My Summer Project Part 3: Minutes from Madness
-- Chapter 1: Learning to Fly
"I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings..."
"For the first time, they didn't see a student. They saw me."
--Frank Hollis
The midday sun poured across the patio like warm silk, light glittering on the waters of Lower Genesee Lake. The Hollis estate shimmered under a soft blue sky, as if it had been polished just for today.
The lunch table, shaded beneath the wide cedar pergola, was an exercise in casual elegance... white linens, pale blue napkins, polished silver. Frank's mother had set it herself before departing, her meticulous touch woven through every small detail.
Frank worked the grill behind the outdoor kitchen island, methodically flipping skewers and arranging toasted flatbreads, following his mother's instructions to the letter. The scent of grilled vegetables and citrus-glazed chicken drifted over the patio, mingling with the sun-warmed cedar.
At the table, Bobbi, dressed, her bra stuffed in her bag, sat nearest the grill, sunglasses perched on her head, her iPad in her lap, a glass of wine in hand. She smiled every time Frank glanced at her, each smile carrying the secret knowledge of their morning tryst. Her blonde pigtails and tied-tan blouse gave her the air of a mischievous sprite... dangerous and disarming.
Frank tried to focus on the food, but every so often, his gaze strayed... trailing along Bobbi's crossed legs, her bare midriff, the glint of the silver navel bangle resting just below the knot of her shirt.
The patio doors swung open with a soft thud, and the low murmur of Rayna and Tom's conversation. Their laughter floated ahead of them, light and easy... the earlier tension between them replaced with a different, secret intimacy. A satisfaction neither of them dared speak aloud.
Rayna's short brown hair shimmered with a damp sheen, catching the sun. Her cheeks still held a subtle flush that had little to do with the weather. Tom walked close beside her, his briefcase in hand, but his eyes occasionally flicked toward her... not possessive, but with a rawness that hadn't been there yesterday.
But when they stepped onto the deck and spotted the figure at the table, both slowed, confusion... and something else... washing across their faces.
Seated casually at the table, barefoot, wine glass in hand, was a petite blonde with long pigtails, a tied tan blouse knotted just under her breasts, and a white tennis skirt so short it barely brushed the tops of her thighs. A silver bangle glinted from her navel. Her skin glowed warm gold under the sun.
There she is, the woman in the window.
Guess the holy sister likes to get filled before lunch.
Bobbi hid her grin behind her wine glass.
Rayna stopped mid-stride, her mouth tightening.
She couldn't help it. A sharp flicker of jealousy twisted in her gut... hot, bitter, irrational. She recognized the blonde.
That's her. The one who saw me.
Frank's girlfriend. Or mistress. Or both.
Rayna's stomach twisted. Her face flushed with heat... from shame, from anger, from something darker.
Frank's little friend,
Rayna thought bitterly. She looked young, relaxed, claimed. Like she belonged here. Rayna's mind filled in the blanks with cruel efficiency.
Is this who he's been fucking? The girl he wakes up with, cum-soaked and sweaty, tangled in his expensive sheets? The girl he smiles at in the morning before heading off to his bright future?
The thought made her chest ache, and something darker stirred low in her belly... an ache of anger, envy... and something she wasn't ready to name. The memory of seeing Bobbi's naked form sunning itself, utterly unashamed, returned vividly, and the ghost of an illicit thrill whispered through her body.
Rayna forced a thin smile, cocking her head.
"Frank," she said lightly, too lightly, "Who's your little friend?"
Beside her, Tom tensed... caught by a reaction far more primal.
His eyes swept up the blonde's bare legs, the smooth expanse of her inner thighs where her short skirt flirted with danger. His gaze traced the flat, taut midriff, the soft swell of high, perfect breasts straining against the thin fabric.
Then he met Bobbi's eyes... the lazy, knowing glint behind her sunglasses... and his cock gave an involuntary twitch inside his chinos.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The cold shower he'd taken after his tryst with Rayna now seemed laughable. Embers exploded back into open flame.
Tom shifted his briefcase to hide the growing bulge in his pants.
She's fuckable in every way. Christ, who is she? One of Mari's party girls? Some rich summer fling?
For a second, one dangerous, reckless second, he imagined her knees spread, that tiny skirt rucked up, those long legs wrapped around his waist, nothing between him and her bare, glistening heat. Her moans filling his ears as he slowly pushed his hard cock inside her.
He tore his gaze away with effort.
Meanwhile, Frank moved with casual ease, stepping out from behind the grill, unaware of the silent turmoil behind his guests' faces.
They looked relaxed; they seemed so tense when they arrived.
"Good timing, lunch is ready," Frank said, voice easy, almost amused.
He motioned between them with a small, practiced gesture.
"Dr. Sister Rayna Simons, Dr. Thomas Richter... meet Dr. Bobbi Baxter."
The words hung in the warm air like a dropped stone.
Rayna blinked, confusion knitting her brow.
Tom froze, mouth half-open.
The name barely had time to settle before Frank continued, introducing Bobbi formally.
"Vice-Dean of Sciences and Director of Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning at Caltech. Visiting Scholar at Harvard, MIT, and Yale. President of the Pine Run Trust."
Bobbi rose lightly to her feet, modest and poised, despite the weight of Frank's introduction.
Rayna and Tom froze. Their mouths opened slightly in stunned silence. They knew Bobbi Baxter by reputation... but they hadn't expected this.
Bobbi laughed softly. "Breathe, guys. It's okay."
Blue eyes met brown, with a knowing grin on her lips. She hugged Rayna like an old friend. She turned, gave Tom the same look and extended a firm, warm handshake to him.
Rayna stammered, cheeks flushing. "I am so sorry, Dr. Baxter. I... I didn't recognize you. I just read your work on using AI to map DNA mutation patterns."
Tom remained mute, eyes wide in disbelief, a tension burning inside him that wasn't just from awe. "It's an honor, Dr. Baxter."
"It's okay." Bobbi smiled warmly. "I get that reaction a lot. I know I look like I'm still sneaking into R-rated movies."
They laughed awkwardly, the worst of the tension draining. Bobbi's humility did more to put them at ease than any resume could.
Bobbi motioned them to the table, "Please, sit. And relax. I promise not to bite..."
Too hard.
Still stunned, Tom and Rayna sat across from each other, flanking Bobbi.
Bobbi retrieved the wine from the cooler and poured a glass for the two committee members. "You should have seen Frank and Cathy's faces this morning," she laughed. "I thought I'd have to do CPR on Frank if he didn't start breathing."
Rayna gave a small laugh, the tension easing.
Bobbi poured them both wine with casual elegance, the sun gleaming off the rim of the bottle. As she handed Rayna her glass, their fingers brushed... warm skin against skin, electric.
Still shaking from this morning, Sister?
I'd be curious to see if you moan the same way for me.
Rayna stiffened, the spark shooting straight up her arm and blooming into something sharper, heavier, lower. Her mouth went dry.
She looked up instinctively... and met Bobbi's eyes behind her sunglasses. Calm, confident, knowing.
Does she know what she just did?
Rayna took the glass hastily, careful not to let their fingers touch again, murmuring a distracted thanks.
She caught Tom glancing at her, but if he noticed anything, he said nothing.
Bobbi smiled again, slow, lazy, and turned back to her own wine as if nothing had happened at all.
Rayna sipped automatically, her mind spinning. The summer heat outside had nothing on the heat simmering just beneath her skin.
She didn't look at Bobbi. She couldn't.
"I've read your work on adaptive mushroom evolution twice, Dr. Simons," Bobbi added smoothly. "And your field work with nutrient-absorption cycles in second-growth forest layers was part of what convinced me this land needed scientists, not just surveyors."
Rayna blinked again. "I... thank you. That means more than I can say."
Bobbi turned to Tom. "And Dr. Richter, your methane-release model from the Alaskan permafrost is, frankly, terrifying and brilliant. Your projections helped us frame our carbon sink strategy in Pine Run's long-term vision."
Tom sat back, surprise flickering across his otherwise easygoing face. "Didn't expect to hear that over grilled chicken."
Bobbi smiled. "You will find I read compulsively. I'm a fan of good work. Titles don't impress me. Results do."
Rayna leaned forward. "Then I think we're going to get along just fine."
They sipped wine and let the lake breeze soften the atmosphere. For the first time that day, formality truly began to peel away.
When Bobbi sat back down, she turned to Rayna with a conspiratorial smile.
"I love your skirt, by the way. Very summery. Very sexy. Anglican chic?"
Rayna laughed, her earlier embarrassment fading. "I left Sister Rayna at my apartment. Just Ray this weekend."
Tom grinned mischievously. "I've known Ray for five years. Never even knew she had legs before today."
Rayna's cheeks colored... but now there was something different in her smile, something sharper.
Frank returned to the head of the table, the final platters laid out: grilled vegetables, lemon-thyme chicken, and couscous with sun-dried tomatoes. He tapped his glass gently to get their attention.
"I just want to say," Frank began, his voice strong but warm, "thank you all for being here. It means a lot to my father... and to me."
But before he could finish, Tom leaned back in his chair with an easy, almost smirking grin.
"Yeah, yeah, Frankie-boy," Tom interrupted, waving his hand lazily. "We know the deal. Daddy left you the PowerPoint and a permission slip. Read the slides, let Bobbi tell us the real story, and we'll hash it out later like grown-ups."
The words landed harder than maybe Tom intended.
Frank's smile froze for half a second, then slowly melted into something tighter, colder. Bobbi's eyes flared dangerously behind her sunglasses but said nothing yet, watching.
Frank needs to handle this himself,
she thought.
Across the table, Rayna straightened abruptly, her casual smile falling from her lips.
Frank drew a slow breath, letting the moment stretch just long enough to command the room.
Before he could speak, Rayna slammed her palm lightly but sharply on the table.
"BROTHER THOMAS," she snapped, voice sharp as cracked ice. "Apologize. Now."
Tom looked genuinely startled.
