At one point, Beatrice had gone to the police to try to report a disappearance, but they would have none of it. To them, Susan was a grown woman who had absconded from her wedding. “She’s probably living happily in a new city, she may even have a new lover,” the police told her, shaking their heads in pity for this poor woman who couldn’t seem to acknowledge the facts of life and move on.
Beatrice had even heard one particularly nasty rumor, which did not get far, that maybe she had killed Susan and was staging this whole thing.
It was all too much to deal with.
Beatrice was home now, packing up the things in the apartment. She was planning to get rid of all of Susan’s stuff first. She would give most of it to Goodwill, and send any valuables or memorabilia to Susan’s parents.
As she was looking through some photo albums she found in Susan’s study, Beatrice stumbled upon an old photo that gave her an idea. It was a picture of her, Susan, and a beautiful red head named Debbie Brown. The photo was taken back in their navy days, when they had all served together. While Susan and Beatrice had focused more on intelligence positions, Debbie Brown had been an all around powerhouse, and trained as a Navy SEAL. She was an amazing woman, and she had been a good friend and an inspiration.
It had been a long time since Beatrice had thought about Debbie Brown. Their lives had taken separate paths, and they did not keep in touch. Beatrice had no idea what Debbie was up to these days, but she knew that she was a powerful woman who would fight for justice. Beatrice just could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. She thought Debbie would help.
It took some time doing research on the internet and several phone calls to old Navy buddies before Beatrice was able to track down someone who still kept in touch with Debbie and knew her phone number. They provided Beatrice with a cell phone number with a Washington D.C. area code and wished her luck. Beatrice said thank you and hung up before the Navy buddy had a chance to ask anything about how Susan was doing.
Feeling a bit nervous, and like there was a frog in her throat, Beatrice picked up the phone and gave Debbie a call. She felt her heart skip a beat as the phone rang. Not only was Debbie a powerful, strong woman worthy of respect, but she was drop dead gorgeous and something about her just gave Beatrice butterflies in her stomach.
On the third ring, someone picked up the phone.
“This is Brown. Debbie Brown,” Beatrice heard the voice on the other end of the line say. For a second Beatrice lost her nerve, and her voice, but she managed to speak up before Debbie got too irritated and hung up the phone.
“Hello, Debbie. This is Beatrice. I don’t know if you remember me anymore these days, but we served in the Navy together,” Beatrice told her. The tone of Debbie’s voice lightened up somewhat, and she told Beatrice that of course she remembered her.
“I don’t know how you got my number,” Debbie told her, “but there must be something serious going on. I’m all ears, although I am not exactly sure why you called me.”
Beatrice opened up to Debbie, telling her about Susan’s disappearance and how she just vanished without a trace. “Everyone thinks that she left me at the alter and just ran away, but I find it too hard to believe. There must be something more going on. No one has heard from her in two weeks.”
Debbie agreed that, as Susan’s fiancée, Beatrice probably had some pretty good hunches, but she warned her that love can hurt and can cloud people’s vision, and sometimes bad things just happen.
“Anyway,” Debbie told her, “I don’t know what you want me to do about it. I have not spoken with Susan in years. I have no idea where she might be.”
Beatrice confessed that she had always looked up to Debbie and she thought that she might be able to get somewhere tracking Susan down. Debbie told Beatrice that she was, in fact, working now as an international super spy, but unfortunately she was not the one who picked her assignments, and also she was out of the country completing an important mission and she could not come back to the United States to investigate something as mundane as a disappearing bride.
“A spy?” Beatrice gushed, momentarily forgetting Susan and feeling a heady rush of admiration and some lust. “I always knew that you would do something amazing with your life! You were so wonderful when we were in the Navy. You know, Susan and I always looked up to you. You were always so smart and strong and debonair!”
Debbie cut off Beatrice’s gushing, flinching a little bit at the girlish display of admiration.
“Those were great times, Beatrice, I agree with you. But I am sure you are doing something important with your life now too, so there is no need to get so excited over mine. Now, let me tell you what I can do. I work for a powerful billionaire named Harriet Rothchild. Harriet runs an international lesbian spy ring out of her huge mansion in Washington, D.C. She is the one who gives me all my assignments, and she is the only one who would be able to give me clearance to work on this case of the missing fiancée. I just don’t have the time or the clearance to take on private missions. Besides, there is nothing in it for me. Much as I cherish the good times we had back in the Navy days, I have to make a living too, you know.”
Beatrice stammered out an apology, and was going to hang up the phone in defeat, when Debbie continued, providing her with one last piece of information.
“Now,” Debbie instructed, “if you call this number and speak with Harriet and can convince her that your missing fiancée is worthy of her time and money, she will assign me to the case and I can get right on it. But that is the only possible way I can help you, I’m sorry. My hands are tied.”
Beatrice told Debbie that she understood.
****
Later that night, Beatrice mustered up the courage to call the billionaire Harriet Rothchild. She had done a bit of internet research on the woman, who was a real powerhouse herself, but she was not able to uncover too much information. Harriet kept her secrets well guarded, and with all the money she had she could control what showed up about her on the internet. Beatrice was going to have to go into the phone call flying blind.
Beatrice called Harriet, but no one picked up. She left a complicated, confused, desperate voicemail, begging Harriet to call her back. Twenty four hours passed and there was no return phone call. Beatrice tried again, being more composed this time and reading off of a script. She waited another day and still there was no return on her effort.
This went on for a full week, with Beatrice leaving lots of messages on Harriet’s machine, trying all sorts of different tactics, and getting no answer back. She was starting to get very depressed, and her drinking was really picking up. Beatrice had gone from the occasional glass of wine or mixed drink to chugging vodka straight out of the bottle. She had quit her job, but she had halted her packing up of the apartment and all of Susan’s things, feeling too emotional to finish the job. She would pass out drunk, clinging to Susan’s old clothes or another piece of memorabilia that reminded her of her lost fiancée.
Beatrice was currently asleep on Susan’s bed, passed out in her wedding dress, clinging to one of Susan’s old teddy bears that still retained her smell. Photographs of the two women together were scattered all over the floor. Suddenly, her sleep was shattered by the shrill ring of her cell phone. Beatrice groggily picked up her phone, and then she snapped to attention when she saw that the number on the caller ID was from Washington, D.C. It must be Harriet!
“Hello,” Beatrice picked up the phone, speaking confidently through the vodka haze.
“Hello,” a prim, controlled voice on the other end said. “My name is Harriet Rothchild, and I believe you have been trying to get in touch with me. I have several long, pleading messages from you in my voice mailbox.”
“Yes,” Beatrice stammered, “I have been trying to call you about my missing fiancée.”
Harriet did not seem impressed, so Beatrice tried to tell her the whole story. About how they were both scientists working for Chell Oil and Susan had discovered a special new hydrau
lic engine that would completely revolutionize the transport industry. It would replace gas with water, making travel essentially free. Then she told Harriet about how Susan never returned from her meeting with the board of directors, who claimed they had never had a meeting in the first place. She told Harriet about how she was stood up at her wedding, and now three weeks later, and no one had heard a peep from Susan, and Susan had never returned to get any of her things or tried to even be in touch with her parents.
Although she listened patiently, Harriet did not seem very convinced by what Beatrice was telling her. “This is a very sad story,” Harriet agreed, “especially for you. Unfortunately, I just do not see how I am supposed to help you. I have much bigger, more important business to take care of. I am sorry to have to put it so curtly, but that is the truth, and I must politely decline to offer my services, or my spies, to help you. I hope you understand.”
Beatrice told Harriet that she did understand. Harriet wished her look and bid her farewell, then hung up the phone. Beatrice sat, staring dumbfounded at her cell phone, wishing she had found some way to convince Harriet to help her and wondering what she would do now. Beatrice had brains, but she was no spy, and she did not have the faintest idea where to even begin in looking for her missing lover.
So, instead of formulating a plan, Beatrice hit the bottle again and fell back into her slumber.
Chapter 6, Gobs of Evil Money
Harriet has been a bit annoyed by the phone call she had just made. She was all for helping lesbians in trouble, but this story seemed to be more about jilted love than it was any big mystery. Still, she did despise the Chell Oil company, and so she gave the story Beatrice had just told her a bit more thought.
Chell Oil was certainly an evil corporation, destroying the environment through their horrible methods of oil extraction and refinement, killing endangered species on a mass scale whenever one of their tankers ran afoul, and sparking international wars over gas prices. They were definitely the type of people Harriet loved to take down.
As she was looking more into the Chell Oil company, Harriet stumbled across an interesting piece of journalism. It was about energy discoveries in recent years, and especially about green energy and its revolutionary possibilities. The article mentions that over the last twenty years, over eight inventors had mysteriously gone missing while working on breakthrough inventions that would greenify the oil industry. All of these people were working on special methods for creating engines that would run on water rather than gas.
This really got the gears in Harriet’s brain going. At first, she had thought it was just a coincidence that Susan had supposedly gone missing, or run away, after a meeting with the Chell Oil board of directors. After all, both women worked for Chell Oil and Beatrice was still alive and kicking and making phone calls. Susan must have been the real brains of the couple, however, and she must have stumbled across something really important. Something that the board of directors at Chell Oil did not like at all. Something that threatened the most important thing to them: their ability to make gobs and gobs of money.
Harriet needed more information from Beatrice. One thing that did not make sense to her was why Chell Oil would only go after Susan. After all, as a fellow scientist and Susan’s room mate and lover, it only made sense the Beatrice would know as much as Susan about the design of this new water engine.
When Harriet called Beatrice back, she caught her off guard. She could hear the drunkenness in Beatrice’s voice now, the slight slurring of her words as she spoke. This did not bother Harriet in the least. The more off guard the woman was, the more information she could get out of her. Harriet started inquiring deeply about Susan’s invention, and she discovered that Beatrice knew very little of Susan’s work. They had separate offices on different floors, and worked on completely different areas. They were both engineers, but Susan had also excelled in chemistry, whereas Beatrice focused on design and was poor with chemical equations. Not only that, but Susan had been very private about her work. Beatrice explained that it was the scientists’ code. When one was working on a potential invention, they kept things as private as possible so as to avoid disputes about precedence during the patenting process. Susan probably thought she might even with a Nobel Prize for her work, and so of course she did not want to share any important insights with anyone. That meant that Beatrice was basically clueless about everything other than Susan’s most basic idea. When Susan’s personal assistant had left, she had cleared out Susan’s office, so there were no documents or written notes in Beatrice’s hands. She was no threat to Chell Oil at all.
Now, Harriet had a different question for Beatrice. “Do you really love this woman?” Harriet asked her point blank. Beatrice did not stumble at all on her reply. “Of course!” she said. “I love her more than anything, she was my entire world, and I can’t believe she is gone.” Harriet smiled, and then gave Beatrice an important piece of wisdom: “Love always finds a way, my dear. I am sending a private jet to come fetch you. I want to speak with you in my mansion.”
Harriet hung up the phone, and Beatrice felt like she could jump for joy. Except she was a bit too drunk, and she just ended up on the floor. Beatrice picked herself up and made a strong pot of coffee, which she drank black. Then she chugged a large glass of ice water. Her head feeling clearer, Beatrice went and packed a small suit case with a change of clothes and some underwear. Her fingers grazed her vibrator as she was packing, and she felt overcome with a fit of anger. She grabbed the stupid pink device, opened her bedroom window, and flung it out into the streets. She watched as it fell, hit the pavement, and the batteries fell out as their holding chamber shattered on the side walk.
Less than an hour later, there was a honking from outside and Beatrice saw a classy black limousine outside of her apartment building, waiting to pick her up. She was whisked off to a small airport, where she boarded Harriet’s deluxe private jet. Beatrice snoozed off the rest of her hangover on a comfy plush recliner as she flew to Harriet’s mansion in Washington, D.C.
Chapter 7, I Want Her Back!
At Harriet’s mansion, Beatrice was united with Debbie Brown. Debbie looked hotter than ever, and her fit, tight body looked gorgeous in her zip up black leather spy suit. Beatrice was also introduced to Harriet, an older lesbian who conducted herself with a real air of dignity. Beatrice was impressed by both of them, and to be honest, she felt a bit meek and unworthy of their help.
Harriet led all three of them into a big, NASA sized computer center, and introduced Beatrice to her intelligence team. Beatrice was in total awe of all the amazing technology she saw around her, and she was also amazed by the fact that everyone who worked in Harriet’s mansion headquarters was not just a woman, but a lesbian as well. Harriet had truly assembled the finest team of talented lesbians in the whole world, and they were all here, working in harmony under the direction of their powerful leader.
Beatrice met a boyish woman named Billy Jean, who was the head of intelligence operations, and her assistant, the meek and mousy, bespectacled Penelope, who seemed so slight and shy. They asked Beatrice for some information about Susan, and then they worked together to unlock her files. With all of Susan’s data, they began a huge seep, scanning the globe’s travel center, airports, bus stations, and city surveillance systems for finger print, eye recognition, and video traces that could lead them to Susan’s location.
Penelope informed Beatrice that the scanning was so intensive that it would take at least twelve hours to complete. Harriet invited Beatrice to relax and enjoy the mansion and all it had to offer in the meantime.
There were a whole lot of women around, and many of them were incredibly smart and attractive, but Beatrice found it hard to keep her mind off of her missing Susan. She walked around Harriet’s mansion, peeking into different rooms and talking to different women who were employed there as spies. There was all sorts of fancy furniture, ancient artifacts, and rare one of a kind works of art hanging all over the mansio
n. It was also teched out to the gills, with all sorts of super computers and futuristic devices built into the architecture of the building.
Beatrice found herself feeling more than a bit jealous of Debbie, who had the privilege of living in this ultra cool mansion whenever she was not away on secret missions that took her to exotic places and put her in dangerous situations with beautiful and interesting people. Ah, the life of a spy! Beatrice could imagine herself working somewhere in this mansion, putting her knowledge of engineering to good use designing tools, for example, that spies could use on various missions. It all seemed so glamorous and amazing, and it made her old job working for Chell Oil seem like one of the lamest things that a person could do with their life.
Of course, Susan was not as lame as her. Susan was the real visionary. Susan had her head wrapped around all of the sciences so good. She was much smarter than Beatrice in many ways, and Beatrice could not imagine, even in this mansion full of sexy and smart women, finding a partner that would be as suitable for her and as appealing to her and as smart as Susan. Susan had been her one true love for the longest time, and she was determined to get her back.
In the midst of her wandering thoughts, Beatrice had been physically wandering, and she found herself walking around the gardens in the back of the mansion. She walked through a heavily wooded area and peeked through some trees to see a beautiful, German style cottage house. “This must be some sort of guest house,” Beatrice thought, as she got closer. She hoped there was no wicked witch living inside!
When she got close enough to peek inside of the windows, Beatrice saw Harriet inside, speaking with an older woman. The two of them seemed to be having an interesting conversation, punctuated by laughter and sweet nudges on the shoulder. Finally, they both broke out into peals of laughter, and then fell into each other’s arms, making out passionately. Beatrice was turned on, but she did not want to spy too much longer. It just did not feel right, especially after how much Harriet had helped her. But, she could tell in her heart that Harriet also had a special woman in her life, a woman that understood her like no one else in the world could understand. She did not know that she had been witnessing Harriet sharing a rare, intimate moment with Gretchen, her bottom bitch, but she thought she understood why Harriet had changed her mind and decided to help her. And maybe she even understood what Harriet had meant when she told her that love always finds a way. Harriet was more than just one of the world’s wealthiest lesbians, she was a thinking, feeling woman. An educated and smart woman, and a woman with a heart. Beatrice felt her spirit soar and her hope was renewed. Love would always find a way, she just knew it. She would get Susan back for sure!
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