[Teaser]

Location: Models, Inc.

Time: 10.00am, day after fashion show

Sarah quickly strode into the front office, past the waiting area, her tan sandal feet moving her with dedicated haste. Everything about her was haste, from the jeans and dark tie blouse rapidly put on, to the minimal amount of makeup needed for appearances. She held her shoulder bag tightly for right now, Models Inc. did not feel so friendly to her. She could just feel the eyes looking at her as she went by. Well, that was fine with her. If she could get what she wanted, she would not have to make that walk much longer. Eyes set, she went straight for the partner offices.

Advancing rapidly on Kristi's desk, she glared down at the blonde woman. As Hillary's watchdog, she was not one to be intimidated. Her defenses, however, were unnecessary as an unexpected shield was delivered to her. Grayson in stylish heather had stepped out of her office with papers in her hands. "These have to go out immediately, Kristi," and then she saw Sarah.

Sarah, who once she had saved from an untimely professional death to exploit her for the seductive raw material she was. Sarah who she coolly, expressionlessly, evaluated from her toes to the top of her blonde head with a quick glance of her eyes. Even that exquisite head of hair, innocent mouth would now cost more than it could ever reap. With that determination, Grayson coldly closed mouth smiled at Sarah, turned her head the slightest of degrees, and returned to her office, leaving the farm girl standing, her lips slightly parted in surprise at Grayson's hand washing.

Kristi clearing her throat brought Sarah back to the world. "Hillary wants to see you, Sarah." The model shook her head and continued her charge forward, oblivious to any sympathy the receptionist might have offered her.

Closing the door behind her, she tripped a step or two when the target of her advance, Hillary, was not present. 'How like her,' Sarah thought, 'wanting to put people at a disadvantage while she grabs the high ground.'

"Sarah." Sarah arced rapidly to one side to face Jason standing by the bar. Dressed in a dark English business suit, he looked both lordly and out for the kill. "Normally in this kind of situation, I would offer a drink to calm the nerves, but I know for you, that would be wrong."

"Spare me your analysis, Jason!" She walked straight over to the man, still clutching her bag, holding it a little in front of her like a shield. "Do you remember what you said to me?"

"About helping you?" he responded smoothly and she nodded. "Yes, I do, but there was also a conditional about the way you were acting." He reached out confidently to remove the bag from her shoulder, to encourage her to sit down. "Your attitude has not improved much."

She pushed,but did not slap, his hand away. "It should be enough. I can't work with these demands. I want out of Models, Inc."

"I couldn't agree more," responded Hillary's voice, each note dropping with a certain sense of the finale. Hillary, in a double breasted suit, closed the door behind her and walked without further comment to her desk, carrying a few files. "Be seated."

"I prefer to stand, Hillary," Sarah replied with a level of defiance.

Taking her seat, Hillary replied, a sudden diplomatic tone in her still cold voice, "Please, let's not make this any harder than it has to be."

"Since when did you care about the comfort of a situation?" Sarah shot back.

Hillary shot to her feet, slapping the files down on the blotter. "I DON'T DESERVE THAT!"

"Ladies, please!" Jason responded. Both turned to him still standing by the bar. "Hillary, be understanding. Sarah is only distressed, what between her father's death and the other events."

At the mention of her father, Sarah immediately calmed, pressed her lips together gently, and briefly nodded thanks to Jason.

Hillary, however, was shaking with anger. Pressing her spread fingers against the desk, her head bowed, her voice quaking, she said slowly, "No, Jason, that does not excuse her actions but perhaps only explain."

"Hillary, try to be und--", Jason said, continuing the push.

"No!" She looked up and stared directly at Jason with fury in her eyes. Jason, however, did not retreat. Hillary took a deep breath before continuing. "Nothing can be done with the air like this. Go. We will do this another time."

Jason gently touched Sarah's shoulders to guide her out. Before they turned for the door, Sarah took one more stab at the seething Hillary and said, "Now I understand what Teri meant when she said you like to make things ugly."

<Models, Inc.> Role Play Episode 18

**RP SEASON TWO**

Sweet, & sweet revenge

[Act 1]

Location: Unknown

Time: 11:00am, day after fashion show

"Why are we here, Craig?" Julie demanded as they parked at the small airport. She rapidly exited the Lotus as he slyly got out on the driver's side. The dry wind blew across the area of general aviation aircraft and small buildings, lightly billowing her hair, but not moving her sleevless denim crop blouse nor shorts.

"To take the stress out of your life, Julie, of the recent events. You do well," he said as he slammed the door shut, talking to her across the roof, "at work, letting nothing bug you, but off the job, you've been a bundle of nerves since the shootout."

"So, what's here, Doctor, Doctor?" she responded in her sarcastic tone.

Craig, in blue jeans and a bone long sleeve shirt, turned away from her in a sweeping motion and pointed to a tail dragging, bi plane of the ex-Soviet type with a large open door in the side.

"And, what's, THAT!" she shot back, dropping each word as she alternately stared, hands on her hips just above her shorts on bare midriff, at him and then the aircraft. And then it dawned on her. Softening her tone because of the fear of realization with her eyes going wide, her hands dropping to her sides, "Oh, no, you're crazy!"

"Come on, I know you can skydive, Julie. You picked up a cert for a gig a while back."

"And when it was over, I never went back!"

"I think it was only because you never had the time," he turned to face her again and then rounded the car to her.

"I can't! Hillary will go nuts!" Craig advanced on her and she did not retreat.

"Who's going to tell her?" Infront of her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. Dropping his tone to a softer note, holding her tight, "You need this, Julie. You need something to remind you of how fun life can be, something to return you to the you that knew how to stand on the edge.

"I've watched you over the past few days and you've been turning into a scared kitten, hesitant, afraid of things," as his hands, arms dropped down her back.

"Oh, really?" she said with a shake of her head, bouncing looks into his eyes, wanting to turn away, but unable to.

"Really. There have been only two times when you aren't. When you are infront of the camera and when you are reminded of how much you dispise Anna.

"But neither one of those can protect you forever. It's time to shake the shock and return to the dare you are before it overtakes you."

"What about Hillary," she asked in a small voice, finally placing her arms around his waist.

"After this, I'm sure you'll be able to justify it to her. After all, why should Models, Inc. have one adventurous model." He lightly pinched her cheek as she stared at him in awe. "You'll do what is necessary to remain competitive, right?"

"Very competitive," she said in her sultry tones as she hugged his buttocks tight and kissed him.

[Act 3]

Location: Jason's office in Models, Inc.

Time: 11:00am, day after fashion show

"Everything is fine. "

Jason sat back in his chair while tapping a pencil against his desk. The sky outside his window was slate gray, the wind occasionally raising its voice in a howl to be acknowledged. His navy blazer has been tossed across a nearby chair, leaving him garbed in a white shirt, expensive power tie and matching pin-striped slacks. His mood matching the weather.

He must be smooth on both ends, in order to succeed in anything. What Jason didn't realize was how difficult this whole Sarah affair was getting.

"I realize we're running late. Yes, I'm still interested in the investment; it is just going to take a little longer than planned." A flash of annoyance creeps into his voice as he sits forward, "Like I said, everything is fine! If things are going to happen as planned you are going to need to be more patient or you'll be left with nothing. I don't think Karl will be happy if that happened."

A voice was muffled on the other side of the door leading into the office increasing in volume as the door was opened, presenting Grayson, dressed in a bright gold dress suit with a translucent black silk blouse, angrily striding into the room as a flustered assistant unsuccessfully continues trying to deter her from getting any further into the office. Grayson stopped at the edge of the huge cherry desk. "I will speak with you, *now*!"

Jason rolled his eyes, sighed and focused his attention out the balcony window. "Ever heard of Job, Stan? You might learn a thing or two..." he stated before hanging up the phone. Continuing to ignore her he stood up and walked around the desk to hand a file to the assistant.

"Thank you, Kristi. I forgot to update you concerning ex-Mrs. Louder's last minute appointment. We won't be long." Jason gracefully escorted his assistant towards the door and waited until she has firmly closed the door behind her before turning around and walking back to his desk.

"Hello Grayson. How are you this morning? I'm sure you're happy to hear that the show yesterday was a huge success" he said as he adjusted his tie.

"Oh, really? That's nice." smiled Grayson, eyes fixed on Jason. "But guess what? I have better news."

"Much better news..."

[Act 4]

Location: Unknown

Time: Unknown

Bring Grayson the head of Carrie Spencer.

"The Mechanic" had every intention of being literal to that request, for that, and her hands and feet that he intended to include, would be absolute proof that he was right.

As the Mechanic heard the line to Grayson click off, he returned his gaze back to the bikinied Carrie by the pool.

He checked his watch, noting the lateness in the afternoon. The other people in the pool area were beginning to thin out. Carrie's eyes were closed, but he could not tell if she was asleep. However, there were ways in which he insure that.

The Mechanic, dispite his name and messy intentions, was youthful and rather tall, dressed in dark slacks and a white shirt. Clothing such as this he found enabled him to be accepted easily into most situations. Such as now when he approached the entrance of the kitchen and easily melted in with the crowd of waiters, becoming one of them, obtaining a large decorative glass of orange juice.

Returning to the area where Carrie was, he disappeared only for a moment from the public scene to add something to her drink.

He smiled inwardly as she shifted as his shadow cut across her. "Compliments of the house, Ma'am, a glass of orange juice for you." She murmured thanks as he placed it down next to her and paid no attention to him as he retreated.

Back to his spot where he continued to observe her, noting when she finally did drink. She would be asleep soon enough so eventually, he could approach her and remove her to a more private place.

When the police would eventually find her body, not only would they have a hard time identifying her, but they would have a tough time deciding if it was a sex crime or a gang land hit. For he did intend to rape her. She would be still asleep for such a violation, he thought, but at least, still a warm body. He fantasized as the sun continued to drop about how he would allow her to be awake as he slowly cut her to pieces.

Shifting from fantasy to reality, he waited till she was the only one left by the pool. Taking a slight chance, he moved off from his protected position to move his car to a position so he could rapidly move Carrie's unconsciousness form from her lounge chair to the trunk of his car. Returning, he gladly noted that she had not shifted.

Checking around for a clear path, he approached her body in the darkening dusk, shook her shoulder and received no response, then bent down to pick her up. Still no one challenged him and he started to move toward his car by the poolhouse.

Moving into the shadows, he pressed the car remote in his hand and the trunk obeidently popped open. Carrie was less than 20 feet from her temporary coffin.

With the sounds of the pumps of the poolhouse obscurring his hearing, the Mechanic was quite surprised when he sensed someone large behind him, an arm reaching around and pulling Carrie into his body, pinning his supporting arms together. Not as surprised, of course, as when a second later a knife entered his right kidney and twisted and then was removed, dropped.

As the Mechanic suddenly weaked in extensive, excruiating pain, the shape behind him caught and accepted Carrie's weight, pulling her from him. Quickly placing her on the ground, the large form went behind the Mechanic and assisted him with a push into his trunk, reaching down and snapping his neck with a twist, closing the lid with a quick look around to make sure no one was watching.

Five minutes down the street, the van pulled into an alley, opened up, and she was ushered to a nearby limousine. Inside, the 30ish man gently placed a drink in her hands as the limo and the van took off in opposite directions. "Here, drink this," he said gently.

Carrie gulped it, or tried to gulp it, but the effort left her choking. He watched her with his concerned dark eyes, a crease interrupting his otherwise smooth forehead, as he regretted having to use the drink to slam her down somewhere next to reality. As the tears came to her eyes and she shook, he gently took the glass from her, his hands indicating that he had never lived a hard life. With a soft, gentle voice, he asked, "Do you know why those men wanted you?"

Carrie could only shake her head desperately, the Wild Turkey still constricting her throat. She was trying to rapidly blink the tears away when she did manage to find her voice, but before she could use it, he spoke again.

"I really think that you do know why they wanted you and right now, I think you need a comrade." As she blinked again, now to the realization of the truthfulness of his words, he continued gently. "Who doesn't like you enough to do you harm?"

Carrie looked at the carpeting and said in a small voice, "Grayson Louder."

"You'll have to tell me more. Who is Grayson Louder?"

"She's a partner at Models, Inc.. And a madam."

"Yes, of course!" he said with such an uprising of spirit that it surprised Carrie, set her back a little. He gently reached out and touched her chin, raising it so her eyes met his brown ones. "That would make you Carrie Spencer." He smiled broadly with perfect teeth.

"Yo-you know me," she stammered?

"Your face had been around in too many promotionals to take that question seriously." At that statement, that she could never really hide or be away from this nightmare, she shrank back.

"Carrie! Relax, you are with friends here."

"Who? What friends?"

"Well, let's start with me. My name is Jarrod, Jarrod Miller."

"I don't know you."

"You do now. But," he said, his voice picking up a more serious tone, "if I am to help you, I need to know more." He reached over to the bar and poured her another drink, this time from a different bottle. Pressing it into her hand, he allowed her to get a swallow before he pushed her into talking.

Oddly enough, she started feeling completely relaxed with Jarrod, that there was no reason to hide anything from him. She dropped all her troubles, present and past on him. He seemed very receptive to her plight, having her repeat things as necessary. There seemed to be no reason why she couldn't trust this man.

[Act 5]

Location: Cafe Deco

Time: 3:00pm, day after fashion show

Sarah dials the number on the card.

"Cotillion Models and Pageants." a woman speaks with no enthusiam, yet with professional courtesy.

"Um... yes, can I speak to Ms Rosalind Deane please?"

When she was asked who she was, Sarah thought of hanging up, but decided not to. She gave her name and waited.

"Yes Sarah, this is Roz speaking."

Sarah recognises the soothing voice of Rosalind; from the same person whom she has spoken to the night before and gave her the confidence, or perhaps the outragousness to leave her job.

"Rosalind? You said you could help; so here I am. I want it."

[Final Act]

Location: on location

Time: afternoon, day after fashion show

Bright Eyes had been hanging off the side of a very real mountain with a very real countryside uncomfortably below her for most of the morning. She was dressed in bright 'roughing' it clothes and decked out with ropes, D rings, hammer, and other mountain climbing gear. There with the line stretched taut, she performed for the photographer also hanging on the sheer wall with her.

When the line of work was that of appearance, the employers owned both your body and your appearance. As such, they decided what you could and could not do. Beyond the usual requirements, she was restricted from almost every 'dangerous' activity that didn't involve work. Where work was involved, then they decided what was necessary.

Almost total realism was required for the mountaineering company. No trick photography could be use because it was felt that the buyer would be able to tell if the model was really outside or in a studio. Almost total because they had flown by chopper to the top of the site and then had lowered Bright Eyes to the face; they wouldn't let her rappel down. Since she was suppose to entice, they also nixed the helmet, going for shots instead with her hair both flowing and tied back.

Even though she hadn't worked getting to and from the shooting face, by the end of the day's light, she was drenched in sweat. She could hand one item to the photographer about the shoot; given the risk of it, he made very certain it was done right the first time. Their flight off this rock would be the last time for this season. Leaving the metal and rope with the prop master, she made for her own gear, stored in a colorful red back supplied by the company.

As she placed the nameless water bottle to her lips, "Bright Eyes?"

Without taking the bottle from her slightly parted lips but still without drink, she raised her eyes to the source, and was greeted by the camera snap of the photographer. Realizing the possible implications of the shot, she breathed out heavily once, up ended and took a large swig, then placed the bottle down to look at the man who was rewinding his camera.

"Even when caught off guard, you still entertain," he said with a large grin.

Bright Eyes sank to her haunches, holding on to the pack for support. She shifted to cross leg sitting as she started to ruffle thru her bag. "But it's not the kind of shot that can be used in the shoot, is it?"

He shrugged. "Portfolio stuff, either the company's or mine, depending." He looked over at the others, judged how soon before they had gear tied down. "Get prepped, kid. Looks like no more than 10 till load up."

She took another drink, pressed her lips together in thought, then stowed the water bottle as she dug out her beeper. Checking for messages, she saw that she had one in the tone off device.

"Stop/next on jobs. See Hillary." That meant that past this job, there was nothing else. But why? What had she done now?

--- THE END OF RP.18 "Sweet, & Sweet Revenge" ---

*NEXT EPISODE*

Models, Inc. RP.19 - "Everything Dies"

*Yes, even main characters! You'll soon find out who.

RP.18 Written by

*Traci "DRAGONETTES" <TH06@swt.edu>

*WhiteDog <lwdog@netspace.net.au>

New storyline devised and edited by WhiteDog,

*Danielle Spence <danielle@corp.hp.com> and *Traci "DRAGONETTES" <TH06@swt.edu>.