her long red hair dusting her shoulders lightly as it continued down her back. Unforgiving, she pointed at Rachel who was looking unusually contrite.  Rachel’s eyes were downcast, and she continued to hiccup, which meant that she had been laughing very hard.  The ebony beauty raised her dark brown eyes to look at the room, and then turned to run out.

Charlotte rolled her eyes at the duo. “Well Debbie, what did she do?”

“She was being a bully is what.” She formed her face in a perfect pout as she glanced behind her to see Rachel bent over double laughing on the other side of the door.

“Do you remember her mark?” She finally started as she moved over to the other side of the conference table.

Everyone internally sighed as she began.  Deborah was one of those out-of-control redheads that you would find yelling bloody murder at a waiter who spilled coffee in front of her, not to mention how she would act had it been on her.  It took very little to get her angry, and she always held people responsible for their actions.  There were no mistakes for Debbie; there were just people who didn’t own up to their mistakes.  She was necessary for what they were trying to do, because she was like their blind lady of justice. Whenever there was a question of right and wrong she always knew where to look, and what questions to ask.  Deborah was a criminal psychiatrist who took her work into all aspects of her life.

Sandra had met Deborah while she had been consulting on a juvenile delinquency case three and a half years ago.  The case had involved a 13-year-old girl who had been caught prostituting.  Her mother had been a heroin addict who allowed her scummy boyfriend to pimp out her daughter for drug money.  Deborah had intentionally sought her out knowing that if anyone could help her get the 13–year-old exonerated, and away from her addicted mother, and most importantly her mother’s pimp boyfriend, it would be Sandra.  Whose reputation with the Dallas County DA’s office had become legend due to her key testimony in another trial involving child pornography. Most legal factions considered her a key expert in the subject because of her studies in gender sociology.

Debbie dropped her giant hemp purse in front of her on the table, and sat unabashedly down with her legs slightly ajar and arms on top of the table.  “Well miss audiovisual here decided that it wasn’t enough to teach him a normal lesson.”  She glared at Rachel as she began to make her way into the room.  “Instead he got a paranormal one.”

“A what?!”  Brenda as usual, cracked first.

“I can’t speak her techie mumbo-jumbo, so she’ll have to tell you.”

“He was a hard case.”  RJ giggled as she sat next to Charlotte.  “He wasn’t going to be broken with just a routine operation.”  She glanced deviously at the room as she folded her arms across her chest.  “So I stepped it up a notch.”

“Could we be sued?”  Sandra asked in all seriousness.

Rachel shook her head. “He’d be much too embarrassed to tell anyone, not even his therapist. Besides you can’t file charges against a person beyond this place.”

Charlotte’s eyes lit up completely intrigued. “Now you have to tell us what you did.”

Rachel made a smug face. “It was pretty simple really.  It turns out that Brian has a phobia about ghosts and such.  His mom would tell him these heinous stories when he was young to make him behave. Anyway, after our date a few nights ago I set-up some very convincing, not visible equipment to recreate his worst nightmare.  Last night he asked for sex, and I asked him for a commitment.  He refused so I set plan ‘nocturnal visitor’ into effect.”

Sandra felt her forehead crease. There was always one super dramatic ultra militant one in every group, and Rachel was definitely theirs.  Sandra didn’t blame her though.  When she had met Rachel she had been afraid to leave her house. The beauty had been mugged and raped 2 weeks prior to running into Sandra at a local grocery store 2 years ago.  She had visibly flinched when the male stocker had moved towards her to grab a box near her cart, thus dropping the can of ravioli she had in her hand.  Sandra had been in the same aisle for you guessed it, disgusting canned ravioli.  Sandra had picked up the can joking about how your body knew that this stuff was awful for it. Expecting a laugh at both their expense, Sandra saw the most painful look of horror she had ever seen.  So she had followed by asking her if she was okay, and the poor lady had immediately burst into tears.  The teachings of Ayita Sittingbull-Dalianas had taken over instantly. Sandra couldn’t keep to herself or mind her own business at that point.  She had been raised better than that.  Without a by your leave, she had bundled Rachel up, and got her out of there.

During that time Sandra had a house in the middle of Richardson.  She had gotten rid of it, and settled for a small one bedroom apartment because of how lonely the modest sized house had made her feel. The house in Richardson was where Sandra had shuffled Rachel off to.  The frightened woman had fought her every step of the way.  Finally she got her settled in the guest room with a large cup of tea and a very good book talking about how to cope with rape.  Rachel didn’t come out for 3 days.  Sandra had left her be, and left food and water outside of the door for whenever she was ready. She and Sandra had been close ever since.

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