Thought Crime

Her arm flashed forward. "Whack!" The sharp crack of skin against leather echoed across the yard.

On the other side of the net, two young men dove for the ball which scampered between them. "Tock!" their skulls collided, and they fell unconscious on the sand.

Kelly landed feet apart, ready to repel the next attack. She flung her hair behind her shoulders, revealing brilliant blue eyes and a perfect, Nordic face. White gym shorts separated the square tracks of her tanned stomach muscles from the very long grooves of her muscular thighs. She was six feet, two inches tall.

At the picnic tables, fifty feet away, Irma Laches jumped, whooped, and waived her fists above her head. Goddess Kelly and a flat-chested, skinny, red-haired teenaged girl had just creamed the bigger, stronger college boys. Irma screamed "Go Kelly!" with the crowd. "Awsome!"

Irma shook her head in disbelief, and grinned. There were many men with athletic charisma, but few women. Kelly was one of those few. It was Irma’s first experience with what could only be called "Venus envy."

"My God!" exclaimed Charles Chen, festooned in chef’s hat and apron, standing next to the grill. "That's Kelly Kissimmee?"

"Yes," Lindley Meddlar affirmed, glaring at Irma’s exuberance.

Irma smiled in response. "Kelly must be a California Girl. All of that beach volleyball has paid off."

"How so?" Lindley’s voice was cold.

The young men were still motionless. A frown flitted across Irma’s forehead, but she wasn’t really worried. Most men had very thick, very insensitive skulls. The boys would be all right. "Kelly’s a wonderful athlete, and she’s exceptionally beautiful," Irma explained.

"How does playing volleyball on a beach make someone beautiful?" Lindley persisted.

Irma shrugged off Lindley’s cross examination. She didn’t feel like dealing with her boss’s bullshit – not today. Irma was determined to enjoy her first company picnic.

The groggy boys groaned and started to stir. Kelly and the redhead were quickly at their sides, helping them to their feet. Kelly squatted and, with slender, gentle fingers, brushed sand from each boy’s bare legs and backs, and the backs and fronts of their shorts. "Not afraid to touch the enemy anywhere, and in public," Irma silently observed. The young men certainly didn’t seem to mind. Kelly was indeed an uninhibited California Girl.

Kelly, the redhead, and the boys walked up the hill – drawn by the ambrosial odor wafting from the grill.

Like a vixen hunting mice, Irma warily circled the picnic tables laden with food.

"See any men you like?" Lindley’s voice came from just behind her left ear.

Irma cringed. Lindley was standing too close, trespassing into Irma’s personal space. Lindley’s eyebrows were raised, commanding a response.

"Well I'm – I’m not looking at men," Irma stuttered.

"Of course not," Lindley’s voice was acid. "You can't just stand around. You need to get to know these people."

"I’m getting a hot dog." Irma nodded toward the propane grill where Chen was holding court. "Care to join me?"

"I am going to do my job and make the rounds. Care to join me?"

Irma doggedly remained polite. "Sorry. I have a problem with low blood sugar." She would not be dragged around like a mut on a leash by her boss. Irma deliberately turned away from Lindley and walked to the grill, growling in anger. The only thing she really didn't like about working at Winsome Semiconductor Corporation was Lindley Meddlar. Lindley could go to hell.

"Damn!" Irma thought, immediately impaling herself with guilt. Lindley was right. This was a company picnic. She should have been schmoozing with the engineers. But there was no crime in eating, or having a moment alone, either. Lindley's sarcasm was too harsh. "For Pete's sake, you're supposed to be able to enjoy a picnic!" Irma thought. She angrily jerked the tab on a can of Diet Coke and speared dip with a celery stalk.