Things were shaping up. All week since the harem girl night Marcus had been the perfect gentleman. They'd met for lunch twice, and on the second occasion he'd invited her old Human Relations boss and some of the clerical staff. Valerie got to wave her ring around under everybody's noses. Since the big dinner was scheduled for Friday Marcus begged off on an active Saturday, but he promised to take her to New York the next weekend to catch a play. She had to pick the play. He wanted to buy her a new car, but she demurred saying she had her own old Honda Civic plus the SUV she'd been driving. He said OK, but she didn't believe him since she'd seen a Lexus brochure in his den.
It was like everything that had gone wrong before was suddenly going right. He was so attentive and considerate, and the two times he'd taken her to lunch he'd acted damn proud. He was showing her off, and quite honestly, she liked it. At the first lunch date he even called across the dining room for an acquaintance to come over. He introduced her as his future wife, and insisted she display her ring as proof. It was a little awkward, and a little bit embarrassing, but she liked it anyway. Everything was going perfectly. There was only the thing about Rosalind. He didn't bring it up, and neither did she.
There was one other mildly disquieting concern, and she didn't dare bring it up with Marcus. Ever since she was fourteen she'd been just about as regular regarding some things as Old Faithful. That highly dependable regularity had always included her menstrual cycle. It had been five weeks since her first evening with Marcus, and she was three weeks into her cycle then. That made eight weeks, two months! She should have done something by now, but so far nothing. In the morning's she hadn't been sick or anything, at least not yet, but she was starting to feel a little off her oats. She thought she'd wait a couple more weeks to see what happened. Meanwhile there was the Friday night dinner party, and she had her part to play.
For her part Valerie put together the guests list, seating arrangements, and eating provisions with matchless efficiency. There were going to be a lot of children at the dinner. She set a separate table aside in a nearby room where she, Hilda, and one favored maid would concentrate on keeping them happy. The children's ages ranged from five to thirteen. It was quite a melange, but she was confident she could handle it. There were two with allergies whose food supplies that had to be managed. Well actually one child had an allergy and there was one with a food tolerance problem. She'd never known there was a difference until now. The allergy had to do with eggs, actually egg whites, while the tolerance problem was related to lactose and that meant milk.
Since the children would be seated separately, and she'd be close by if not at the table the whole time, she planned a simple coded format. The five normally healthy children would eat off the same standardized china plates the adults would use. So would the plates of the allergic and tolerance child, but they're plates would be discreetly labeled; the egg child's plate would be earmarked with a small yellow plastic snap, not more than a quarter inch in size. The milk intolerant child's plate would be marked the same way but with a blue snap. She would make sure the maid, Hilda, and both mothers would know the code.
All the children would eat the same foods. There was to be only one exception. They would all get a portion of tenderloin, some mashed potatoes, fresh tomatoes, iced tea to drink, and a fruit plate for dessert. But just to be on the safest of safe sides, the little lactose intolerant girl would get French fries, since Valerie had checked and found out, only at the very last minute, they were using instant mashed potatoes with the children. It was a tacky decision using instants, but too late to change, excepting for the one little girl.
Valerie left nothing to chance. Some of the adults would have lobster or some other kind of shell fish, some had opted for a specially prepared roasted chicken, and a few selected prime-rib. None of these foods went to the children's table. Nothing could be left to chance, right down to the decision to serve iced tea instead of milk.
The evening of the dinner was upon them. Marcus had left their choice of clothing in her hands and she'd outdone herself. Marcus was attired in a dark blue suit, starched white shirt, dark blue tie, and a pair of manly looking suspenders. Valerie had picked out a matching dark blue dress. It was short sleeved and had a narrowly scooped angular neckline that gave a hint of cleavage. The hem came to just above her knees. She wore dark blue high-heeled shoes with a pair of matching dark nylons. Knowing Marcus had a modest fetish about domestic attire she'd arranged that the cuffs of the sleeves and the edges of her collar would be sculpted with some ruffled trim. The ruffles were a tiny part of the dress, but they did hint at the illusion of her being something of a serving girl or maid. The affect was minimalist, but Marcus noticed it immediately. She could tell by the big smile.
The guests started to show. Coats, hats, and shawls were placed in the foyer. Before dinner drinks were provided the adults while the children were given the opportunity to engage in a raft of activities she'd planned. The older children, thankfully being girls, hung with the adults and pretended to be involved with their conversations.
Everything went according to plan.
Dinner was served! Valerie ushered the guests into the dining area, and briefly retreated to the children's dining area to help Hilda and the maid with seating and food dissemination. That's when the first signs of trouble emerged. During the pre-dinner entertainment social groupings emerged among the children. Now they wanted to sit according their new preferences. It meant some shifting, but nothing noteworthy. However, to be on the safe side Valerie told Marcus that she'd stay with the children while they ate. He didn't seem to mind, so she hunkered down between two of the youngest children correctly figuring a little meat cutting and bread buttering might be in order. The youngest children had no allergies or tolerance problems but the reference to butter was a misnomer. They were using a well-known and safe margarine.
Out came the foods, and everyone started to dig in. The little one to her right, having been separated from his older sibling required some serious affection. The one to her left couldn't manage her meats so Valerie had to do some heavy duty slicing. As things commenced Valerie felt just a little proud of herself. A talented woman she thought, a real multi-tasker, slicing and buttering both at the same time! How positively silly! She was having a blast!
Looking around the table, set up with eight seats, everything was going like clockwork. With luck she might even be able to leave things to Hilda and the maid and get to join the grown-ups.
With children it sometimes seems the worst things happen when they're the happiest. Valerie looked around the table, and everyone certainly seemed to be happy. Even the two early adolescent girls were in the act, helping and entertaining. The were laughing and giggling and trying to make eye contact with the one boy who was they're approximate age. The younger boys were all being well behaved, and this in spite of her being warned one was a little hellion.
Everything looked perfect! That's when it all blew up. Scanning the table for what she hoped would her last time before leaving for the adult section she saw the impossible. The little girl with the lactose problem had turned blue! She was grabbing her throat! Already the signs around her neck indicated a serious glandular problem.
Valerie jumped from her seat and ran round the table to the little girl. She shouted something she didn't remember just what and pulled the girl's chair back. She glimpsed at the plate. She had the correct plate. What could be going wrong? "Marcus!" She cried out. Marcus! Come quick!"
In an instant Marcus and a dozen other adults were in the room. He immediately recognized the problem and the seriousness of it. He shouted at Hilda. "Go in the kitchen and bring me some straws!
Hilda was incredulous. "Straws!"
It wasn't necessary to repeat the message Valerie was already in the kitchen. Shouting almost breathlessly. "Straws! We need straws!" She didn't know what for, but if Marcus wanted them, they were needed. She fled back to the eating area, straws in hand.
By then every adult was in the room. The stricken child's mother was hysterical. The father was trying to reach his daughter but Marcus pushed him away. The other men restrained him while Marcus went to work.
Marcus grabbed the straws from Valerie's outstretched hand and started pushing one down the little girl's throat. How he did it no one understood but he managed to get it past the swollen glands and into her larynx. He was forcibly breathing into the straw, and alternately pushing her chest down with his hands. He was compelling air down her throat into her lungs using a rigid plastic straw! She was breathing because he was compelling it in spite of a throat clogged by glands swollen in reaction to lactose she was not supposed to ingest.
It was a matter of minutes before they heard the ambulance arrive. Seconds later the paramedics were on the scene. The girl was being injected with something, epineptheral maybe? Valerie had no clue. What she did notice was the blue aura had begun to fade even before the paramedics took over.
Everyone followed the paramedics to the ambulance. The girl's parents joined her inside the ambulance. Marcus stepped back into the foyer, obtained a lightweight jacket and his keys. Turning to Hilda and Valerie who was standing beside her he pointed directly at Valerie and said in a low threatening voice. "I want you out of here before I get back."
