Chapter 1: You Can't Win If You Don't Play

Lesa Crews was forty-two and a supervising librarian at Georgia Tech. She had a lifetime habit of sensible eating and exercise, and with the right makeup and clothes she could easily pass for thirty-something. Her 5'9" frame comfortably supported the 150-pound mass of her body. She had a naturally dark complexion that required little makeup. At work she typically wore medium to dark business suits over a silk blouse with her dark strawberry hair in a tight bun. The muscular legs that extended below the knee-length skirts where encased in dark hose that ended in 2" heels that made her height even more imposing.

Her powerful father traveled almost constantly, and she had been raised mostly by boarding schools. Her father was supportive, but had always stressed the qualities of independence and self-reliance. She had typically joined him during summer breaks in whatever part of the world he resided at the time. Some were exotic and some mundane, but she was often exposed to economic realities that, shall we say, daddy didn't learn at Harvard Business School.

Her husband, Franklin, had been killed when the transport ship that was bringing him and his team back from an offshore mining facility broke up in a light gale and sank. When investigators revealed irregularities in the inspection and maintenance of the vessel, Lesa had enlisted the help of one of her father's oldest friends from his Harvard days and received a sizeable wrongful death settlement. It was never proven with evidence admissible in court, but several executives in a rival mining operation were implicated in the false certification of the doomed vessel. From her summer experiences, Lesa also knew some of her father's friends and associates who were not Harvard graduates. When legal avenues had been exhausted, there were a series of unfortunate accidents and disappearances among the prime suspects.

The loss of her husband and two of their best friends, Charles Lawrence and Randy Philips who had also been onboard, had been a serious blow. Lesa had taken a sixteen-month sabbatical to focus on salvaging what she could of her husband's business dealings, and to bond very closely with her children. Her oldest, Sara, was only nine-years-old the time of Franklin's death. Samantha was less than a year old, and Franklin Jr. was five.

Lesa's father had not been pleased with the body count among those suspected of complicity. He cautioned her with three rules to make her life easier: kill only murderers, steal only from thieves, and do nothing that gets noticed by the press. In her mind, those who knew that the vessel was unsafe were responsible for the deaths of eighty-six people, making them murderers.

Just when it looked like she could put her loss behind her and get on with her life, the news that the Earth was not alone in the Universe was released. The good news came first. There was an advanced civilization out there called the Darjee that we could consider our allies. The bad news followed. There was another advanced civilization known only as the Sa'arm that was closing in on Earth and destroying every civilized world in its path. The worse news came even later. There was no stopping the Sa'arm, and there were not enough resources available to evacuate the population of Earth. The one ray of hope was sending selected humans from Earth to dispersed colonies.

Lesa's CAP score of 6.3 meant that the only option for her and her children to leave Earth before the Sa'arm arrived would be if she was chosen as a concubine of a Confederacy volunteer. She became even more motivated when her oldest turned thirteen. If she didn't emigrate in the next twelve months then she would probably be separated from her daughter forever.

She began frequenting coffee shops every morning even though she always ate breakfast with her children. She also took them to parks, malls, and every public event that she could manage. These gatherings could turn into Confederacy recruiting parties if enough volunteers and concubine candidates were present.

Taking stock of her situation, she started looking for a way to get some control over her future. It was not in her nature to wait for things to happen; she was more of a make-things-happen type of person. Leaving her future and that of her children to chance was simply not acceptable. She began actively looking for candidates she could manipulate who would qualify as Confederacy volunteers.

Due to his young appearance, Jacob Caulfield had caught her attention long before she learned of his very rare 8.7 CAP score. There were not many sixteen-year-olds spending late nights in the library's reference rooms. She knew that he was a Georgia Tech student and, therefore, had to be very smart.

Lesa saw how distressed Jacob became when approached by girls in little more than body paint and big smiles, unless they were genuinely collaborating on an academic project. Her mothering instincts motivated her to shield him. But she sensed that mothering would repel him. Somehow she knew that Jacob already had an overprotective mother.

She got his name and student number by looking up the history of a book he had returned. Jacob had a perfect 4.0 academic record with a very tough load of math, science, and ... literature? If she was not intrigued before, she was certainly interested now.

Lesa was playing scenarios in her head looking for one that would bring her to his attention when she was brought out of her reverie by a disturbance in Jacob's direction. Lesa signaled the staff librarian approaching from the central kiosk to return to her desk. Approaching the table herself she heard a heated argument originating from under the table at Jacob's feet.

"Look what you did, you clumsy cow. You made him cum all over his slacks!"

"Hey, he went off before I got started. It's not my fault!"

"Oh yeah? Move over and I'll show you how it should be done."

Lesa squatted down on her heels with as much dignity that she could muster in her short wool skirt and peered under the heavy table. "Ladies, ladies, please keep your voices down." There were two buxom girls with badly bleached blonde hair grasping Jacob's wilting shaft in one hand and pushing each other away with their free hand.

"This is hardly the place for effective fellatio. I suggest you collect yourselves and leave through the nearest exit." Swinging a stern gaze from one combatant to the other, Lesa backed them down. They left quickly enough, but continued glaring and slapping at each other all the way to the door.

Lesa stood and faced the blushing Jacob. She admonished him with, "You really shouldn't encourage that kind of behavior in here."

Jacob was mortified and humiliated. Turning bright red he tried to defend himself. "I didn't encourage them! I didn't even know anyone was under the table until one of them grabbed my belt buckle. I wasn't able to break free with both of them gripping my pants."

"It wasn't your pants they had a grip on when I looked under the table." Lesa was trying not to laugh at the poor boy. "Tell me why two girls would be fighting over your manhood in here. Are you that good?"

Jacob worked his mouth like gasping fish, but no noise came out until he managed a squeaky, "Sorry." Gathering up his book bag and computer, he also beat a hasty retreat.

"Damn, that was clumsy of me," Lesa mumbled to herself. Knowing that it would be impossible to speak with him openly about the situation and especially the complaint the girls had expressed, she slipped a couple of books on human sexuality and sexual development into the stack of books he had left at the table knowing he would find them when he returned later that evening.

A few days later she approached Jacob. "Excuse me. Allow me to apologize for jumping to conclusions and embarrassing you the other day. Please allow me to buy you a coffee, Mister... ?" When he only gave her a deer in the headlights look and made no response, she added, "Would it embarrass you that much to be seen drinking coffee with an old woman?" She was gambling that he possessed a sense of chivalry and was not ashamed of using it to her advantage.

He blushed, "You're hardly what I would consider an old woman. I would be honored to have coffee with you. I'm Jacob Caulfield, but I answer to Jake. When would be convenient, Miz... ?"

'Charming' she thought, nodding absently. "Lesa Crews, please call me Lesa. I'm one of the librarians here and have a break at three o'clock." She suggested, "Shall we meet at the Starbucks across from the science building, or would you rather meet in the campus cafeteria?"

"Starbucks would be fine. It'll be easier for us to find each other there," Jake replied.

Smiling, Lesa said, "See you there a few minutes after three, then."

Jake left almost immediately for his afternoon classes.

Lesa stopped by the central kiosk at three o'clock and told the girl she was going to take a thirty-minute break.

Jake was waiting at the door to the coffee shop when Lesa arrived at ten minutes after three. "I was beginning to worry."

"Sorry, it's a bit of walk here, and I couldn't leave the library until three." Lesa paused and looked Jake directly in the eyes, "What I want to discuss is likely to cause you even more anxiety. No, it's not related to the unfortunate event in the library. Please, let's get our coffees and sit out on the patio."

After paying for the lattes and finding a table in the afternoon sun, Lesa launched her carefully planned diversion. "I have three children," she began. "Sara, my oldest, just turned thirteen. The rules for dating have changed dramatically since I was a teenager, and I don't think that the good advice I was given at her age still applies. In order to prepare her for adulthood, I need to know more about current adolescent sexual norms. I'm hoping you can help me, or at least point me in the right direction."