F.M.P. Society Read online

  F.M.P. SOCIETY

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, February 2004

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  PO Box 787

  Hudson, OH 44236-0787

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-808-1

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  F.M.P. SOCIETY © 2004 DAKOTA CASSIDY

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Briana St. James.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  F.M.P. Society

  Dakota Cassidy

  Prologue

  Katia Martin was busily waxing her bikini line when the damn Fairy Godmother bell chimed. She looked up with disdain. Jeez. Like, didn’t anyone care that she was in the middle of something important?

  Sighing loudly, she watched as Mia’s (capital m, little i, little a) long legs ran to the mailbox that appeared out of nowhere, with little warning and much ado about nothing. It hovered politely in the air as Mia dug through it, pulled out the official Fairy Godmother scroll and rolled it out onto the floor. A fine mist of puffy white clouds parted and just as quickly, the mailbox literally disappeared into thin air.

  Simone lurked behind Mia’s shoulders to get a glimpse of their assignment, her caramel skin a stark contrast to Mia’s pale pallor that said, “this flesh has never seen a UV ray in its life”.

  “Oooh,” Mia cooed. “Look girls, another assignment!” Her high-pitched little-girl giggle made Katia cringe.

  Simone didn’t smile at all, she just shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant manner, as if to say, so? Her sharp angular features remained a mask of perfection as she blew on her wet nails.

  Simone chimed in with her usual sarcasm. “Oh, goody! Another loser in need of a Fairy Godmother. I don’t know about you girls, but this whole Fairy Godmother thing is so droll.” Mia wiggled her perfectly manicured finger at Simone.

  “You know you don’t mean that, Simone.” Mia winked. “I mean the least we can do is help those who are less fortunate than us. We’re like way beautiful, not everyone is as lucky as we are.” Mia gave them her best one-hundred-watt smile, flashing teeth that were so perfect and so white it hurt everyone’s eyes to look at them. Her big blue eyes sparkled.

  “I am telling you right now, I will NOT do another lip wax. The last one was perfectly horrifyyyying,” Simone said as she emphasized her words with a shake of her finger. “These women have no idea the sacrifices we made as supermodels. What’s a little pain in the interest of a moustache-free upper lip I ask you? So she got a rash. Like we all haven’t been there.”

  Simone cat-walked over to the couch, with a practiced sway of her hips. She resumed painting her nails, dismissing them.

  Katia groaned inwardly. Simone thought any wide open space was an invitation to sashay.

  “We don’t make sacrifices anymore Simone,” Katia reminded her. “We’re dead, remember?” Simone’s perfect face twitched, her black almond-shaped eyes narrowed to a deadly point.

  “Well whose fault is that, Katia? If you hadn’t held us up with your bitching and moaning over that stupid new designer’s bathing suit, we would have cleared the runway long before it collapsed. Now look,” Simone said dryly.

  “Ya know what, Simone?” Katia asked, crossing the room with a hobble, congealed wax glued to her thighs, and shook her fist at Simone. “If you say that one more time I’m going to—”

  “Girls!” Mia cried, clapping her slender hands sharply to get their attention. “Stop it right now! There’s no use crying over spilled milk. We’re all together and that’s all that matters.” Mia smiled sheepishly at them, “We’re dead… But we’re together.”

  “Shut up!” Simone and Katia yelled in unison.

  Mia waved them off absently and said, “We have a subject who needs our help and from the looks of it, this subject needs like a lot of help.”

  “Don’t they all?” Simone snorted.

  Katia gave a good yank to the now cooled wax on her bikini line and yelped. “Ahhhhhh! Damn, that hurts,” she swore, as she hopped around from foot to foot. But her thin cellulite-free thighs were now restored to their perfection.

  “Let me see that damn thing, Mia,” Katia grabbed the scroll from Mia and skimmed the intended subject’s stats.

  Oh my. Well, it did indeed look like Cara Anthony needed some rescuing. “Aw, would you look at the poor thing. She is just pitiful.”

  Mia nodded her head. “There is soooo much work to be done. But look at her potential, Katia, I mean her hair is fabulous. Don’t you agree?”

  Katia nodded her head thoughtfully.

  “It’s gonna be a full makeover this time, girls. Well, we’d better bust a move if we’re gonna get to her in time. Mia, grab the makeup kit. Simone, get the wax.” Katia ordered.

  Simone let out an exasperated sigh, her pretty, full lips pursed into a pout. “Why do I always have to do the wax?”

  “Because you’re an expert at it Simone. I mean, look at all the hair removal you’ve done from your body alone.” Simone shot Katia the look of death. Mia jumped in cutting them both off.

  “Look girls, this is an emergency, like 911 okay? Could we puuuleease stop fooling around and find the shoes?” Mia planted her hands on her nearly non-existent hips and tapped her foot.

  “I’ll find them,” Katia offered with a huff as she headed for the hall closet, opening it to a tumble of shoes and coats. “You know, Simone, if you would clean up after yourself we wouldn’t always be losing them.”

  “I cannot live like this,” Simone whined, stomping her foot. “I miss Geoffrey. He was the best butler a supermodel could ask for. I don’t clean anything. Ever. End of story.”

  “Well that’s pretty damn obvious. Would you look at this closet?” Katia accused while she threw more shoes than any three women could ever hope to own in two lifetimes out onto the slick tiled floor. “Hah!” she yelled triumphantly, “I’ve got them.”

  Katia let the red, high-heeled pumps dangle from her slender fingers. They glittered in the light. “God, they’re fabulous, aren’t they?” She said on a sigh. “C’mon ladies,” she summoned them, “there’s work to be done…”

  Chapter 1

  Cara Anthony dropped a heavy tray of scrambled eggs into its slot beside the bacon as she blew at the steam that wafted upward. She hoped steam really was good for her pores. She’d certainly had enough of it. She should have the skin of a supermodel by now.

  The long line of hungry executives who frequented her cafeteria seemed never ending. Tucking the stray tendrils of hair that had escaped her cap, Cara set about serving the impatient movers and shakers of the world who inhabited the building by day.

  “Morning, Mr. Andrews. Hungry?” Cara knew without question exactly what Henry Andrews wanted, or rather what his wife had so carefully instructed her to give him. She began to fill his plate with fruit and cottage cheese just as she knew Mrs. Andrews would want it.

  Mr. Andrews, her favorite ad-exec, rubbed his round belly with beefy hands. “Well, seems to me you already know the answer to that, beautiful.” He smiled at her warmly and accepted his plate with a harrumph. “Sure wish the missus hadn’t decided it was time to get healthy. Who can live on fruit and curdled milk, I ask you?”

  Cara chuckled and winked at him. “It’s for your own good, and you know it,” she soothed him, watching his broad back as he made his way down the line. As she gave the eggs a stir she called,
“Next.”

  “I’ll take the scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns, please.”

  Cara fought the mad parade of butterflies that assaulted her belly, the thrill of pleasure that shot up her spine.

  It was him.

  lexander Mackenzie.

  She groaned inwardly. Smoothing her uniform over her thighs, she looked up into the most fantastic brown eyes from Earth to Venus. Taking a gulp of air, she plastered a smile on her face and picked up the spoon to begin scooping eggs with trembling hands.

  Ruby bustled around her, filling the trays with juice and milk cartons. She nudged Cara with her broad hip. “Look, honey buns, it’s Mr. Booty-licious,” she teased, cackling quietly in Cara’s ear.

  Cara’s face turned all the colors of the spectrum. “Ruby!”

  “What?” Ruby smiled innocently, as she pinched Cara’s cheeks with her thick fingers. “He is booty-licious, right? Mmmm, girl, I ain’t never seen a finer piece of ass than that! Whew, would I love to sink my teeth into him,” Ruby whispered in Cara’s ear.

  Cara swallowed the lump in her throat. As she handed Alexander his plate, her gloved hand brushed his and she immediately stiffened.

  He smiled at her, showing his perfect white teeth. “Thank you.” His deep tenor sent another heat wave of color across her cheeks.

  Cara smiled shyly back. “You’re welcome.” Did she detect a squeak in her voice when she said that? Oh, damn, squeaking was not good. No squeaking allowed.

  He was hot. So what?

  Big deal! She only wished her nipples would agree it wasn’t a big deal.

  Alexander Mackenzie would never pay attention to a mouse like her who worked in the employee cafeteria. He was world traveled and the owner of a major corporation. He could have his pick of any bodacious babe on the block.

  Babe being the operative word here, Cara Anthony was decidedly not a babe. She was so not a babe. Nor was she bodacious. Well, maybe her ass was. One night was all she asked with him. Her shoulders sagged. Like that would ever happen.

  Sighing, she finished feeding the hungry breakfast crowd, peeking now and again at the table across the room where Alexander sat with the employees who worked for him. The sun shining in from the large, street-side window glinted off his wide shoulders. He was so incredibly hunky she had a lump in her throat. He was tall and hard bodied with a trim waist and thickly muscled thighs like trees. The muscles bulged through the fabric of his pants and she wondered if there was a fine sprinkling of hair on them. Hair she’d gladly run her fingers through. He took a sip of his coffee and her heart stopped, just watching his big hand curl around the Styrofoam cup.

  What would it be like to have those hands on her? What would it be like to run her fingers through his thick, coffee-colored hair? Cara’s ears pricked at the deep rumble of his laughter. She would never have the confidence to attract a man like that. She would never look good enough to attract a man like that.

  Well, life sucks and then you die, right?

  * * * * *

  Cara unlocked her apartment door with a relieved sigh. She was exhausted and worse, she smelled like tuna. She wrinkled her nose and threw her purse on the couch, looking forward to some dinner and a shower.

  The BEAST, as she fondly called him, was armed and ready to utilize his best sucking up skills. He knew tuna on whole-wheat day at the cafeteria like Imelda Marcos knew shoes. His midnight-black tail twirled around her calves, tickling her as she knelt to pet him.

  “Hey, fat boy. Miss me?”

  He allowed her a small scratch of his ears and then he beat feet to the kitchen, circling impatiently for dinner. His soft purr echoed in the tiny room as Cara dug around for a can of cat food. She plopped the bowl down in front of The BEAST and grabbed the cheese in a can with some crackers for her dinner.

  Kicking off her shoes, she sat down at the small table to eat. She ripped open the crackers and sprayed each liberally with the processed cheese. Popping one in her mouth, she leaned back in her chair and sighed with pleasure, letting her eyes close.

  “Daaaahling, you really shouldn’t indulge like that. Cheese is sooo not good for a girl’s thighs.” A voice, smooth as silk, crooned from out of nowhere.

  Cara’s chair tipped backward and fell on the floor, the legs scraping the linoleum as she went. Her head hit the hard surface with a thud, and the crackers slid across the floor, flying everywhere.

  “What the hell?” She was hearing things. She scrunched her eyes shut as she massaged the newly formed lump at the back of her head.

  “Simone! Look what you’ve done,” Cara heard a little girl’s voice chastise.

  Alrighty, then. What the hell was in that can of cheese?

  Potent stuff. Good for a hallucination or two. She felt a small hand brush her hair back from her eyes.

  “Damn, Simone, haven’t you learned anything about re-entry into the human realm? We’re not supposed to scare the living crap out of the subject. So sorry, love,” a throaty voice apologized, “we didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Cara peeked up at the voices in her head. Holy cow. Omigod.

  Voices in your head did not have legs up to their eyeballs. A voice in your head didn’t have three sets of legs either.

  Cara scrambled backwards, grabbing the can of cheese from the table to use as a weapon. Good gravy, like cheese in a can could help me now.

  “Who the hell are you?” Cara pointed the can at them defensively, daring them to come any closer. All those long luscious locks were destined for a very sticky hell if they came anywhere near her.

  “Darling, give Simone the can of cholesterol. C’mon now, precious. Give it to me and we’ll all sit down and talk. Okay?” The tall drink of water with the most spectacular caramel colored skin put her slender hand out to Cara.

  Cara shook her head no furiously.

  The redhead made a move toward her but Cara was ready for her, shaking the can under her pretty upturned nose. “Back off, Glamazon, or I’ll clobber you.” With my bad ass can of processed cheese, mind you.

  Oh, hell.

  The redhead cringed visibly. “Now Cara, be reasonable. Come sit with us and we’ll explain everything. Okay girls, it’s time for introductions.” Cara watched with wild eyes as each woman, one more fabulously fantastic than the next, nodded her head.

  “I’m Katia,” the redhead with the almond green eyes offered.

  “And I’m Mia. Capital M, little i, little a,” The squeaky-clean blonde smiled brightly at her.

  “Last, but most certainly not least, I’m Simone,” the beautiful brunette drawled lazily, as if Cara should instinctively know who she was.

  “And we’re your fairy godmothers,” they said in unison with proud smiles on each of their fabulous faces.

  Cara dropped the can of cheese and hit the floor for the second time that day, with a thunk.

  * * * * *

  The three girls carried Cara to her couch and as gently as possible laid her down.

  “Go get a cool cloth,” Mia ordered to Simone.

  “Well now look, the poor thing is out like a light.” Katia rubbed Cara’s arms to get the blood flowing again. “You know we really have to give some thought to re-entry into this realm. I mean, remember the last girl we scared the life out of? It took like forever to get her to believe us. We can’t spend that kind of time raising the dead. We have work to do..”

  Mia nodded solemnly as she took the cloth from Simone and pressed it to Cara’s cheeks. Cara stirred slowly, pushing the intrusive cloth away. Opening her eyes, she sat up with a start. Her head throbbed.

  “Okay, who the hell are you?” Cara asked between clenched teeth.

  Mia patted her leg reassuringly. “We told you, we’re your fairy godmothers.”

  Cara reached out to touch the Amazon blonde’s arm, then snatched her hand back. Holy guacamole, she felt real! “What’s your name again?”

  “Mia sweetie, Capital M, little—”

  Cara held up her hand and cut
her off. “Never mind, I know, ‘little i, little a’.” Mia beamed her approval.

  The tall brunette sat down next to her. “And I’m Simone, honey. This,” she waved her hand absently at the redhead, “is Katia.”

  “And you’re my fairy godmothers, right?” The three most beautiful women she’d ever seen all nodded.

  “We’re The F.M.P. Society,” Mia confirmed.

  “Right,” Cara scoffed at them, “and I’m the King of Siam.”

  “Who’s that? Oh, oh wait! I know he’s that rapper, right?” Mia giggled at Cara’s frown.

  Hellloooo in there. Okay, so Mia, capital whatever, wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. She didn’t have to be, she was gorgeous. Mia put a soothing hand on Cara’s arm as Katia and Simone plopped their round, perfectly proportioned butts on the coffee table in front of her.

  Well, they seemed harmless enough. Stunning. Lacking a brain cell or two, but harmless. There were no such things as fairy godmothers. They were escapees from the school for the flawless or something.

  “What’s the F.M.P. Society?”

  “You’ll know soon enough,” Katia said on a giggle. “For now, just consider us your fairy godmothers.”

  Humor the pretty girls, Cara.

  “Okay, so you’re my fairy godmothers,” Cara said between snorts, “and this means what, in my universe?” It means, you have now entered the Twilight Zone…

  Simone’s wide smile lit up the room. “This means that we are about to rock your world, darling, and then some.”

  “And what if I don’t want my world rocked?” Cara smiled back until her lips stuck to her teeth.

  “Sweetie, trust us when we tell you your world needs rocking,” Katia crooned huskily.

  Mia smiled complacently at her and took a handful of Cara’s hair. “Would you look at these ends, girls? Split twelve ways to Sunday. But it’s gorgeous. Fabu texture and so thick—” Mia trailed off, as she ran her fingers through the bulk of coppery highlighted tresses.