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*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Leeanne Dumas ran her tongue over her teeth again. It seemed like forever since Dr. Campion had first put the braces on her horrible buck toothed grin. For the first year, she’d even had to have a shunt on her lower jaw, to elongate the bone.
“It’s so bad even chipmunks make fun of me,” she’d tell the few friends she had.
The shunt came off just in time for her to go away to college, U.S.C. But the then seventeen year old girl got lazy and didn’t keep up with the orthodontist appointments. At age eighteen, she gave herself a birthday present and used a pair of pliers and pulled the metal appliance from her mouth.
So, when she graduated with a doctorate in Computer Sciences from CalTech, she had to go right back to Dr. Campion and have him clamp down her teeth again.
“And you’re paying for it this time; I paid for the first ones,” Leeanne’s mother shrilled.
Leeanne worked with Oscar Coutre for the first year she was home. She could diagram the schematics of a mainframe system, design and implement a series of events and causalities for a server, as well as map series for tables. But she learned more just running network wires for Oscar Coutre than she had from any instructor at USC or CalTech. She learned more from him and from his clients than any classroom had ever taught her.
But it was a desktop PC that had belonged to a former president of First Union Bank that had launched Leeanne Dumas into her current career.
Joseph Marcoloni had used his position at the bank to enrich himself, and to manipulate women for sexual favors.
Joseph would approve loans for women based on their oral skills, not on their abilities to afford the loans. Joseph gave raises to tellers based on their vaginas, rather than on their merits.
But it was the siphoning off of one penny here and two pennies there from the thousands of clients that attracted Leeanne’s attention.
The loans, First Union Bank had to write off most of them. The raises, First Union Bank had to shrug their shoulders.
But the incremental misappropriation of funds that went into a file named ‘JMRF’ that, after seventeen years as president of First Union Bank amounted to just over nine hundred thousand dollars was enough to get Joseph Marcoloni eight years in Battle Grounds, a white collar minimum security prison in Paulton, Louisiana.
And Heidi Moek, the new hire of First Union Bank, had simply asked Leeanne to reset the password and clean the unit up a little so she could use the PC.
Now, First DeGarde Bank, First Commerce Bank, Baylor Lake Savings & Loans and First Union Bank had Vickers, Vickers & Dumas on retainer.
Vickers, Vickers, and Dumas also did much work for the greater DeGarde Police Departments, as well as Elgee’s Police Department. They were also on retainer by all the law offices in the greater DeGarde area, with the exception of Johnson, Johnson and Lambert Law Office.
Tracy and Stacy Vickers, Leeanne’s partners were identical twins, and were second generation German-Americans. Their grandparents had met in the huge, confusing Kennedy Airport and clung together, to help each other navigate the confusing, dizzying labyrinth of hallways, and corridors and queues and lines. During that time, Dr. Vickers found out that Dr. Ivernek was a doctor, just like him, and was a cardiologist, just like him.
The two families, joined together by common peril and common language, settled in Lafayette, Louisiana.
Karl and Elena Vickers had a son, whom they named Lyndon, after President Lyndon B. Johnson. A year later, Helmut and Stacy Ivernek had a daughter, naming her Patricia, after the beloved First Lady, Patricia Nixon.
Both families grew over the years; the Vickers had six more children and the Iverneks managed four more, including a set of twins.
Lyndon and Patricia had two sons and three daughters, including the twins, Stacy and Tracy Vickers.
The twins followed their siblings in attending Hamburg University, a free German University. They did not follow their two brothers or older sister in pursuing medical degrees; their skills were in numbers, not muscles, joints and veins.
Upon returning to the United States, Tracy and Stacy enrolled in the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, to pursue Masters Degrees in Accounting.
Both girls were striking brunettes with strong square faces, ice blue eyes, and heavy eyebrows. They stood at five feet, six inches, and were blessed with large chests, slim waists, and round hips. They could thank their mother’s genes for their 36D breasts. They could also thank their father’s genes for their slim waists; he was a tall, slender man. Their mother and their older sister had large, protruding bellies, large, protruding buttocks, and thick legs.
The girls wore their brown hair long, down to the tops of their buttocks, parted in the middle. For business functions, presentations, or court appearances, they halkalı escort would put their hair into severe buns. But most of the time, they wore their hair loose.
They’d opened an accounting firm, simply called ‘The Vickers Sisters’ but a simple divorce case, in which they were called upon to do some forensic accounting had them joining forces with Leeanne Dumas.
Afterward, the twins, and the attractive red head saw the wisdom in a joint venture and became Vickers, Vickers & Dumas, and an investigation concern.
For her Orthodontist’s appointment, Leeanne had taken the entire day off; she’d anticipated having a severe headache from the orthodontist visit. So she was dressed in blue jeans, sweater, and heavy coat, instead of her usual business garb of pleated skirt, matching jacket, and silk blouse along with dress overcoat. And her long red hair was hanging down loose, instead of in the usual bun, or long thick braid that she affected for business purposes.
On the passenger floorboard, she had Dr. Campion’s personal computer, which she would be working on, gratis. She did many personal computers repairs on the side; Vickers, Vickers & Dumas was not interested in the twenty five, fifty dollar upgrades, or virus removals, or ransomware removals that Leeanne often performed for friends and neighbors.
But Leeanne did provide the twins with full invoices for each of these that she performed. They had a good, solid contract for their business, but Leeanne did not want any allegations of misconduct to jeopardize their business.
Arriving home, Leeanne backed her Lexus into the garage, checking carefully that everything was where it was supposed to be, that nothing was where it wasn’t supposed to be. A friend of hers had been brutally attacked by an obsessed stalker that had snuck into her garage after she had pulled into her garage.
Even though she had looked around, Leeanne still made sure her hand was on her .357 pistol as she got out of her car. She then walked around the back of the car to get to the passenger side, and got Dr. Campion’s old, dusty unit.
Entering her house, Leeanne was met with a blast of warm air and chided herself for once again forgetting to turn off the heat when she had let that morning.
“No, no, remember?” she argued with herself out loud. “You said you were coming right back, remember?”
She stood at five feet, six inches, had a pale complexion, but thankfully, only a few freckles across the bridge of her small nose. She had warm brown eyes, and a sweet, shy, and now, finally, a metal free smile.
Her breasts were little more than handful, a 32B, but her aureole were large, sensitive light brown circles.
Her waist was twenty nine inches and her hips were thirty two inches. She had a cute little butt and slender legs.
After putting the doctor’s computer on the workbench she’d set up in her living room, the attractive young woman looked around her three bedroom, two bathroom home. Finally, she determined she was alone and shrugged out of her coat and transferred the pistol and holster from coat to belt.
Then she unscrewed the casing from the computer.
“Holy cow; there’s half your problem right there,” Leeanne muttered, seeing twelve years of dust inside the machine.
While Leeanne was using canned air to blow the dust out of the machine, while Stacy and Tracy Vickers were poring over the banking transactions of a suspected drug trafficker, Tiffany Gernaud was dejectedly walking along a strip of shops. The eighteen year old blonde shivered as an icy blast of wind blew off the Atchafalaya Basin, giving the twenty nine degree day a bone chilling wind chill.
She stepped inside the Bargain Bin clothing store and sighed as the warm air enveloped her. Cheerful Christmas music tinkled from the ceiling mounted speakers.
“Help you?” Grace Breaux, the store owner asked pleasantly.
“Um, I’m um, you hiring?” Tiffany stammered.
“No, Sweetie, afraid not,” Grace smiled sympathetically. “Wish you’d been here a month ago.”
The woman did hand Tiffany an application and smiled approvingly when Tiffany showed that she had her own pen.
“All right, Tiffany, I’ll keep this on hand; anything comes up, I’ll give you a call, okay?” Grace said when the young woman finished filling out the one page application.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Tiffany said politely.
The arctic blast that hit Tiffany when she pushed open the door made her gasp, almost squeal out loud.
She cursed herself for her own laziness, her own lack of motivation. But when you’re eighteen, blonde, and cute and your boyfriend’s rich, who thinks about looking for work?
When you’re five feet one inch tall, have 36C breasts with fat nipples, a twenty four inch waist and thirty four inch hips and an ass that just begs to be squeezed, who has the motivation to seek employment?
And then when your boyfriend suddenly decides that, while you’re fun to fuck, but you’re not really wife material and you realize you need work…
Tiffany taksim escort stepped into Miller’s Electronics and stamped her feet to get the chilling cold out of her feet. Her tennis shoes, her best shoes just were not suited for such extreme cold.
The plump red head at the counter was surly, downright rude when she politely asked him for an application. Tiffany wondered if she might have had the boy in any of her classes at Northside High School. When she was dating Billy, she’d snubbed a lot of her classmates.
When you’re hot, blonde, and dating a rich kid from Cabrini High School, who worries about being nice to those that are beneath you?
Tiffany determined that the red head must have been in one or two of her classes, even though he was at least two years older than her.
“I’m sorry, miss,” Derek, the owner of the store snapped, putting an application in front of her. “Brandon, back, now!”
Tiffany filled out the application, listening to the two men argue with each other. Hearing phrases like ‘cock sucker’ and ‘pussy’ let Tiffany know, her chances of getting employment here were slim. But she forged on anyway, hating to leave anything unfinished.
The door chimed and a blast of cold came in and Tiffany wondered if she should alert the men that they had a customer. She looked over her shoulder as a young red head woman entered.
“Hi, Ms. Dumas; what can I do you for?” Derek asked pleasantly as he came out from the stockroom.
Leeanne named the chip sets she needed; her personal stash of spare parts had been depleted.
“My God, what are you running on that? Windows 98?” Tiffany blurted out.
“Pretty close,” Leeanne laughed. “Windows XP, if you can believe.”
“Got uh, got seven of them,” Derek called out from the interior of the stockroom.
“All of them,” Leeanne called back.
“And got a twenty gig plug and play hard drive, still in the box,” Derek said as he came back to the counter.
“Really? They still make those?” Tiffany asked.
“Take it;” Leeanne said. “He’s running a four gig right now.”
Derek rang up the purchases. Leeanne looked over the girl’s shoulder as Tiffany filled out the application.
Leeanne knew, unless Tiffany Gernaud was packing a nice fat cock in those ridiculous distressed blue jeans, she had no chance of being employed by Derek; he liked pudgy young men with plump cocks and tight holes.
“Miss? Obviously, you know a little bit about computers,” Leeanne said as Derek printed out the receipt.
Tiffany told her about tearing down and rebuilding a few computers her father had found in a dumpster.
“I mean, there was five of them and I mixed and matched them and got three of them working,” the girl said proudly.
“Derek, you planning on hiring this young lady?” Leeanne asked.
“Um, no, not really, I mean, I just hired Percy, you know, for the Christmas rush,” Derek said. “I mean, if she’d been here about two, three weeks earlier…”
“You still wouldn’t have hired her,” Leeanne thought, but didn’t say it out loud.
“Then you wouldn’t mind if I steal her?” Leeanne asked, taking Tiffany’s application form off the counter.
Tiffany got into Leeanne’s pink Lexus and then suddenly wondered what she was doing. Other than ‘Ms. Dumas’ she had no idea who this woman was.
The house was a nice one, and Tiffany recognized that she was only two blocks away from Billy’s house.
“Wait here,” Leeanne ordered as she and Tiffany entered the kitchen through the garage.
Once again, Leeanne went through her ritual of checking the entire house before determining that it was safe.
Tiffany’s eyes widened at the sight of the handgun clipped to Leeanne’s belt.
“Work bench’s back here,” Leeanne said.
Tiffany immediately bent to work.
“You map the old hard drive?” she asked as she prepared to pop it out of its slot.
“On the thumb drive,” Leeanne said, pointing to the USB port.
“When’d you get the braces off?” Tiffany asked as she began importing the data.
“What?” Leeanne asked.
“You keep running your tongue over your teeth,” Tiffany said and began a scan of the new hard drive. And when you open your mouth, you immediately pull your lips down, like you don’t want me to see your mouth.”
What else have you observed?” Leeanne asked, intrigued.
“You’re a natural red head but you don’t have a lot of freckles, probably use the hell out of sunblock,” Tiffany said.
“Now how do you know that?” Leeanne asked, smiling.
She immediately went to pull her lips down, and then remembered, the hated braces were no longer there. She resumed smiling at the short blonde girl.
“Eyelashes light brown. Tube of sunblock on the kitchen table,” Tiffany said and nodded in satisfaction as the scan came back clean. “It’s burning up in here and you have on a long sleeve sweater, jeans, long sleeve shirt; you keep your skin completely covered.”
“Uh huh; what else?” Leeanne asked.
“You’re ambidextrous, but şişli escort you favor your left hand; most lefties are somewhat ambidextrous by necessity; it’s a right handed world,” Tiffany said, stepping aside so Leeanne could check her work.
Leeanne approved of Tiffany’s work and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.
“Hey, Tracy,” she said.
“Stacy,” Stacy tittered into the telephone.
“Half the time I swear you and your sister are saying you’re the other just to mess with me,” Leeanne smiled.
“Uh huh. So what’s up?” Stacy asked.
“I think I found our Girl Friday,” Leeanne smiled as Tiffany finished putting the case on the computer.
Leeanne scheduled the interview for the following morning, and then asked Tiffany what business attire she had. In answer, Tiffany indicated her distressed blue jeans and button up blouse.
“Take this out of your first paycheck; come on,” Leeanne said and ushered the girl out to her garage.
Tiffany looked around as they entered Abdul’s, the exclusive department store in DeGarde, Louisiana. She’d only been in the trendy store a few times, and each time had left almost as quickly as she’d entered.
The blue jeans she’d picked up were marked one hundred and twenty dollars, and that was on mark-down. The shoes she’d picked up were two hundred and twenty four dollars.
Leeanne smiled as she ushered Tiffany into the Petite Department.
“Now, what size do you think I wear?” she asked Tiffany as she waited for the sales clerk to finish with a customer.
“You get your tops about a size too big; are you trying to hide your chest?” Tiffany asked, looking at some slacks.
“My boobs are way too small,” Leeanne admitted.
“For who?” Tiffany asked, quickly putting the slacks back.
“Hi, welcome to Abdul’s,” the salesgirl smiled.
Leeanne told the girl what Tiffany needed and the girl led them to another rack.
“Ms. Dumas, wait,” Tiffany said, pulling the red head back.
“What? I told you; this is coming out of your first check,” Leeanne said to the now agitated girl.
“No, Ms. Dumas, anything you get me won’t fit in about two months,” Tiffany said.
“Why?” Leeanne asked.
“Use your powers of deduction,” Tiffany suggested.
“Oh,” Leeanne said, looking at Tiffany’s flat belly. “How far along are you?”
“About two and a half, three months,” Tiffany admitted.
“Okay; then we’ll come back when these don’t fit,” Leeanne said.
They selected three outfits, and got a pair of sensible shoes as well as some stockings.
“God, hate panty hose,” Leeanne admitted. “Man that invented them should be shot.”
“Now, how you know it was a man?” Tiffany asked as they left the store, bracing against the bitter wind.
“No woman would ever do that to another woman,” Leeanne insisted.
Leeanne drove Tiffany home, gave her the address and directions to her house from Tiffany’s home, and shook Tiffany’s hand.
“I’m sure Stacy and Tracy are going to love you,” she assured Tiffany. “See you at seven thirty.”
Tiffany let herself into the rental house and was immediately assailed with the odor. At least one of the younger kids had a soiled diaper; Dad had brought home fried chicken for dinner again, and had already started on his beer.
“What you got in the bag?” Cecil, her younger brother asked.
“Some clothes; I got a job interview tomorrow,” Tiffany said.
“Who with?” Gary asked.
“Vickers, Vickers they do investigations,” Tiffany said.
“Oh,” Gary said, not comprehending what his oldest child had just said.
“Maybe they can investigate why you got a butt face,” Cecil said.
Tiffany pointed to Christine and Gary sighed.
“Christine, you got a poo-poo diaper?” he asked.
“No,” she lied.
“Christine,” he said.
“It’s Matthew,” Christine lied.
Tiffany took extra care with her make-up the following morning and gratefully accepted a ride from her father as he drove to his job at Siegel Recycling.
“Good luck, Baby girl,” he said as she slid down from the truck.
Leeanne let her into the warm home and invited Tiffany to have a cup of coffee while she finished her own cup.
“Stacy and Tracy are kind of weird,” Leeanne warned as she ushered Tiffany out to the garage. “I swear, one has a headache, the other one takes the Tylenol.”
“You might want to wait to put on your blouse until after you’ve brushed your teeth,” Tiffany said.
“Damn it,” Leeanne giggled, seeing the small dots of toothpaste. “Let me go change.”
Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of Lopez Square, in Kimble, Louisiana.
“We’re in the first office over here,” Leeanne said.
Tiffany entered ahead of Leeanne, looked around the spacious office and then smiled at the two brunettes that sat, regarding her.
“Leeanne says you’re pretty observant,” Tracy immediately began the interview. “There’s a vase in the corner…”
“The blue one? With the yellow flowers?” Tiffany asked as she approached their joined desks.
“And what’s next to it?” Stacy asked, pointing to the chairs in front of their desks.
“A framed picture of two girls on tricycles,” Tiffany said, sitting down. “I didn’t get a real good look at it, though; I didn’t see what they’re wearing.”
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