21.
“I’m so nervous,” whispered Kristin as she, Barb, and the three Graingers waited off stage at the FNPA Goose River Center VIP banquet hall. They could hear the murmur of voices, punctuated by gales of laughter, and the clinking of cutlery and dinnerware being collected and removed. Dinner was over. The curtain was about to go up.
The past day and a half had been busy. Under Kristin’s tutelage Barb and the Graingers had worked hard to learn the basic art of cheerleading, in addition to mastering the intricate routines that Kristin had assembled for the show.
From the very beginning, Kristin had been in her element, brimming with enthusiasm and excitement. She had even come up with the words for a special FNPA song, set to the tune of the University of Michigan rouser, which she made part of the opening routine.
Mastery proved especially difficult for Barb who, as a matter of principle, hated organized sweating of all types ... was famous at Hamilton High for her elaborately contrived efforts to evade gym class ... and ... truth be told ... had always been a bit of a klutz.
Her performance failures during the practice sessions had been a source of aggravated frustration for Kristen, who as the former Hamilton High cheerleading squad captain, prided herself on perfection. Barb’s inability to properly do the splits was a particular bone of contention.
The cheerleader outfits they were expected to wear presented another problem. Barb and the Graingers had been dismayed, and voiced vociferous complaints, when Lieutenant Nark presented them. The outfits consisted of skirts so short they barely covered the girls’ bottoms when standing still ... tiny semi-sheer g-strings of the kind worn by bar strippers ... along with truly minuscule tops, composed of no more than two small triangles of semi-sheer fabric held precariously in place by strings tied behind the neck and back.
In addition to white sneakers ... which the girls had resorted to trading around until everyone had a pair that fit reasonably well ... they had been issued red, white and blue pompoms to wave about. And, to complete the ensemble, as well as for added visual affect, Kristin had insisted that they all put their hair up in pony tails that would bob and sway as they pranced about on stage.
“I’m so nervous!” repeated Kristin for the umpteenth time.
“Relax. You’ve done all you could,” soothed Megan who had asserted herself as the primary voice of the three Graingers. “You’ve succeeded in making plausible cheerleaders of all of us.”
“Yeah, you even managed somehow to make a cheerleader out of me, which I have to admit was a challenge,” agreed Barb ... adding as she readjusted her top, which refused to stay properly in place for more than a few seconds unless she stood perfectly still and tried not to breathe, “these outfits, though, are fucking ridiculous. We might as well go out there stark naked!”
“Funny. Mine seems to stay in place just fine,” replied Kristin, glancing down at her chest.
“By the way, where’s Sue?” interjected Barb, who decided better of making an obvious derogatory comment. “We haven’t seen her since she went off with that creepy Lieutenant Nark just before the banquet was supposed to get underway.”
“Hopefully arranging the details for our release,” panned Megan drily, with Kathy and Elise nodding their anxious agreement.
“Oh, but look! Here’s Lieutenant Nark now. He’s come back,” observed Kristin.
“Hey, Nark! Where the fuck is Sue?” demanded Barb.
“Sue? ... oh ... yeah ... Sue ... she’s in the banquet hall already. You’ll be joining her soon enough. Time to get ready girls. Soon as I have the word, I’m opening those double stage doors for you all to burst out on that stage. Do yourselves proud! Perform well!”
“Okay, everyone. This is it!” enthused Kristin excitedly. “Let’s really wow them!”
Barb pulled a face as she rearranged her top to cover an errant boob.
“Everyone get in our V-formation behind me now, as we practiced,” directed Kristin as she flashed a look of disapproval at Barb. “And be ready to follow my lead. Be sure to remember to keep smiling and prancing, wave your pompoms high, and belt out our song loud and clear!”
“Yeah, right!” snorted Barb, taking her place in the V-formation slightly behind and to the left of Kristin and ahead of Megan. The other two Graingers ... Kathy and Elise ... lined up on the other side.
Everyone nervously adjusted their tops one last time, with the exception of Kristin.
Lieutenant Nark had stepped over to a control panel, his finger poised over a button that presumably would electronically throw open the backstage doors.
From somewhere out in the banquet room came the amplified voice of Guy Wirt, announcing “Gentlemen, the moment we’ve all been waiting for has arrived ... with great pleasure, I give you ... for your ultimate ... ahem ... enjoyment ... let’s hear it for them .... FNPA Goose River Center’s very own ... truly exotic ... Cheerleader Review! ... YEAHHHHH!”
(Applause against the drum roll intro to a recording of the Michigan fight song)
Hearing his cue, Nark’s pressed his finger to the button and the double backstage doors flew open, both silently and swiftly.
Kristin leaped forward onto the stage and began to sing as she pranced, pompoms held on high, pony tail bouncing ... followed in close formation by the others ... all focusing on keeping their movements in sync ... except for Barb, who was noticeably a full beat off the pace ... only to suddenly stop dead in their tracks!
Kristin’s voice trailed off ... the last notes falling flat. Her arms dropped to her sides, her pompoms released from her grip as she, and the others, stared in silent shocked disbelief.
For arrayed before them, down on the banquet hall floor, were three massive wooden rectangular frames, each equipped with double sets of chains and shackles bolted to the wood at the four inside corners.
And secured within the center frame ... spreadeagled, naked, body glistening with sweat, wild-eyed and tugging frantically at her cuffed wrists ... first pulling at one then the other ... was none other than ... Sue McDonaugh!
Clustered around and before Sue, eyes fixed on the quintet of stunned girls up on the stage, was a crowd of FNPA visiting dignitaries, FNPA officers, a silver-haired Guy Wirt, gaudily attired in a white tuxedo ... and ... leaning, arms akimbo, against a table laden with what appeared to be an assortment of whips, canes, paddles, clamps, pincers and bridles ... Colonel Grossmann, himself.
“Oh Shit!” cried Barb, tossing away her pompoms and spinning around, hoping to beat a hasty retreat ... only to discover that escape was blocked by a bunch of beefy FNPA guards and matrons, standing abreast across the back of the stage, elbow to elbow, ready for action.
From behind the line of FNPA muscle, Sergeant Karl Teufel stepped forward to say, his voice carefully modulated to assume a soothing but firm tone, “Don’t stop now, girls. The show must go on. Turn yourselves around, now, and resume dancing!”
Kristin was the first to respond, stooping after a moment’s hesitation to retrieve her pompoms, and calling on the others to join her, picking up the routine where they’d left off.
“Forget it! Everyone run!” shouted Barb, bolting for a side stage door ... with the Graingers close behind.
“Seize them!” bellowed Teufel.
TO BE CONTINUED
