As always I need to thank my editor, BeachBaby179 for her many contributions to this story. She always cleans up my stories, fixing my errors and inconsistencies and making the story much better than it would otherwise have been. Thank you, BeachBaby179.


“Now, I can’t wait to take a shower,” I thought to myself.

I had just finished mowing my yard, and the hot Georgia sun was blazing down. I had started about 9 am on this Saturday morning, and had just completed the front and back yard some three hours later. Altogether I had nearly three acres of yard to mow and once again thought maybe it was finally time to get a riding mower.

Or hire someone to mow like most of my neighbors did.

It’s not that I couldn’t afford to buy a mower, or hire someone, but I used the mowing as a form of exercise. I had spent three years in the Marine Corps, then got hurt in a stupid “training exercise.” At least “training exercise” sounded better than what really happened, because what really happened what I was playing left field in a softball game and stepped into a hole where a sprinkler head was supposed to be.

Some idiot had taken the defective head out and forgotten to cover the hole over. When I went back to get a ball my foot landed in the hole and my knee bent in a way that knees aren’t supposed to bend. Our company was playing for the base championship against the three-time defending champions.

I was the starting left fielder and batted third, and when I stepped into the hole we were leading 5-2. I had already hit two doubles and a triple and scored three times, and driven in the other two runs.

I ended up having two different surgeries on the knee, but the damage had already been done.

And yes, the important part is, we won. I still have my championship trophy and had been named Most Valuable Player for the tournament.

The Marine Corps offered, and I accepted, a 20 percent disability, which works out to about $250 a month in disability pay.

Yes, I had a limp, but not too bad, and yes the knee hurt at times, but at least I could usually tell when a bad storm was about to move in. Before any kind of really heavy thunderstorm the knee would really act up.

Every day I would ride my bike for a couple of miles to exercise the knee, then on alternate days I would also walk a couple of miles. I also had a fairly extensive home gym I would exercise in every day. I considered pushing the mower over three acres of yard as a form of exercise.

As I was putting the push mower away, I glanced at a thermometer I kept outside the garage. It was already 97 degrees and it was only noon. I knew the weather folks were calling for a high today of around 101 degrees.

“Time for that shower,” I thought again, then as I was about to walk inside I heard a car coming up the driveway.

As soon as I saw the green Mini Cooper I knew it was Kim, my step-daughter’s best friend.

I started smiling as soon as I saw the car because Kim was one of those bright, bubbly personalities whose usual smiles and good spirits simply brightened the day of anyone who saw her.

Not to mention that she was an absolute knock-out. I mean simply drop-dead gorgeous!

Megan, my step-daughter was very pretty, really beautiful in her own right and reminded me so much of her mother it sometimes hurt. Tall and naturally blonde, with a very slender figure, but Kim was almost the opposite. Kim was short (about 5’2″), dark haired and had an hour-glass figure. Kim literally had the face and body of a model.

When anyone saw the two of them together, they couldn’t help but spend more time gazing at Kim. Megan was beautiful, but Kim was extraordinary.

I had taken my shirt off while cutting the grass so I quickly slipped it back on, then walked over to Kim’s car.

I think this was the only time I had ever seen Kim when she wasn’t smiling. In fact my first thought was she is just a few seconds away from crying.

“What’s wrong, Kim, what’s wrong?” I asked, very concerned.

“Mr. ‘C’, is Megan here?” she asked in what was almost a pleading voice.

“No, Kim, one of her friends called her early this morning and they went to Six Flags,” I explained. Six Flags is an amusement park near Atlanta.

Kim started crying, with big tears rolling down her face.

“I kept calling her phone, hoping she was here, but she didn’t answer,” Kim said, between tears.

“Last time she went to Six Flags, she got soaked on Thunder River, and her phone got wet and was ruined,” I told her, “so I am sure she probably left it in her car.”

“Oh God, I don’t know what to do,” Kim wailed.

“What’s wrong Kim, please tell me what’s wrong and I’ll try to help,” I assured her.

“Oh, shit, Mr. ‘C’, I can’t tell you, I can’t tell anyone. I am so embarrassed,” she finally said, crying even harder now. “The only one I could tell was Megan, and she isn’t here.”

By now I was really getting very concerned so I opened the door to the Mini Cooper and knelt down beside Kim. I reached out and put a hand on her shoulders and turned her until she was slightly facing me. From even that little body movement I could see Kim grimace.

“Look Kim, I know that you are Megan’s best friend, but I hope that you consider me to be a friend as well,” I began, and Kim almost smiled and nodded her head.

“You can tell me anything and I promise that I won’t judge you, I won’t yell at you, and if there is anything I can do to help . . . then I will do it. I promise. Now come on and get out of the car and come inside for a few minutes.”

This time Kim did smile for a few seconds before her face turned beet red and she dropped her eyes.

“I can’t get out of the car, and I can barely walk,” she began, “My boyfriend . . .”

With those last two words, Kim’s face turned even redder with embarrassment.

I think my face also started turning red, but in my case it was anger.

Megan had already told me more than I wanted to hear about Kim’s new boyfriend. I knew Megan didn’t like him. I mean really, really didn’t like him. He was, according to Megan, very controlling and often verbally abusive to Kim.

Megan didn’t think he had started becoming physically abusive yet, but from seeing the condition Kim was now in I couldn’t help but think he must have really done something to hurt her pretty badly.

“Kim, I don’t care what he’s done, you just let me know and I promise he will never hurt you, never come near you again. Do you hear me?” I asked, and I guess she could hear my anger.

At first Kim just nodded, then started crying even harder before finally managing to choke out the words.

“This morning . . . this morning . . . he made me put something in my . . . my bottom. He told me I had to wear it all day. But . . . but now it is hurting so bad. I . . . I tried to get it out, but it hurts too much! I can barely walk, and sitting down and driving over here was like torture.

“Oh, God, Mr. ‘C’, what am I going to do?” she wailed.

Oh. My. God.

Was this incredibly beautiful young woman telling me she had a butt plug in her ass and it was stuck?

At that moment I was very glad she was looking down and not at my face. As hard as I tried to not let any emotion show she would probably still see a little grin at the thought of her “condition.”

I mean, let’s be honest. I try to be a thoughtful, kind, considerate guy, BUT . . . I’m still a guy.

In the last year and a half since my wife died, I have caught myself staring at my step-daughter’s friend in something other than a simply friendly fashion. Hell, as long as I am being honest, I have caught myself staring at my step-daughter in something less than a fatherly way.

Right now, however, I knew Kim needed a friend. And I felt it was my duty to try to be that friend.

“Well, the first thing we are going to do is get you inside,” I told her, as I undid Kim’s seatbelt. Then I stood up and put one arm under her legs and the other behind her back, then carefully lifted her out of the Mini Cooper.

Despite my best effort I could both see and feel her wince and gasp in pain.

Once I had her out of the car I carried Kim through the garage, into the kitchen and into the living room.

I told her I would be as gentle as possible, but I was going to put her down on the couch.

She again cried out in pain as her bottom hit the couch and could see fresh tears in her eyes.

I couldn’t help but wonder why it was so painful. I had never heard of a butt plug causing that much distress after it was inside.

I told her I would be right back, and went into my bathroom where I rummaged through my medicine cabinet for a minute. I finally found what I was looking for buried amongst the different medicines.

I walked back into the kitchen and poured some juice and then returned to the living room. I knelt beside the couch before asking.

“Kim, do you trust me?”

She nodded “Yes.”

I handed her the juice and a pill.

“This is a muscle relaxer the doctor gave me last year, after I hurt my back. It is NOT a knockout pill, it is NOT a sleeping pill, and it will NOT make you unconscious.

“It will make you a little woozy, so you can’t drive for at least eight or 10 hours, but you will be awake. If you trust me, then please take the pill.”

See looked at the pill in her hand, then looked into my face for a minute before popping the pill in her mouth and drinking the juice.

“It will probably take about 30 minutes for the pill to start working, so I will just let you relax, okay?”

After she nodded that she understood I went back into my bathroom and got out a bottle of baby oil and started running warm water over it. Then I got some towels and washcloths and ran some hot water into a small bucket I got out of the garage.

After 30 minutes passed I grabbed everything and headed back upstairs.

Kim was still lying on the couch but now with her eyes closed.

“Kim?” I asked, and instantly her eyes opened.

“How do you feel?” I inquired.

“Well, like you said just a little woozy, but my butt (and her face turned red with embarrassment again), I mean my bottom does feel better. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much. Just more uncomfortable now, rather than a sharp pain.”

“Okay. Now before I start I have to ask you again. Do you trust me?”

This time Kim looked directly into my eyes before answering: “Completely.”

“I have some baby oil that I warmed up and I am going to rub some on your bottom, trying to work it around the plug and hopefully that will make it easier to remove.

“I guess the easiest thing will be for you to lay down across my legs with your head and shoulders on the couch and your feet on the floor.”

Soon, with only minimal discomfort, Kim was face down on the couch.

“I’ll need to pull your dress up and take your panties off,” I told her.

I could still see the side of her face and saw that Kim immediately turned bright red again.

“I . . . I’m not wearing any panties. Matt told me I couldn’t wear any today. He said as soon as he got home he was going to bend me over the kitchen table, remove the plug and . . . and shove his dick in . . . in my ass.”

I already didn’t like Matt from what Megan had told me about how he treated Kim, and the more Kim revealed about his treatment of her made me start to really dislike him.

“Have you ever tried anal . . . I mean have you ever tried sex like that?” I asked, trying not to embarrass her any more than necessary.

Kim shook her head “No.”

“He tried a couple of nights ago, but I wasn’t ready and it hurt so much I screamed. He really got mad and said the next time he didn’t care how much I screamed. In fact, he said would probably put a gag in my mouth.

“I guess the next day he bought . . . that thing, and this morning he made me put in. It hurt so much I screamed again and nearly passed out but he just laughed at me.”

I was really, really, really starting to dislike Matt by now.

I pulled her dress up, and like Kim said, she wasn’t wearing any panties. I think I must have gasped a little when I saw her butt. It was truly one of the most beautiful and sexiest I had ever seen. Even with the white plug sticking out of her bottom.

I continued to pull the dress up and Kim lifted her hips slightly until the dress was bunched up about mid-back, almost to her bra which I noticed was bright red.

“I’m going to rub your back and legs a little before I start,” I told her, “just try to relax as much as you can . . . and don’t worry. I promise I will not take advantage of you.”

“Okay, Mr. ‘C’,” she said. “I do trust you . . . completely.”

I spent several minutes just massaging her back before beginning rubbing the backs of her thighs. Several times I heard Kim softly whisper, “That feels good.”

I was still wearing the shorts I had on while mowing and began to feel something wet against my leg. And no, I knew it wasn’t just some excess baby oil. I could actually smell her arousal.

After several more minutes of massaging her back and thighs I knew it was time to begin. By now Kim was actually rubbing herself against my leg.

I poured some baby oil around the plug, then began working my fingers under the plug until I was rubbing against her completely filled anus. I heard her moan as I moved the plug in order to work my fingers underneath.

“Am I hurting you Kim?” I asked.

At first, she didn’t answer.

“Umm, no, not really,” she finally said. “Your fingers actually feel . . . really good.”

By now my leg was almost drenched in her juices.

“Okay, now I’m going to try to remove the plug,” I warned her, “this might hurt for a moment.”

“Wait, Mr. ‘C’,” she said. “Do you think you can rub me some more . . . below the plug . . . lower down?

“I . . . I . . . I think I could relax even more if you do.”

With those words she actually spread her legs apart. I drizzled some baby oil on my fingers, then began caressing her inner thighs, from her knees all the way up to her vagina. I barely let my fingers touch the lips of her outer labia, but that was enough to elicit a gasp and Kim began rubbing herself even more against my thigh while spreading her legs even further apart.

“That feels so good,” Kim gasped, whenever my fingers would brush against her opening.

I didn’t really think I needed any more lubrication, but I drizzled some more baby oil on my fingers before I started lightly caressing the lips of her vagina.

“Oh, God, that feels so good,” I heard Kim whisper, then as I began pushing a finger inside her she began repeating, “Yesss, Yesss, Yesss.”

After gently finger fucking her with just one finger, I pushed a second finger inside her. I was amazed how tight she was, even with her natural lubrication and the benefit of the baby oil.

“Ohh, Ohh, Yes,” she gasped, “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop. I can feel it, I’m so close.”

I began moving both fingers in and out, while twisting those fingers from left to right.

By now Kim was just moaning non-stop, with her hips moving up and down and left and right as she rubbed herself against my thigh.

When I reached over with my other hand and began rubbing her clitoris . . . well that is all it took and she almost exploded.

“Ahhhhh,” she softly screamed into the couch. The muscles of her vagina were alternately tightening and loosening on my fingers.

I stopped for a few minutes, allowing Kim to come back down, before once again fingering her with my two digits.

Within just a minute or two I could tell she was close again, so I again began rubbing her clitoris with my other hand.

Her second climax was even stronger as she again screamed against the couch.

I again stopped for a few minutes to allow Kim to recover, but this time she began gasping: “What are you doing to me? I’ve never felt ANYTHING like that before!”

I continued my actions with my fingers inside her vagina, and knew she was close to a third orgasm. When I began rubbing her clitoris she had her most powerful orgasm and screamed even louder.

I could feel the muscles of her vagina clamp down on my fingers and then loosen, clamp down and loosen. When I felt her muscles loosen again, I reached up and pulled the butt plug from her anus. It made a loud “pop” as I removed it.

“Ahhhhhhhh,” she screamed again, but I could tell it wasn’t from pain as she had a fourth orgasm.

Her puckered anus was gaping open, and I could see inside some angry red flesh.

As Kim lay across my lap gasping, I told her I needed to try to put some oil inside her.

I picked up the bottle of baby oil and just drizzled some directly inside her anus, then used a finger from my other hand to begin spreading the oil inside her.

As my finger began spreading the oil around inside her, Kim’s hips began moving again. I still had my first two fingers deep inside her, so I began alternating. I would push my finger inside her anus while pulling the two fingers out of her vagina, then reverse the action.

It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes before the walls of her anus were closing down around my single finger, then Kim had her fifth orgasm of the day.

This one was very gentle — at least compared to the others, but strangely I felt in some ways it was the most satisfying to Kim.

When Kim started to try to get up, I told her “Not yet.

“I need to try to clean you up a little first,” I advised her, then added with a big smile. “Right now you have enough baby oil on your bottom that if you tried to sit down, you would probably slide all the way outside and down the driveway.”

She didn’t say anything, but laughed, then started looking back at me in a way I found difficult to explain.

It was a look of exhaustion, total contentment, relaxation, joy and . . . lust?

“I trust you COMPLETELY, John,” she said. This was the first time she had ever used my given name. Usually it was Mr. C, or sometimes Mr. Carpenter.

Then Kim gave me one of her thousand mega-watt smiles and added, “Anything you say . . . or want . . . John, ANYTHING you want. I trust you completely,” before lying face down on the couch again.

At that particular moment I don’t think there was anything . . . ANYTHING . . . I wanted more than to ditch my shorts and start making love to this beautiful young woman. She had already told me that I could do anything to her.

The fact of the matter is, after nearly 30 minutes with Kim laying across my lap and using my fingers to bring her to multiple orgasms I had perhaps the most raging hard-on I have ever had in my life.

I was so hard I was amazed it hadn’t burst through my shorts, and I knew Kim could feel it pressing against her lower stomach.

Instead I grabbed a washcloth and dipped it into the bucket of hot water. Actually, after 30 minutes the water wasn’t hot any longer, but was still warm. After wringing out the excess water I added a little soap and began washing her back and legs, where I had massaged the baby oil into her.

She almost immediately began softly sighing and I could both feel and see her rubbing herself against me.

When I washed between her butt cheeks and across her puckered anus I felt Kim tense up, then almost immediately relax again as she spread her legs even further apart.

“Anything . . . anything you want John,” she repeated.

Oh God! Anything I wanted!

What I wanted was to bury my face between her legs, fill her sweet pussy with my tongue, lap her puckered anus, and then slam my dick into all three holes of this beautiful woman!

She had already given me permission to do all three things, and the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life was to ignore the beast within me, the beast that wanted me to take this woman and use her as my personal plaything.

My self-control was slipping away and I knew I was only minutes, probably seconds away from throwing her down on the couch and letting the beast take over.

Instead, I somehow rinsed off the cloth and began removing the soap from her incredibly beautiful back, butt and thighs.

The entire time she continued to sigh and moan. She would stop occasionally and repeat, “Anything you want, John, ANYTHING.”

That really wasn’t helping my self-control.

Once I had most of the baby oil and soap off, I just continued to stare at this young girl’s butt, completely exposed to me. It was the most perfect butt I had ever seen, and I knew I could make it mine if I now wanted.

Finally, I just shook my head and tried to speak. I was so horny it took me a couple of times just to be able to say anything.

“Now, Kim, I think you need to rest. Try to sleep.”

She immediately turned around until her naked butt was in my lap, resting against my raging erection. I again could see her quick grimace when her abused butt brushed up against me.

As I looked into her face I could again see mixed emotions in her eyes. Lust? Definitely. But I could also see how tired she was. I could tell she was exhausted. The combination of the extreme pain she had suffered all morning, the effects of the prolonged massage, the multiple orgasms she had already had, plus the muscle relaxer pills had her eyes drooping.

“What about you John?” she asked, then smiled shyly. “I can feel (and she wiggled against me) that you need some . . . some relief too.”

“Kim, I told you I would not take advantage of you. Actually I already feel I have taken advantage of you, but right now you need to rest, take a nap. If you still feel the same way in a couple of hours, then we can see where the rest of the afternoon takes us.

“I don’t want you to feel you ‘owe’ me something. Friends don’t take advantage of friends.

“Let’s just see what the rest of the day brings, but right now I want you to sleep. Sleep, my beautiful young friend.”

Kim continued to stare into my eyes, and I could see the change in emotions. Yes, there was still some lust mixed in with the exhaustion, but I could also see amazement that I was turning down her offer. It was a situation that could easily have provoked anger, but I sensed no anger, rather something that looked like . . . a deeper emotion?

After several minutes, Kim leaned over and put her head against my chest.

“Okay, John, I am suddenly very, very tired,” she said, then leaned back until she was looking into my eyes again. “But after I wake up . . . you are going DOWN, Mister.”

Then she shyly laughed, “Actually, after I wake up . . . I am going down. Down on you! And that is just for starters.”

Kim put her head back against my shoulders and within just a few minutes was sound asleep.

I continued to hold this beautiful young woman for several more minutes, and kept hearing in my mind her final sleep-filled words to me, whispered softly, just before oblivion claimed her.

“I love you John,” was her final comment to me.

I finally eased her down on her back on the couch. Her dress was still pulled up above her hips and I could now see all of her lower body. I already knew, from having massaged her clit, that she was completely smooth, but to now see her nakedness in front of me caused another jolt through my penis.

I could already have been inside her I thought to myself. In fact, I could take her now and I knew she wouldn’t have complained.

Instead, I pulled the dress down, then went and found a small blanket and covered her up.

I know that most guys reading this would be thinking, “What a wuss!”

“He could have had a fantastic piece of pussy, and a fantastic piece of ass, and he turned it down,” would probably be what they are thinking.

For most of the women reading this, they would probably be thinking “What a gentleman. How noble not to take advantage of a woman at a time like this.”

Hell — you are both wrong.

It didn’t have anything to do with being a wuss, or being a gentleman or being noble.

Even now, some 10 minutes after Kim was asleep, I still had the hardest hard-on I think I have ever had.

Earlier I said that I had stared at Kim when she came over to visit Megan. Actually that might not be strong enough a word.

I have a heated, in-ground pool behind the house. My wife died about a year and a half ago, and for the first year Kim and Megan both moved in after they graduated from college. Kim moved out about six months ago, but during that first year the two beautiful girls had used the pool every day — summer or winter. Megan still lived in the house with me.

They both wore bikinis that would be barely legal on a public beach. And some that probably would be illegal.

The fact is . . . I didn’t just stare at Kim (and yes, Megan too). I admit I lusted after them both. And would sometimes fantasize as well.

I have lost count of the number of times I would be fantasizing about one or the other . . . sometimes both . . . and wake up from a wet dream and have to change my underwear.

Kim still came over to the house two or three times a week — and she and Megan still used the pool every time she came over.

Having lusted after Kim for so long, and today have given her a massage and using my fingers in both her pussy and butt to give her multiple orgasms, I knew that if Kim had even touched me once . . . I would probably have cum immediately. I was that turned on. When she wiggled her butt against me it was all I could do to hold off.

Cumming all over her, 10 seconds after she touched me? That was my fear today.

When . . . or if . . . but, based on comments to me just now, probably when we made love, I wanted it to last longer than 10 seconds.

I immediately headed for my shower since I was still sweaty and stinky from having mowed my lawn that morning, and while in the shower I took care of the immediate problem I had. Just thinking about Kim while in the shower . . . Wow! Yes, I lasted a little longer than 10 seconds . . . but not by much.

After the shower I went back into the living room and grabbed the towels, washcloths, bucket of now cold water . . . and the butt plug. I admit I was very curious why the plug had caused Kim such extreme pain.

After cleaning and examining the plug I understood. And was filled with rage. If I could have gotten my hands on Kim’s boyfriend at that moment . . . I could easily have killed him with my bare hands.

I don’t think I have ever been so mad in my life before.

I knew I had to calm down. I had already put on a nice pair of shorts and a t-shirt, so I grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and tried to make myself calm down. First, however, I slipped the butt plug into one of the pockets of the cargo shorts.

I suppose at some point I need to introduce myself. I mean you already know my name, John Carpenter, and that I spent three years in the Marines, but there is a lot more to tell.

First though, you need to understand a couple of things about me and my family. You might want to write some of this down — there may be a test later.

Some people simply are genetically predisposed to grey hair. That is definitely the truth in my family. By the time each of my older brothers graduated from their respective high schools they were already losing some hair on top, and most of what was left was turning grey.

That also applies to me. There is nothing I could do about it, and the thought of coloring my hair was ridiculous.

The second thing you need to know about my family is that my two older brothers are 15 and 10 years older than I am.

My childhood nickname, given to me by my oldest brother was “Dent.” That is short for accident, and a name I really hated.

My mother always said I wasn’t an accident. I might have been unplanned, but the truly nicest things in life are the ones that are complete surprises. So stuff it up your ass, Jack and Sam!

When I was born, my father was 45, and my mother was 38. Again, just as in the case of my premature greying hair, my father’s age will come into play in a few minutes.

My great-grandfather started Carpenter Printing Company in Marietta, Georgia on October 29, 1929. That date also happens to coincide with the beginning of The Great Depression.

Somehow he kept the business going, and by the time the country was recovering in 1941 the business was becoming moderately successful.

Real success began after World War II started. It didn’t take long for the military to realize they needed more plants dedicated to building bombers, so when Bell Industries built a plant in Marietta (The Bell Bomber plant which was the forerunner of the massive Lockheed plant), my great-grandfather was one of the few printers in the area capable of handling all their printing.

My grandfather had joined the Marines on December 8, 1941 (the day after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor), and after the war began working at the printing company. My father had received his draft notice during the Vietnam War, and instead enlisted in the Marines.

After serving two tours in ‘Nam, he also returned home and joined the family business.

By the time both of my brothers graduated from high school, it was obvious neither was interested in printing as a way of making a living.

Jack is now a very successful attorney, and Sam is a surgeon. From my earlier comments you might have the impression the three of us didn’t get along. Nothing could be further from the truth. We tease each other non-stop. I call Jack an “ambulance-chaser” and say he is the “black sheep” of the family because he is an attorney. Sam is “the local butcher.” And yes, both still call me “Dent.”

All three of us know, however, that the others would do anything for each other.

I was the only one interested in the printing company. In fact I loved everything about printing.

Everyone knew that I would be the fourth-generation Carpenter to take over the business.

First though, I wanted to spend a few years in the military, and since it was by now almost a family tradition, I enlisted in the Marines. A large part of the reason I joined the military was because neither of my older brothers had. If it wasn’t good enough for them, then it WAS good enough for me.

After I received my medical discharge from the Marines, I joined the family business as well. In point of fact, I had literally grown up in the business and could run any of the presses well before my teenage years.

A few months after my discharge I was at work when this really attractive woman stopped by to get some business cards printed. Back then, it was only a few months after one of the surgeries on my knee, so I was using a cane to get around.

I took the order, then told her they would be ready the following Monday (she brought the order in on Thursday).

She immediately said she needed the cards by that afternoon, or at the latest, very early the next morning since she had to go out of town on a business meeting. I then explained that we weren’t a quick copy place, and that it would take at least a couple of days.

I have to admit that I was more than just a little smitten with this young lady. I was guessing she was a couple of years older than me, but didn’t think that would really matter.

When she offered to pay double, I made a deal with her. If . . . IF . . . I could have the cards printed by that afternoon, then she agreed to go out with me that night.

We actually flirted with each other the entire time she was in the printing company.

When she came back, the cards were ready and Mary and I went to a very nice restaurant that night. I found out that Mary was a sales rep with a large pharmaceutical company. She had been with the company two years.

I was doing the math in my head. I knew she had graduated from Georgia Tech, so that would have made her about 22 when she graduated. Two years with the drug company, so now she would be 24. Perfect. I was 22, but because of the grey and thinning hair most people thought I was much older than that.

I am sure the cane I was then using probably added some to my perceived age.

During the course of our conversation at the printing company we had already exchanged names, and when I told her mine, she asked if I owned the company.

I had explained that my great-grandfather had started the company, then my grandfather ran it, and after him, my father. I also told her that Dad had already reached retirement age and although he still came in a couple of days a week, I was now running the business.

I really didn’t think about the fact that Mary might also be doing some mental math in her head as well, trying to guess how old I was.

We had a great time at dinner, and we actually kissed. I mean it was just barely touching our lips together, but it was wonderful.

The following Tuesday (after she was back from her weekend business trip) we had dinner again, and this time we kissed a little longer, before parting for the evening.

During the first two dates, she had insisted on meeting at the restaurant, and I really didn’t think anything about it.

During our third dinner date (on Thursday of that week), I could tell something was bothering her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I haven’t been completely honest John,” she answered.

“The fact is, I really like you, but was afraid to tell you the truth. Usually, anytime I tell a guy that I am a single mom, they panic and start running,” she said, almost in tears. “I have a daughter.”

I immediately reached over and took both her hands in mine.

“You don’t ever have to worry about my running, Mary,” I assured her. “As you said, the fact is I really, really like you too.

“In fact, I’ll prove to you that I’ll never run,” I added, then reached down to where my cane was lying on the floor. Then I handed her my cane.

“See, now I can’t run even if I wanted to . . . and believe me, I don’t want to.”

Mary started laughing and crying. And that night we did a lot of kissing!

The next day (Friday), Mary called me at work and asked if I wanted to meet her daughter, Megan.

I, of course, said yes. I have had to meet a few parents in my time, but this was the first time I would ever have to meet a daughter. During my lunch break I actually drove over to Toys R Us, and picked up a small stuffed animal I thought would be appropriate for a young girl aged anywhere from two to possibly five years old.

Mary had never said, and I had forgotten to ask exactly how old her daughter was, but assuming Mary was two years older than me, and I am guessing had probably been in college when she had her, I came up with the first estimate of two or three. Yes, I might have been off a year, or even possibly two, but felt the small stuffed animal would still be appropriate even if she was as old as five.

Little did I know!!!!

Mary said the simplest thing would be for her to come by the printing company, and I could follow her in my vehicle.

When we drove up in her yard, I was a little surprised there were no other vehicles there.

Mary had mentioned that her mother stayed with Megan while Mary worked. I was soon to find out what she had actually said was that her mom stayed with Megan while Mary was working late, or out of town.

I know that some woman somewhere will immediately say this just proves that men don’t really listen to women. Hey, I was a little distracted. Mary was about 5’7″ and I guessed around 125 pounds. Very slim and slender, with long blonde hair and silver gray eyes with little gold flecks in them. The kind of eyes that seemed to be bottomless, that you could just fall into and never climb out again. Very, very distracting eyes.

“Are Megan and your mom not here yet?” I asked, when we both got out of our vehicles.

Mary looked very surprised, and said, “No, she only stays here if I am going to be out of town, or working very, very late. Other than that, Megan looks after herself.”

Now I was the one who was very surprised. What kind of mom would let a two or three year old, even possibly a five year old stay by herself?

When we walked into the house, I got one of the biggest shocks of my life.

I was expecting a toddler . . . I got a teenager.

Well . . . technically I was to find out a 12-year-old, but close enough.

When I found out how old Megan was, I sort of just exploded at Mary with: “Good God, did YOU get pregnant when you were 12!”

Mary flushed red, then replied with some heat in her voice: “What on earth are you talking about? I had Megan when I was 20.”

“Twenty? Twenty? That’s impossible!” I answered back, a little testily. “I know you are a few years older than me, but that would make you 32!”

“Older than you? Older than you?” she shot back. “You are the one with grey hair and you said your father had already reached retirement age. That should make you in your late 30s or early 40s.”

“You thought I was in my late 30s??? Or even worse, early 40s???” I answered, much quieter than before. “Oh crap Mary. I thought you were around 24 or 25. I mean you said you had worked for your company two years, and I assumed you had probably just graduated from college which, I thought, would make you 24 or 25. I also guessed Megan would be two or three.”

“Yes, I have worked for my present company two years. I worked for my former company eight years before that. Uhh, just how old are you John?” Mary asked, very quietly also.

“Well, I’m 22,” I finally answered, and Mary’s face turned white as if she had seen a ghost.

The entire time we had been talking, Megan’s head was snapping back and forth between us, almost like she was watching a tennis match.

I heard this unusual noise, and when I turned to look at Megan she was laughing so hard she was doubled over.

Mary and I just stared at her, until she had finally recovered enough to talk.

“You thought I was two or three, and you thought Mom was 24 or 25,” she said, beginning to laugh again, “and Mom thought you were in your late 30s, but actually you are just 22. You both are NUTS! The two of you are better than any comedy on television.”

The complete absurdity of the situation finally hit Mary and me and the next thing we knew we were laughing our heads off as well.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell my friends my mom is dating, and probably making out with someone 10 years younger than she is,” Megan said.

“Megan Elizabeth Smith,” Mary warned her daughter, before blurting out “if you even tell a single soul that I’ve dated or kissed a guy 10 years younger than me you will be grounded until you are 21!”

“So you have kissed?” Megan asked, starting to laugh again. “Way to go Mom! I didn’t think you had kissed anyone this century.”

Now I was the one who was almost bent double with laughter as Mary flushed bright red again and glared harder and harder at me.

“Who I kiss, or in what century I have kissed them is none of your business Megan,” she began before turning to me. “And I seriously suggest you stop laughing NOW, unless you want me to turn you over my knee and give you a spanking — child!”

“Well,” I answered, wiping the tears from my eyes, “my parents always said I should listen to and respect my elders, so Yes Ma’am.”

That REALLY earned me a glare from Mary, but Megan was now almost convulsing with laughter.

“Yes Ma’am, yes Ma’am,” she chortled.

Mary was now glaring at both of us.

“You know, depending on how this first meeting went, I was going to suggest we all go out to a nice Italian restaurant tonight,” she said. “Now, since both of you are acting like you are about eight years old maybe we should go to Chuck E Cheese?”

And that is where we ended up, and all three of us spent hours playing the different games and earning tickets from those games which we used to buy Megan a very large stuffed animal. And more than once or twice that night Megan caught Mary and me exchanging a quick kiss.

And more than once or twice Megan gave me a hug, and even an occasional kiss on the cheek. When we weren’t playing games, it would be difficult to say which one I was holding hands with the most.

It was just about the most enjoyable “date” I had ever had. I knew both Mary and Megan had also enjoyed themselves.

We stayed until they closed, and Megan fell asleep in the back seat. Once we arrived back at Mary’s house, I carried Megan inside where she woke up again.

Megan put both arms around my neck and gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek, then kissed her mom before whispering something in Mary’s ear.

Mary immediately turned bright red again and wouldn’t even look at me.

“What?” I finally asked, after Megan went to bed. By now we were both sitting on the couch in her living room.

Mary turned even redder, before telling me what Megan said.

“Megan said . . . she said it’s okay with her if you want to spend the night,” Mary said, adding that “I really need to practice my kissing.”

Then Mary leaned over to me and we started practicing. At first on the couch, then later in Mary’s bedroom . . . and we pretty much practiced all night.

That began the happiest 10 years of my life. Within three months Mary and I were married and I moved into her house.

Professionally during that 10 year period when I began running the business, Carpenter Printing went from a roughly $1 million a year printing company to over $10 million. Mary became the number one sales person for her company and was earning well over half-a-million a year. I was earning even more.

We sold her house, and then bought a much larger one in one of the really nice and exclusive areas of Atlanta.

Megan enrolled at Georgia Tech, like her mom, and like her mom was going to earn a degree in chemical engineering. Kim, Megan’s best friend, practically lived at our house being there nearly every day, and frequently staying overnight. I knew Kim was having some issues with her step-father, and both Mary and I told her she was welcome to stay as long as she needed.

Kim also enrolled at Georgia Tech, after earning a full academic scholarship, but was getting a degree in business management. Kim had also been modeling professionally since she was 10.

I truly didn’t know it was possible to love anyone as much as I loved Mary. And somehow that love just seemed to continue to grow. We practiced kissing A LOT!

Until the February of Megan’s senior year of college when Mary went in for a routine mammogram.

They found a lump in her breast. A radical double mastectomy, followed by chemo and radiation didn’t even slow down the spread of cancer. By the time they found the lump, the cancer had already metastasized, or spread to her lymph glands, her lungs and bones.

Within six weeks, my partner, the love of my life, my friend, my wife, my EVERYTHING was gone.

To say I was devastated would be a huge understatement. I simply didn’t have the desire to even get out of bed most mornings after Mary’s death.

Mary had died in mid-April, and after Megan and Kim graduated from Georgia Tech in May, they both surprised me when they announced they were moving in to my house.

I don’t want to sound overly dramatic by saying having the two girls at home saved my life — I mean I wasn’t suicidal or anything — but they did give me a reason to start functioning again.

I began going back to work and within a year I was back to my old self again . . . at least during the day. At night, I still missed Mary so much I would cry myself to sleep some nights.

After about a year, Kim moved in with a guy she had met through her modeling agency. That lasted for five months before they broke up and she moved in with another guy. This would be the Matt that Megan disliked so much.

Megan was now working full-time for a pharmaceutical company, but in research, not sales. She also continued to live at home.

Anyway, that brings you up to date with the events in my life.

I had resigned myself to being alone. I hadn’t even had a date, much less any sexual encounter with anyone since my wife died.

Some three hours had passed since I left Kim sleeping on my couch. I had finished making some preparations for a cookout later in the day and grabbed a book and sat down on my back veranda to read.

At least I told myself I was going to read. At one point I realized I had been staring at the same page for over 30 minutes — and still had no idea what words were contained in the book. I just couldn’t get Kim out of my mind.

The more I thought about this incredibly beautiful, and sexy young woman, the more trouble I had concentrating on the book.

It was at about that point that a pair of hands came around my head from behind and lightly pressed against my eyes.

“Guess who?” I heard Kim say in an incredibly sexy whisper.

I immediately started grinning.

“Hmmmm,” I responded, “can you give me a hint?”

“A hint? You want a hint?” Kim asked, and I could hear the laughter in her voice. “Okay, try this. You already know I don’t have any panties on, and now I have taken my bra off as well. Underneath this thin little ole dress I am completely naked.”

I will be the first to admit I have a weird sense of humor. It has sometimes gotten me in trouble in the past when I’ll just say the first thing that pops into my mind.

“Completely naked under your dress?” I responded. “Ohh, I know. It’s Ralph, the old, fat, gay guy from next door.”

Kim laughed out loud.

She then pulled my head back against her chest and told me to close my eyes. Kim then started rubbing her boobs against the sides of my face.

“Do these feel like old, fat, gay guy boobs?” she asked.

Kim then leaned down and stuck her tongue in my ear and started gently caressing me.

After a minute or two she stopped and asked, “Did that feel like an old, fat, gay guy’s tongue?”

I still had my eyes closed but could hear Kim move in front of me.

Standing between my legs, she grabbed both hands and put them under her dress, cupping her bare buttocks.

“Does this feel like an old, fat, gay guy’s butt?” she asked, and wiggled her behind against my hands.

Kim then sat in my lap and I could sense her leaning closer against me.

“And tell me, does this feel like an old, fat, gay guy’s lips and tongue?”

Then Kim and I were kissing.

Oh My God!

There is something incredibly sensual about kissing someone for the very first time. Rubbing your tongue against her teeth, engaging in a mock tongue battle, exploring a mouth you’ve never kissed before.

Kim tasted so sweet, almost like a juicy peach.

I was almost completely enthralled with the experience. After kissing for a minute or two I reached up and gently cupped a breast in my hand. I could hear Kim give a little gasp when I touched her. Her nipple was already rock hard against the dress and when I began lightly rubbing her nipple with my thumb Kim began softly moaning.

Kim broke off the kiss long enough to say again, “Don’t open your eyes,” then reached down and pulled my t-shirt up and over my head. She immediately resumed kissing me but was now rubbing my chest with her hand.

After several more moments of increasingly passionate kissing, Kim again broke the kiss and started moving her tongue and lips down across my neck and to my chest.

“God, you are so beautiful,” she whispered at one point, just before taking my nipple into her mouth and started sucking.

I have to admit I felt both surprise, and some pride in her comment.

No one had ever called me that before but I had at different points in my life been called other things that began with the letter “b”. Namely, bastard or bitch, as in “son of a,” but no one had ever called me beautiful before.

During the 10 years Mary and I were married, I had installed a rather extensive home gym so I could keep up with my exercises. One thing I had to do was keep exercising my knee and usually, late at night, Mary would join me in the gym.

Frequently those exercises both of us did would result in our making love in the gym, taking a shower together and making love again once we were in bed.

After her death, and after I rejoined the human race I began spending even more time in the gym. Indeed, many nights the only way I could sleep was to exercise myself into a state of exhaustion.

In the last year I had probably gained 15 or 20 pounds of muscle — mostly in my upper chest and arms. Chiseled might not necessarily be the correct word, but it was probably close. I knew that while my overall conditioning was not anything close to what it had been while I had been active duty, before the injury, but I also knew I was actually even stronger.

By now Kim was sucking on my nipple so hard it was . . . almost painful . . . but intensely erotic.

Kim’s technique was mind blowing. She would suck, then bite my nipple with her teeth until I almost had to tell her to stop, but would then lick it soothingly, followed by intense sucking. I never knew my nipples were so sensitive.

After 10 or 15 minutes of sucking first one, then the other nipple I felt Kim unbuckle my belt, then unsnap my shorts. When she grabbed the waistband I raised myself up off the chair and Kim slipped my shorts and underwear off.

When my again rock-hard penis sprang free I heard Kim gasp, “Oh God John, you are huge!”

In Marine Corps boot camp you are forced to take a shower with 40 or 50 other guys, and . . . sorry, you can’t help but notice. I knew I was bigger than most. Not freakishly big, but both longer and thicker.

When I opened my eyes for the first time in probably 20 minutes Kim was kneeling between my legs, just staring at my penis which was jutting straight up.

Kim glanced up at me and when she saw me watching her, she smiled and leaned forward. She took the head of my penis into her mouth and sucked. At first softly, then a little harder and a little harder.

It was all I could do to keep myself under control. I was groaning almost non-stop and could barely resist just grabbing her head and forcing all of me deep inside her mouth.

Kim must have sensed how close I was because she finally pulled back, allowing my penis to escape her velvety smooth mouth.

“Come and lay down beside me John,” she said with a smile, patting the tile of the veranda.

I immediately got off the chair and knelt down beside Kim. I grabbed her face between my hands and we resumed kissing until she began pushing me over on my back.

I gasped as I felt the cold tile of the veranda against my overheated back, then gasped again as Kim began licking my shaft with her tongue.

“I can’t believe how big you are John,” she whispered, in between licking up one side of my penis and down the other. Once my penis was covered in her saliva Kim began licking lower down until she could take one ball at a time into her mouth.

By this point I was almost a basket case. I wasn’t sure if any of the neighbors could see us, and I didn’t care. My entire life revolved around the truly incredible sensations Kim’s mouth and tongue were provoking from me.

With one of my balls inside her mouth, Kim began pushing my legs back against my chest. I didn’t understand why until she released my ball from her mouth, then started licking even lower.

Her tongue was now softly caressing my anus.

I gasped out loud, and tried to push her away.

“Oh God, Kim,” I gasped, “If you keep doing that I’m going to come all over you.”

Kim stopped and then smiled again.

“Anytime you want to come all over me John, you can. Except right now I want you to come in my mouth.”

Kim put one finger inside her mouth and once it was wet she leaned down again and took the head of my penis inside her mouth. At the same time she pushed her salvia-covered finger deep into my butt.

The double sensation was simply overwhelming. I think I groaned, I roared, I cried out, I may even have shouted. All I knew for sure was I was shooting ropes and ropes of cum deep inside her mouth and Kim was swallowing as fast as I was shooting.

I don’t ever remember cumming that hard and for that long. Even after I finished Kim continued to gently suck and lick my now softening penis.

Finally she stretched out beside me and put her head on my shoulder. I tried to kiss her but Kim turned her head away. At least until I put my hand behind her head and forced her lips against mine. I could tell Kim was surprised, but my tongue was soon deep in her mouth and I could taste myself inside her.

After kissing for several more minutes we finally stopped as Kim leaned up on one elbow and gazed deeply into my eyes.

“I bet your old, fat gay neighbor couldn’t do that,” she said with a big mischievous smile. “Or at least I don’t want to hear about it if he does.”

I reached down and swatted her butt before remembering about the plug and how much pain Kim had been in before.

“Oh, I’m sorry Kim, I forgot about . . . you know. How do you feel now?” I asked as my hand began softly caressing her bottom.

“A little sore,” she admitted with a blush then smiled, “but right now other parts of me feel better than I have ever been in my life.”

“Well I think we need to see if we can make those other parts feel even better,” I suggested. “Now I want to make love to you Kim.”

“Oh Yes, please make love to me John,” Kim said with a smile big enough to have lit up all of Georgia, “make love to me now.”

Then she added something under her breath, so softly I almost couldn’t hear it, and wasn’t even sure if that was what she actually said, “I’ve waited so many years to hear those words.”

Hindsight, they say, is always perfect. I wish that I had stopped and asked Kim what she said, and why. Combined with her earlier words when she was falling asleep, again in a whisper, “I love you John,” perhaps I would have handled things differently. Perhaps I would not have felt so personally guilty for being responsible for what was to happen to her later in the day.

And perhaps Kim wouldn’t have been first severely beaten, then nearly killed.

Unfortunately I didn’t stop. I didn’t ask Kim to repeat her words, we didn’t have the chance to (at that point) discuss how Kim felt about me, and apparently had for years.

I know there are probably some ladies out there who will again make the comment, “Typical male. Men never listen to women.”

My only defense, I admit, is pretty lame. True, yes, but still pretty lame. Hey, I was distracted. Kim had just given me the most mind-blowing oral sex I had ever experienced and now all I was thinking about was returning the favor, and seeing how many orgasms I could coax out of her body.

Yes, ladies, I admit it. I was thinking with the little head, not the big head.

Anyway, after I told her I wanted to make love to her, Kim jumped up and I began the sometimes laborious process of getting up myself. Because of the knee it wasn’t always that easy for me to regain my feet. I actually had to pull the chair over and use it to provide an assist.

Once I was up, however, Kim threw herself into my arms and we began kissing before I bent over and scooped her up and carried her to my bedroom.

All I could think about was that she was totally naked under that thin dress and I could see her erect nipples poking through the fabric.

We kissed the entire length of the house until I reached my bedroom. I opened the door, stepped inside and put Kim back on her feet before reaching down to grab the hem of her dress then pulled it off over her head.

I gasped when I saw Kim standing in front of me, totally naked. I have already said Kim was about 5’2″ but really haven’t described her much, beyond that.

I had heard enough of different conversations between Megan and Kim to know Kim’s measurements were 34-22-34, but that doesn’t even come close to describing how perfect her body was.

Her breasts were full and at least a “C” cup. Even without a bra there was no sag. Her nipples were long, and I could see they were already hard. Because of her part-time modeling career Kim worked out every day and her stomach was six-pack hard. Her hips were wide and full and her legs were actually short, but beautifully muscled.

I’m 6’2″ and weigh about 195 with very large hands but perhaps surprisingly thin fingers. My mother would sometimes say I had the fingers of a pianist. I could just about have encircled Kim’s waist with my outstretched fingers, and the fingers would almost join. I know, because I later tried it.

I spent several minutes just worshipping her perfect body with my eyes. Kim finally smiled, walked over to me, put her arms around my neck and brought my lips down to meet hers.

As my arms went around her, Kim jumped up and wrapped her legs around my back.

I can’t tell you how long we kissed like that before Kim finally broke the kiss and said, “Now, John, please make love to me.”

I walked over to the bed and gently placed Kim down before joining her on the bed. I again had to just stop and admire this incredibly beautiful woman. Then we started kissing again.

When I laid down beside her Kim’s left arm was under my side and she reached up to hold me tight. The fingers of my left hand and the fingers of Kim’s right hand entwined and both hands were beside Kim face.

This little vixen had nearly driven me out of my mind earlier today with the way she had played with and teased my nipples, so now it was my turn.

We kissed for several minutes before I began leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, across her shoulders and finally down to those magnificent breasts. Kim was softly sighing and moaning and groaning the entire time.

When I reached her breasts, I was tempted to take a nipple into my mouth, but decided to tease her for a few minutes.

Instead I covered every square inch of her breasts with kisses, licks, bites and nibbles for at least 10 minutes.

Within just a minute or two Kim began struggling to get her right hand free but I was holding it down beside her head. Then she tried to shift her left arm out from under my body, but my weight was too much.

Both of her arms were completely immobilized. After driving her nearly crazy I started over, first with one breast, then the other.

By now every time I came near her blood-engorged nipples Kim would try to shift her upper body around, trying to make her nipple come into contact with my mouth.

I have never seen any woman’s nipples are hard, as full, and as completely engorged as Kim’s were now.

“Please, John, please, suck my nipples, please suck my nipples,” she began begging.

I tortured her for another 15 or 20 minutes before finally relenting. By now Kim could barely talk, just beg “Please, please, please,” every few minutes.

When I finally took a nipple inside my mouth and started sucking, Kim screamed and had an orgasm. I licked, I bit, and I sucked until Kim was almost incapable of making a sound. Then I shifted over to the other nipple and started on that one.

She screamed again as another orgasm hit her.

I lost count of how many orgasms Kim had before I began trailing my tongue down across her sweat streaked stomach and lower abdomen. The salty sweat tasted like the finest champagne.

Once I reached her womanhood, I decided I had teased Kim enough for today and immediately thrust my tongue as deeply into her as I could.

Kim’s hands came down and pressed my face even deeper into the soft folds of her delicious pussy. After eating her out, I began licking upward until my tongue reached her clitoris and as soon as I touched it, Kim came again.

I added first one, then a second and finally a third finger inside her while continuing to lick and suck on her labia and clitoris.

Again, I don’t know how many times Kim came but finally I moved into position between her legs and began pressing my shaft inside her.

I have never felt anything hotter and tighter than her slick channel. I had barely gotten the head inside when Kim started moaning, “So big, God, so big.”

Before I was half-way inside tears were streaming down her face and I actually became concerned that I was causing her too much pain.

When I said something about stopping though, Kim’s eyes opened and she snarled at me, “If you stop now you bastard, I’ll fucking kill you.” She then flexed her lower body upward, forcing most of what was left deep inside her, eliciting another scream.

“Oh, God, you’re splitting me apart,” she screamed, “but it hurts so fucking good,” before wrapping both legs around my back.

“Now FUCK ME, you beautiful son-of-a-bitch, FUCK ME, John, FUCK ME,” she screamed.

So I did.

I mean I did wait and let her stretched vagina get used to me before pushing the final inch or so inside her.

I started very slowly, just pulling half-way out and then slowly pushing in again, amid a never-ending litany of moans, groans, gasps, screams and assorted four-letter expletives. Then I began slowly increasing my speed and force.

I had never heard anyone so . . . vocal . . . during sex.

I was actually wondering if the neighbors could hear and what they would think was going on.

Then my weird sense of humor almost got the best of me again and I began laughing.

“What are you laughing about, you bastard?” Kim asked, between gasps and moans.

“Just wondering if the old, fat gay guy is listening,” I answered.

Kim smiled, then laughed, “I hope so. If he is, this is for him: FUCK ME JOHN, WITH YOUR MASSIVE DICK. FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME.”

So I did!

I thought I’d never cum as hard as I did when Kim and I had oral sex on the veranda. By the time I finally came inside Kim now (after she had numerous orgasms of her own), I knew I was wrong.

When I came in her mouth, it was almost like a practice session, and this was the real thing. We were both drenched in sweat and screaming by the time I finished cumming inside Kim.

I just rolled Kim over on top of me, with my dick still inside her.

Within just a few minutes Kim was asleep, and I wasn’t far behind her.

Kim’s final words, again whispered were, “I love you John. I always have.”

Almost three hours later, as it was getting dark outside, I woke up to the most incredible feeling. I looked down and Kim was kneeling between my legs with my dick inside her mouth.

I immediately thought of everything that had happened today, from the time Kim drove up nearly crying, and knew I would never get enough of her; I wanted to make love to Kim over and over and over again.

I reached down and began caressing the sides of this incredible woman’s face. She looked up and I could see the beautiful smile in her eyes.

I leaned my head back against the pillow and involuntarily my head began shifting left and right. I was just about to tell Kim that I loved her too.

The dying rays of the sun were streaming through the window of the bedroom and falling directly on the nightstand . . . illuminating the wedding photo of Mary and me.

Oh My God! What have I done? This was Mary’s bed. This was my bed. This was OUR bed.

I felt a wave of horror and disgust sweep over me. How could I do this to Mary? To her memory? Mary used to call Kim “her other daughter,” and now I had had sex with Kim.

The effect it had on my libido was immediate. My erection deflated instantly.

Kim looked up and started to ask, “What’s wrong John?” but before the words were half out of her mouth she saw me staring at my wedding photo. And must have seen the look of disgust and horror on my face.

Believe me, the look of horror and disgust were not for Kim. At that moment I didn’t feel Kim had done anything wrong. I was horrified and disgusted with myself. For allowing this to happen, for profaning our marriage bed.

Truly, I felt like I had taken advantage of an innocent girl. A girl who needed help, not the lecherous pawing of her body I had allowed to take place while removing the plug.

I almost felt like I had raped Kim earlier in the day. A young, trusting girl (“I trust you completely, John” she had said) who was 10 years younger than me, and my step-daughter’s best friend.

“I trust you completely, John.” The words kept reverberating through my head. “I trust you completely, John.”

This was how I had repaid that trust! Using her body as my personal sex toy.

“I trust you completely, John.”

I heard Kim gasp as she saw the look on my face, then felt her jump off the bed. She stopped and picked up her dress from the floor and ran out the door, but not before I saw the tears streaming down her face.

I couldn’t move. All I could think about was how I had betrayed everyone. I had betrayed Mary. I had betrayed Megan, by having sex with her best friend. And most of all I had betrayed Kim. Kim, who needed a friend, not some perverted old bastard who couldn’t control his animal instincts.

“I trust you completely, John.”

It wasn’t until I heard the front door slam that I realized Kim must have thought I was blaming her.

I jumped up and ran naked through the house and outside just in time to see Kim’s Mini Cooper careening wildly back and forth down my driveway.

I ran back inside and to the veranda where I put on my shorts, shirt and sandals, then ran back through the house. I was just about to go outside when I heard that little sound cell phones make when you receive a text message.

I glanced over at the couch and saw Kim’s phone. I could only guess she must have gotten her purse out of the Mini Cooper before coming out to the veranda earlier in the day. And had probably taken the phone out to check her messages. Personally, I hate cell phones but knew how young people were obsessed with them.

For a minute I somehow thought Kim was sending me a text. Don’t ask how Kim could have sent ME a text on HER phone, when she didn’t even have her phone. I wasn’t exactly being very rational at the moment.

I ran over and checked the message. Luckily Kim’s phone is not password protected.

The message was from Matt, the idiot boyfriend, and this is what I read: “I’ve been leaving you messages for three hours you bitch. When I find you I am really going to fuck you up.”

“Oh God,” I thought, “If Kim goes home she has no idea what is waiting for her.”

I ran outside and jumped in my SUV and left rubber as I started down my driveway. Then I had to slam on my brakes, causing the SUV to slide sideways down the drive.

Shit! I didn’t know where Kim lived.

I sometimes joke with customers at work that I have a mind like a steel-trap, then add the explanation “Rusty, closed and illegal in 32 states.” It always elicits a laugh, but I really do have a good memory — usually.

I know Megan has told me in the past . . . Oh, yes, Williams Avenue in Marietta. Damn, that avenue is at least 10 miles long. What was the street address? 3425? 2435? Damn, the clock is ticking and each minute is taking Kim closer and closer to a disaster.

Finally . . . finally my brain started working. I started making my way to Williams Avenue and called my personal secretary at home, praying she was there.

Debbie had been my personal secretary for the past 10 years, and for 25 years before that she had been my Dad’s secretary. We would sometimes kid her that she had been my grandfather’s secretary for 30 years before that.

Debbie looked like nothing more than a typical church lady. Sweet, little ole lady that wouldn’t hurt a fly and never had an improper thought in her life.

Debbie, who was in her late 50s, actually could out-drink, out-cuss and probably out-fight any two sailors or Marines I had ever known.

She answered on the second ring.

“Thank God you’re home Debbie!” I started. “I’ve got a real emergency, possibly even a matter of life and death.”

“What’s wrong, John?” she asked and I could hear the concern in her voice.

“I need you to grab every phone book you can find, search the Internet, call people, but I have to know the address for Kim Peterson. She’s one of Megan’s friends. She is in real trouble and doesn’t know it yet. She’s driving home and her boyfriend just left a message on her phone that he really going to fuck her up once he finds her.”

“Okay, the address is 3425 Williams Avenue, Marietta, GA 30060.”

I took the phone off my ear and held it in front of me for a minute.

“How? How? How in the name of all that’s holy can you know that without looking it up?” I demanded.

“John, there are times when you are even more hopeless and helpless than your father ever was,” she answered. “And BELIEVE me that is saying a LOT.

“Do you think all those invoices just magically print themselves? Do you think they just fold themselves up and put themselves in envelopes? Do you think the envelopes print the address by themselves and add postage and carry themselves to the post office?

“Is that what you think, you dumb-ass ex-Marine?” she said, adding, “Kim is one of our customers. We print her business cards for her modeling business.”

“Thank you Debbie,” I yelled. “Remind me to give you a big, sloppy wet kiss when I see you.”

“Hmmmmpf,” she muttered, “You couldn’t handle me on the best day of your life.

“Now get busy kicking ass and taking names, Marine. And if you need any bodies disposed of, let me know. I have lots of friends.”

While we were talking I had turned onto Williams Avenue and within just a couple of minutes I found 3425. I turned into the driveway and there was Kim’s Mini Cooper, and behind it was an older model Honda.

I was just getting out of my SUV when I heard a scream coming from the house.

“Kim,” I thought.

I ran across the yard. Well, ran as fast as I could with my bum knee, then up the steps. The front door was closed but when I tried the handle found it wasn’t locked.

I slammed the door open and it probably only took a second to bang into the wall on the inside.

It sometimes is incredible how much detail you can take in, in less than a second.

Kim was lying across the couch.

Her dress had been ripped off and she was naked.

I could tell she was going to have a black eye.

Her mouth was bleeding from a busted lip.

There was also a large bruise on her upper cheek.

Her eyes were wide open and panic stricken.

Some guy had his hands wrapped around her throat and was choking her.

As the door slammed into the wall, his head jerked around and he yelled, “Who the fuck are you?”

I started walking slowly into the house.

“Let go of her you son-of-a-bitch,” I ordered. “Or do you only beat up on little women?”

He jumped up and I saw him look up at my gray hair. Matt was several inches shorter then I am, but probably weighed about the same with wide shoulders and heavily muscled arms.

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here . . . Grandpa!” he yelled.

Then the dumb-ass make the second biggest mistake of his life.

The biggest mistake of his life was touching Kim.

The second biggest mistake of his life was when he tried to touch me. He took a swing at me, which I easily blocked, then drove my fist into his stomach.

As he doubled over, I grabbed the back of his shirt and the back of his belt and drove him face first into the nearby sheetrock wall. His head made a rather impressive hole in the wall.

I had not let go yet, so I spun him around and used his speed and momentum to launch him into the air where another wall, about 12 feet away, stopped his flight.

He collapsed onto the floor, out like a light.

I ran over to Kim and was almost afraid to touch her at first as I saw up close and personal just what the son-of-a-bitch had done to her. I could also clearly make out the bruises around her neck when he had been choking her. Another minute or two . . . another minute or two and Kim would have been dead.

I began crying and trying to tell Kim how sorry I was for driving her away, for putting her into the position of getting hurt and nearly killed.

And I kept repeating, over and over without even realizing what I was saying, “I love you Kim, I love you.”

Then Kim had her arms around my neck, desperately hanging on and telling me it wasn’t my fault, that I had saved her life.

“It’s just . . . it’s just that when I saw your face back at your place . . . the absolute disgust on your face . . . I thought you hated me,” she began. “Part of me wanted to stay, but part of me wanted to run.”

“Hate you? Oh, God Kim, I don’t hate you. I love . . .” That was enough to stop me for a minute. Did I really tell Kim I loved her? Then as I realized just how right those words were, and that I had actually been saying it for several minutes, I said it again.

“I love you Kim Peterson. Do you hear me? I love you.”

Then we were both crying.

Many minutes later we had recovered enough to begin thinking about the situation we now found ourselves in.

“You need to go to the hospital,” I said, “and have your face taken care of, but first I guess we need to call the police and have them arrest Matt.”

“I just can’t believe Matt would do that to me,” Kim said. “I mean, yes, he has sometimes been a little rough, but I can’t believe he would deliberately try to hurt me like this.”

That was when I remembered the plug.

“Kim, this wasn’t the first time he has tried to deliberately hurt you,” I said, then began explaining how I had cleaned the plug while she was sleeping.

I also realized I still had the plug in one of my lower pants pockets and pulled it out and began to explain.

“He had taken a knife or saw blade and cut these little v-shaped grooves all around the plug,” I showed her.

“The only reason for those is to deliberately cause pain, because he knew every time you moved even slightly, it would irritate the flesh.”

As Kim realized what that meant, her eyes turned an even darker shade.

“First, I am going to get some clothes on,” she said, “then I’m personally going to take care of that . . . asshole!” As she said that final word, I began to get worried. The look in her eyes and the expression on her face were starting to get scary.

I wound up carrying Matt into the bedroom and dumping him on the bed. While I was doing that Kim ran out to the garage and came back with rope and duct tape.

Then I was ordered out of the room.

Some 15 minutes later Kim’s phone started beeping. It was still in my pocket. As I pulled it out, I noticed that the message was from . . . Matt?

When I began reading the message, I started smiling.

The message was addressed to all his friends, and basically said that today Matt had realized he didn’t like women. In fact he hated women. He now realized that he liked guys. It went on to explain that a friend of his was going to tie him up in bed and put a butt plug in his ass. The front door was open, and the first friend to arrive at his house could remove the butt plug and put anything they wanted in his ass.

Oh, and before the friend left he was going to duct tape his mouth shut, so just ignore any attempted cries of help or pain. He really, really liked to be dominated, liked it rough and would really enjoy spanking as well.

And if his friends had any friends they wanted to invite . . . the more the merrier. The message also included the address.

Kim’s phone began beeping again and now I was looking at pictures she had taken with Matt’s phone. The viewpoints were from all three sides of the bed, showing Matt spread-eagled on his stomach and with the white butt plug shoved up his ass. There were even a couple of close-ups.

Kim had selected “all” on the phone, when it asked who to send the messages to, so every single one of Matt’s friends would get the message and pictures.

The last thing Kim did was go to the kitchen and get a bucket of ice water and dump it over Matt to revive him. I could hear the muffled screams all the way in the living room

We ran out to my SUV and climbed in. We would pick up Kim’s car later.

We had barely gotten on the highway when we saw a car slow down and turn in to Matt’s driveway. Kim began laughing.

“I always thought that guy driving was secretly gay,” she said. “And it looks like he brought a couple of friends with him.”

Before we had gone another mile down the highway, Kim recognized another car belonging to one of Matt’s friends. It was also full of guys. Some of them really BIG guys. We later heard that Matt moved to San Francisco where he changed his name to Mattie and really embraced a new lifestyle.

Kim refused to go to the hospital since such an obvious case of abuse would require a police report and investigation. After what she had done to Matt, she wanted to stay as far away from the police as she could.

I did take her to Debbie’s house and Debbie called a doctor she sometimes dated. He made a house call and at first I thought he was going to try to deck me, thinking I had hurt Kim.

Kim explained everything to Debbie and the doctor, then showed them the message and pictures. Both were laughing.

While Kim was being treated, Megan sent me a text message saying they were just leaving Six Flags and she was going to spend the night at her friend’s house.

She also sent a text to Kim, very worried about all the voice mails and text messages she found when they left Six Flags.

Kim told her everything was fine now, and she would tell her more tomorrow.

Kim and I finally got back to my house at about midnight. Even with the pain pills the doctor had given her, Kim was too keyed up to sleep so we wound up talking all night.

“I have loved you for years,” Kim said, “Did you know that?”

I had to admit that I didn’t.

Megan and Kim had been friends for years, even before Mary and I married.

“Did you ever notice how if Megan and I were in the kitchen and you walked in, I would go to the living room?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “and if I then walked in the living room you would go upstairs to Megan’s room.”

“I kept waiting for you to reveal who you really are,” she said. “I kept waiting for you to try to do something to me or Megan.”

When I asked what she was talking about, Kim said she was going to tell me something she had never told anyone, not even her best friend Megan.

“My step-father raped me when I was 11,” she said as she began to cry. “My mother was passed out drunk, he was drunk too but he came into my room and raped me.”

We were already sitting side by side on the couch . . . yes, THE couch, but now I picked up Kim and held her in my arms.

“That’s when I started spending so much time at Megan’s, even sleeping over as often as I could. But some nights I still had to go home . . . and for three years I was raped repeatedly.”

“Oh God, Kim, I am so sorry,” I said and now I was beginning to cry as well. “I never knew, never suspected or I would have put a stop to it.”

“I know that now,” Kim said, “but back then I didn’t. I was terrified. I was afraid of him . . . and I was afraid of you.

“I kept waiting to see the real you, the rapist, but all I ever saw was someone who obviously adored Mary and treated Megan, not as an unwanted step-daughter but as his own daughter.

“For nearly three years I was afraid of you, then when I finally realized I WAS seeing the real you . . . someone so gentle, so sweet, so tender with his wife and daughter . . . then I started hating you.

“Why couldn’t you be MY step-father? That didn’t last long. That changed the night you gave me a ride home when my step-father had his heart attack.”

I remembered. Kim’s mother called well after midnight and said her husband was in the hospital and asked me to take Kim home to be with her. I also knew he never recovered and had died in the hospital about a month later.

“Just as you pulled into my driveway you stopped the car and turned off the headlights and said we needed to talk. I . . . I . . . thought you were going to rape me then, that you were no different after all.

“But instead you started talking about my grades in school, and how you knew how smart I was because you had listened to me talk and you saw some of the books I read.

“Then you looked at me directly and said . . . God I remember every word just like it was yesterday . . . ‘Kim, you are beautiful, but a philosopher named Shubbam Joshi once wrote, ‘Beauty without intelligence is a masterpiece painted on a napkin.’ I can hear your voice so clearly, even now. Then you said, ‘Kim, you have a brain that is just as beautiful as, perhaps even more beautiful than what is on the outside.’

Kim was crying again.

“No one . . . I mean no one . . . had EVER said anything about my brain. All anyone ever saw was at first my face, and later my face and this body. That was just before my 15th birthday and I was a mostly “C” student.

“One year later I was making straight “As” and I remember how proud you were of me. You and Mary.

“Then you bought me that solid gold bracelet for my 16th birthday.”

I remembered. I talked with Mary several times about the bracelet. It was really far too expensive a present for us to be giving her, but I wanted something to let Kim to know how proud we were of her grades. Even though it had been my idea at first, Mary was actually the one who really wanted Kim to have it. I was concerned people would get the wrong idea. Mary, as she usually did, won that argument.

“On the back side was engraved that quote, ‘Beauty without intelligence is a masterpiece painted on a napkin,’ while on the front was engraved ‘Kim — Beauty with Intelligence.’

“I fell in love with you right then, John, and have loved you every second of every minute of every day of my life since then.

“But I knew it could never be. You were married to a woman I adored and who was like a second mother to me. Really, more like a first mother to me and someone I loved completely. And Megan was your daughter and my best friend.

“I had two choices. Either I could try to forget you by becoming a slut who would sleep with anyone, or . . .”

“Or, posting two perfect 4.0 grade point averages in high school,” I finished for her, “then acing your Scholastic Aptitude Test. A perfect 2400.”

“You believed in me John, when no one else did,” Kim continued. “I received a full scholarship to Georgia Tech because you believed in me. You saw something in me that no one else ever had, and made me believe in myself.

“When Mary died . . . when Mary died I was devastated. Then one night I was lying in bed and it suddenly hit me that you were no longer off limits.

“I was totally disgusted with myself. That I could even think of having a relationship with you less than a week after Mary’s death. That Mary’s death could be my opportunity.

“Graduation was just a few months away and I had been applying for jobs in Georgia, but I switched and started looking for jobs as far away from you as I could.

“Did you know I was actually hired by a firm in San Diego?” she asked, and I shook my head “No.”

“Then two weeks before graduation Megan called. She told me what a difficult time you were having and said she was going to move back in with you to take care of you. And she wanted me to move in permanently as well.

“I told her I couldn’t, that I already had accepted a job in California.

“Then Megan told me that the only reason I was moving to California was because of guilt, to run away from my feelings for you.

“Megan told me she had known since I was 16 that I was in love with you. And not only did Megan know that, Mary knew it as well. That I was in love with her husband.

“Megan also said that neither she nor Mary were upset because not only did they both know what kind of person you were . . . they also knew what kind of person I was.

“I cried for hours that night, John,” she said. “I thought I had been so clever, that no one could possibly know how I felt about you.

“I called the company in California and refused the job, then called Megan back and told her I would move in.

“For the first nearly three years I knew you, if I was in a room and you walked in I would leave. For the first three months after I moved in, if you were in a room and I walked in did you realize you would leave?”

I shook my head “No.”

“Megan said that was because you were attracted to me, but refused to allow yourself to believe it. That’s when Megan came up with her grand ‘Master Plan.’ She called it Operation Skin. We started wearing the skimpiest bikinis we could find and using the pool every single day — summer or winter.

“God, I HATED that during the winter. I mean the pool was warm, but I nearly froze my ass off every time we would run from the house to the pool. And running back after we were wet was even worse,” Kim laughed.

“After I turned 18 I began modeling lingerie and bikinis, but I never modeled anything half as skimpy as some of the outfits I wore for you.

“But it was like you didn’t even see me. I couldn’t get any reaction from you.”

“Oh, God, Kim, believe me I noticed,” I countered. “I lost count of the number of wet dreams I had about you.

“There was that one suit,” I said, and just shook my head. “I swear I could see EVERYTHING it was so skimpy and tight.”

Kim laughed.

“Which one?”

“It was pale pink,” I said. “I fantasized about you in that bikini for a month.”

“That wasn’t a bikini,” Kim laughed.

“What do you mean it wasn’t a bikini,” I asked.

“Megan spent six hours PAINTING that on me. I was totally naked,” she said.

I just shook my head again, at the memory.

“I can’t believe you are telling me Megan is okay with this. With us having a relationship,” I said.

“Hell, not only is she okay with it,” Kim said, “She kept saying she couldn’t wait until she could start calling me ‘Mom.’ I nearly decked her the first time she said that.

“I tried John, I tried for a year and it was killing me, being there with you in the same house. But you never gave me any hint you were interested. You acted like you didn’t even see me most of the time.

“Believe me, Kim, I saw you,” I assured her. “But you were my daughter’s best friend, and you were 10 years younger than me. I was just too wrapped up in my own grief.”

“I know that now, but six months ago I had to get away,” she said. “I moved in with the first guy to ask me. What a disaster that was, but I tried it for five months.

“Then I met Matt and he seemed so nice at first. I would never have believed anyone could change so much in a month.

“John, the last time my step-father raped me was just before I turned 15. I haven’t had sex with a guy since then, not until I moved in with Jeff six months ago. Because you were the only man I had ever wanted.

“And until yesterday on your couch, I had never had an orgasm with a man. I never had an orgasm with either Jeff or Matt. I . . . I think that was part of Matt’s problem. He knew he had never brought me to an orgasm. It think it really drove him over the edge, that he realized he would never be good enough for me.”

Kim leaned up and kissed me, very gently because of the split lip.

“Now I have what I always wanted. And if it took a few bruises then I think it was well worth it.”

By now the morning sun was just peeking through the windows of the bedroom. We had been up all night.

Kim snuggled against me with her head on my shoulder and an arm and leg thrown across my body.

Within just a few minutes her even breathing told me she was asleep and I think I wasn’t very far behind her.

I woke up, as it turned out, nearly 12 hours later with both Kim and Megan jumping on the bed.

“Wake up old man,” Megan shouted, “are you going to sleep your life away?”

“Yea, wake up old man,” Kim echoed, “I have BIG plans for you the rest of the day.”

Both girls were wearing bikinis. VERY revealing bikinis.

However, once I was finally able to stop staring at the awesome display of femininity around me and saw Kim’s face I nearly started crying. Her black eye was spectacular, the split lip was swollen double size and the bruise on her cheek was livid. The bruises around her neck clearly stood out.

“Don’t cry John,” Kim said. “It looks a lot worse than it feels. And it was worth every bit of it just to sleep with you today.”

“Yea, don’t cry Daddy,” Megan repeated. “Kim told me EVERYTHING that happened. You saved her life. Not to mention rocked her world! Several times apparently.”

Kim and I both blushed.

“Did you . . . did you really tell Megan EVERYTHING?” I asked, remembering all that had happened on the couch, on the veranda and in bed yesterday.

Kim blushed even more.

“Well, we’ve always shared our secrets,” Kim admitted.

I just shook my head at these two.

“Now we’re going to go swimming for a while,” Megan added. “Your breakfast, lunch and dinner is on the kitchen table.”

Then Megan smiled.

“After you eat, why don’t you join us? Join me and ‘Mom’ in the pool,” she snickered, emphasizing the word mom.

“Megan,” Kim began with a cautionary tone, “I’ve already told you. I am only three days older than you are. Don’t call me that.”

Megan looked at me and grinned, then repeated some of the first words she had heard me say many years earlier.

“Well, my parents always said I should listen to and be respectful to my elders,” Megan smirked, “So, Yes Ma’am. Yes Ma’am.”

Kim reached over and smacked Megan across her butt, not very hard of course.

“What are you supposed to do with these kids today,” she deadpanned to me, then all three of us broke up laughing.

After I ate I joined them and we swam for a couple of hours before Megan went on upstairs to bed.

That left me and Kim alone.

“You need to get some rest,” I told Kim.

“No,” she countered with a smile, “What I need is you . . . inside me.”

“Kim, I don’t think that is a good idea right now,” I tried to explain, “you are still hurting. Your black eye — quite frankly — looks awful, the bruise on your face is getting worse and your lip is swollen twice its normal size.”

“All of that is even more reason for you to make love to me,” she replied. “You need to take my mind off everything that happened.”

“Look,” I finally said, “I know your throat is hurting where Matt tried to choke you. I know it hurts to swallow, and I can only imagine what it going to feel like once you start screaming again.”

The last I said with a huge smile and was rewarded with Kim blushing beet red. By now we were standing in the shallow end of the pool in water only about two feet deep.

“How do you know YOU aren’t going to be the one screaming this time,” Kim retorted.

We argued the wisdom of Kim having sex so soon after her injuries for several minutes.

In what, no doubt, was going to become a pattern . . . I lost. I actually lost when Kim took her bikini top off before we even got out of the pool.

In the midst of my totally compelling argument, based upon superior logic and concern for her long term well-being, Kim reached behind her and unsnapped her bikini top and freed her spectacular breasts. She threw the bikini top beside the pool, then reached over and pulled my swim shorts down.

I was already starting to get hard and Kim grabbed my penis, knelt down and start rubbing it between her breasts.

“Wouldn’t you like to cum all over my breasts, John,” the little vixen asked.

So much for logic.

But at least I was determined to make love as gently as possible.

I quickly slipped my swim trunks back on (Megan was home after all), and carried Kim to my bedroom. Once we had dried off, Kim and I quickly jumped in bed.

This time I made sure her hands were not restrained since I did not want Kim to have to struggle like she had the first time, trying to get her hands free.

I quickly left a trail of kisses down across her throat and down her chest before sucking each nipple, one at a time, into my mouth. Kim’s hands were cradling my head, holding me tightly against her while whispering softly, “harder, harder.”

After making love to her magnificent breasts I kissed my way across her stomach and abdomen before plunging my tongue deep inside this lovely lady. Kim’s hips began flexing against me, trying to draw me even deeper inside.

Within a few minutes she softly cried out as she had her first orgasm, then when I plunged two fingers inside her, had a second, even stronger than the first.

By the time I entered her, Kim had several more orgasms. She was still incredibly tight, almost painfully tight, despite everything I had done to get her ready, but we were already getting used to each other’s bodies.

Unlike the day before I made soft, gentle love rather than the frantic pounding of our first sexual experience. This despite her at times desperate pleas for me to go “harder, fuck me harder John.”

By the time I filled her insides with my cum, Kim had had several more orgasms, then joined me with her strongest of the day.

During our post-coital embrace Kim kept whispering, “I love you John. Always have, always will,” and I also told her how much I loved her as well.

Three months later

Kim and I were walking arm-in-arm out to the pool. We had only gotten back that morning from our month-long honeymoon in Europe. One week each in England, France, Italy and Germany.

It was the most incredible month of my life. And, to be honest, the most expensive.

In England I had a custom-tailored suit made on Saville Row. In France Kim had several custom-tailored dresses made at Christian Dior. In Italy I had several custom-tailored Armani suits, then ordered a couple of pairs of hand-made Italian shoes. They actually made a mold from my feet so the shoes fit perfectly. Kim also had several more dresses custom-tailored.

We also brought several dresses and several sets of shoes back to give to Megan.

After arriving back at the house, Kim and I took a short nap to help catch up with jet lag. I then took both my beautiful ladies out to eat at the classiest place in Atlanta. I still couldn’t believe how much it cost. $1,400 for the three of us!

But I have to tell you, when we walked into the restaurant, Megan on my left side with her arm through mine, and Kim on my right side with her arm through mine, it was worth it. Every person in the restaurant stopped eating and talking and were just staring at us.

Kim was wearing a red sleeveless Christian Dior dress that was cut almost to her buttocks in back, and almost to her belly button in front. Megan was wearing a matching black dress. Because of the dresses, both women were obviously not wearing bras.

I, of course, was wearing one of the custom Armani suits and the hand-made Italian shoes.

All the ladies were staring daggers at my two girls, and all the men were staring at me with complete envy. Okay, that is probably not true. I don’t think any men there even noticed me. They couldn’t take their eyes off my two beautiful ladies.

We had just gotten home and Megan went upstairs to get ready for bed. Megan’s final words, after she made sure she was not standing too close to Kim were: “Night Dad, Night Mom.”

Kim literally stamped her foot before yelling, “Megan Carpenter, WHAT did I tell you. You are so grounded young lady!”

We could hear Megan laughing all the way upstairs.

Kim said she wanted to walk out to the pool so that is where we were now. As soon as stepped outside the house, Kim slipped her shoes off which caused me to smile quickly.

“What?” Kim said when she saw me smiling down at her.

“You already own more pairs of shoes than any woman I have ever known,” I answered, “and yet at least half the time you walk around barefoot.”

“Hey, I like walking around without any shoes,” she replied, then quipped, “And don’t you guys always talk about women being ‘barefoot and pregnant.’”

I still, even after three months, can’t take my eyes off Kim. Her beauty is almost beyond belief. And in THAT dress — WOW!

We had walked almost to the pool when her words finally penetrated my typical male brain.

Hey, looking at Kim, I was a little distracted, okay!

I swear she is even more beautiful now than a month ago, on our wedding date. She just seems to glow with an incredible inner beauty.

“Wait,” I said, “WHAT did you say? ‘Barefoot and WHAT?’”

Now Kim was grinning like a woman possessed.

“Well it took long enough for those words to soak in, John” she said. “I swear I don’t know how you managed to make it this long . . . you are soooo oblivious at times.

“I guess for 18 years you had your mother telling you when to eat and when to sleep, then the Marines told you when to eat and when to sleep. After that Mary felt sorry for you and agreed to marry you and then she told you when to eat and sleep, and for the past year and a half you’ve had Megan telling you when to eat and sleep.

“But don’t worry, John,” she grinned, “now you have me to do all your thinking for you.”

“Kiiiimmmm,” I yelled. Wait, I have never yelled at a woman in my life. Especially not a beautiful woman. Not a beautiful woman I was in love with. Not a beautiful woman I was in love with and married to. Not a beautiful woman I was in love with and married to and who had just used the “P” word.

“Kimberly,” I tried again, but this time using my “yes, I am totally in love with you but you are about to drive me crazy and if you don’t stop rambling on and on and tell me what you are talking about then I might, just might actually yell at you if I don’t go into cardiac arrest first,” voice.

“Yes, I said ‘barefoot and pregnant,’ John,” she finally answered, “as in we’re going to have a baby. I’m three weeks late and bought a pregnancy test while we were in Italy.”

By now Kim is starting to laugh at the expression on my face. Tears began filling my eyes.

“Oh my God, Kim,” was all I could say, over and over for a couple of minutes. “Oh My God, Oh My God!”

Mary had some complications when Megan was born and the doctors recommended that she have her tubes tied so we could never have children.

All I could do was just hold Kim tightly against me.

“I’m going to be a father, I’m going to be a father,” I repeated several times.

“You already ARE a father, John,” she said. “You are just as much a father to Megan as any natural dad could ever be. And I know you are going to be a great father to our children as well.”

Hearing Kim mention Megan prompted me to ask: “Does Megan know?”

Kim rolled her eyes at me: “Of course, you dufus. She’s known since the first day I was late. We text each other all the time. Every day while we were on our honeymoon I sent her messages telling her everywhere we went and everything we did.”

Then she smiled and added, “Well . . . not necessarily EVERYTHING! Some things we did are just between us.

“That’s why I kind of yelled at her a few minutes ago. I thought she was going to let it slip and I wanted to tell you.”

We resumed walking and reached the edge of the pool. Kim reached up and pulled my head down until our lips met. It was a slow, easy kiss but still rocked my world.

This beautiful woman, my wife, MY WIFE, was pregnant with my child!!!

“You know,” I finally said, “we have never actually discussed children. How many babies would you like to have?”

“Oh, one or two,” Kim answered. “That is one or two dozen!”

I just shook my head and grinned.

“You know what I want to do tomorrow, John?” she asked, and then answered before I could reply.

“I want us to go to one of the adult stores and buy some different size butt plugs,” she said with a wicked grin. “I want to feel you inside me EVERYWHERE.”

Wow! You know, being a husband is tough, but you have to try to make your wife happy. Sacrifice is the name of the game when it comes to marriage.

Then my weird sense of humor struck and I gave a half-laugh.

“What is it NOW?” Kim asked suspiciously. She had already learned about my weird sense of humor.

“Well,” I said with a completely straight face, “rather than buy some butt plugs we could see if we could borrow some from Ralph, our old, fat gay neighbor.”

Warning: The following story contains explicit sex, explicit violence, explicit shaming of slut-shamers, profanity, nudity, reckless use of illegal weaponry, cheap Halloween costumes, hipsters, police, personal calls while on duty, arson, destruction of public property, lingerie, war criminals, murder, assault with a deadly weapon, break-up text messaging, lesbian demon seduction, poor workplace morale, premarital sex, oral sex, public sex, solo sex, reverse cowgirl sex, sex under false pretenses, sex with malevolent intent, immolation, false identification, ruthless exploitation of personal beauty, unsafe crowd control standards, stereotypical Seattle passive-aggression, vertigo, destruction of evidence, racism (don’t worry, he dies), workplace scapegoating, wholly proper use of a detachable showerhead and girl-on-girl grenade fighting.

Readers quick to call women sluts or whores for engaging in sexual relations with more than one male partner over the course of a story are invited to read something else.


The shower revived him, but not enough. He should have slept more last night. He should have put Serena off. Most guys would think it crazy to turn such hot sex down for any reason, and Jack would generally be inclined to agree, but things had been like this for the last few nights.

He almost fell asleep while shaving in the bathroom mirror. He cut himself twice. The second time he hardly even noticed, except the blood dribbled down his thick wrist and marred his “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” tattoo. Jack stared down at it with red, blurry eyes and wiped the blood away.

He kept shaving. He had to make this meeting. What he would tell the assholes from State, he hadn’t actually decided. Maybe he’d tell them the truth. He already had immunity. But then again, maybe he’d just decide, fuck those guys, we didn’t do anything wrong. Lethal force was always part of the tool bag; Uncle Sam knew that when he hired Jack’s company. Hell, once upon a time, the government approved. The brats probably just would’ve grown up to blow up some bus stop in Israel or something, anyway, he thought. And their mother was probably just a whore.

Fuck their investigation. His company was paid to do a job, and they did it. They kept their client secure and safe—maybe pissing his pants, but safe. What more did they want?

Jack kept shaving away his blond stubble. His eyes drifted to the “big red 1″ tattooed on his muscular left shoulder, leading his thoughts back to the Army and days when he’d seen the world in brighter colors. Once more, Jack reconsidered. He had immunity. People just wanted closure. The guys from State were just trying to do their jobs. Maybe he should just spill and let them close this whole case?

They couldn’t get him on shooting the Arabs. Couldn’t get any of his fellow contractors. Could they get him on anything else? Maybe he should talk?

He was tired. Really tired, though in a good way. He certainly couldn’t complain.

Finished with shaving, Jack washed his face one more time and stepped out into his bedroom wearing only a towel, his battle scars and his tattoos. His suit was laid out on the bed.

So was Serena.

“Baby, do you have to go yet?” she asked. The black bed sheet only covered her crotch and the hand that she had over it. He could see her hand move under the sheet, between her slender, inviting legs. Jack’s eyes drifted up to her full, enticing breasts and the black hair that cascaded down her naked shoulders. Serena looked at him, grinning like she knew already knew she would win this round.

“Christ, there’s something wrong with you,” Jack huffed, shaking his head. He looked down at his suit. Everything was there except his boxers. Where were his boxers?

“Yeah, there’s something wrong with me,” replied Serena in a voice that could make a porn star blush. “I’m empty inside. I need you to fill me.”

Once again, Jack went to war, only this time it was entirely internal. Turning her down seemed insane. It should also be reasonable at this point. Hadn’t they fucked all night already—like, literally all night? She clearly liked his money and his luxury apartment. She knew how he made his money, and he’d already explained to her how important this meeting was in ensuring he could make more.

He looked her up and down again: the legs, that sweet spot between them, those tits, those eyes. She felt so good. Making her come felt so good.

“You don’t wanna leave me,” the beauty smiled. She lifted one leg and pointed with her toes at the tent formed by Jack’s rising cock. She could get him up like nobody else he’d ever been with. It was a talent. Like magic.

And now he was up and ready, and wasting it seemed foolish. “Serena, I gotta go do this,” Jack reminded her, trying to be assertive. She liked it when he was assertive. Liked it when he pulled her hair. Made her moan. All that… Wait. No. Stop thinking that shit, he told himself. “I don’t show up to this meeting, they’ll subpoena my ass.”

“So let ‘em,” Serena pouted. “Won’t change what you have to say. Or not say. Fuck ‘em, right?” Her lopsided grin returned. “Or better yet, fuck me.”

He took a deep breath. He loved it when she talked dirty, and she knew it all too well. “When I get back.”

“C’mon, baby,” she said, beckoning him with one hand while the other continued to toy with her flesh under the sheet. “You don’t even need to warm me up.” Her voice dropped and her words slowed enticingly. “We can be quick. Just for fun. You can fuck me, and when you’re at your meeting with all those assholes, you can think about how you’re the only guy there whose dick still smells like pussy… my pussy… you can ask yourself if any of them just got laid, or if they ever got any ass as hot as what you have waiting for you at home.”

She knew just how to make him forget his fatigue. Hot sex, no lengthy foreplay, just get in and get off and bail until later. Every guy’s dream, right?

Serena pointed at his groin with her foot again. “Somebody looks ready to me,” she taunted him. “If you don’t, you know you’ll be sorry.”

Jack snatched up her foot. “You’re right,” he said, and pulled her toward him on the bed. He took up her other leg, too, and spread them around his hips as his towel fell to the floor. The sensation of his cock sliding up against her warm and wet lips electrified him enough to banish his concerns of fatigue. God, she really is ready.

“That’s my man,” she said, her lip curling with animal lust. “My big, strong killer. Take me, baby. Take—nnh! Yeah!” Serena grunted as he lined up and thrust into her, taking every advantage of her readiness. She played her role to the hilt, displaying her naked beauty for him while he pushed into her again and again. Her breath grew audible, hitting notes of passion and surrender.

She knew just how he liked it, and how to keep him from going anywhere. She knew how to get him off, and how to keep his full attention, and how to wear him down.

Jack would never make his meeting, or any other, ever again.

* * *

“It’s not that I enjoy falling down the stairs, you know. It’s just that I like to see you nice young people. But the fall does get me down to the ground floor faster.”

Shannon allowed a brief smile at the old man’s joke as the blood pressure pump on his arm came to full inflation. She slipped the diaphragm of her stethoscope under the inflated pad and listened. The ambulance leaned left and then right, zooming its way through streets that were just open enough to allow them constant movement. Its siren wailed.

“How can you even hear anything in all this racket?” asked the old man’s grandson. He sat next to the gurney, looking a bit crammed. Today, Paul wore a simple polo shirt and slacks. He had come from the golf course. The last time Shannon’s ambulance had to come get George, Paul came from work in a tailored suit.

On the one hand, Shannon appreciated the obvious concern Paul had for his aging grandfather. On the other hand, she didn’t care for his tone when he spoke to her or her partner. She wanted to tell him off, but instead just swallowed her irritation. Snapping at people wasn’t her style. “I’ve had lots of practice,” Shannon answered. She had given up on calling him ‘sir’ after the second encounter. He was too quick to act like he had some supervisory authority over her.

“I know what that’s like,” smiled George. “I used to drive a tank, back in the war. Everyone would ask how I could hear things over the engine, but I could. The lieutenant… he liked to say I could tell what might be wrong with the engine just by listening to it.”

“You should listen to the staff at the home, Mr. Upton,” Shannon told him. “No more walking near the stairs when you feel dizzy. You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Yes,” George nodded. “I’m just dizzy sometimes.” He fell silent, looking at her for a long moment as she listened for his pulse, and watched the dial, and counted. “You have hair like his wife.”


“The lieutenant’s wife. He met a librarian. In Paris. Married her right in the middle of the war. Redhead, just like you. Kept it tied back tight, just like yours. Little more delicate than you… but it was Paris in the war and there wasn’t a lot of food to go around for a good while there, you see,” he corrected tactfully. Shannon paid it no mind. “And she wasn’t carting old men out of retirement homes or anything. But oh, she was so pretty…”

The ambulance rattled again, a little to the right, then a little to the left and then back again. “How’d that work out for them?” Shannon asked. “The marriage?”

George didn’t answer right away. The silence surprised Shannon. Something was wrong with it. She looked up at him, trying to understand what bothered her. “He died,” George said. “Took a bullet for me outside the tank. Right at the end of the war.” His voice diminished. “All this time I’ve had… all these years, because of him.”

This wasn’t right. Shannon watched him, and listened, and quickly realized what bothered her.

“I’m sure he’d be glad to know how things turned out for you, grampa,” assured Paul. “Don’t worry about that now.”

Shannon no longer paid attention to the conversation. She couldn’t hear the thump of his pulse in the stethoscope anymore. Oh no, she thought. “George?” she said, dropping the stethoscope and bringing her hand to his face. “George, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“What’s wrong?” asked Paul.

“I need that,” she grunted, pointing at an equipment bag behind him. “Move. Ian!” she called to the driver. “Ian, he’s gone cardiac! Right here in the wagon!”

“Aw, shit!” her driver snapped.

“What’s that—wait, right now?” Paul demanded.

Shannon had the defibrillator out of the bag already. She suspected it wouldn’t do any good. George was old and infirm. Shannon had done this job long enough to know a done deal when she saw one. Still, he was a fighter. So was Shannon. She wouldn’t give him up without a struggle, and a real one at that.

“Ian, haul ass!”

* * *

Serena loved her life. She loved the glamour, and the adulation, the intrigue and the wicked pleasures. She loved playing different roles for different partners, and loved to reveal her naughty, dirty girl core. She loved the raw power invested within her in all its facets. She absolutely loved to be lusted after.

She also loved the sex.

Her current partner, Jack, was a good one. He had a strong, animal lust and responded beautifully to the right strokes to his ego. Jack fucked her selfishly, which spoke to his nature, but in Serena’s case that worked out just fine. She didn’t mind his selfishness at all, and in fact did all she could to encourage it. To his credit, Jack also liked to get Serena off—mostly just for the ego boost he derived from hearing and feeling her climax, but it still meant more pleasure for her.

His motivations mattered little to her. Her partner delivered in bed, and that meant everything.

Jack took her from behind, pulling back again and again with one hand on her hip and the other clutching a fistful of her hair. Serena’s hanging breasts swayed as Jack fucked her. He didn’t hurt her at all—and couldn’t, but Jack couldn’t really know that. He had been back there for a very long time, relentlessly pounding her ass with his hips as his cock plunged into her again and again. Serena loved every minute, and made sure Jack knew it. She genuinely didn’t want him to quit.

The longer this sort of thing took, the more satisfaction and happiness she received.

His endurance had finally reached its limits, though. His thrusts slowed and his breath grew ragged. The only thing about him that refused to weaken was his cock, and he was too out of sorts to think critically about that, or about just how many times he’d gotten off without softening.

Yet he couldn’t give up. Couldn’t stop. She felt too good to stop, and she knew it. She had him fully enthralled. Serena felt his pace ease up, and smiled, and gave a small, taunting whine. “So close,” she said. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Jack rallied. It wasn’t much, but his hips crashed forward into her again, still slower but at harder at least, and she knew the pleasures it offered her partner seduced him into more. Serena gasped, “Oh! Oh! Yeah!” in time with his hips, until his body trembled to a final release.

It was every bit as good for her, too. She couldn’t deny that—not honestly, anyway, and there was no need to lie about it. Serena’s eyes rolled back and her voice rang out in moans of genuine pleasure.

He all but hung by that hand in her hair, using it to keep himself up. She could support him easily like that. She was far stronger than she looked.

“I gotta stop,” he wheezed. Jack’s eyes drifted around lazily. Were it not for the hand in her hair and the irresistible sensation of remaining coupled with her, he’d have collapsed. “Baby, I gotta… I gotta stop…”

“No, Jack, no, ssshhh,” Serena counseled him softly. She rose upright on her knees, taking his hands and releasing his cock—just for the moment—to turn herself around to face him. “I’ll take it from here, Jack,” whispered Serena. “I’ll take it from here. You just lie back.”

With her partner settled onto the bed, Serena swung her leg over his body and straddled him in reverse, facing his feet rather than his face. She found his cock still ready for her, and brought it into herself with another whimper of pleasure. “Just enjoy it, Jack,” Serena said as she began to rock against him. “Enjoy me. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

* * *

“They can’t have asked us to stick around here for anything good,” Ian muttered. He stood beside Shannon in the ER waiting room, taking up one small stretch of wall away from the patients, the victims and their various companions. He created a perfect portrait of a Seattleite: paper Starbuck’s cup in one hand, smartphone in the other.

“We did everything we could,” shrugged his ambulance partner. Shannon had a clipboard in her hand, going over paperwork from their rig. She didn’t look up at him as she spoke. They weren’t particularly close, but they got along fine.

She had two years on him. Like Shannon, Ian signed on with the company straight out of his EMT certification tests. Like Shannon, he did a bang-up job with the company. Like Shannon, he came in with ambitions of working his way through college to a better-paying medical career.

Unlike Shannon, he hadn’t actually gone back to school yet. He didn’t carry the burden of increasing student debt compounded by their crappy pay. Still, he’d been with the company long enough to know when trouble brewed.

“How long do we wait?” he asked. He looked around the waiting room, noting that it was as busy as one would expect on a Monday morning. Adults waited. Children cried. Almost every seat was filled. The only empty spots were beside the sort of people one only sat next to out of exhaustion or desperation.

“Company said to wait until we were released,” Shannon muttered for the second time. “If they need us to cut loose, they’ll let us know.”

“Just sayin’. We could be out there doing stuff.”

“Not sure there’s that much for us to do if they’re leaving us at the hospital’s mercy,” Shannon said. She glanced down at the game of Tetris he played one-handed on his phone and considered checking her own, but didn’t want to look unprofessional. It seemed like a silly thing to worry about, though, given the wait they endured.

Then she became aware of the emergency room doctor as he walked up. He was heavyset, with tired eyes and a deep bend to his lips that went well beyond mere grouchiness. Those eyes spoke of far too many hours on duty. “Are you the two who brought in George Upton?” he grumbled.

Shannon glanced at his nametag. “Yes, Dr. Woerner,” she said. “How’d he turn out?”

“He’s dead,” Woerner replied flatly.

Shannon took in a deep breath, frowned and nodded. She had done this for several years now. It happened. She had done all she could.

Just the same, it never failed to ruin her day.

“He hung on all this time?” Ian asked.

“No, I’ve been with other patients I couldn’t leave waiting,” snapped the irritated doctor, “but you two are perfectly healthy and so I figured I could prioritize appropriately, which is more than I can say for either of you.”

“I’m sorry?” Shannon blinked.

“You two want to tell me how you turned a simple slip-and-fall transport into a clusterfuck like this?”

“Wait, what?” Shannon worked to control her voice. “He had the cardiac in the wagon while I checked on him. Doctor, we know what we’re doing. I’m a nationally-certified paramedic and—”

“Not for long,” the doctor interrupted. “I’ve got my copy of the paperwork. You can explain this to your bosses before you’re suspended, Ms. Abrams.”

“Suspended for what!?”

I didn’t lose that patient, Abrams.” His finger came up at her chest. “You did.” With that, the doctor stormed off.

“What the—what the hell?” Ian burst when his jaw came off the floor. “Is he off his meds or something? We did nothing wrong!”

“Off his meds or suffering from having his head up his ass,” Shannon concurred.

“I mean, did you do anything wrong?”

“No,” she shook her head. It wasn’t her first ambulance ride. She worked to resuscitate the patient the entire way to the hospital, going above and beyond anything expected of her by the book. She did nothing out of bounds for her certification level.

“Because that guy’s gonna claim we fucked up!”

“He’s gonna claim I fucked up,” Shannon corrected. “All you did was drive the bus.”

“Jesus. This is really shitty,” grunted Ian. Shannon noted that his anger had suddenly diminished into mere annoyance. “Hey, I’m gonna go hit the bathroom and then we can get out of here, okay?”

“Sure,” Shannon nodded. She watched as he left and let out a sigh. It really would all come down on her head alone. The whole thing was baseless, of course; the doctor had no case at all. Yet she’d still wind up having to deal with it, and her supervisor wasn’t exactly known for his backbone.

Glumly, Shannon waited for Ian to get back. Boredom got the better of her. She pulled her cell phone out of the pocket on her pant leg, turned it on and looked for messages. She found a single text from Brad. Shannon opened it up, hoping for some sort of encouraging word from her boyfriend of over a year.

“I hope I’m not an asshole for breaking it to you like this,” read the text, “but it’s just not working out anymore. There’s just no spark. I think we should both move on.”

* * *

Serena’s voice mingled with the weak sighs of her partner as they came together yet again. Her shapely ass ground against his hips while her hands busily worked the outer flesh of her sex, drawing out her orgasm well beyond his. Her body gleamed with sweat. Jack’s grew ever paler.

“Oh, I knew you’d be a fun job, soldier boy,” the beauty laughed as the last spasms of climax subsided. She didn’t let him go, nor did she take any time to rest. Instead, she rocked against him once more, still fucking him despite his breathless pleas.

“Gotta stop,” Jack begged weakly. “Please stop. Gotta rest. Can’t… can’t do more.”

“But it feels so good, doesn’t it?” Serena smiled. She didn’t need to look at him to know how he looked.

“Yeah. Yes,” he admitted, “but we just… I can’t… I can’t…”

“I can. Don’t worry. I’ll keep this party going until you’re all finished off, Jack.” Her grin became malicious. “Should’ve gone to your meeting.”

“Wh… what?”

“I said you should’ve gone to your meeting. Maybe you could’ve confessed your crimes there. But if I was going to let you do that, I wouldn’t be here in the first place.”


“Oh, c’mon, Jack. Big bad warrior like you. Guys like you should know trouble when they see it.” She inhaled sharply, riding out electric sensations between her legs. “Should’ve seen it in me.”

“No. Let go,” he said through cracked lips and a dry throat. “Lemme go.”

“I will, Jack. I’ll let you go. Right to your eternal reward.” The mere thought made her shake. “It’s gonna be so good… for me. Maybe not for you. But you know that now, right? Can you feel it?”

Jack’s eyes fluttered open again. Now he saw the broad, black wings, and the tail, and the reddish hue of her skin. It made her no less sensuous, and did nothing to diminish the pleasures of being sheathed within her, but Jack’s heart beat faster.

“Oh, fuck, you’ve got at least another hour in you. I knew you’d be a stallion. Most of the guys I fuck aren’t nearly this in shape, but you’re a fighter. You’re a champion. All those people you murdered… they knew it, too, didn’t they? Before you died? Unh. Mmmh. I’m not… usually into… challenges… but oh, fuck, have you been worth it.”

His weak, trembling hands reached for the nightstand.

“I took the gun out of the drawer while you were in the shower, Jack,” Serena chuckled. “Paranoid fool. Sleeping with a gun by the bed. But oh, fuck. Such a good cock.” Her hands came between her legs to touch his shaft as she rocked back on it. “All the gun you need, right here.”

Jack’s fear pushed him to try again. The nightstand was empty. He reached back behind his head, hardly able to feel anything by touch now because of the overwhelming pleasure offered by Serena’s flesh, but he had to try. His hands fumbled back behind the pillow and found his other pistol on its holster hanging just below the headboard.

He was about to come again. He was close. So close. For the first time since he’d met Serena, he managed to deny himself. His life was at stake.

Jack pointed the gun at her back. It shook in his trembling hand. Holding it up seemed all he could do; the final pull of the trigger was almost more than he could manage.

The bullet struck her at the base of her skull. Serena immediately flew off of him and landed face first against the dresser across from the bed. The pistol fell from Jack’s weak hand. He tried to cough, but couldn’t muster the energy. His eyes fluttered open once more. The danger was gone. He knew that much, at least. He could rest now. Rest.

Serena rose with rage burning in her eyes. Jack’s eyes snapped open again just before the flames erupted from her mouth, engulfing him and his bed. He had no energy left with which to scream as he died, taking years of violent sins with him.

Almost as soon as the last tongue of flame left her mouth, she regretted it. She’d acted out of pain and anger. It was reflex. Sloppy. Stupid. The fire spread quickly, igniting the wallpaper and the sheets. “Aw, shit,” she cursed at herself.

Serena looked toward the door for an escape, then the window on the other side of the room—and saw the gleaming halo and white wings of a young-looking beauty in a simple white dress.

“Well, fuck me running,” the angel scowled. “I thought I smelled skank in this neighborhood.”

* * *

“Please don’t call her that.”

“No, seriously, she’s gotta be a skank,” Ian said. He drove along with one hand on the wheel and the other holding his burrito. “I mean if he’s ready to dump you for her after dating you for a year and he does it over text? That means he’s got somethin’ he doesn’t want to own up to in person. If you think there might be another woman, then there probably is.”

“You don’t have to call her a skank,” mumbled his partner. For the first time in Ian’s memory, she had her phone out in her hands and keyed in commands. “I don’t even know her. I don’t know what’s going on with them. And it’s not like we had moved in together or anything.”

“Seriously? Shannon, she stole your man! She’s a skank!”

“No, really, Ian. Stop it. I’m serious,” Shannon said flatly. “That’s a shitty thing to say about anyone and I don’t need to hear it. Brad chickening out on me is one thing. She didn’t do wrong by me in any way that I know about. She might not even know he had a steady girlfriend, or he might have lied about me and made her think dumping me was healthy for him. So leave her out of it, okay?

“Nobody ‘steals’ anyone. He’s an adult. He makes his own decisions. If he’s not interested enough to stay with me, then I don’t want him.”

“Fine,” Ian shrugged. “Jeez. Sorry.” He drove on in sullen silence, waiting for Shannon to apologize for snapping at him. When she didn’t, he figured he must have struck a real nerve. Shannon could be firm and loud in an emergency, but she rarely rebuked him or anyone else with the company. She was always shy at parties. Quiet. Not withdrawn, but certainly introverted.

He didn’t even know Shannon had a boyfriend until the Christmas party last year. Now she had lost him, and seemed mildly annoyed instead of heartbroken. And now, for the first time ever, she seemed absorbed by her cell phone. Ian finally caught a glance at what she was doing. “Changin’ your relationship status, huh?”

“No,” answered Shannon. “I don’t even post that. I’m tempted to shut this thing off except for all my family out of state.”

“So what are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out how to make it stop sending me updates when people send me something or tag me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he changed his status and people are bugging me about what’s wrong.”

“Seriously? He did that already? Shannon, this guy—”

“Is out of my life now, okay?” Shannon sighed. “Just let it go. I’m better off without him. I’ll find somebody new sooner or later.” She looked out the window, only now feeling a bit glum.

“Well, you’re a pretty gal, right? I mean I don’t want to get awkward, but you are,” Ian pointed out. “I bet you get asked out a lot, right?”



“I think I project it or something, but…” Shannon let out a sigh. “I hate dating.”

* * *

Serena hated being thrown through drywall.

She crashed through the plaster and flimsy wood in a mess of dust and splinters only to continue through the coffee table in the living room, too, which exploded in a mess of shards. The naked succubus flopped to a stop at the foot of the entertainment center.

“Oh, you stupid demon asshat,” ranted the angel in the bedroom. Serena looked through the hole in the wall to see the angel swiftly gather the burning blankets up in a bundle. She saw Jack’s lifeless, charred head and shoulders flop up into view for a heartbeat as the angel included him, too.

“What did I say? What did I fucking say to the last two fuckers I sent back to Hell with their heads shoved up their asses?” She moved out of view, presumably heading for the window to throw the bundle outside where the flames would provide less danger to the building. The wall still burned, but the angel clearly meant to remove what fuel she could before dealing with that.

Serena shook herself. She ached all over, but it would take more than this to put her down for good. That angel could do it, though—she knew exactly who she faced. In just the last few weeks, every demon had heard of Rachel.

She hated feeling afraid, but she felt it now. Going toe to toe with an angel of such power was simply not an option. Nor would Serena get away if she simply turned tail and ran.

The succubus launched herself to a small closet and threw open its doors. Hidden behind hanging coats and suits stood a tall, locked box of some of Jack’s favorite things. The lock on the metal box did nothing to keep Serena out; the sharp talons that now replaced her fingernails took care of that.

“I said, ‘No more asshats in my city!’ That’s what I told ‘em to tell all of you!” Rachel continued to rant as she came back into view. She had curtains in her hands now, using them to beat at the flames still growing across the bedroom wall. “Other people live in this building, you stupid cow! How the fuck am I supposed to put this out? Piss on it? I don’t have that kind of equipment!”

She snapped the curtains at the wall again. “You still out there?” Rachel asked. The angel looked over her shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten about y—”

Serena pitched the grenade through the hole like a shot putter. Her timing was perfect, as was her aim. Jack was not remotely the first dangerous man she’d slept with. She sometimes learned all sorts of useful things from her lovers.

The grenade exploded in mid-air, less than a foot from Rachel’s back. Flames and smoke obscured Serena’s view of the damage, but the succubus didn’t waste time assessing damage. She pulled the automatic shotgun from its foam resting place.

Clothing. She would need clothing, too. A succubus had great powers of illusion, but power was finite. Having just a little to work with would make things easier. Even a coat would do. With the Saiga shotgun locked and loaded, Serena stood and kept the weapon trained in Rachel’s direction while she grabbed a long black trench coat off of a hanger.

In the bedroom, Rachel coughed as she got to her hands and knees. Her head felt like it had been used as the ringer for a cathedral bell, and for that matter so did the rest of her body. She recovered quickly, but even she wasn’t invulnerable. Rachel blinked and looked around. At least the blast had blown out most of the flames.

She couldn’t have this here. People lived in this building, and protecting them took priority. Bad enough that the succubus had started a fire, but Rachel hadn’t expected her to escalate straight to explosives. She got off her knees just in time for the second grenade to land at her feet.

“Aw, sh—” she managed before the grenade blew, lifting her with enough force to bang her up against the ceiling before she landed on the smoldering remains of the bed. This grenade brought with it more fire rather than less. Rachel burned, and with her so did the room.

“Fucking knock that shit off!” raged the angel. She allowed herself to go intangible, rushing up through the wreckage of furniture and going straight through the wall to launch herself back at her opponent. She couldn’t remain in that state and land a blow, though, and her foe knew it. As soon as she came through the ruined wall, the shotgun blasts erupted at point blank range.

Rachel screamed more in anger than pain. A mortal body would have been shredded; hers would be severely bruised when this was over. Still, she came on, bringing a fierce left hook into Serena’s side that took the succubus off her feet and sent her flying over the bar separating the apartment’s living room and kitchen.

She stormed after her opponent. Serena’s mouth let loose another storm of fire the instant Rachel was in view. Every tongue of flame that didn’t strike Rachel ignited something beside or beyond her: the countertop, the wall, the carpet. Rachel staggered back under the assault, and had to take another step back as the gun came up and pounded her again.

Serena held down the trigger. She saw blood and smelled burnt flesh. Even angels had limits. Perhaps, Serena dared to consider, she might have a shot of getting out of here in one piece after all. She rushed forward, throwing everything she had into a brutal kick to Rachel’s midsection. The angel tumbled back onto the floor, still coughing and still smoldering.

The last two rounds burst from the Saiga, its barrel within arm’s reach of its target on the floor, and then Serena was out the door.

* * *

“Fuckin’ cop. I know that guy. He gave me a ticket last week.”

The police car rolled down Broadway Avenue in the opposite direction. Shannon looked at it in the mirror anyway, more out of reflex than rational thought. She had the shotgun seat, her clipboard in her hand so she could keep up with the larger-than-normal load of paperwork after their trip to the ER. It was silly to look in the mirror. How could she even see the guy’s face? “What, how fast were you going?”

“Not the point,” Ian grunted. He drove on, the bitter frown on his face unchanged since they left the hospital.

“Mm-hm,” Shannon nodded. Despite the continual downer of a day, she managed a smirk at that.

“No, seriously,” he countered. “I’m just sayin’. I told him I was an EMT and everything. Still wrote me up. Fucker.”

“No respect, I guess,” his partner shrugged. “God, what a day.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty shitty. You know Frank’s bound to re-shuffle the schedule so we aren’t working for the next two days at least, right? Just so he can say he doesn’t have us on the street while there’s a complaint pending?”

“It’s a bullshit complaint, Ian,” Shannon replied. “The nurses all said that guy’s just in trouble with the hospital for his own fuck-ups and wants to shift blame for this somewhere else. Seattle Fire thought it wasn’t a life-threatening call, otherwise they wouldn’t have given him to us for transport in the first place, so we’re covered there. And we did everything we were supposed to do and nothing we weren’t supposed to. We did everything we could.”

“That don’t mean it won’t turn into a thing.”

She let out a long sigh. “Yeah.”

“Sorry about your boyfriend.”

“I’m over it.” She paused. “Could’ve done it a couple weeks sooner, though. Wanted to go to a show on Halloween, but he got all hung up on going to some party and now I’ll never get tickets.”

“For what?”

“Local bands playing downtown. Throbbing Ennui. Rockerdammerung. Cool guys.”

Ian smirked, but said nothing… until he couldn’t hold it in. “Seriously?”

Shannon smiled back without looking at him. “Kiss my ass.” Then she blinked and leaned forward for a better view. “Hey, is that black smoke up there?” Shannon asked, pointing off to an apartment building just a couple blocks ahead off of Broadway.

“What, that building there?”

Then they saw the windows burst as an explosion went off inside the corner apartment. Shannon grabbed for the radio. “Go, go!”

* * *

She heard sirens as soon as she made it to the rooftop. Smoke from the fire downstairs billowed up around the corner of the apartment building. The sun hadn’t quite set yet. All in all, it made for more eyes looking her way than she would’ve liked, but Serena could escape from mortal vision fairly easily. Angels were another matter. That took real effort. Evasion was more practical.

The natural thing to do would have been to run out with all of the mortals fleeing the building to the streets below. She could blend in and hide that way. She could quickly enlist some altruistic fool in her escape. But that seemed likely to be what the angel would expect of her.

Instead, Serena decided to go up rather than down, and to make brief use of her wings rather than her feet. It was easy to forget that the succubae had wings; half the time they were concealed, anyway, and even then the demons rarely flew.

She took in the skyline, picked a direction and spread her wings.

The hand that grabbed her ankle exerted enough force to nearly break it. Serena yelped as she was flung to the floor. She watched Rachel float up through the roof, bringing one angry fist down onto Serena’s stomach. Reflexively, the succubus jerked half-upright, sitting up only to take an elbow to the face.

Rachel released Serena’s leg, jerked her to her feet by her wrist and held on tight as she unloaded punches and kicks on the succubus. In a matter of seconds, the fight had entirely turned; regardless of Rachel’s injuries and flagging strength, she had the upper hand and wouldn’t lose it now. The fact that the succubus held it together even this long spoke to her high rank in whatever demon lord’s court she served.

By the time Rachel let go, Serena was punch-drunk and swaying on her feet. The angel wound up for an uppercut and let it fly, crying out, “Shoryuuuken!”

Then she opened her eyes and saw the unconscious succubus flying in an arc off the roof and down onto the street below.

“Aw, shit.”

* * *

Amazingly, the street was fairly clear when Shannon and Ian came around the corner. Their siren wailed, their horn honked and their lights flashed, and for once everyone seemed to know what that meant and got the hell out of the way. Their ambulance was the first response vehicle to arrive.

Ian and Shannon looked quickly for someplace to park where they wouldn’t block any fire trucks. Consequently, both of them only saw the woman in the trench coat fall from above and land in front of them out of the corner of their eye. No one could reasonably hold Ian responsible for hitting her with the ambulance, but he let out a guilty shriek just the same.

“Take care of the wagon!” Shannon said, jumping out of the ambulance without missing a beat. She hustled over to the fallen woman, making sure to look in every direction and assess the situation. Shannon couldn’t really see how the victim had gotten there—nobody could jump from one of the rooftops all the way out to here in the middle of the street—but at least it didn’t look like any other women were falling from the windows.

She looked about Shannon’s age. Fit. Naked under her trenchcoat. Battered and bloodied, but not lethally so to outward appearances. She smelled of smoke. A big, ugly gun lay beside her. Shannon slipped her gloves on without even thinking about it as she assessed the situation. The victim was already on her back, and thus in a good position to receive care. “Can you hear me?” Shannon asked as she looked her over. She took up her wrist and felt for a pulse. “I’m a paramedic. I’m here to help you. Can you hear me?”

She didn’t answer. Shannon felt sure there was a pulse there, but a weak one. Nothing indicated she was breathing, though; no chest movement, no sensation against Shannon’s ear as leaned over the victim’s mouth.

Naturally, she saw, Ian now had trouble with a crowd. He couldn’t leave the wagon yet. Shannon drew a crowd, too. She continued her initial exam, but came to the same results. She reached for her CPR mask, but it had fallen out of her belt pouch when she pulled out her gloves. She didn’t see it anywhere in reach.

“Hell with it,” she muttered, and put her mouth over the fallen woman’s to give her a breath. Instead, the thousand year-old succubus released her last breath into a mortal woman.

Shannon’s eyes went wide. Her throat burned, but her body froze and she couldn’t let go. Her limbs went weak. That burning sensation went all the way through her, chasing away her sudden, inexplicable chill.

Whatever happened next, Shannon wasn’t sure; she passed out.

* * *

She remembered castle walls. She remembered torches, and hearth fires, and the laughter and conversation of a feast.

She remembered her dress. It was long and flowing and beautiful, fit for a noblewoman. A woman like herself.

She remembered the smell of beer and the sweat of men. She remembered the feeling of men’s flesh, holding her and caressing her and stroking her inside. More than one man, all at once. She remembered lustful laughter, and needful grunts, and satisfaction and hunger for more. She remembered being taken. She remembered liking it.

She remembered that it had been her idea. It had been her deliberate betrayal.

She remembered torches, and hearth fires, and flames that roared far higher and hotter than anything seen by mortal man.

She remembered being reborn, and remembered that it hurt, but after that she knew there would be power and pleasure for centuries to come.

* * *

“Ms. Abrams? Ms. Abrams, can you hear me?”

“Huh? Yeah. Yeah.” Her eyes fluttered open. Up above her were grey Seattle skies. Closer to her, but still above, was a handsome face. She liked the green eyes and the short, spiky blond hair. “Wow. You look good in that uniform,” she said sleepily.

The officer blinked. There was a lot of noise: people yelling, some crying, engines running and apparently something big burning brightly and loudly not far away. “Uh. Okay. You with us now? What’s your name?”

“Shannon. Call me Shannon. Ms. Abrams is my mom,” Shannon smiled. Then her smile faded as it all came back to her. “Oh, shit, is she—the woman who fell, is she okay? What happened?”

“Fire’s already dealing with the building,” the cop shrugged. He looked to be about thirty and in great shape. Shannon couldn’t stop looking at him. Fit without being bulky. She wanted to see more. Hell of a time to think about that, though. “Your partner took over with the woman in the street right when I got here and pretty soon… well, anyway, it’s under control and I figured somebody should look after you besides random civilians.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Shannon smiled. Again, the cop blinked. So did Shannon. “I mean—uh—I mean thanks. Ugh. I gotta get up.”

“Woah, careful, slow down,” the cop said, kneeling down to help her sit up as she realized just how stable the world wasn’t. “Are you hurt at all? You surely a concussion.”

“No, I think I’m okay. I mean I’m a little confused, but I’m okay. I just… I started checking on that woman, and then it all went black. Is she okay?”

The cop frowned. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “She’s gone.”

“Oh, fuck,” Shannon sighed, her hands covering her face. Her voice cracked with frustration. “Dammit, I was trying to help her and I don’t know what happened!”

“Hey, hey, don’t take it like that,” the cop said. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, I checked her myself. The whole back of her head was broken in like five different places and you could tell just from looking at her that half her ribs were smashed. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“What? No, she wasn’t that hurt! I didn’t see anything like that!” Shannon’s hands came away from her face. She looked toward the street to see a black plastic sheet covering the fallen woman. Beyond it, Shannon saw that the apartment building was a full-on blaze. Firefighters were inside trying to control and contain the mess, but nobody would be able to live there again once it was all over.

The cop relaxed a bit, understanding that Shannon’s frustration wasn’t to the point of tears or a breakdown. He saw now that she would hold it together. “You might not remember it that way now,” he suggested, “but you could take a look at the body over there if you really want to. I don’t recommend it. Seriously, she could’ve taken that fall in the emergency room parking lot and she still wouldn’t have made it.”

He helped her up when she moved to rise. “Ugh, I’ve gotta get back to work,” Shannon said.

“No, you’re good. Think we’re all covered here. Plenty of paramedics already. You need to take it easy. Seriously,” he reiterated when she tried to brush him off. Finally, he saw her absorb his words and nod. His tone softened. “Listen, did she have anything with her other than the gun?”

“What? No.”

“It’s just that nobody in this city should have one of those. If she had anything else and somebody in the crowd walked off with it before we got to you, it could be important.”

“No, just… just the coat and the gun. Beside that, she was naked. Gorgeous.” Shannon paused as she said that. Where did that come from? What would it matter?

He brought her to an ambulance—her own, embarrassingly enough. She accepted his help in sitting her down on the back bumper, less because she needed any help and more because she liked it. That wasn’t normally her style… but hell, he’s cute and he seems really nice, right?

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“I’m Officer Murray.”

She smiled up at him. “Does it say ‘officer’ on your driver’s license?”

He grinned back at that. “Kevin,” he replied. “My name’s Kevin. Look, I’m gonna let your partner know you’re okay, alright?”

“I’d appreciate that, thanks,” Shannon nodded. She stepped on her urge to flirt more. She wasn’t the flirty type at all. If anything, she was normally shy. This was also absolutely not the time or the place. She resolved to get her act together, and then immediately looked back up at him, unfastened the top button on her uniform shirt—just to cool off—and asked with that same girly, not-entirely-innocent smile, “Are you gonna come back?”

“I. Um. I dunno,” he stammered, genuinely unsure of how to answer that. “Listen. Uh… like I said, this whole scene is crazy but if you remember anything,” he said, fishing a business card out of his shirt pocket, “you wanna give me a call?”

“Sure,” she said, accepting the card. The gun. Right. Something about a gun. That was something a cop would care about. Stop thinking like you’re out barhopping. “Can I call you anyway?”

“…sure?” he answered. He seemed to blush. Then he left, answering a call from someone else on the scene.

Shannon didn’t know whether to squeal or slam her head into the ambulance. She’d never made a guy blush before, let alone a guy like him. She still felt out of sorts. Good, oddly enough, but a little confused. The whole situation around her was pretty crazy, too, she conceded to herself. Maybe she was woozier than she thought and she had just imagined all of the cop’s reactions? Or maybe she read them completely wrong because she’d damaged her brain?

A young woman in a dirty white dress stepped in front of her. She was seriously pretty—and pretty serious. “You’re Shannon Abrams,” said the blonde.


“Your boyfriend just dumped you because he’s an asshole,” she went on. The blonde’s eyes looked her over as if reading something or seeing a scene play out on a television. “He—wow, what a dirtbag. Dumped you via text. Didn’t have the balls to tell you the truth why. Wow.”

“Huh? How did you know—”

The blonde shook her head. “You can’t worry about that asshole now. You’ve got more important things to deal with. Don’t fuck anyone until I can talk to you again.”

Shannon blinked. “What?”

“Look, just for your own good and theirs: don’t fuck anyone. Don’t kiss anyone, don’t accept any hugs, don’t even flirt. Keep your cell phone off. Just get off work, go home and go to sleep. I’m busy and I can’t explain just now. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can, but for the love of God, don’t fuck anyone, alright?”

With that, she was gone. She just turned her head and walked around the ambulance and when Shannon got up to follow her, she had vanished.

Ian took her place. He came up to Shannon carrying a gear bag, breathing heavy as if he’d been working at a good clip. “Hey, I saw you were up,” Ian told her. “How are you feeling? You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Shannon answered. “I’m fine now. I think. I’m a little out of it but I don’t think I’m gonna pass out again. I feel like such a tool.”

“Don’t freak out about it,” Ian replied. “Just take it seriously, but you’ve already had a hell of a day. Lots to stress about. Anyway, they’ve got plenty of people on hand for the fire. I was told we’re released as soon as you’re ready to go, so let’s just head back to the station, okay?”

He’s looking at me differently, she realized. It was a subtle thing; something about the interest in his eyes and his posture and the deeper-than-normal tone of his voice. She felt no mutual spark; he wasn’t her type, and after riding with him for the last six months she found in him too many of her turn-offs. But she recognized now that there was something there for him, at least.

Ian stepped past her into the ambulance to stow the gear bag. He left Shannon sitting there on the bumper, reflecting on how hard it must be to wear a mask like that all the time. Must be hard to hide how you really feel all the time, she thought. Or to hide who you really are.

* * *

It was a good night to live alone.

Freed from her job after entirely too much discussion with her supervisors—and theirs—about her day, Shannon all but staggered through the door to her apartment, locked it behind her and threw the deadbolt. She leaned against the door, inhaled the lingering smells of last night’s cooking and the cheap lavender air freshener plugged in down the hallway and told herself to relax.

She was home now. She would be home for a few days. As Ian predicted, her schedule had been rearranged in light of the complaint from the ER doctor and now because of her fainting spell. Not one of her bosses thought the complaint held any merit, but none were willing to take her episode outside the fire lightly, either.

Shannon unbuttoned her shirt and took it off right there in the doorway. Normally neat and methodical with her clothing, Shannon instead opted to just shed her uniform right there in the entryway.

She wanted to be naked. Shannon jerked at the laces of her boots to free herself from them, dumping the footwear on top of her uniform shirt and then tossing the socks as they came off, one toward the kitchen and another down the hall.

Her single-bedroom apartment usually stayed fairly clean. Now her belt went flying carelessly across the living room. Her undershirt fell across the stove, just a few feet away from the front door. She rounded the corner, went into the bathroom and promptly cranked the knob in her shower-tub to fill it with hot water. She didn’t bother to balance it by turning the cold water knob.

Shannon unfastened her pants and slipped them off her hips, slowing now to touch her legs with her fingers all the way down. When she straightened back up, she found herself looking back in the mirror.

Like many women, Shannon wasn’t fair to herself about her looks. She faced with her reflection and with her life at a new crossroads. “I’m plenty pretty enough,” she said aloud.

She had been since the beginning. She knew that now. Whether Brad got that or not she didn’t know and could hardly bring herself to care, but she was clearly better than he deserved. She had a brain. She had a job—crappy though it often was, and no longer as awesome as she once thought, it was still a job and she was damn good at it. Shannon was twenty-eight, sane and stable despite her career frustrations. She’d been a good girlfriend: thoughtful, attentive, willing to give space. And yes, pretty, too, goddammit.

“Can’t say much for the underwear, though,” Shannon frowned, and watched herself in the mirror as she pulled the sports bra over her head. Her hands came down to her chest to massage her freed breasts and rub the red lines left behind by the edges of her bra.

All that was normal. It always felt good to shed her bra after work. What wasn’t quite normal was the amount of time she took in rubbing her breasts, or the slow, sensual pleasure of it. Her breasts felt good. Very good. She’d never noticed it before. Shannon felt a bit bad about having to restrain her perky endowments—firmer than she normally gave herself credit for—in such an unflattering garment. They looked good. They felt even better.

Her hands lingered. Stress quickly melted away as she touched herself. Shannon cupped her breasts, bringing her fingers to her nipples and giving the slightest of caresses, and found herself letting out a deep sigh.

A grin spread across her face, half out of genuine arousal and half out of wry amusement. Like anyone, she took care of herself while alone from time to time. Yet she never liked the thought so much before now. Shannon glanced at the tub, seeing it fill with water hot enough to give off visible steam, and decided she deserved a little playtime. In fact, she deserved a lot.

She shed her panties—dismally plain things, she decided—and allowed one hand to linger between her legs while she slid the flow selector over to “shower.”

Scalding hot water rained down from the detachable nozzle. Some of it splattered onto the floor outside the tub. Shannon hardly cared. She slipped one leg inside, then another, loving the wet warmth that sprayed across her body and immersed her legs.

How are they so smooth? Shannon wondered absently. It had been several days since she last shaved, but now they felt as if she’d just waxed. Her hands slid up and down her legs, enjoying them almost as much as she enjoyed touching her own breasts, and only barely questioned her new sensitivity.

Soaking wet now, Shannon finally slid the shower doors closed to avoid a flood in her bathroom before she pulled the nozzle from its mount. She ran it over her body, reveling in the heat without considering how it should burn rather than comfort. She brought it over her head. Down across her shoulders. Over her breasts, then under them, and finally down her belly to her center.

She was glad to be home from work. She was glad she didn’t have to deal with Brad… and yet she felt a hunger that would best be sated by a man. Still, the shower would do nicely for now, which only seemed surer as she began to tease herself between the legs with the water flow.

The world and all her cares drifted away as the water began to do its work. Shannon lifted one leg up onto the side of the tub to allow better access, leaned against the wall and sighed while she teased herself further. Arousal built. Heat and pressure applied in small circles quickly did its work.

Shannon shook and let out a moan. She wasn’t normally this quick; more than once, she had run out of hot water before getting off, and that was without filling the tub with hot water beforehand. Yet she didn’t feel rushed at all. Were it not for the finite limits of her hot water heater, she would have thought she’d been at this for quite a while as pleasure rose and her tremors grew more intense.

The water felt so good. She felt so good. A shuddering breath escaped her as the spasms began. Shannon let out a loud moan, shameless and joyful in its announcement of her climax. It, too, went on for longer than she expected. Her center throbbed with pleasure and the sound of the showerhead between her legs changed as she brought it in even closer to prolong her bliss.

Her orgasm abated, only to quickly build into another before she had even pulled the showerhead away. Shannon rode it out, surprised at her body but happy to enjoy it just the same. Water sprayed all around her as her hands shook, but she didn’t mind. Nothing detracted from the sensations of orgasm.

Relieved and pleased, Shannon lazily assessed the depth of water in her small bathtub and found it adequate. She turned off the flow and left the showerhead hanging from its metal hose as she sank into the tub, immersing herself in water that would have burned any other woman.

It felt natural. It felt relaxing. She hadn’t felt cold before, necessarily, but the heat soothed her. Naked and alone and for the moment satisfied, Shannon felt the last tensions of her day leave her body.

Her mind relaxed, and finally turned off.

When she found herself thinking about much of anything once more, she found her thoughts drifting toward naughty things. She lay in the tub with her legs spread and her knees bent, perfect for the taking if only she had someone here to take her. Or to kneel down and please her. That would be lovely, too. No room in the tub for either option, of course, but her position was perfect for such fun.

She frowned a bit, reflecting on her bout of self-love. Normally she entertained definite fantasies when she took care of herself. They varied in style and in partners—not that she could ever have told touchy, insecure Brad about whom she fantasized—but naughty daydreams were always part of the process. Only just now she had been turned on without any such thoughts at all. She had been turned on by her reflection in the mirror. She had been turned on all by herself. Literally by herself.

Her hand was on her breast again. Another drifted between her legs to tease her lips. It felt good… but this wouldn’t do. She wanted more.

Shannon slid the shower door open again and found her pants still in a pool on the bathroom floor. She grabbed the edge of the bath mat to pull them over, drying her hands on its fabric. Shannon fumbled with the pants until she could get at the cell phone in her back pocket. The cell phone, and one other tiny item.

Her eyes rolled and she let out a sigh as the phone announced an endless stream of texts and voicemails. Friends and family called to offer their sympathies on her break-up. Several messages asked which of Brad’s limbs she would prefer broken. Shannon considered herself shy and socially timid—work was one thing, making friends was another—but even so, she had her support circles.

She didn’t need them, though. She needed something different. Shannon checked the time and decided to go for broke as she dialed the number on the card.

“This is Kevin,” a voice answered.

“I thought you’d answer with ‘Officer Murray’ or something,” Shannon said, sinking back into the tub with a grin. She felt a bit surprised at how easily she could talk to this man; normally she found herself tongue-tied around attractive strangers. Now the flirtation came naturally.

“Uh… sorry? Who’s this?”

“It’s Shannon, from earlier today. The paramedic?”

“Oh, hi. Right. How are you feeling?”

Shannon’s free hand wandered back between her legs. “Pretty good,” she replied. “So are you at your desk? Or is this your personal phone?”

“I’m still on duty, but some of us do carry cell phones,” Kevin answered. Now that she listened for it, Shannon could hear the sound of traffic going by. “Normally I let it go to voice mail, but I’m parked at the moment. What can I do for you?”

Shannon stomped on her initial bawdy response. That would not do at all. Nor was it even remotely in character for her. Suddenly unsure of what to say, Shannon’s eyes darted around as she considered her response. She caught sight of the plastic jack o’ lantern on her kitchen counter down the hall, full of candy that she would likely eat before any trick-or-treaters actually came along at her door.

It’s Halloween, she thought, or close to it. You can be whoever you want to be.

He’s a stranger. Just met him. Nice, but nothing to lose. Probably already attached anyway. Just go for it.

“I was hoping you could meet with me later tonight, if you’re up for it. Maybe when you get off work?”

“…this isn’t about the dead woman with the gun, is it?” he asked hesitantly. Shannon didn’t hear any particular disapproval in his voice. “You’re not asking to meet with me for some professional matter?”

“Does it have to be?”

“I dunno. Kind of inappropriate,” he teased.

Shannon winced. “Right. God. Sorry, I know, I shouldn’t—”

“It’s a little before nine now. I’m off at about eleven unless something crazy happens. Probably be midnight at least before I can actually be anywhere. Gotta go home and feed my cat.”

“Aw. That’s sweet. Late tonight is good for me. I’ve got tomorrow off. But I wouldn’t want your kitty to go hungry.”

“Oh, no, he’s a smart guy. If I don’t get home and feed him, he’ll just find a way to get at the food and then I’ll have to clean up whatever mess he leaves behind. Anyway. Are you in the city? I live in the north end. Greenwood-ish.”

“I’m pretty near Greenwood myself,” Shannon smiled. “That’ll make things a little easier. Where should we meet?”

* * *

She didn’t normally do much barhopping. More to the point, when she did hit the bars, it was usually as the designated driver. Brad had a tendency to enjoy a bit too much, and for that matter so did the last couple of guys Shannon dated. When Kevin opted for “all-night greasy spoon” instead of someplace to get a drink, Shannon considered it a good sign.

She might have preferred to get him loosened up, but the fact that he would drop whatever plans he had for the night to come meet her hinted that she might not need the edge. Or maybe she should draw a different conclusion; she didn’t know. This level of spontaneity was a bit new for her.

Shannon sat in a booth away from the window. Crayon and pencil drawings done by years of customers on plain white paper placemats covered the walls. Some were cute; a few were very well done; most were just silly or witty. Shannon worked on her own as she waited with her mug of coffee.

“You look nice out of your uniform,” said a voice. Kevin stood by her table, clad in black slacks and a nice but casual blue shirt under a leather jacket. He smirked as he added, “That’s not an opening for you to ask if you look bad in your uniform, by the way.”

His tone conveyed an obvious compliment. Figuring she shouldn’t overdo it, Shannon had gone with a simple black skirt and a lacy white top that allowed for a little cleavage. “You look good out of yours, too,” she grinned back. “Hi. Have a seat,” she gestured.

“Kept you waiting long?” he asked as he obliged.

“Nah. Not too hard to keep myself amused for a little bit in here.”

“Yeah… yeah, I can kinda see that,” Kevin said. His eyes strayed toward her crayon drawing. A black stick-figure woman with wings, a tail, small horns and a big smile waved a whip over several kneeling stick-figure men, all before a background of tall orange and red flames with bats flying overhead.

Shannon glanced down at the drawing and blushed fiercely. “Oh, this is just… just boredom,” she said, and reached to crumple it up.

His hand stopped hers. “No, don’t do that. It’s good,” he said. His hand felt nice. Strong. Warm.

“I don’t normally draw a lot.”

“Maybe you should. You’ve got talent.”

“Hey, folks, anyone need coffee or anything to get you started?” asked the server, all of a hundred and thirty pounds covered in tattoos and piercings. He offered up a menu for Kevin.

“I could order, actually,” he said with a questioning glance to Shannon. When she nodded, he said, “Apple pie a la mode? Just that and water. Thanks.”

“Mm. Cherry for me, please. And a Coke,” Shannon added. She smiled at Kevin as the waiter left. “Dessert was a good idea. Skip straight to the good stuff. So I’m not pulling you away from anything at home, am I? No Mrs. Murray?”

He shook his head. “Just a cat. I can make it up to him later. Never had a Mrs. Murray. Closest thing to it moved out a few months ago.”

“What happened there? She have trouble with your job? I know that’s a common one for folks like us. Your type more so than mine.”

“Nah, just a bag full of crazy. Should’ve known better.”

“You mean she was a bag full of crazy and you should’ve known better, or the other way around?” she smirked.

Kevin smiled. As she suspected, he appreciated teasing more than fawning. How she could read him so well, she didn’t know, but there it was. He liked her. The more she spoke and the more he looked, the more he liked.

“I shouldn’t rip on her. She had her reasons. I’m over it. What about you, though? All I know is your face and your job. How long have you been a paramedic?”

“Few years now. Technically my job title only says ‘EMT’ ’cause that lets the company get away with paying me less, but my certifications all say ‘paramedic.’ I keep hoping to move up to something better, but it’s turning into kind of a trap.”

“You don’t have to apologize for your job,” he shrugged. “I think it’s cool.”

“I used to think so, too,” Shannon nodded. “It has its high points. I mean you know what it’s like to feel like you’ve rescued someone, right? But after awhile it just… it just becomes a job. I wanted to stay in school and pay for college, and a lot of folks do the same thing, but that’s just not…” she trailed off. Something inside her said, That’s enough. Not the way to attract a man. Keep things positive. Shannon shook her head and smiled. “Not really what I planned to talk about tonight, anyway.”

The waiter came by with their drinks. “You had a plan for tonight?” Kevin asked.

Shannon put her pinky in her soda and swirled it around. “More or less,” she admitted with a shrug. “I thought I’d call up this nice, cute guy I met today and see what he was doing tonight. See if he’s as good a guy as he seems, y’know? And then, if that all checked out, I figured I’d just… see if I couldn’t wrap him around my finger.” With her gaze locked on his, she pulled her pinky out of her glass and put it in her mouth.

His eyes were wide with interest. She withdrew her finger as slowly as she’d put it in her mouth, giving it a gentle suck. To his credit, his jaw didn’t fall open. Kevin grinned, appreciating the show but not taking it too seriously… at least, not outwardly. Shannon suspected his interest was greater than he let on. He didn’t want to seem like a lech.

Shannon wouldn’t mind that right now. “Hey, I’m gonna go hit the bathroom for a moment,” she said. Shannon slid out of the booth, standing and smiling at him before she turned. She felt his eyes on her backside, and her stockings with the lace tops that didn’t quite come up to the hem of her skirt. She knew he wouldn’t take his eyes off of them until she was out of sight.

Others watched her walk, too, just as they had watched her enter the diner. Excitement welled up within her, but she kept a firm hold on it. She kept her cool. She had a mission here, and she meant to see it through.

Her confidence was quite the turn-on. For both of them.

* * *

Kevin pushed her up against the wall beside the door to her apartment. He meant to wait until they were inside, but he just couldn’t help himself. She grinned at his firm but gentle treatment, and grinned further into his kiss—just like she had outside the diner, and beside her car parked on the street outside, and in the garage downstairs and the elevator.

Shannon slid one leg up along the side of his, bending her knee so she could hook it around his hip. Her companion attacked her mouth without hesitation. She liked that, but she wanted more.

“You’re being way too shy,” she murmured when his lips moved from her mouth to her neck. His hands on her hips felt good. They’d feel better elsewhere.

“Wouldn’t want to make a bad impression,” he whispered, his cheek sliding up her neck so his lips could softly attack her earlobe.

“That’s all settled. The interview’s finished. Now’s the practical exam.”

“Don’t I get study time?” His hands roamed up and down her sides. “Seems like there’s a lot to cover.”

“Nope. Test time. Better start getting naughtier or I don’t open this do-oooohh,” she moaned with delight as his hand came up under her skirt to palm her between her legs. He skillfully teased her with the pressure and warmth of his hand, their skin separated only by her thin panties. She was surprised at how wet she felt; he had to feel the dampness, too, she knew, but he didn’t seem at all put off. Her head rested on his shoulder as she enjoyed his touch. “That’s better,” she approved.

“You really want me to be naughty?”


His hand relaxed just enough to make her pout. She opened her eyes to find his taunting grin. “Open the door,” he told her. Kevin didn’t move away as she found her keys in her purse, nor as she unlocked her home. That made her happy. Something about having the touch of an aroused, attractive man while she did common things greatly appealed to her. Something about his increasingly open lust appealed to her even more.

“I don’t normally do this,” she admitted.

“Me neither,” he said. “You want me to cool it? Back off? I don’t want to make you uncomf—”

“I want you to do something to me that would shame your mother if she ever found out,” she grinned wickedly. “You can go back to being sweet in the morning.” His eyes sparkled. So did hers.

Shannon threw open the door. Kevin refused to remove his hand from under her skirt until they were inside. It made for slightly awkward movement, but Shannon reveled in his touch. With the door safely shut and locked behind them, Kevin brought her over to the back of the big chair in her living room just a few steps away. She felt him unzip her skirt before he bent her over, hiking the skirt down and then her panties. He did it all with one hand, as the other arm stayed wrapped around her shoulders from behind.

When his fingers came back to her very wet pussy, Shannon let out another moan of delight. She trembled and gasped and moaned at his touch, loving his exploring fingers and his animal lust. Yet for all his physical power, Shannon had no doubt who called the shots.

She leaned against the chair, arching her back as jolts of pleasure punctuated the delicious sensations of his fingers sliding over and probing into her sex. Shannon cooperated as Kevin paused to rid her of her skirt and panties. Happy to be toyed with, she gave no thought to the way he crouched behind her, or the shift of his hand, and was all too happy to oblige when she felt him nudge her legs further apart. She bent over further at his wordless instruction.

Then she felt him kneel between her legs. Shannon’s breath quickened with excitement and suspense. Could he really be going for that? Brad never did anything like this for her, nor had her previous boyfriend after that first time. But now Kevin knelt between her stocking-clad legs and she felt his lips trail up the inside of one thigh while his fingers moved up the other and then—”Ooooh,” Shannon sighed as she felt the first gentle probe of his tongue.

His lips and tongue held to the softest, most agonizingly light touch, which only heightened her excitement. Shannon wanted to arch her back as pleasure shot through her, but she knew that would only make for a tougher angle for him. Instead, she made herself give in and relaxed her torso against the back of the plush chair. She let him get to work and adored him for it.

His hands spread across her ass, groping and caressing it. Never before had Shannon felt like her butt was particularly attractive, but sometime during her bath or perhaps while she dressed she realized it had a great shape. It was firm and tone and inviting, just like the rest of her body. Shannon felt sexier than she ever had in her life.

Her enjoyment grew as his kiss went deeper. “Oh, that’s incredible,” breathed Shannon. “I’ll give you about… oh… all night to… to knock that off.”

“Hm,” he responded. The sensation of his voice against her pussy made her shiver. “I might need all night,” he confessed.

Shannon’s wicked grin returned. He loved the taste of her. She could hear it in his voice and feel it in his touch. She relaxed and let him indulge her, or perhaps she indulged him.

Her mind wandered to strange places as she enjoyed his attention. Such exquisite physical pleasure clouded her thoughts, but it wasn’t as if her brain turned off. Shannon could count on one hand the number of men she’d ever slept with. She was shy and slow to trust on this level. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want a wild sex life; she fantasized about it, but she rarely overcame her personal barriers, and when she did her partners more often than not left her disappointed, even hurt.

So what made her so confident all of the sudden? Rebounding from Brad couldn’t explain this. Something about her behavior with Kevin felt so easy. Her fears were nowhere to be found. The dirty talk, the invitations and innuendos and now this intimate service all carried first-time thrills, but at the same time it felt completely natural.

She ceded more and more of her conscious control, and before long it was no longer even hers to give up. Shannon’s body trembled and her mouth fell open as she gasped once, then again as she hit a wall inside of her, only to have Kevin’s lips and tongue and hands push her through. She moaned loudly, not giving a damn about the neighbors—in fact, she didn’t even remember having neighbors anymore. All she knew about in the entire world was her own body, the chair that supported her and the man sending her into orgasm.

It hit harder than ever. It lasted longer, and brought greater satisfaction… but only briefly. Slumped over the chair, still shamelessly exposing herself, Shannon found herself wanting even more. She didn’t want recovery time. She didn’t want to cool down. She wanted him. Now.

Shannon looked over her shoulder and then turned around, leaning back against the chair. She liked the awed look on his face as he saw her from the front, naked from the waist down. “Shoes. Now,” she said, pointing to his feet.

He grinned, liking her take-charge attitude as much as her previous behavior. Kevin quickly untied and slipped off his shoes and socks. As soon as he was finished, she grabbed his collar and pulled him up to meet her face to face. She planted a hungry, deep kiss on his lips, tasting herself on him.

In the back of her mind, she confirmed her initial thoughts. She couldn’t blame him for taking his time on her. She tasted wonderfully.

She tore open his shirt and wrenched it off of him, sending buttons flying. Their kiss only broke off long enough to pull his undershirt over his head. Her hands came to his chest, pushing him backward down the hallway to her bedroom until he hit a wall beside the door. She scratched her nails from his shoulders to the top of his pants, and then assaulted him with another kiss while she slipped his belt free and shoved down on his pants.

“Gnh!” Kevin grunted. Shannon paused and realized what she’d done wrong; he was hard and fully erect, and her treatment of his pants had been a little rough on him there. Though she nearly gasped and pleaded an embarrassed apology, Shannon instead grinned and slid down his front, keeping her eyes on his the whole way.

“Sorry about that,” she smirked, and then put her face right beside his cock as she pushed his pants the rest of the way off. Kevin froze against the wall. Shannon only brushed his erection with her cheek, then offered the lightest of kisses on his shaft before rising back up again. “Later for that,” she promised with a wink as one of her hands softly closed around his cock.

His eyes fluttered. She felt the thrill of control and decided she could not let it go. Seeing him completely naked now, Shannon discovered another way in which Kevin represented a considerable step up from her last partner. Shannon guided him around, once more pushing him backward until he fell. She looked down with a grin on the fit, attractive man laying diagonally on her bed.

She let him watch as she discarded her top. She held his gaze as she unfastened her lace bra, and smiled as she saw his appreciation for what lay underneath. Then she put one knee up beside his hip and crept in, placing her hands on his chest for support.

Normally she needed more warm-up than this. Usually she wanted serious foreplay. Tonight the thought of any further flirting, cuddling or teasing seemed like madness. Shannon held his gaze again as she spread her legs over his hips and guided his cock to her center with one affectionate.

“Hey,” Kevin said, gesturing to the bedroom door, “there’s a condom in one of my pants pockets, unless you’ve got some?”

Condoms? Silly things, she mused to herself, banishing a lifetime of concern for safe sex with a single, completely alien thought. “We’re safe,” she said softly. Her hand guided the head of his cock to her lips, giving him just a first taste of the sensations that loomed in his immediate future. She watched his eyes flutter and then open once more. Before he spoke, she said, “Shh. You’re mine.”

Shannon sank down on him, greedily sheathing his cock within herself. She saw his eyes flutter closed again and his head lay back onto the bed while her body rose to an all new level of energy and pleasure. Her legs spread wide across the bed, feet dangling over the sides of the mattress as she rose up on her knees only to sink down upon Kevin once more.

His hips came up to meet her, pushing his cock deeper in. She smiled, but when his hands came up she took hold of his wrists and pushed them back to the bed again. “Relax,” she whispered. Shannon leaned forward, bringing her mouth closer to his and rocking her hips up and then down again to stroke him within her. “Let me take care of this.”

He let out a heavy, lustful breath. Kevin couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She reveled in the look of awe on his face and the ecstasy of having him inside her as she rode him. Taking control excited her. The sensual pleasures of coupling with him excited her more.

Shannon rested her hands on his chest, but all the motion seemed to come from her legs and her hips. It wasn’t a motion she’d ever tried before; she’d been on top with guys, of course, but never so wantonly or with such confidence. Her motion remained perfect as she came down harder on him, holding him even tighter within herself with each stroke. Shannon bathed in his amazement and knew this was the best thing he’d ever felt in his life. She could feel him thrust up to meet her; though that went beyond the spirit of her instructions, she couldn’t complain. Nor could she blame him.

The ride went on. Shannon felt sexier than ever. She had him. Kevin was completely enthralled, by her beauty and by her skill and passion in bed. He would never forget this. Nor would she. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why she wouldn’t do this every night.

Well. Let’s not get carried away, she thought, her mind capable of such thoughts despite her inflamed emotions. A one night doesn’t make us a couple. Still…

Shannon leaned in on him. Her face came near his, and her red hair dangled around his face. Even with the new angle, Shannon skillfully kept up the same pace, fucking him as intensely as ever. She heard nothing but surrender in his breath.

“I like you, Kevin,” she hissed.

“Oh God,” he managed. “I like… I really like you, too… I’m gonna… oh, wow, if you don’t slow down I can’t… I can’t hold back like this.”

“So don’t,” Shannon grinned. “I want you, Kevin. I like you and I want you to get off inside me.”

“But you—I don’t wanna leave you… unh… hangin’…”

“Shh. Give it to me, Kevin,” she whispered before her lips came down on his. “Come in me.”

Over a few short hours, Shannon had gotten to know Kevin Murray. She’d taken the measure of the man, and found underneath that humble, self-deprecating grin and gentle demeanor the tough spirit of a veteran of war and police work alike. She couldn’t imagine him being cowed by any mortal man… yet she had complete control of him and heard uncontrolled moans from his throat as she forced him past his point of no return.

She felt him stiffen and watched his muscles tense. He’d never had it this good. She knew that just by looking at him. Kevin had been with plenty of women, but this was beyond his experience. Shannon felt the first intense pulse of his release within her and grinned from ear to ear—or would have if her own orgasm didn’t swiftly overcome her, rushing in from out of nowhere to share in her partner’s climax.

It slowed her. She still rocked against him, but Shannon relaxed her pace, almost against her will, as if her body forced her to savor every second of the rush just like her partner did.

Shannon lay on top of him, her breasts crushed up against his chest as they bathed in satisfaction together. She felt him throb within her, still getting off well past anything he would have expected. She spasmed right along with him.

The last throbs of orgasm faded, but she refused to let him go. She didn’t need to. He stayed perfectly hard within her. Time passed until the pair stirred. Shannon felt his hands rise to her back, and then grinned as they slid down to hold her ass.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she warned him. Her voice spoke to her deep satisfaction, but just the same she knew she wanted more. She knew he’d be up for it, too.

“Not goin’ anywhere,” breathed Kevin.

“This isn’t me, you know.”


“I’m not normally like this. I’m shy. I’m timid. I might crawl back into my shell someday. Maybe even tomorrow.”

“Well, you can still call me from in there if you want,” said Kevin. “I’m not gonna presume anything with you. But either way, I hope this isn’t just a one-night stand.”

“No,” Shannon smiled. She propped herself up a bit to look him in the eye. “I’m going to fuck you all night. I’m going to go down on you and taste you and rock your world. And then I might let you go in the morning. Maybe.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said before he kissed her again.

* * *

She rolled over in bed, frustrated in her half-conscious state by the light in the room and her lack of blankets. Shannon turned and reached out, finding her bedmate beside her. She put her hand over Brad’s flat, well-toned abs and smiled to herself.

Wait. No. When did Brad lose the gut? His abs weren’t this firm, certainly not while he slept.

Oh no.


It all came back to her. There was no more Brad. She might be in trouble at work. And she had most certainly thrown herself at a cop she’d just met yesterday, taken him home and fucked him like a raging…

Shannon slipped out of the bed, her eyes wide and all thoughts of further sleep gone from her mind. Kevin lay asleep in her bed, handsome and covered in scratches and bite marks. Her hands came to her mouth as if it might help keep her from screaming.

No. He’s a nice guy. I did this, she remembered, but that did nothing to alleviate her roiling emotions. Safe as Kevin the cop might be, Shannon was not in the habit of bringing people into her home after knowing them for less than a day—less than a month, if she were honest with herself—and had never, ever had sex with someone she’d just met.

Her eyes darted around the room. She grabbed the first thing she saw—a discarded pillow—and promptly snatched it up to cover herself. Then she backed out of the room, nearly leaping with fright when Kevin rolled over and sniffed. She shut the door behind her, kept backing up, moved into the bathroom, shut that door, too and locked it for good measure.

Calm down, she told herself. Calm down and get a grip. You did this. He’s just a guy. He’s cool. Just wake up and shower and be a good hostess and offer him coffee or a shower or whatever and send him on his way.

Shannon took a deep breath, then another, and forced her nerves to settle. She was a first responder. She dealt with people when they were at their worst. She could handle this. With an effort of will, she put the pillow down on the floor. Her bathrobe hung from a hook on the bathroom door. She could wear that when she was done in the shower.

She reached inside, turned on the water and dared to look in the mirror. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

When did she get that Playboy bunny figure?

* * *

“Listen, I know I’m being weird.”

“You’re not. It’s cool.”

“No, I am, Kevin,” Shannon all but pleaded as she apologized. “You’ve been so nice to me and I just took advantage of you and I… God, I can’t believe I’m even saying that.”

He smiled at her. She liked the smile. “Yeah, I can’t believe you’re saying that, either,” he said. Kevin stood in her kitchen, more or less clothed and ready to go. There were some things he couldn’t quite put right before he left.

“Jeez, you can’t even button your shirt anymore,” Shannon winced. She put her hands on her face for the twelfth time since he woke up. Her only reprieve from the fierce blushing of her cheeks from the time he woke up to now came while he was in the shower. And now she stood in her bathrobe, shooing him out of her home and unable to stop herself no matter how much she wanted to.

Kevin was gracious when he woke up. Affectionate, and then considerate and polite when he saw how awkward she felt. He didn’t linger, but rather showered and dressed quickly. Even so, it felt like an eternity to Shannon. She wanted him to go. She wanted to wish the whole night away. She wanted to bury her face in her couch, because she couldn’t bring herself to look at that bed again.

She wanted to get down on her knees, tear his pants open and suck his cock until he could no longer stand, and that just made her want to hide from him even more.

“I’m sorry,” she shrugged.

“Don’t be. Just… listen, I know what it’s like to have regrets.”

“It’s not that I regret anything, except that—”

“Shannon, do you like me?” he asked calmly.


“Then call me later. Whenever you feel ready. And if it’s like a week or a month from now, I don’t care. I mean I’d like it sooner, but if you need time to get your head together or whatever, I understand, okay? You already made it clear that things won’t be like last night again, and I’m fine with that. I’d just like to see you again. And if you don’t call me again or if you decide you want to see someone else… no hard feelings,” he shrugged easily. “I had a great time. You seem awesome. Even if you just want to be friends, I’m here, okay? You’ve got my number.”

She blinked. “Just friends?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe I just said that, either,” he confessed. “I may be a little out of it right now. Had a hell of a night.”

“So you don’t want to be just friends?”

“No. Well. Not ‘just,’ anyway,” he grinned.

Shannon nearly blurted out another apology, but the knock on her door interrupted her. Kevin threw her a quizzical look, but she just shrugged. “Probably someone looking for the wrong apartment,” she said. “It happens.” She stepped past him and opened the door.

The striking beauty of the first woman she saw left her stunned. She had long black hair, icy blue eyes and flawless skin. Her black designer skirt and top fit her like a glove. Shannon’s mind ground to a halt.

The woman behind this stranger, though, was at least somewhat more familiar. “Aw, mother fuckballs,” groaned the lovely blonde. She slapped her forehead. “What did I tell you? Seriously, you couldn’t go one night without fucking somebody?”

“Huh?” Kevin blinked. “What?”

The drop-dead gorgeous woman in black sighed. “I apologize for the rude greeting,” she said patiently. “I take it you are Shannon Abrams?”

“Y-yeah?” answered Shannon.

“And is this your boyfriend?” she asked, gesturing to Kevin.

“Uh,” Shannon began, and blushed all over again.

Kevin shook off his own surprise at the sight of the newcomers. He sensed trouble, or at least discomfort on Shannon’s part. “I’m sorry, who are you?” he asked.

“His name’s Kevin, he’s a cop, she met him just yesterday and fucked his brains out all last night,” grumbled the blonde.

“I see. Kevin,” the other woman said, stepping closer and putting a hand on his chest as she breathed at him in sultry, flirtatious tones, “be on your way. Forget about us. Pay this no mind.

“Okey-dokey,” Kevin smiled cheerfully. With that, he slipped past the two women and headed down the hall to the elevator.

Shannon blinked in shock.

“Ms. Abrams… Shannon? May I call you Shannon?” asked the raven-haired woman. “We must speak. Privately. May Rachel and I come in?”

“What… who are you?”

“My name is Lorelei,” the woman said, “and, again, my companion is Rachel, whom you’ve already met. You had a very strange episode yesterday afternoon. You almost certainly have questions. We mean to provide answers.” She paused to let her words process. “Shannon, we’re here to help.”

Shannon’s eyes shifted from Lorelei to Rachel. The blonde frowned and shrugged. “We’re on a mission from God.”

Lorelei winced and let out a soft, disgusted breath.

“Okay, I’m on a mission from God. She’s just here ’cause I nag.”

Shannon’s first instinct was to close and lock the door. Her natural reluctance to allow strangers into her home reasserted itself. Who were these two women? She’d been able to write Rachel off yesterday as just another Capitol Hill weirdo, but here the blonde stood with a composed, clearly sophisticated woman who seemed to agree with her professed concern for Shannon. Kevin’s blithe departure upon Lorelei’s prompting unsettled her, too.

She knew she should just slam the door. Lock it. Go get the baseball bat and the pepper spray and call the cops. Uniformed, on-duty cops who hopefully wouldn’t just walk off like Kevin had. She knew all of that.

She also knew that she had never, ever met a woman this sexy. Lorelei wasn’t even trying. She was calm, collected, businesslike and not at all flirtatious, and yet Shannon found her breath deepening and felt herself lick her lips and shift her posture, pushing her chest ever so slightly forward…

Shannon tried to blink away the strange thoughts about Lorelei—and about Rachel, too. The blonde was undeniably beautiful. But Shannon had never felt attracted to women before. At least, not to this degree. Nothing more than curious wonder, which she had always stepped on before it ran away with her. Perhaps, she might admit only to herself, she was less than bothered by the girl/girl action in her ex-boyfriend’s porn movies. But that was all just idle fantasy. Just an appreciation of kink and female beauty…

Wasn’t it?

Lorelei’s head tilted curiously. “Shannon,” she said, “have you caught yourself feeling or acting… out of character at all?”

That was more than Shannon could ignore. Her only concern now was of self-defense. “I’m not exactly ready to, uh, entertain visitors right now,” she said.

Lorelei immediately held up her hand to the blonde without even turning around to her. Rachel’s mouth had opened, but at Lorelei’s gesture it closed again without comment. “You wish to get dressed, I imagine. I understand. We’ll wait out here.”

“Two minutes. Maybe three.” With that, Shannon shut the door and threw the deadbolt.

Lorelei turned to a frowning Rachel. “Your one-liners would not get us through the door to talk to her.”

Rachel folded her arms over her chest. “Doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be funny,” she pouted.

* * *

“…so I started rescue breathing, or at least I was about to, but then I sort of passed out,” Shannon explained. She sat in her plush living room chair—the one Kevin had bent her over just last night—with a coffee mug in her hands. Blue jeans and an old grey top had replaced her bathrobe. For all the comfort of the chair, her posture wasn’t at all relaxed. “When I woke up, something like fifteen or twenty minutes had gone by and there was a cop I’d never met standing over me.”

“That’s the guy who just did the walk of shame,” said Rachel. She sat on the couch beside Lorelei, directly across from Shannon’s chair.

Even the way the two sat contrasted sharply. Rachel slumped back against the sofa cushions without a care for ladylike manners. Lorelei exuded the sort of practiced elegance that made perfect posture seem completely natural. There was no prim and proper snobbishness to her, either. For all Lorelei’s masterful etiquette, nothing she said or did put herself above anything in her surroundings—except, of course, for the slight, disapproving frown she turned on her companion.

“Ugh. Yeah,” Shannon sighed, putting one hand to her face. “That’s about the size of it, actually. I mean I only just met him, and last night I called him up and… and initiated everything,” she forced herself to admit.

“I take it that is not ordinary for you?”

“No! Not at all.”

“You should consider that there is nothing wrong with taking the initiative,” Lorelei noted, and once more held up a preemptive finger to Rachel’s inevitable remark. “You excel in a field commonly dominated by men. You know you are the equal of any man at your job. You are independent. Surely you don’t feel that it is a woman’s place to wait on a man when it comes to dating? Or to sex?”

Shannon blushed a bit at the last. “No. No, I know all that up here,” she answered, pointing to her head, “but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable taking the lead. At least not usually. Felt totally natural last night, though.”

“I realize this must be uncomfortable as a topic,” Lorelei prefaced gently, “and I will not pry for details, but… was there an unusual energy for you last night with your companion?”

“Yes. I mean I really do like him.”

“Not like that. Did you bang him all night long?” sighed Rachel. “Literally all night to the point that you should’ve both been broken husks?” Lorelei winced, but Rachel paid it no mind. “Did you both get off over and over without having to rest? And you just went at it beyond all ordinary sense?”

Shannon stared at the floor. She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Rachel threw a sour look at the woman beside her. “She’s a fuckin’ paramedic. She deals with blood and guts and puke all the time. You don’t have to be so delicate.”

“Look, can you just tell me what’s going on?” Shannon asked finally.

“Please understand that we only suspect we know what has happened to you. Details help us create a firmer explanation. Shannon, have you seen any physical changes in yourself?”

“Yes. I don’t know. I might be imagining it. But every time I look in the mirror, it’s like I’ve gotten… prettier. Shapelier. I work out regularly, and I’ve never thought I was ugly, but everything looks different now. I haven’t weighed myself yet, but I’m sure I’ve lost a few pounds, and I’ve toned up. My skin is smoother. Clothes feel like they fit differently.”

“And have you had any memories that seem out of place? Dreams? Visions?”

The answer didn’t come right away. “Yeah, kind of. I had some dream last night about being a princess, I think? Not like a fairy tale, but historical. Something in Europe. I’m not a history buff, but it all looked medieval.” She noticed the obvious interest in the eyes of her visitors. “I was pretty. I was all dolled up. There was a party or something, we had guests, and I think I was supposed to marry one of them. My father or whoever was arranging it. I wasn’t happy, but I had a way out.”

“What did you do?” Lorelei asked. Her tone hinted that she already knew the answer.

“I… I snuck out of my room, and found my fiancé’s… staff? Bodyguards? I don’t know. He was a prince or something, too, and he had an entourage. I met with them, and I… I had sex with them. And we got caught, and it led to a whole huge mess.” Shannon paused. “I think there was fighting. People died over it. But not me.”

Lorelei frowned and nodded. She turned her eyes to Rachel. “Serena,” she said.

Rachel looked as if she might leap up and yell, “Touchdown!” but glanced at Shannon again and quickly clamped down on her elation. Her fists came down to her knees. She bit her lip. Rather than cheering or howling, Rachel merely muttered, “I am such a badass.”

“Shannon, the woman who fell in front of your ambulance yesterday was named Serena,” explained Lorelei. “I am fairly familiar with her. For a very long time, she and I had a great deal in common, and none of it good.”


“She was a murderer and a manipulator. She destroyed lives at the bidding of others and for her own amusement, and she was wholly unrepentant. You should feel no guilt or remorse for her fate.”

It hung in the air for a long breath. Shannon asked, “You have all that in common with her?”

“I am not wholly unrepentant.”

Shannon swallowed hard. “Oh.” Her hand went to her coffee mug, which she now thought of more as a weapon than a wake-up aid. “So what happened to her?”

“I punched her bitch ass off the roof of that apartment building,” Rachel answered with no small amount of pride.

“It is more complicated than that,” cautioned Lorelei, who saw Shannon’s eyes widen and her jaw clench. “This will get more shocking, and I apologize for that, Shannon,” she continued, “but there is unfortunately only one way to effectively help you understand. Again, you are in no danger from us.”


“You may want to put the coffee mug down.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Very well,” Lorelei said. And then she changed.

Shannon hadn’t blinked. She was sure of that. But in exactly that amount of time, Lorelei suddenly looked quite different. Her perfect, smooth skin went almost crimson. Small black horns jutted from just under her hairline. Black, featherless wings appeared at her back, rising up from her shoulders and seeming to fade into the couch and wall behind her in an odd, ghostly effect. Her beauty remained, but now took on a deadly edge.

“Nice,” Rachel smirked.

“What the fuck!?” Shannon blurted, rising to her feet and cocking the coffee mug bag as if to throw it.

Lorelei looked on placidly. “This is what I am, Shannon. What you saw before is a second form—not exactly an illusion, but not entirely the truth, either. This is my true visage. I will not harm you. But you must understand, Shannon: I am a demon, just as you see me now. I am a succubus.”

“You—um—wait—uh…” Shannon pointed at Rachel. “What about her?”

“Pff. Fuck, no,” Rachel scoffed. “No way.”

“You could show her, Rachel.”

“I’m not gonna just show her! Get real.”

“Well what the fuck is—” Shannon pointed at Lorelei “—one of those?”

“The succubae are demons of seduction and lust,” explained Lorelei—who once again had to interrupt Rachel’s answer with a sharp gesture. “We play on the desires of mortals. We are made to manipulate and draw mortals into their doom through temptation and carnal overindulgence. Shannon, the woman who died under your care yesterday was, like myself, a succubus. Unlike me, however, she still served Hell. I do not. You are safe from me.”

“You don’t look safe,” scowled the shocked host.

“Would you prefer my previous image?”

“Kinda, yeah?”

Even before Lorelei finished her nod, she looked entirely human again. “I show you this because what I have to tell you goes beyond much of your understanding about your world. I must explain matters that will sound like superstition and magic to you, but they are quite real. And you cannot afford a lengthy process of overcoming your natural doubts.”

“Okay, well… well what the fuck!?” Shannon demanded. “Just come out with it already, huh? What the hell does all this have to do with me?”

“That demon yesterday died right in front of you, yeah?” Rachel broke in. Her snarky tone was gone. “Well, demons don’t really die. Not like that, anyway. You were trying to help her, and you put your mouth on hers right when she let out her last breath. That was supposed to be her soul fucking off to Hell so she could reconstitute in a new body and come back in another couple decades. Instead, she went straight into you.”

None of this settled Shannon’s nerves. She remained on her feet, ready to hurl her mug and lock herself in the bathroom where she could call 911 on her cell phone. She’d have to simply say these were two crazy women in her apartment, and she’d have to leave out the part about Lorelei turning red and demony, but at least she would have sane people around her.

“So wait, you’re saying I’m possessed?” Shannon frowned.

“No,” Rachel shook her head. “You’re too benevolent. You aren’t vulnerable to that sort of bullshit. And you’d be acting differently now. There’s still too much of you in there and in control.”

“Rachel is correct,” said Lorelei. “Possession is not exactly in the repertoire of the succubae. But you do carry her spirit, and it has clearly affected you.”

Shannon’s throwing arm came down a bit. At the very least, she couldn’t ignore what she’d seen with her own two eyes, and she had been acting oddly. “So what’s that mean for me, then? Am I gonna… am I gonna become one of those things?”

“I assure you, I am not a ‘thing,’” Lorelei corrected patiently. “I am not human or mortal, but I am as much a person as you or Rachel.

“Your situation is unique. When we tell you that Serena’s spirit escaped into you, that is only a theory. It is an inexact explanation for something that neither of us have seen happen before. But when a demon dies—barring certain exceptions—the spirit escapes to Hell, as Rachel has stated. Given time, the spirit forms a new body. In this case, you seem to have absorbed Serena’s spirit as it escaped, or at least some substantial portion of it. You have interrupted the process.

“If this meant you would be possessed, or if she could overcome you somehow, your behavior would be markedly different. Rachel and I would see demonic features that you do not bear. The changes you have described show that some degree of Serena’s power is at work. I suspect, however, that as long as her spirit resides within you, her consciousness will remain inert.”

“Ohmygod,” Shannon blinked. She tried to process all of that. “Can you get it out?”

“That’s part of what we have to talk about,” answered Rachel. “Listen, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but… putting Serena out of business is kind of a big deal. I mean she’s not the baddest succubus ever, but she’s a major player in her scene, right? And as long as her spirit is stuck inside you, she’s off the board. If she’d died normally, she’d have just come back in a couple decades like we said. She’d run around being a murdering, life-ruining twat again. But now, she’s off the grid for at least as long as you live.”

“Which may be quite a long time,” Lorelei added. “Longer than an ordinary mortal might reasonably expect.”

That made Shannon blink. “What do you mean?”

“Shannon… you may find that your predicament brings far more benefits than drawbacks. As I said, you carry within you much of the power of a demon, but you are not one yourself.”

“What does that mean? What power?”

“Well, you ain’t gonna die of disease or from bein’ an old fart, that’s for sure,” Rachel smirked. She looked away as if staring through one wall. “Fuck. I’m gonna have to bail. Duty calls.”

“What duty? Are you a demon, too?”

The blonde just snorted. “Fuck, no. Listen, Shannon, I’m sorry if I came off bitchy. Seriously. I’m just linguistically challenged.” For the first time, Lorelei let out a bit of a snicker, but regained her composure when Rachel shot her a glare. Then she continued. “Just hear Lorelei out, and if you feel like this is too much for you, say so. We might be able to get you an exorcism or something. But as long as she’s stuck in there,” Rachel said, pointing at Shannon’s heart, “she can’t do anything to hurt anyone. You’re a good person. Practically anything you do with that power is gonna be better than what Serena would do with it. Okay?”

“How do you know all this about me?” Shannon asked.

“I just know,” Rachel grinned. “Have faith.” She turned toward one wall—the opposite side of which led to the empty air outside Shannon’s fourth-floor apartment. But then Rachel shined with a white light, and Shannon caught a glimpse of her halo and her broad white wings before Rachel literally walked through the wall.

Shannon’s jaw dropped. “What—is she really—”

“A grandstanding showoff? Yes,” Lorelei smiled.

Silence reigned as Shannon overcame her shock. Lorelei waited patiently.

Then Rachel stepped back through the wall and faced Lorelei. “Hey, if I leave you alone with her, are you gonna do what I think you’ll do?”

“We have discussed this sort of thing.”

“Yeah, but—I’m just saying.”

“I will follow my own judgment. You know the rules that bind me,” Lorelei reminded her calmly. “You agreed to them. Does any of this change your position?”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Shannon watched without interruption, trying to piece together what the two were talking about. The wings and halo had her more than a little distracted. “No,” Rachel answered, though with a reluctant tone.

Lorelei shook her head. “Speak your mind. If you have concerns or objections, voice them.”

That seemed to do the trick between the two of them. Rachel just nodded. “Guess you gotta be you,” she said, more with wry amusement than venom. She tossed a casual salute toward Shannon and then went out through the wall again.

“What does she think you’re going to do?” Shannon asked.

“Advise you to explore your new state,” Lorelei shrugged. “Encourage you to indulge. Help you adjust. Shannon, I do not blame you for your trepidation or your guarded state. But I will not hurt you. If there is anything I could do to alleviate your nerves, you have but to tell me.”

Shannon frowned, more at herself than anything else. She came back around the chair and sat down again, putting the coffee cup on the small stand beside it. “So what do you mean by all that? Indulging? You said you kill men by sleeping with them?”

“Not anymore,” Lorelei corrected. “Nor will you. At least, not if you are careful. Shannon, I must be blunt. Your appetites will grow. You will desire the attention and lust of others. This power you now carry isn’t something you can simply ignore or hide. You must use it for your own good and for the good of all whom Serena would harm were she to escape you.

“If I am correct in my expectations, you will find yourself healthier and even stronger because of this. As Rachel said, you may never catch another cold for the rest of your life, let alone anything worse. But your real power lay in the desires of mortals. You’ll be able to read them. Steer them, at least partially. And you’ll derive strength from indulging your own.”

“What’s the catch?” Shannon asked.

“Your hunger will go beyond anything reasonable for a mortal. You will have to adjust and learn to manage it. You are also almost certainly infertile; the touch of Hell has such an effect on the body.” She paused, noting that Shannon merely shrugged her last statement off without much trouble. Then she laid out her next warning. “Monogamy may no longer be an option for you.”

“Because I could kill whoever I’m with?”

“If you are not careful, yes. Passion does not often lend itself well to delicate decisions. Or self-denial.”

“How do you manage it? You said you don’t kill anyone anymore.”

“My situation is unique, as is yours. What works for me will likely not help you. I, too, must be careful… but I have vastly more experience than you.”

Shannon wasn’t sure she liked what she heard. She wasn’t sure she disliked it, either, and that bothered her even more. “So you’re saying I’m going to turn into some raging slut?”

“Ask yourself why you use that word. It does not seem natural from your lips.”

It stopped her train of thought cold. “Wh… what else would I say?”

“Ask yourself why your society frowns on a woman with an active sex life and multiple partners. There will be no issue of disease. There will be no unwanted pregnancy. Tell your partners that you are uninterested in being tied down and demand that they respect that. If they do not, walk away. If they are harmed, it will not be because you were dishonest with them. It will be because they deceived themselves, and that is not your concern. You need not harm anyone.”

Shannon scoffed. “So, what, men are just going to throw themselves at me?”

“Quite possibly, yes. It will not be difficult at all for you to attract men. Women, too, if you like. Shannon, much of this comes down to raw confidence and magnetism, which you are already developing without thinking about it. As you said, last night’s tryst was out of the ordinary for you, yet you initiated the whole thing, correct? You see your body changing and improving in line with your own ideals of beauty. You will need to get used to being the most desirable woman in the room. It’s not a matter of ego; it’s simple fact.”

It seemed crazy, and yet Shannon believed her. Moreover, the notion excited her. She clamped down on that, not wanting to let the possibilities run away with her, but this was like someone waving a winning lottery ticket at her.

It also seemed too good to be true. “So I’m going to be what people want the most, but they can’t have me for keeps? How is that not going to hurt people?”

“You are a person, not an object. No one gets to ‘keep’ or ‘possess’ you,” Lorelei corrected. “As for the rest? People get hurt in relationships,” she shrugged. “If you are a caring person, you will make what effort you can to be up front with your boundaries. But despite your ability to read and appeal to the desires of others, you cannot dictate their feelings. Nor should you.”

It was a lot to take in. Shannon’s thoughts drifted. “…I’ve never been attracted to women,” she murmured.

“I think we both know that’s not true,” Lorelei said quietly. Shannon’s eyes lifted toward hers. “I have walked this path for centuries, Shannon. Rachel has her talent for reading people, and I have mine. I have known since you decided to allow us in.”

“That wasn’t—I mean I didn’t—you—uh…”

“You are a very attractive woman, Shannon.” Her voice dropped. Her gaze held Shannon’s, causing the younger woman’s heart to race. “Intelligent. Independent. Brave. As Rachel said, you are a benevolent soul. I have learned recently to appreciate the appeal of compassion and charity.” Lorelei’s breathing seemed to deepen, too, judging from the sound of her voice and the rise and fall of her alluring chest. “You did not allow me into your home because of my saintly aura.”

Shannon’s emotions stirred. So did her desires. Every nerve and muscle seemed ready to throw herself out of her chair and on top of this woman she had just met. She trembled in her seat, unable to admit just how good the moment felt.

“We could alleviate the tension between us, Shannon,” Lorelei said. It seemed more like an observation than an offer. And yet…

“Is this what you mean by playing on peoples’ desires?” Shannon managed to ask.

“Mildly,” Lorelei nodded. Her tone grew solemn, but her smoldering gaze remained. “You see that you have a choice, however. You feel that, don’t you?” She waited for Shannon to respond with a nod. “If I make you uncomfortable, I could leave. We can always talk on the phone if you have more questions.” She rose.

Shannon all but leapt to her feet. She reached out and touched Lorelei’s hand, saying, “Please, don’t go—!” and caught herself. She stared at Lorelei, who waited patiently. “Please stay,” she said.

They looked at one another for a long moment.

“Do you want this? Do you want me?”

“Yes,” Shannon admitted. She felt nervous. Exposed. Thrilled.

“And what do I want?” Lorelei asked. “Think it through. You have that power. I will not conceal it from you.”

Shannon’s eyes narrowed. Her hand didn’t come off of Lorelei’s. “You want me,” she murmured. “You could walk away without any worries. You have a lover,” she continued, understanding the source of Lorelei’s composure and confidence despite her obvious desire. “You have a lover and you’re devoted to… him? But he’s okay with this sort of thing. Am I right?”

Lorelei nodded. “With other women, yes. He is young. Given time, he may be less concerned about other men. He knows what I am, and that he will not lose me. If his feelings do not change, I will not be bothered.”

Shannon’s hand slid up Lorelei’s arm. Her skin felt amazingly smooth and inviting. Shannon couldn’t deny the thrill of flirting so openly with another woman, too. Yet it was more than flirting: she plainly knew where this would lead, and the anticipation excited her even more. “So is this naughty, or is this okay?”

“A little of both. I’ll derive some enjoyment from taunting him about it,” Lorelei smirked.

“Do I get to meet him?”

“No. I am at least that selfish.”

“Must be a great guy to mean that much to you.”

“He is.”

“You said we can’t limit ourselves to one partner without hurting them.”

“I don’t believe you can, at least for now,” Lorelei corrected. “What I said was that my situation and yours are both unique.” Her hand came up to the side of Shannon’s head. Graceful fingers slid into her hair, lightly brushing her scalp with their nails. Shannon’s breath grew audible.

“I’ve never been with another woman,” Shannon murmured.

“Trust your instincts. I very much doubt I will know the difference,” Lorelei said before she drew the younger woman in for a kiss.

Their lips touched tentatively at first, but both immediately wanted more. Neither of them rushed. Drawn together, the two repeated the brush of their lips several times, lingering longer and opening more with each heartbeat until Shannon and Lorelei’s tongues met. They seemed to mirror and compliment one another smoothly.

Shannon felt the heat between them grow. More than one kind of heat, in fact: her body came alive with arousal, and Lorelei’s as well, but she also understood now why she felt so differently about sex after yesterday. Her desire literally burned inside of her, compelling her to act, and anything she did to satisfy it—like kissing Lorelei, or seducing Kevin—made the burn comfortable, even delicious. Yet this time she didn’t want raw passion and need. She enjoyed the sizzling tension between herself and her new partner and the slow build toward relief.

Lorelei was right about her instincts. Shannon felt the thrill of discovery as her body responded to her partner’s touch, and as she explored Lorelei in turn. There was no sense of timidity, though, nor first time nerves. She knew what to do each step of the way… or, rather, everything she wanted to do hit all the right notes.

Gentle, safe exploration by hand accompanied the long bout of kissing, mostly staying to the arms, the shoulders and neck but enticing them both. Wordlessly, the pair agreed it was time for more. Their hands came down and joined together. Their eyes fluttered open. Both were ready to move on. The ritual feeling of it all excited Shannon.

“My room is a mess,” she said. “I had a man with me last night. The bed is unmade.”

“No apologies,” Lorelei smiled. “This is what we are. Embrace it. Feel no shame on my account. Take pride in your charms.”

Shannon couldn’t help but flash her own excited smile. She knew exactly what Lorelei offered: physical pleasure and intimacy with no presumptions or demands. Open, comfortable acknowledgement of mutual lust. An experience with no price. Sex for the sake of sex.

She could get used to that very quickly.

Wanting to keep the controlled tension going, Shannon calmly led Lorelei into her bedroom. Her crimson comforter lay crumpled on the floor. She and Kevin had slept under the top sheet alone, warm enough just by one another’s presence. Lorelei saw wet spots on her bed, and one pillow still sat stuffed behind the headboard to mitigate its banging against the wall. Emboldened by Lorelei’s advice, she felt no shame over any of it. I had fun here last night. Check out the damage. Awesome, huh?

She turned back to Lorelei. The succubus brought her hands to Shannon’s shoulders, slipping off one strap from her top, and then the other. Shannon watched her partner’s eyes and hands as Lorelei slowly undressed her. Lorelei’s touch became bolder, mapping the curves of Shannon’s body as she pushed the top up and over Shannon’s head and arms. She stood mutely as Lorelei unfastened and unzipped her jeans, and looked down while Lorelei bent and slowly brought them to the floor.

Her excitement stepped up another notch when Lorelei stepped in and brought her arms around Shannon to unclasp her bra. She felt her breasts up against Lorelei’s and let out a heavy breath as the garment fell away. Lorelei paused to stroke and cup her breasts, drawing a moan of delight. Eventually her fingertips slid downward again, this time hooking under Shannon’s panties to draw them downward. Lorelei paused there, too, inhaling the scent of her new partner.

Even months into her previous relationships, Shannon felt self-conscious about her body. She had nothing to be embarrassed about, and knew it, but had been raised with a strong dose of modesty. Now she stood naked and openly aroused by a stranger—a woman, no less—and felt nothing but confidence and pride.

Then it was Shannon’s turn. Lorelei knew just how to stand, how to entice and tempt while doing absolutely nothing at all. Though Shannon did not quite take as much time in undressing Lorelei as her partner had, she took as much if not greater joy in the process. Every revelation of skin made Shannon want more as she removed Lorelei’s top to discover a lacy black bra, then unzipped her skirt and left it pooled at the beauty’s feet to reveal black lace garters and stockings framing her silk panties.

“You wear these for your lover, don’t you?” Shannon grinned.

“And now for you,” Lorelei nodded. “And always for me. Your body is a treasure. Enjoy it. Enjoy sharing it.”

Shannon did nothing to cover her open admiration and lust. “I never wore stuff like this. Didn’t want men thinking I was their toy.”

“Give it a try sometime,” Lorelei suggested, stepping in and dropping her voice to intimate levels. “You might like it. Know that you are always more than just a toy, and let no one forget it… but there can be great fun in being that, too.”

“I’ve always been afraid,” Shannon murmured, still touching and feasting her eyes on this magnificent woman just inches away. “I was afraid I’d lose who I am.”

“Be whoever you want to be now, Shannon. All on your own terms. You can change a role as easily as changing clothes. I will show you.”

Shannon grinned. “Later?”

“Much later,” Lorelei said before they kissed once more.

The embrace felt so much better with fewer clothes. Shannon wanted to slide as much of her skin against Lorelei’s as she could. She wanted to look at her and touch every bit of her all at once. As if to emphasize her suggestion, Lorelei took a passive approach; she stood and enjoyed, wordlessly offering herself to Shannon in any way the redhead wished.

Shannon took full advantage. Her hands roamed Lorelei’s body, stroking and then clutching her ass as she kissed the succubus. She reached up and kneaded her breasts without removing the bra, eliciting a soft moan of approval. Eventually, this was not enough, and Shannon unfastened the garment and tossed it away. Confronted with the beauty of Lorelei’s chest, Shannon took one knee, and then another, and soon kissed another woman’s breasts for the first time in her life. Soft but firm flesh welcomed her touch. Erect nipples offered themselves to Shannon’s tongue.

She liked it more than she expected. Lorelei responded wonderfully, placing her hands on Shannon’s head and shoulders. The older woman exuded submission. Shannon had no doubt that Lorelei could leave her in a pleading, whimpering pile of surrender with little effort, but Shannon learned through direct experience what Lorelei meant about playing different roles.

She wanted this. She wanted new partners, new experiences and new roles. If that made her a slut in the eyes of others, so be it—they would not get to enjoy Shannon’s charms.

The most beautiful woman Shannon had ever met quivered in her arms and under her kiss. Shannon toyed with her, one hand stroking Lorelei’s inner thighs and teasing at her center. The garter eventually came free. Shannon knelt and slipped Lorelei’s panties away and was rewarded with an intoxicating scent of sex.

She stood, finding the eyes of an equal before her now rather than those of a sex toy. Shannon gestured invitingly to her bed. Lorelei nodded, and the two lay side by side in an embrace that indulged both of their welcoming bodies.

Sensual pleasure rose with every moment of contact. Shannon thought she might climax just from that, but then it was her turn to be toyed with. As Lorelei’s tongue invaded her mouth, Shannon felt the nipple of her breast pushed and then pinched between her partner’s fingers. She had to open her mouth even wider to moan into Lorelei’s kiss.

Then Lorelei’s thigh came between Shannon’s legs. She was impossibly wet, ready for just about anything, and now this smooth, soft, perfect skin began to slide and grind over her labia. Overwhelmed by the sensation, Shannon’s muscles involuntarily tensed all over her body. She wanted more. Lorelei knew it, and obliged.

Eventually, Shannon grew accustomed enough to the pleasure to regain some control. Lorelei’s own sex was just as exposed to Shannon; the redhead shifted, knowing just what to do as much from immediate experience as from instinct. She heard Lorelei’s breathing change and knew she’d found a way to return the favor.

Their first orgasm built and arrived from this contact alone. Shannon’s whole body shook. She and Lorelei came together, riding out their spasms together and basking in one another’s arms.

She should have been spent. She should have needed time to recover. Instead, “Oh God, I want more,” whimpered the younger woman. “I need more!”

“As do I,” assured Lorelei. Her kiss smothered the rest of Shannon’s pleas. Her hand trailed down Shannon’s center, and as she could form no words while occupied with Lorelei’s lips the redhead could only beg with panting breath.

Hyper-sensitive and receptive to every touch, Shannon noticed a change in the feeling of Lorelei’s fingertips while they slowly moved from her shoulder to her groin. She was sure, in fact, that Lorelei wanted her to feel it: her fingernails literally shrank. By the time Shannon felt the other woman’s touch pass through her thin bush and reach her wet lips, Lorelei’s fingertips felt perfectly rounded.

Those fingertips played with her flesh. They teased her, tortured her and left her pleading in soft moans before the first of them finally invaded her. Lorelei broke off her kiss so Shannon could cry out. The succubus knew exactly how to touch her. Shannon felt a thumb glide gently over her clit while Lorelei’s finger bent in a hook and stroked the most sensitive spot within.

Orgasm came on quickly, rushed more by Shannon’s feelings of complete vulnerability to her partner than by physical stimulation. Lorelei brought her through the spasms, still focusing her attention on Shannon’s sex, and continued her expert strokes even while Shannon cooled down. Her mouth came to Shannon’s breast to kiss and pinch her nipple with pleasing lips. All Shannon could do was writhe and moan and enjoy.

Ecstasy obscured the passage of time. Shannon laid there forever under Lorelei’s sway, held just a short, blissful distance from another climax. Perhaps it was only minutes. Perhaps it was hours. Over and over, her eyes drifted open to drink in the sight of her beautiful partner and her own lovely body and then closed once more just to focus on the sensation.

“Good God, Lorelei,” Shannon smiled, “you’re ruining me for anyone else.”

“No,” Lorelei replied. “I’m freeing you.”

Lorelei’s kiss slid down Shannon’s body. Enthralled and pleasured far beyond her experience already, Shannon couldn’t believe there was more to anticipate, but now she saw and felt Lorelei’s face slide closer to her sex. Their eyes met once more. Shannon nearly opened her mouth to beg for it, but before she could give voice to her need Lorelei’s tongue descended onto Shannon’s wet lips.

She cried out loudly. Shannon threw her head back into her pillow and gripped her sheets. Lorelei’s first light lick was followed by another, and then by a third, and soon her oral attentions became much more direct and encompassing. Shannon felt herself devoured by the older woman. Again, she nearly crested, but before that satisfaction was reached Lorelei shifted into a new pleasure: her tongue invaded Shannon, thick and dexterous and perfect.

Shannon enjoyed a long, relentless ride and finally came harder and longer than ever. Her orgasm rippled through her whole body, from her center to her legs and shoulders and wrists.

Only then did Lorelei allow Shannon any respite. “There is more power in you than I expected,” said the succubus. “More of hers… and more of your own.”

“What does that mean?” Shannon asked, her voice high and breathless.

“Only good things, for you,” Lorelei smiled. “Embrace your appetites. They may seem new or strange, but the more you indulge, the stronger you will become. You are no demon, nor are you immortal… but you have power beyond the natural gifts of mortal man or woman.”

“Lorelei, your hands. Your fingers changed. Your nails.”

“Yes. I can look quite different if I so choose. Some is pure illusion. Some is actual physical change.”

“Can I do that?”

“To some extent, you already do. As you said, you have seen change within yourself. Your abilities will not be as potent as mine, but we could experiment,,” Lorelei winked.

Shannon grinned. The thought excited her. “You mean I can change what I look like?”

“Yes,” nodded Lorelei. “Still human. Still a woman.” Her hands roamed Shannon’s body, shamelessly enjoying her breasts, her hips and her thighs. “You can be anyone you want to be.”

A shiver ran through the redhead. “Later?”

“Of course.”

“I want more of you, Lorelei. I want to taste you.”

The succubus smiled broadly. She shifted on the bed. “Then let’s see what you’ve learned,” she said, and turned over Shannon to swing one lovely leg over the younger woman’s head. The other took up the opposite side, and Shannon reached up to touch those perfect hips and bring Lorelei’s sex to her mouth while Lorelei’s lips descended on Shannon’s own.

Seduction was never something Shannon thought one could taste until that moment. Honey and heat and temptation welcomed Shannon’s mouth, and then a jolt of pleasure ran through her body as Lorelei’s tongue invaded her again. She knew they would be at this for hours.

Wanting to give Lorelei the same treatment, Shannon thought about shaping her own tongue into something similar and probed her partner’s flesh. It was easier than she thought, and the sudden jerk of Lorelei’s body over hers told her how effective it was.

Perhaps Shannon hadn’t wanted this. Perhaps she would have turned it down had she ever been given a choice. But now that she had this power and these desires, she found that she loved it.

* * *

The woman in Shannon’s mirror looked very much like her, but she was still a stranger.

Lorelei remained for much of the day. For hours, they made love for its own sake. Shannon didn’t really know whether to call it that. Romance would not come of this, but physical familiarity and openness grew into affection of a sort. Moreover, Lorelei coached Shannon on the new conditions of her life. They discussed Shannon’s probable abilities, the implications of their use, and the importance of exploring her newfound desires.

Friends and family would still recognize her, but they would see a change. None would ever see her naked like this, though; they would not see her alluring, shapely breasts, or the perfect curves of her hips and the exquisite muscle tone she now enjoyed from head to toe. Shannon’s skin had never looked so good. She could make a lot of money modeling with this body. Modeling, or other things.

That her mind went to such places bothered her slightly. Lorelei had taken very good care of her—and so had Kevin before her, to be fair—but even with her fires cooled for the moment, she knew this hunger would stay with her for life. The hunger didn’t bother her, and that was what did concern her. Shannon had never judged others for promiscuous choices, but they never held any appeal for her. Now her attitude had reversed fully, and she couldn’t see a single drawback—as long as it could be compartmentalized properly.

Her self-worth would not be dictated by how many people lusted after her, or how many men and women she bedded. Shannon was a damn good paramedic. She saved lives. She helped people.

She was also now undeniably sexy. Perhaps she always had been lovely and her natural shyness and introversion prevented her from enjoying that. Perhaps not. But now it was very much like a switch had been flipped by magic. She had the goods, and the confidence to show them off.

She wanted to show off. She longed to be desired. Needed it, even, as much as she had needed to follow the path that put her in an ambulance tending the sick and injured. This need, though, she could deny to herself… but to what end?

Shannon wanted to explore it, and enjoy it. She didn’t want it to become all that defined her.

Lorelei’s words echoed in her head: “You can be anyone you want to be.”

Shannon’s hand reached up to her head. She watched herself as her fingers worked their way to the roots of a lock of hair, and ran along its length from her scalp to the very ends. As the hair passed between her fingers and thumb, it turned from straight and red to wavy and brown and grew two more inches.

Shannon stared at herself in the mirror. Her brown eyes turned blue. “Anyone I want to be,” she said to her reflection.

* * *

“Sexy cop. Ridiculous. Sexy secretary. Cliché and sad. Sexy schoolgirl. Gross.” Julie tacked off the costumes in the line both in front and behind her with her companion.

“I know, right?” snickered Patricia. Like Julie, she was dolled up for the show, but not in any sort of costume. Normal street clothes were good enough for the two of them. They waited along with a good many others to be let inside the venue. “Guess that’s why they call it ‘Whoreloween.’”

“Oh, whatever,” scoffed Patricia’s husband. Doug threw his cigarette into the wet gutter by the sidewalk. “People have taken that whole thing too far. At this point, any costume a woman wears on Halloween gets labeled ‘too sexy’ unless she’s covered head to toe like a nun. And people would call the nun outfit a fetish piece, too.”

“That’s because nun’s outfits are pervy,” countered Julie. “Besides, you’re just saying that because you like the skin show.”

“Yeah, I dunno. The schoolgirl outfit always kinda creeped me out, too,” agreed Tim. Julie’s date leaned over her shoulder to break into the conversation. “I mean it kinda speaks to all sorts of misplaced childhood frustration, doesn’t it?”

“Such a line,” Doug said with a roll of his eyes.

“No, seriously,” Julie pressed. “You know what kind of fantasies that caters to. Might as well just put up a sign that says, ‘Molest Me,’ right?”

Unexpectedly, the woman in the lab coat in line just in front of them turned to face the trio. She wore thin red-rimmed glasses over an exceptionally beautiful face, with her brown hair tied up tightly in the back. A stethoscope hung around her neck. “So if you’re going to make a clean sweep of all your slut-shaming, you wanna include me, too?” the ‘doctor’ asked. “I’m starting to feel left out.”

Patricia and Julie blinked. So did Tim. They thought they had been fairly quiet, and none of them expected any sort of confrontation out of this. “Uh,” stammered Julie, “you don’t look like a slut.”

The doctor’s red lips turned in a frown. She calmly put her hands in the pockets of her lab coat and let their weight push it open. It was only then that the three saw her substantial white bra, her thin, too-short white skirt and the white garters descending from underneath to hold up her white lace stockings. The doctor’s body was nothing short of amazing. All four of her onlookers were stunned.

“So here’s the thing: right now, you’re all staring at me and deciding I’m a slut,” the doctor said. “You have no idea who I am or what I’m like. All you see is that I look good and I’ve decided to show it off. I’m not here to steal your dates. I’ve got nothing to do with you at all, but you’re bothered by how I dress. Are you afraid someone’s going to expect you to live up to my example?”

Julie tried to form words. Patricia didn’t even bother. She just turned red and looked down at her feet. She wasn’t used to confrontation. Doug and Tim simply kept looking on in awe.

“And if you did get that sort of expectation from someone,” Shannon went on, “is there some reason you couldn’t just tell them to go to hell and do your own thing? Or is it just safer to drag down the women who do get a kick out of it instead?”

“I just…” Julie tried. “Look, you can’t dress like that and not expect to get that kind of a reaction.”

Shannon tilted her head curiously. “Why the fuck not? Other than the fact that your low expectations of men validate their bad behavior, why should I expect to be harassed? Any guy I’m interested in flirting with is gonna know it. I’ve absolutely got the right to walk into that club or down that street without anyone giving me a hard time. So does the woman in the schoolgirl outfit.”

“Uh, excuse me, Miss? Er, doctor?” called out a guy in a Starfleet uniform shirt standing behind Shannon’s stunned audience. “The line’s moving.”

“Oh. Thank you,” she smiled after looking over her shoulder. Her attention returned to Julie and her friends. “Raise your game, people. Seriously. You’re not helping.” With that she turned and headed off into the club.

The rush of the moment caught up with her. Confrontation had never been high on her list of hobbies. Two nights ago, Shannon would likely still have bristled at the snarky commentary behind her—shy or not, it wasn’t like she bought into that sort of thinking—but turning and telling complete strangers to stuff it wasn’t exactly her style. It wasn’t anywhere close. Even now, she felt the echoes of her old self wondering if she shouldn’t apologize, or at least feel some guilt for her sudden rant and the embarrassment those women probably felt.

But then she came to the front doors of the venue and realized she still had neither a plan nor a ticket. The booth had been closed when she arrived; as she expected, the Halloween show was sold out. Shannon came out anyway, hoping for a last-minute ticket release before the show began, but failing that, she figured she could… what? Bat her eyelashes at the doorman?

No. Unacceptable. She carried a demon’s lust within her, but that didn’t mean she wanted to seduce or screw her way through all her problems. Interested in finding a playmate for the evening though she was, Shannon had no intention of solving every problem through sex.

“Ticket?” asked the muscular man past the door. He held out his hand. Shannon’s good looks seemed either lost upon him or irrelevant. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. Bouncers and doormen here probably saw a parade of hot women every night.

“I don’t have one,” Shannon shook her head. “I was hoping… are you going to do a last minute release at all? I couldn’t get a straight answer out of anyone earlier, so I just waited in line.”

“No,” the doorman shook his head. “No more tickets tonight. Sold out.”

Shannon bit her lip. She tried to think of an acceptable approach, but found herself rejecting them. She sighed. “It’s cool. Guess I’ll find another party tonight.”

“Ramon! Hey, Ramon!” called a voice from just beyond the doorman. He glanced over his shoulder. Shannon looked, too, and spotted a lovely young woman in a green plaid sexy schoolgirl’s outfit. “You should let her in. She just saved a couple snotty bitches from severe trauma outside.”

Ramon looked back to her with a cocked eyebrow. Shannon just shrugged. “Well,” she said coolly, “I am a doctor.”

* * *

It couldn’t have worked out better if she’d planned it.

Shannon made it into the venue just before the first band finished its set. The men she had come to see were only now setting up, with canned music playing over the PA in the interim. Shannon adored Rockerdammerung as much for their music as for their self-deprecating humor. Brad couldn’t stand them, for reasons Shannon never understood. He refused to go to every show with Shannon, going so far as to put on a sullen pity party if she dared to go without him.

Come to think of it, Shannon considered, Brad got sullen whenever she did anything without him. Maybe that was why she didn’t feel bad about losing him.

Freed from concern for his fine feelings and enjoying the hell out of the show, Shannon regretted ever having settled for her now-ex. She almost wanted to send him a text to than him for dumping her before this show rather than after Halloween… but she had better things to do at the moment.

Getting close to the stage turned out to be easier than any task she’d faced all night. Letting her white lab coat fall open once more, Shannon strutted through a crowd that quickly parted for her like the Red Sea. She caught stares and double-takes, knowing all along that the sudden interruptions of conversations or laughter were because of her, and she loved every second of it. No one bothered her, or even approached her.

Every step of the way, Shannon felt the lust of men and more than a few of the women around her. All her life, she’d been reluctant even to go out in a swimsuit. Now she couldn’t get enough of this feeling. It was less about her body than about her confidence. She knew that. But she also knew that she had the body to back everything up now. Her presence was such that it actually prevented many men from approaching her. Apparently she intimidated more than a few of them.

That was fine with her. She had only one specific man in mind tonight.

She felt almost giddy with excitement. She felt electric. She felt nourished, and hungry at the same time. Powerful and yet wanting more. She felt aroused—deeply, deliciously aroused, by her own intentions as much as the desires of the people around her.

Good God, she thought, if I feel like this now, how would I feel if I took it further?

* * *

They really needed new monitor speakers.

Michael resolved to replace the band’s current gear upon his next paycheck. They’d limped along this far, but now the band was starting to headline significant local shows and attract real interest. Even being here tonight was a milestone; they might not be at the top of the bill, but they were only one step down from Throbbing Ennui. A good many people came tonight specifically for Rockerdammerung. It was time to invest in more reliable equipment.

But until he had the money to invest, it was time for duct tape.

The tall, lanky singer and rhythm guitarist stomped out on a mostly-darkened stage to secure the cables into their loose and crappy plugs. Everyone else was about ready to go. He only needed a moment. The music from the venue’s speakers rose, letting everyone know that Rockerdammerung would kick off their set soon.

“…these guys aren’t even that original,” claimed an unnecessarily loud voice from the front. The club was not so crowded that a safety space had to be cleared from the front of the stage. Audience members could practically reach out and touch it. Michael usually liked that aspect of the venue, but suddenly it brought with it unpleasant consequences.

“All the themes in their songs, the chords they play, the tones—they’re just another Goth band. They’re so stuck in their genre that they’re not even anything new within Goth. They’re, like, retro-Goth. Only they think they’re funny, too, so they’re demeaning to their own core audience.”

Michael almost dropped the tape in his hands. What the hell? That doesn’t even make any sense! Still bent over the monitor speaker, Michael’s eyes lifted up to look out through his dangling black locks of hair at the crowd at the foot of the stage.

“Well, still,” voiced a woman who instinctively spoke as loudly as her companion, “they’ve got a great name, right?”

“What, Rockerdammerung? It’s ironic, but irony’s for hipsters, not Goths. But they’re not exactly German or even ‘rockers.’ The singer and the drummer are just IT guys from Redmond,” came the disdainful reply. “Not sure how ‘rocker’ you can be when you’re contracting for Microsoft.”

There. Michael spotted the critic right near the front of the crowd. Checkered shirt, thick black-rimmed glasses that probably didn’t even hold prescription lenses and a grey wool cap that he wore even in the warmth of the crowded club. And then Michael recognized him; he was part of another band, one not even playing tonight. Explodo. Check us out, we’re so ironic.

His date wore one of those horrid semi-sexy My Little Pony costumes. That just made Michael hate him more.

Don’t take the bait, Michael told himself. Don’t engage. Don’t engage. Just ignore him. One random jackass. Just focus on your show. Focus on your… holy shit.

Behind the critic and his date, the crowd seemed to open up all on its own. Michael saw her move with confident grace. The doctor in the lab coat and lace stockings just walked up and smiled, leaving even the guitarist from Explodo momentarily stunned.

She made eye contact with Michael. Her gaze held his as she arrived at the foot of the stage. Her quiet smile threatened to hypnotize him.

Someone slapped him on his back. “Hey, Michael, we set?” asked Jared.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah,” Michael blinked. He rose and turned his back on the doctor and the rest of the audience, though it required an act of will.

The bassist seemed to understand perfectly. “Jesus Christ,” Jared muttered, “I thought doctors were supposed to treat heart attacks, not give ‘em. Think she’s seen us before?”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice boomed over the speakers. Michael and Jared looked at one another, shrugged and turned back to the audience and waited. The stage went dark, but they could see the crowd just fine under red lights overhead. “Please welcome…”

The doctor raised her arms, throwing out goat horns with her hands and calling out along with the announcer and much of the crowd, “Rockerdammerung!”

Michael grinned widely as he hit the first chords. The doctor’s eyes were still on him and threatened to never turn away. He faintly remembered being annoyed at something a moment ago, but whatever it was, he quickly forgot it. He stepped to the microphone to belt out the first lyrics of his song.

Thankfully, he remembered them.

* * *

Shannon watched Michael sway and sing on the stage above her. She found herself very much appreciating the rocker image as if she’d only now discovered it for the first time.

The singer didn’t forget the rest of his audience, but she knew she had his attention. He practically sang the band’s only serious ballad to her specifically. Michael played the part of front man well, engaging with many in the crowd and ensuring his bandmates received plenty of attention from all. He didn’t hog the spotlight or grandstand. His words were all for the sum total of his band, and not for himself alone.

But when the final song ended, and when the rest of the band all stepped up to take their bow, Shannon saw Michael bend low, his hair dangling over his face and his blue eyes staring out at her.

She winked at him. Mirrored his hungry grin. Looked pointedly toward the back hallway. Then she stepped back from the stage. As the lights came up and the band set to breaking down and clearing out for the next act, Shannon slipped away. The crowd’s attention shifted back toward the club’s two bars.

Arriving in the small hallway leading toward the restrooms of the club—clean and orderly, unlike many other places Rockerdammerung had played—Shannon considered what she could do to bring things up to the next level after tonight. She wore very little as it was, and this club already invited a bawdy tone by virtue of its advertising and musical selection. What would go further than this? Stripping?

Shannon smiled to herself. That could be fun. Shannon had never looked down on those who did it, but she figured stripping was the sort of thing other women did. She always presumed it was a sort of last resort for those who could pull it off; sure, some women said they enjoyed it, and perhaps that was true, but how many simply lied to keep up appearances?

But now the thought of it rolled through Shannon’s mind and she found it nothing short of delicious. She could have a good time. Feed her needs. And probably clean up financially while she was at it. And nobody even needed to know who she really was…

“Do you know how hard it is to come up with a good pick-up line when you can barely remember lyrics to songs you wrote yourself?” asked a deep, slightly amused voice.

Shannon leaned back on the wall, reminded of her near-nakedness as she felt her lab coat up against her not-entirely-covered ass. Her posture created some difference in their height. Normally she stood about as tall as Michael. Leaning back allowed the singer to loom over her. She wanted that. She wanted him to feel confident.

He had more than a little confidence all his own, as any good front man for a band must. But even so, Shannon detected a hint of nervousness when he looked at her. He hid it well, but either he didn’t actually get much attention from women—which she found unlikely—or he recognized her as a cut above his usual fan base.

“I tried to sing along with you to help,” Shannon told him. “I’m a fan. But I’ve seen you live a few times.”

“Have you? I think I’d remember you.”

“I’ve had a bit of a makeover recently,” Shannon told him with a cool, graceful shrug. Her eyes looked up into his again. “But yes. I’ve seen you several times. Saw you in SoDo. Saw you at that charity thing in Tacoma. And on the side stage for Bumbershoot.” Her smile grew sultry. “I saw you bring the crowd control guys onstage with you to sing that Sisters of Mercy cover.”

She didn’t think she could make him blush, but even in the dim lighting of the club she could see his cheeks grow red. “That was a good show.”

“It was a good show,” Shannon nodded. “You seem like a good guy. You don’t take yourselves too seriously. I like that. That’s part of why I wanted to meet you.”

“Oh, so you’ve been stalking me?”

“Only for a couple of hours. Pretty sure it doesn’t count as stalking if the victim likes it,” she grinned, “though I could always take a walk if I make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, keep stalking,” he chuckled. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Sharon,” said Shannon.

“I can do that.”

“You aren’t here with anyone, are you?”

“Just the band. Sorry to keep you waiting, but I couldn’t leave them to pack up the gear all on their own. Even if they told me to.”

“No, I respect that,” Shannon nodded. He had some sense of priorities. She felt even better about this now.

“I take it you’re here alone, too?”

“I arrived alone, anyway,” she said, reaching out to fondle his black shirt. He’d had a big, beautiful leather coat when he started on stage, but had to shed that before too long. Michael smelled of sweat and energy, yet he didn’t stink. He smelled like a man. She liked that. “I’m hoping I’m not really here alone anymore.”

“Well, I’d be happy to provide you with an escort,” Michael offered. “Not everyone here is a gentleman, and not everyone would treat you like a lady.”

She smiled broadly. He meant that—he delivered it as a joke, surely, but she understood the subtext. “You’re not just pretending to be a gentleman because it’s Halloween, are you?”

“No. Though that would’ve been a good costume.”

“I ask because I decided not to be a lady tonight,” Shannon explained. “At least, not by conventional standards.” She tugged his shirt. He moved in closer. One of his hands went up to the wall just over her shoulder. “But I need some help to pull that off properly.”

Her next line would have been, “So kiss me,” but Michael turned out to be just as good at reading between the lines as Shannon. His mouth came to hers. Shannon didn’t put up with any gentle lead-in to long, tender kissing this time. Her grip on his shirt turned forceful and her other hand came around the back of his head as she drew him in, kissing back fiercely and goading him into opening up to her more.

Subtle whimpers and lithe body language encouraged Michael to move in. Their lips and tongues grew friendlier as their bodies came together. Shannon welcomed the touch of his shamelessly curious hands on her exposed flesh. Soon, she had to break off from the kiss just to breathe, but the air flowed in and out of her mouth beside his ear in a lusty hiss.

“I’m not usually this forward,” he told her. The deep tone of his voice assured her that he had no problem with cold feet. The kiss he planted on her neck punctuated that tone nicely.

“Neither am I,” Shannon said directly into his ear, “but I won’t hold it against you. Seems like a good night to go out of character.”

His mouth came off of her neck. The pair looked at one another with intense, excited eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

Shannon grinned again. She could feel how much he wanted her. Most people would buckle under that sort of desire and take anything they could get. Yet Michael could walk away if he had to right now.

“I came here planning to seduce you tonight,” Shannon answered. “And I’m not looking for anything exclusive.”

“One night only, huh?” he asked.

“I didn’t say that,” she shrugged, “but that’s up to you. A man has to protect himself. I understand that. I like you a lot. You’re living up to my hopes. I just want you to know there’s no white picket fence at the end of this.”

She let him sort that out, staring into his eyes all the while. His hand didn’t come off her nearly bare hip. His body didn’t move off of hers. “White picket fences don’t sound very rock’n'roll,” he said.

“They don’t,” Shannon agreed. “Of course, I always figured rock stars were a lot less polite and a lot more ffffff—!” she broke off as his hand slipped under her skirt and moved between her legs. She wanted that. She wanted it even more than she realized, and now found him reacting to it. Did he know? Did he read it in her somehow? Was it in her body language, or her demeanor?

It felt far too good to think about now. Shannon melted into Michael’s touch, letting him wrap his free arm around her back while his hand worked her through her thin, lacy panties. His mouth came to hers once more, gentler this time as he knew the effect he was having on her body.

Shannon let him take the lead. She liked a guy who could take charge like this. If she felt like seizing control later, she could always do it. For now, she reveled in the fantasy of having a rock star sweep her off her feet… even if he was only a local rock star and both her heels were still on the floor.

She clung weakly to his shoulders. Panted into his mouth. Tensed at the jolts of pleasure that ran through her as his thumb began to tease just the right spot.

Music picked up in the club. Once again, it was all just canned, but it signaled the impending appearance of the next band. Lights around them dimmed. Shannon felt herself grow hotter and hungrier, and realized the distraction was exactly what she needed.

“We should get out of here,” Michael suggested.

“Nnno,” Shannon sighed back. “Everyone’s distracted now. They’re watching the stage. Not us. It’s the perfect time.”

Michael grinned. “Not something I’ve ever done,” he admitted.

“Me neither.” Shannon’s voice was completely at his mercy now. It was high and breathless and she didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed by it. “I’m not… myself… tonight.”

Her hands went to his belt. She leaned in and kissed him fiercely as she unfastened it, finding little trouble in freeing him. Then his lips broke off of hers. “We should at least play it safe,” he said. “Let me put on a con—”

We don’t need it,” Shannon assured him in a voice she’d never used before. “Trust me.” Her words surprised her, but she knew they were true—and unnaturally persuasive.

His eyes blinked rapidly. Then the touch of his hands became firmer and hungrier, and he pushed her up against the wall again as his mouth attacked hers. Somewhere in the distance, voices exploded into cheers and fresh, new music hit. It wasn’t as good as Rockerdammerung’s, but neither Michael nor Shannon were there for the music anymore.

She had his groin free of his leather pants. Michael pulled on her lace panties, bringing them down until he realized they had drawstrings on the hips. He shared a knowing grin with Shannon before he took advantage of their convenience and slipped them free.

Their mouths were locked together in a kiss when all was ready. Shannon felt him shift and let him grip her ass with both hands, gladly spreading for him to hasten the inevitable. She reached for his cock, guided him, held her breath in anticipation… and then moaned uncontrollably into his mouth when she felt him push up inside of her.

She loved him in that moment, though she knew immediately it was more about the act than her partner. Shannon reveled as he thrust in and out of her, alleviating her suspense and anticipation while aggravating her need for release. He was a great partner, and would be so later tonight when they got someplace where they could really enjoy one another. He wasn’t just a random lay. He was someone she found genuinely attractive.

Shannon’s joy rose along with her pleasure. Monogamy was no longer for her. She carried the unnatural lusts and needs of a woman who was clearly not human. None of that meant she had to lower her standards.

They moved together, grunting and thrusting and loving it.

Distant and all but forgotten already, Shannon heard the customary cheers and applause of the end of the first song. Her eyes met with Michael’s. They shifted together, fucking up against the wall and enjoying it on through the next song, and then the next. Neither had anything to say; their needful coupling was statement enough.

Shannon’s fingers slipped into his hair. She kissed him again, then couldn’t control her breathing enough to continue, and finally leaned her head against his as he brought her to the edge of orgasm. When it hit, Shannon’s arms squeezed harder around his shoulders and her fingers dug into his scalp. She let out loud, broken moans directly into his ear. She felt his release hit, too, and enjoyed his voice and the sensations that her partner’s climax created within her.

They clung together until their bodies relaxed enough to allow speech. Shannon hardly wanted to let him go, preferring instead to keep him trapped like this. But she knew greater pleasures were to be shared in a different setting.

“I’ve got a hotel room nearby,” he huffed. “Thought I was going to an after party. Knew I wouldn’t want to drive.”

“Do you still want to go?” Shannon asked with a taunting smile.

“Think I got a better invitation now,” Michael grinned.

* * *

Morning light crept up on them through the sliding glass door of Michael’s hotel room. It was a reminder of how little care they had given to planning ahead; the pair had simply tumbled into the room together and begun tearing Michael’s clothes off. Shannon’s didn’t come off right away; she was fully naked now, but for a long time that night she enjoyed playing in her lingerie.

She straddled Michael on the bed, letting him lay back and enjoy a slow ride. His stamina had finally waned some time ago, but Shannon was happy to take up the slack. Occasionally, his eyes fluttered closed and he just smiled as her hips moved and as she brought him in and out of her. Mostly, though, he watched her with undisguised appreciation.

“Can’t believe we stayed up all night,” Michael murmured to the beautiful woman above him. “Wish I had more energy.”

“Are you enjoying this?” Shannon grinned naughtily.

“Hell yeah,” he sighed. “Never had it so good.”

“Then relax,” she said. “You put on a whole show. Probably had a full day at work beforehand, right? I’m not holding it against you.”

Michael’s breath grew shorter and quicker. Shannon’s grin spread further. She had him close again, and knew it. Her own rush would not be long in arriving. “Just don’t… wanna… leave you… wanting…” Michael began to pant.

“Shhh, you’re wonderful,” Shannon assured him. Her eyes began to close. She savored the slow climb to satisfaction. “So good. So… oh. Unh!”

As happened several times already, her orgasm was brought on largely by the first spasms of her partner. Shannon pushed him along by rising up just a bit higher and coming down on him a little harder, then remained there as her body was overcome by jolts of pleasure.

She kept Michael in her for several minutes after her orgasm had passed, but stayed still. Warm feelings of satisfaction flowed through her. Despite the pleasure of coupling with Shannon, Michael’s endurance had finally reached its limits. He dozed off underneath his partner, having given his all and then some. Shannon smiled. He’d been just what she needed.

Her only concern was over what might happen next.

She slipped off of him quietly, pulling a blanket up over his naked body before she moved away from the bed. He was already sound asleep. Shannon felt only slightly tired; she needed to stretch and get some fresh air more than she needed a nap. She glanced around the hotel room, found her white lab coat crumpled on the floor and put it on. Then she slipped the balcony door open, drawing the curtains behind her to darken the room for Michael before she stepped outside.

Seattle’s skies were overcast as usual this time of year, and dawn had broken only a short while ago. It should have been freezing for her, dressed only in a thin lab coat and with nothing on her feet. Yet she felt fine. Shannon looked out at the great view of downtown and its busy streets flooded with people going back to work.

Where do I go from here?

She still had her job. The complaint from the emergency room would pass without real trouble. Just another speed bump. As she had said to Lorelei, though, her career felt stalled. Brad claimed their relationship had lost its spark, but if anything had gone cold, it was her job. She still enjoyed actually helping people, and she liked the excitement. She just didn’t know if she wanted to deal with the low points and all the accompanying bullshit anymore.

Unique conditions steered Shannon’s life now. She had new needs to address, and enjoyed them more than she could say. One would think that carrying around the soul of a demon would be a curse, but so far it had been the time of her life.

She wondered how much of her life it would consume.

A gust of wind rushed past. Unconsciously, Shannon turned her head as if to follow it, but all she saw was skyline and rooftops. Then two bare feet came down on the rail of the balcony, and Shannon was not alone.

“Oh! Wow. Hi again. Ohmygod, are you okay?”

The angel stood covered in soot and blood. Her white dress was torn in many places, with long scars in her flesh. Rachel’s face was set in a scowl. “Yeah,” she grumbled, “I’ll be fine. Looks worse than it is. You should see what’s left of the other dumb fuckers.”

“Are those claw marks?” Shannon blinked.

“Hey, it was six against one, alright?” Rachel replied irritably. “I got all dolled up for Halloween and what do I get? Werewolves. Fuckin’ werewolves, pissing all over my party like it’s just a fuckin’ tree out in the fuckin’ woods. And they aren’t even what actually ruined my night!”

“What happened?”

“Long story, ain’t got the time to tell it. I just flew by and saw you out here. You might be wearing a different look, but you still kinda stick out for me. But the bed-head looks good on you,” she smirked.

*Defiance is not common because to rebel is to become friendless*

(Yes, this tale is supposed to be somewhat humorous and outrageous too. While not always comedic I’d like to think it is mostly a good-natured romp.)


I shared my ‘solo’ shower time with nine girls, with the good fortune that most of them only expected peripheral moments with me, not real sexual attention. Opal and Brigit, my original shower buddies, were joined by a few others plus my compadres, Iona and Rio. This morning, Brigit got a full-body scrubbing but I spared a few moments for my two closest friends.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Iona,” I confessed to her as I ran my hands over her slender shoulders.

“I came here for an education,” she smiled up at me. I arched an eyebrow and she flushed in embarrassment. “I mean, I came to school for an education — honest, that’s what I meant.”

“I know,” I calmed her. “I knew what you meant.”

I’d have been happier with the way things were going if I hadn’t caught Rio and Opal huddled together giving me conspiratorial looks. Catching my suspicious glare, Rio sauntered over to Iona and me.

“So, Teacher, are you going to give me any education time?” she teased Iona and me both.

“I think you and I are on the other end of the Teacher-Student curve, Rio. Unfortunately, your lessons always involve some sort of pain and/or humiliation on my part,” I pointed out.

“Don’t be such a baby, Zane. I do what I do out of love…okay, out of the love of watching you squirm, but that’s love too, right?” Rio smiled sweetly.

“Stop being so mean to him.” Iona became upset and clutched me tightly.

“Maybe if he took me out on a date, like he did Heaven, or spent more quality time with me like he does with Barbie Lynn,” Rio snickered, “I’d be too tired to pick on him.”

“We went out on a date,” I countered.

“When?” Rio questioned.

“Last Wednesday; we went out for ice cream,” I reminded her.

“Sorry. If this vagina doesn’t get penetrated, it isn’t a date,” Rio scoffed and Iona blushed. “Rio, I thought our friendship could withstand Saturday night but I’m not going to be someone you pass the empty hours with. I’m your friend and if you think you and Iona are no different than anyone else I know here, you are sorely mistaken,” I declared before Iona could have an outburst of her own.

“I don’t need you, Zane,” Rio shot back after a moment.

“I never said you did. In fact, I need you more than you might need me,” I related to her. Rio fidgeted for another instant, then turned and left. Seeing that Rio had left her shower kit behind, Iona gathered their things up and followed her.

I made my way to exit from this embarrassing episode when Opal grabbed my arm.

“If we aren’t friends, what are we?” she inquired.

“Infinitely memorable,” I answered with a sly grin. That earned me an appreciative look.

“I’ll take that,” she smiled and let me go on my way.

The Sparks of Rebellion

Considering what our previous few mornings at school had been like, this morning was downright sedate. Rio joined Iona and I as we made our way to breakfast, where we were even permitted to sit together, and Assembly, where we did the same. Had it not been for the final announcement by the Chancellor Melrose Bass…

“Christina Buchanan has stepped down as Senior Class Body President. She has been replaced by Rhaine Ritchie,” she announced. There was some stirring; for me, the look I had received from Christina the night before now made sense. They’d stripped her of her position because she’s decided to not persecute me, becoming my friend instead. Well, to hell with that. I totally missed Iona’s furious activities, though I would value them later.

Rio and I made it easy for them, though we wished Iona hadn’t tagged along. I had no real plan until she stepped up to confront me and then the first step of the operation fell into place.

“Zane Braxton, I require your services,” the girl with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair smirked at me. She’d brought along three playmates — how interesting.

“Who is this?” I asked Iona calmly.

“Rhaine Ritchie,” Iona informed me, at which point I shouldered past Rhaine, a move Rio instantly followed.

“Wait…what…” Rhaine squawked. “You can’t do this,” she emphasized by grabbing my shoulder. “If you don’t do as I tell you, you will be expelled,” she threatened.

Power comes from the belief in authority’s ability to influence you. If I did what they wanted, I’d be expelled eventually. If I fought back, I’d still go down, but what the hell, everything ends. In my case, I no longer cared what the Administration had planned for me, I’d fight them standing up on my own terms.

“Lady, I don’t know who you are,” I lied, “but if you don’t step off I’m going to put you over my knee and spank you in front of God and all these students.” Our eyes locked and she saw that I was ready, willing, and eager to follow through on my threat. Rhaine let go and took a step back. I turned and left without further comment; that would ruin the whole ‘ignore her’ effect.

Rio caught up and nudged me.

“What’s the plan, Kemosabe?” she inquired.

“I’m making this up as I go along,” I confessed. Rio laughed loudly while Iona gulped.

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something; I always do,” which caused Rio to laugh louder.

English came and went but ended with Ms. Goodswell calling me aside.

“You will be meeting with Ms. Lane at one,” she informed me. I nodded before she continued. “Zane, is it impossible for you to do the right thing or are you making my life special on purpose?”

“Virginia,” I replied, “if my only concern was to make you happy, I would do it. Unfortunately, I have to live with myself too and I can’t stomach what’s being done to my friends here. You must know that if I’d been left alone, I’d have done my time here and earned an education,” I tried to get her to understand. Virginia reached out and placed one of her hands on mine.

“I know, Zane, and I am doing what I can for you,” she sighed.

“Can you do something for Rio too?” I asked.

“Zane,” she chuckled bitterly, “I’m bailing out the Titanic with a thimble. I’m not sure what I can do for her. Mrs. Short wants her gone as much as the Chancellor does,” Virginia answered. Mrs. Short was Rio’s spiritual advisor.

Our spiritual advisors were supposed to help us out at school, both academically and psychologically. I didn’t doubt that Virginia had been doing her best to see that I wasn’t booted out during my first week at FFU. Rio didn’t have that backstop; all she had was Iona and me.

I barely caught Virginia’s gaze wander toward the door where a Rhaine-clone was standing.

I hoisted my backpack and made for the girl at the door. It turned out we were far from alone, my confrontation with Rhaine having already made the news.

“Listen, Zane, I’m not intim-…” she got out before I slipped past her extended arm (palm outward), slipped into contact with her, and twirled us around.

She had barely enough time to gasp before I spun free and made my way down the hall.

“Zane!” she called out in frustration behind me. I heard the giggles from the other girls as she took up the pursuit. I found Rio waiting inside the door while Rhaine and a clone waited for her to emerge.

“Sorry, bitches,” Rio gloated, “but my ride’s here.” Before they could react, I knelt and yanked down their skirts, one in each hand. The seniors squealed in surprise and tried to cover up as Rio shoved past them and joined me. She caught sight of my personal tormentor coming so she pulled me down the hall as we made our getaway.

They waited for us coming out of Biblical Archeology with the added bonus of Ms. Gorman, Dean of Athletics, Head of Security, and Coach to several sports including Karate. They smiled, we smiled, and then we slammed the door and locked it. Rio looked at me with a piratical gleam in her eyes as we simultaneously made for the windows and flung ourselves outside.

We took the fall from the second floor and bolted like mad for our next classes. Had I heard (I claimed to be lost in thought) Ms. Gorman calling my name, I would have been forced to stop and face some sort of pointless and painful task, but I made it to Biology safely. A text from Rio told me she’d made it to her class too.

Of course, they could still keep coming, and getting to lunch proved impossible without confronting the new regime. Rhaine waited outside my door with a half dozen other ladies plus Ms. Gorman, who looked absolutely furious.

“I believe you are familiar with traveling on your knees, Mr. Braxton. This time you get to do so with me on your back, my own personal beast of burden,” she gloated.

I looked through her, took in the other girls, then made my way to shoulder past them.

“If you ignore this command,” Gorman warned me, “that is grounds for dismissal.”

“Did someone give me an order?” I asked innocently.

“Rhaine did,” Gorman pointed out.

“Who?” I inquired.

“Rhaine…Ms. Ritchie,” Gorman growled.

“I don’t know who that is,” I pointed out blithely.

“I’m…Grrr,” Rhaine snarled.

“Fine,” a different girl spoke up, “I want you to be my mount on my way to lunch.” I did nothing.

“Well?” Ms. Gorman questioned me.

“Well, what?” I responded.

“Are you going to do what Vera has instructed?” Ms. Gorman demanded.

“Who?” I grinned proudly.

“You can’t pretend you can’t hear students just because you want to, Mr. Braxton,” Ms. Gorman snapped.

“I’m required to obey any lawful command of a recognized advanced student,” I paraphrased my Handbook. “Any student doing an illegal or immoral action does not qualify.”

“These two students have done no such thing,” Ms. Gorman pointed out.

“Ms. Ritchie has accepted appointment as Senior Class President, which is illegal. Any student who supports her position is committing an immoral act,” I countered.

“Dr. Bass put me in charge of the Senior class,” Rhaine stated proudly, “after Christina screwed up and didn’t put you in your place.” I didn’t take my eyes off of Ms. Gorman but I did reply.

“She can remove Christina, I have no argument with that, but she can’t appoint a replacement, a fact you would know if you bothered to read the book,” I reminded them. Thank God for Iona and her eyes for minutia. This left them momentarily speechless.

“Zane, you will carry my books to the Dining Hall,” Brandi interrupted the group of us.

“As you command,” I leapt at the chance to escape. Brandi haughtily ignored the baneful looks shot her way as she stepped up and tossed her book bag to me before strutting off with me quickly following along behind her.

“Thanks Brandi,” I whispered to her.

“What for?” she grinned back at me with a little extra shimmy in her stride. “Iona promised me some quality time with you tonight but that won’t be worth a damn if I let them break you down.” Ah, the wonders of enlightened self-interest and the female libido.

When we walked together into the Dining Hall I noticed that Rio hadn’t made it yet, which didn’t bode well for her. Iona was sitting down and waved to me as I headed into the food line. As I continued to look around I also couldn’t find Christina and company, which was odd and spoke of some unforeseen trouble. It also gave me an idea.

When I received my food I maneuvered over to Iona but I didn’t sit down, instead holding my tray and waiting.

“Zane, what are you doing?” whispered Iona.

“I think I know how to make our anemic resistance into a full-blown rebellion,” I whispered back.

It didn’t take long before a few familiar faces began standing up as well in some bizarre show of solidarity for me and the cause they didn’t understand yet. More and more students began joining my little protest; most I’d barely seen before. By the time Christina came in, we numbered about a hundred.

Christina and her crew recognized the anomaly of our actions but had no clue what we were up to until they moved to take their new station farther down the Senior Table than before, depicting their diminished status. When Christina sat down, I sat down too, slamming my tray for extra effect. Within thirty seconds a hundred trays came slamming down in sympathy. That was round one.

I wolfed down my food in preparation for round two. Rio arrived battered and bruised with bloody knees and palms. I gave her my water to pour on her knees and hands.

“I have a plan, ladies,” I softly told Iona and Rio. “Follow my lead unless I get decapitated, in which case you are on your own.”

Taking the steps toward the Senior Table was pretty frightening because my ability to remain in the school and stay in the fight depended on the beneficence and bravery of another. I walked up to Christina as she sat eating and went down on one knee with my head lowered in supplication. I caught sight of Christina twisting and observing me and my stance.

A minute elapsed before Christina finally spoke to me. She knew what she was getting into; there was no tricking her into this role in events. For her, the battle was for pride, while mine was for survival. She had more to lose since the past three years of her life were wrapped up in this place.

“Zane,” Christina said in a passionate, caring tone, laying a hand on my shoulder, “Thank you. You may go now.”

I rose once more, bowed before turning away, and resumed my seat.

“I think I’m in love,” Chastity sighed.

“I’m with you,” Hope added, “You don’t see many Knights of Christ anymore.”

“I’m not sure he qualifies as a Knight of Christ,” Heaven stated, “but I like the way he’s fighting.”

“We are in a fight alright,” Christina smiled, “and Zane has put us in the middle of it.” Even as she spoke those words, Barbie Lynn, Opal, and Cappadocia all came up and bowed before Christina as well, receiving her blessing and moving on. Iona joined, while Rio kept her seat but shot me a snide smile.

“What’s next Boss?” she said between bites of food.

“A rebellion so large they just can’t expel all of us; a rebellion with Queen Christina Buchanan at the head,” I explained. Iona came up and getting the purpose of our rebellion expressed to the masses began. Our campus was dividing between the Pro-Christina vs. the Pro-Rhaine camps and in thirty minutes it was past the ability for the teachers to stamp out immediately.

A Passionate Legal Issue

My ability to bask in, and suffer through, the effects of our insurgency was diminished by my summons to see Ms. Lane but I had to admit I was feeling full of myself when I walked into her office.

“It is good to see you again, Mr. Braxton. We have a good deal to talk over, so let us begin,” she started, her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, her business jacket and skirt being a tasteful medium gray and her make-up done just right.

She began going over the particulars of my legal predicament brought about by my situation here at FFU but my mind rapidly devolved in a different direction. I dropped my bag and began taking off my shirt while Ms. Lane kept droning on. She didn’t miss my display but while there was a slight curl to her lips she kept doing her job as she saw it.

Lane’s smile grew as I finished stripping nude, came around the desk and then turned her chair to face me. I pushed her legs slightly apart before kneeling between them and taking her shoes off one at a time. I definitely had Ms. Lane’s attention as I started kissing the tip of her big toe then drawing out further kisses along the top of her foot. Throughout it all, she never let up with her legal-ease talk; I had to admire her concentration.

As my hands caressed one calf, knee, and thigh, then another as I worked kisses along her feet, I noticed two things; she was getting excited and she was wearing stockings fixed with a garter belt, both in darker beige. When I hiked up her right leg so I could plant kisses on the back of her knee along the back line of her hose she finally skipped a beat in her speech.

“Aaahhh,” she moaned sensually as I kept planting those kisses and ran my fingers up beyond her stocking line to the edge of her panties. I was vaguely aware of her picking up her phone and having a brief conversation but I was a bit too preoccupied to catch much of it.

“I’ve informed your two o’clock class that you won’t be making it today,” she sighed happily.

That gave us an extra hour of legal ‘consultations’; in Vegas I understand this kind of legal advice can cost me over a $1000 dollars an hour but I was blessed for getting it for free. Ms. Lane put her phone down, stood, and unzipped her skirt.

“My name is Hudson,” she smiled at me as she let the skirt slip down her well-toned legs to the ground.

As she stepped out of the skirt I pulled it aside and tossed it away. When she sat down I cupped her ass cheeks and pulled her to the very tip of the chair before I renewed my attention with my lips and tongue on her thighs. Hudson went back to her legal-speak with increasingly bated breath.

By the time I teased off her panties with my teeth she had almost given up the pretense of a real meeting and was moaning and groaning from the progress I’d made. When I blew on her freshly exposed bald pussy she lost it, bucking up against my lips. I didn’t disappoint her, diving straight in with my tongue flicking her clit before pushing in deeper with a tongue-twister.

“Oh, God!” she exclaimed as she thrust up once more. “Tell me you aren’t doing this to the girls here.” I replied by flicking my tongue faster over her lips and clit until she vibrated into an orgasm and a few recitations of, “Oh, Sweet God!”

I drank deeply from her pussy, relishing in her tangy flavor for more than a minute. We both knew this was far from over. She spread her legs wider and I started teasing her slit from the bottom with a deep lick inside. She rewarded me with one of the best things a girl can say to a guy.

“You are even better than my girlfriend,” she sighed deliciously. I switched to using my fingers so that I could speak.

“I’d be happy to share notes about you with her,” I offered.

“She’s a … aaahhh, yes … a dedicated lesbian,” Hudson moaned, “but I think I could say something to her about you.”

“Mmmm,” was the sound of my slurping her up. “I look forward to the both of you.”

“You would want both of us at the same time?” she panted, tantalized by the prospect.

“One at a time; both; if she is half as tasty as you, I’ll take what I can get,” I mumbled between flicks of my tongue.

Our conversation died as I used my fingers to peel her blossom open and made deep, penetrating explorations of her sex. Slowly, gingerly, Hudson encased my shoulders and neck with her stocking-clad legs. She didn’t force, so much as snuggle me into an embrace. There was really no reason to enhance my eagerness for her succulent cunt.

“Ooohhh … you are very good … Zane,” she purred, “aaahhh …aaahhh … aaahhh … right there … aaahhh …Aaiii!!!!” With that last outburst she rose hard against my face, burying my nose into her baby smooth folds while my lips kept up a mighty suckling effort on her clit, a bit of nibbling included.

She didn’t say much as she was still getting her breathing under control, but I would have bet money she was a long distance runner, so short was her recovery time. Hudson let her legs fall to my sides as she leaned forward and drew me into her arms in an encompassing hold. We tasted each other for some time in a delicate ballet of discovering our need for one another.

I pressed against her, then broke our kiss while drilling her in place with my eyes. I didn’t feel the need to tell her I wanted her; she could undoubtedly read my mind and she gave me a light kiss and a nod giving her permission. As I ran my hands under her thighs she rose up, freeing me to grab each ass cheek and start to lift her up as I stood.

Before I could even set her on the desk Hudson was unbuttoning her shirt and peeling it off. I rested her carefully on the desk’s edge but before I could make my next move she kissed me and wrapped her legs around my waist. She used her legs to balance while she worked off her bra and exposing her shapely breasts to my eyes.

I took that as an invitation to press Ms. Lane down and start ravishing her pale areolas and short, stubby, light pink nipples that hardened at my touch.

“Zane,” she sighed through a wave of pleasure, “why do I get the impression this isn’t your first time with a woman?”

“Mmmm,” I expressed over my currently favorite nipple, “I feel that all that matters is that this is my first time with you. I’ve never been with anyone like you before.”

“Ah,” she gasped playfully, “I take that to mean ‘over a dozen’,” sigh, “you bad, bad boy.” I stopped what I was doing and looked up at her, my face moist with her fluids and my saliva from engaging her breasts.

“This is a strange time to ask me to embrace a Purity Pledge,” I teased her.

“It would be unethical for me to suborn perjury,” she teased back as she stroked my hair. Hudson mirrored the real affection I sent her way.

“I admire honesty of character over social acceptance, Hudson. I’ll lie to make someone happy but I won’t lie to myself,” I related and she nodded her understanding if not her agreement.

“So if I’m no good in the sack you’ll tell me?” she bantered playfully.

“Sex is a partnership, Hudson. If it doesn’t work, it is as much my fault as yours,” I responded eagerly. Her eyes sparkled and the smile on her face took on a decidedly scholarly cast as if she’d judged me and not been disappointed.

I returned to her chest while Hudson drew back her legs until she set her hands to the back of her knees while sweeping her papers aside. I didn’t ask for permission to enter her; I did what felt natural and in sequence with the pace our bodies were setting. Only as I slid in did she let out a nasal moan of pleasure.

Hudson’s vagina was by no means tight, more like snug and comforting; it was a happy medium that my girth more than compensated for. She could definitely feel me rubbing against her vaginal walls and clitoris as I stroked in and out. She began to rub my hair with one hand and engaged her left nipple with the other.

I was busy thrusting into her with deeper and stronger penetrating drives, one hand on her pussy and the other one holding me upright leaving my lips to entertain the right breast with all kinds of nips, bites, teases and suction. Our division of responsibilities, never spoken out loud, was working out well for us and our desire to build to our next climax.

Hudson and I coasted along the edge of orgasm for twenty breathtaking minutes until she finally drew me into a kiss followed by a knowing smile and a nod. I picked up my tempo and angled her hips for maximum penetration as I took her up to what one of my early lovers had called the Mountain of Tears and Joy. In the end she clutched me tight and buried her head into my shoulder as she hissed out her maximum pleasure.

Ms. Lane barely missed a breath, pulling me into a string of kisses over my eyes, cheeks, lips, and nose.

“I know it is the wrong thing,” she sighed finally, “to leave you alone with all these women. What chance do any of these poor girls have against candy as sweet as you?”

“I’d like to think I’m as much a victim here as any of them,” I panted in reply, still slowly slipping in and out of her.

“Really? How often are you compelled to have sex, Mr. Braxton?” she interrogated me seductively.

“Once or twice,” I offered up the truth.

“Once or twice a week?” she asked skeptically.

“No; once or twice a day,” I confessed.

“How do you manage to sex twice a day on this campus?” she sounded incredulous.

“Well, there is the shower in the morning, then there is almost always an opportunity during club time, maybe sometime after dinner but before curfew, and lastly after curfew,” I explained while Hudson look both aroused and surprised at the revelation.

“Don’t you … aaahhh … ever get tired, bored, or sore?” she gasped.

“Meh,” I shrugged, “I get tired sometimes, and sore on occasion, but I’ve never been bored with a partner yet.”

“I noticed you didn’t flinch when I told you my partner was a lesbian; homosexuality doesn’t bother you, does it?” she inquired.

“Nope; I’ve been with a few men in the past,” I answered. “Does that bother you, being a FFU alum and all?”

“It would have,” she giggled in an almost mature way, “but I did a few things my first year in law school that curled my toes … and opened my mind.”

“I owe those people a big Thank You card,” I teased her.

“Don’t … mmm … be too hasty,” she murmured, “More than one was of the ‘nail the Christian bitch’ breed. Those were some emotionally … aaahhh … tough times.”

“I never see the women here that way,” I promised Hudson.

“I didn’t think you were that kind from the first time we met, but I checked with Virginia Goodswell to be sure,” she told me. “Even … aaahhh … wow, you really know how to make a girl feel good … Dana Gorman doesn’t think you are a total waste of effort either.” That was somewhat stunning since Dana never stopped giving me grief, right up to the effort to have me expelled.

“What … mmm,” I asked as my own seed began to rise, “would you have done if I hadn’t come on to you?”

“Zane,” she laughed, “I figured that you staying on your side of the desk was as likely as having a Texan walk away from free BBQ. The way your eyes undressed me at our first get-together convinced me that if we had a private meeting this would happen, though your direct assault was unexpected. Was my perfume too much?”

“Hudson … Aaahh … you would be irresistible in a green garbage bag and Old Spice men’s cologne,” I panted, followed by, “I’m going to come.”

“Roll over,” she commanded. As I did, she untangled herself from me and slid down my body until she engulfed my cock with her mouth.

She was perpendicular to me, on all fours, knees barely on the desk with my legs extending out to rest on the back of the chair. Her tongue swirled around my shaft in some erotic serpentine fashion I’d never experienced before. She must have sensed my fascination with her technique because she slurped up over my head and smiled in my direction.

“Being with a lesbian gives me a great deal of expertise with my tongue,” she tantalized me before going back about her sensual torture. It didn’t take too much time at all before I put a hand on her cheek. Hudson went a little deeper, sucked in with her cheeks and set me off. I pumped load after load of semen into her mouth but there was no swallowing and that left me a tad curious.

When I was finished she climbed panther-like over my body until we were nose to nose. She slowly opened her lips and a strand of semen began winding down toward me. I then knew what she wanted and opened my mouth as she dripped my own semen into it. A few strands into the process she lowered her lips down and kissed me.

We swapped my cum for some time before I could feel her tongue and mouth suck it back up. She leaned up, rolled back her head, and made an erotic display of swallowing my entire load.

“You are really fun,” Hudson told me as she licked her lips. “Most guys are totally weirded out by that and won’t do what you just did.”

“I try not to be that kind of guy,” I answered.

“You’ve done something special for me; what special thing can I do for you?” she purred. I felt a warm sense of anticipation consume me as I dialed up some of my deepest fantasies. The one thing I was absolutely sure about was that I was going to need more than one legal session.

Running at the Abyss

When I finally exited the school’s legal offices, I figured I had a few options. Most appealingly, I could hide out for an hour and avoid Rhaine and company, but that would leave Rio out there in the cold. I was feeling stupid — I went looking for my friend. A quick call to Iona gave me a tidbit of information that had come up in my absence.

More and more freshmen were identifying pro-Rhaine proponents and blowing them off like I was. There had been some severe friction but no casualties yet. I asked about Rio but Iona hadn’t seen her; at the moment Iona was with Opal who was undoubtedly defending her from the pro-Rhaine forces.

I went racing off to the most likely location to find Rio. My first shot was a bust but on the way to my second choice, I caught sight of her with some companions. She had four girls with her plus a teacher, black hair up in a bun, while Rio carried her book bag and large pails of water held out at chest level. As I came running up, I could see the lines her tears had made down her cheeks as well as the welts running down her calves where they had been using switches on her.

“Arms up,” demanded her chief tormentor. I was unlucky enough to be spotted on my approach and one of the girls pointed me out to the others and the instructor. One girl managed to insert herself between me and the group; she was someone I knew. I attempted to shift past her but she caught my elbow and turned my momentum against me, slamming me into the ground — first team Karate club members can do that.

She had only enough time to smirk down at me once when I lashed out with my leg, clipped her ankle and sent her sprawling. We both rolled up into a kneeling stance but I was a bit quicker. I lashed out, grabbed her by the throat and slammed her head back to the ground. She gasped, tried to lash out, but I blocked it. I brought my knee down on her gut, knocking the wind out of her, then lashed out with my fist in her face.

I let my fist hover there for a moment.

“Bitch, get up and I’ll re-arrange your face,” I threatened her with dangerous intent. The girl’s technique was really good but this was a real fight, not a tournament. The girl had a real look of fear written on her face.

“Mr. Braxton!” shouted the instructor at me; I ignored her and went to Rio.

“Let me take those,” I softly asked Rio. She shook her head in the negative but didn’t stop me when I took them.

“Mr. Braxton, that’s it. We are going to see the Chancellor right now!” the teacher demanded angrily.

“Lady,” I snapped back, “either I can take this burden to Rio’s next safe haven and then go to the Chancellor’s office, or I can go right now and you can wear what I’m holding.”

Threatening a teacher was really a bone-headed play, but then so was thrashing a fellow student, throwing her to the ground, followed by a threat of further violence, and added to that interfering in someone else’s Handmaiden’s Duty.

“The bitch’s name is Ms. Marlowe,” Rio told me as she tried to massage the pain in her arms.

“Ms. Talon, that is enough from you; Mr. Braxton, give Ms. Talon the pails back and come with me,” Ms. Marlowe commanded. Ignoring her again I turned to Rio.

“Where are we going?”

“We are heading to the Library,” Rio grinned; like me, she wasn’t waiting for them to bury us, we were running straight at the abyss. As we took off, Ms. Marlowe moved in front of us and the first girl began to get up.

“Sit your ass down!” I shouted at her, and she fell back on her ass. As for Ms. Marlowe, I grinned to Rio and handed back her one pail.

“On three,” I smiled. Together we hoisted our pails and directed them in a swaying motion toward Ms. Marlowe. “One, two ….” I put my hand out and stopped Rio. Ms. Marlowe sneered at us.

“Why did we stop?” Rio questioned me.

“If we do it, you are gone,” I informed her.

“What about you?” Rio wondered.

“I just beat a girl into the ground; I’m probably done for anyway … which reminds me,” I sighed, put down the pail and walked over to the girl, offering her my hand. She looked at it suspiciously before taking it and letting me pull her up.

“You caught me off-guard,” she murmured softly.

“Don’t fool yourself,” I responded. “You wanted to stop me; I wanted to break you … to save my friend.” The deadly determination in my voice made her gulp. I walked to Rio’s side and picked up the pail.

“Mr. Braxton, give Ms. Talon the pail and come with me,” Ms. Marlowe stated.

“When I get Rio to safety I’ll come with you,” I replied which didn’t please her one bit. She was about to comment when I interrupted.

“Seriously, what are you going to do, toss me out twice? I’ve been kicked, punched, beaten, and been bled raw; I’m not sure how the rest of the girls take it,” I fought back.

“It is something called faith and devotion, Mr. Braxton,” she tried to explain.

“You spout a big game,” Rio spat, “but Zane knows more about faith, compassion, and devotion than your twisted heart will ever understand.” And here I thought Rio would keep it simple like calling her a ‘stupid bitch’

“Philosophy aside, we seem to be at an impasse, Ms. Marlowe. I’m not going with you until Rio is safe and that means we take the water to where she’s going,” I outlined the problem. “You can stop me from moving, but you can’t make me move — your call.” That was the gist of our situation and we all knew it.

“It will be my pleasure to see you thrown out of this school,” Ms. Marlowe ground out, which indicated that Rio and I had our tiny, temporary victory. I got us to the library where we were dutifully ordered to water some late summer flowers.

When we finished, Rio turned to follow me so I had to physically restrain her.

“No,” Rio insisted as she tried to push past me and return to the outdoors.

“Stay here, Rio. Barbie Lynn should be out of Soccer practice soon; call her and she’ll look after you,” I all but begged her.

“I’m a fucking adult, Zane,” Rio insisted.

“I know, but you getting nailed right beside me doesn’t do either of us any good,” I pointed out.

“I’m not afraid of these over-fucked cunts,” she hissed.

“You should be,” I whispered to her as I pressed my forehead onto hers. “They scare the hell out of me.”

“I can do this,” Rio now pleaded.

“Rio, if I go down, I take a vacation for three months; they bust you, and you’re in prison for three years, and I can’t live with that,” I confessed.

“What are you going to do, come bust me out?” she joked through the bitter bile.

“Yes,” I replied without pause. “I’d figure out a way.” Rio stared at me for a long, long time looking for the lie but found only the truth.

“Fine, Asshole,” she finally responded, “I’ll play it safe for now, but if you are not back by dinner, I’m re-instituting witch-burning.”

“I love you too,” I replied softly as I stroked her cheek. She gave me a desperately fierce look, to which I had no answer. I turned and rejoined Ms. Marlowe.

“You made me wait, Mr. Braxton,” she told me angrily.

“Happy Hanukah to you too,” I retorted weakly, which did nothing for her disposition.

By the time I walked into the Chancellor’s office, the particulars of my latest episode were all over campus. More than one girl lifted up a Bible as I passed and mouthed that they were praying for me. Right now, having God on my side wouldn’t suck — my bench was pretty empty. I followed Ms. Marlowe into Chancellor Bass’s office, shutting the door behind me.

This time it was only Dr. Bass, Ms. Marlowe and me. Ms. Marlowe looked pissed, Dr. Bass was unreadable (not a good sign), and I was struggling to keep my courage.

“How has he added to his list of sins?” Dr. Bass asked Ms. Marlowe.

“He threw a sophomore, Mercy Chaplain, to the ground and threatened her with further physical violence. He has avoided and interfered with Handmaiden’s Duties on multiple occasions as well as inspiring other freshmen to do the same,” Ms. Marlowe listed off my dark deeds.

“You were predictably stupid, Mr. Braxton, though you lasted longer than I initially believed you would and got into far greater trouble,” Dr. Bass stated. “We no longer have any papers you need to sign. We will pack your things and send them to your house. Please leave campus before sunset.”

There was a brisk knock at the door and Ms. Goodswell sashayed into the room.

“Sorry I’m late but somehow my invitation to the meeting was misplaced,” she addressed the room. “I imagine that we all are now aware of Mr. Braxton’s faults but since we need a fair hearing to accomplish this correctly, Zane is allowed to consult with his Spiritual Advisor.”

“There is nothing to be said here, Ms. Goodswell,” Ms. Marlowe replied.

“Zane, explain yourself,” Ms. Goodswell persisted.

“By our Code of Conduct, we cannot follow an illegal or immoral order. The Chancellor can remove a student officer of any position in the school hierarchy; she does not have the authority to make their replacements.”

“Any supporter of Rhaine is following an illegal order, thus committing an immortal act. It follows that any support of Rhaine should be shunned. As for the girl I knocked down, she threw me to the ground first and had the misfortune to not be as good a fighter as I am.”

“The fact is, you are a disruptive influence within the student body. I have already lined up five freshmen for expulsion on this matter. This intransigence will be crushed tomorrow,” the Chancellor declared.

“I’ll make sure their parents and lawyers get pictures of my, Rio’s, and Iona’s knees bleeding and the whip marks on Rio’s legs,” I threatened.

“I think I need to impress upon Zane the hopelessness of his cause. Ladies, give myself and Mr. Braxton the room,” Dr. Bass ordered.

The others filed back out, confused and worried because, while Bass had one last trump to play, she wasn’t going to share. When the room was cleared she assessed me in a way I imagine a hunter with a club looks upon a baby seal that made a valiant but futile effort to make it to the air hole.

“I know Heaven’s little secret,” she informed me, allowing a miniscule hint of triumph to enter her voice. I was floored; how in the hell was I supposed to respond? How long had she known, waiting to spring this on me when I proved too difficult for normal measures? Had she waited for us to form a relationship, knowing I’d play the White Knight like the idiot I was?

“I know about her, her troubles at home, and your relationship with her. I’m sure your Aunt Jill and the rest of your congregation will be interested in your homosexual relationship with a transvestite. Both of you will be extremely humiliated,” the Chancellor laid out her sinister plan.

“Your time on the stage is done, Mr. Braxton; time for you to skulk off quietly. I’m sure all your devoted followers will be suitably heartbroken,” she gloated slightly. The last bit was a bit too much and became my burning inspiration.

“Go for it,” I shrugged. “Give it your best shot.”

“I’m not you, Mr. Braxton; I’m not bluffing, the way you attempted to confound Ms. Marlowe and failed. I will do this, believe me,” she snorted.

“There is no bluff here,” I responded evenly. “I believe you will do it. All I want to know is whether you are incompetent or corrupt.”

“Neither,” Professor Bass said with narrowed eyes.

“Well, you were either incompetent enough to allow a girl with a dick to live here on campus for the past three years, or you knew and allowed all those girls to be put at risk on your own judgment, most likely influenced by Christina Buchanan’s grandfather,” I elaborated.

Professor Bass’s jaw clenched and flexed.

“A Buddhist monk once told me that hypocrisy robs you of your foundation. You see, Christianity is inherently the religion of rebellion because it demands that you respect everyone regardless of wealth, status, birth, or sex,” I outlined.

“This stands in opposition to authority, especially petty little tyrants like you,” I finished and stood to go.

“You don’t talk to me like that, you little bastard,” Bass growled as she shot up from her chair.

*Nymphomania, while enticing to consider, is still utter madness when experienced*

(Frontma delivers yet again)

(Starts off with good sex then tons of ‘story’ stuff)

(Yes, this tale is supposed to be somewhat humorous and outrageous too. While not always comedic I’d like to think it is mostly a good-natured romp.)

Barbie Lynn gazing down at me…I’m not sure another guy should ever see this because it could break one’s heart to see it once and never again. She’s built a faint sheen of sweat on her body already and she’s looking at me with a definite Zen to fuck. My cock is cocooned deep inside her rectum, rubbing inside as she rotates forward on her hips.

The distant, dreamy look in her eyes flashes to alertness as she catches me looking at her; ‘hi’ she whispers. I nod and smile so she inclines into me so that we can start kissing. She leads in with her tongue along my lips. I touch the tip of her tongue with my own, snaking inside her mouth before we are done. She starts murmuring, deepens our kiss, and begins rubbing my nipples.

“Vivian?” Valarie says softly. She snuck around the bed to settle behind my guardian.

“Yes?” Vivian replies. She is on her side watching Barbie Lynn and I.

“I – ummm…” Valarie moans.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch it as Val’s hand brushes Vivian’s hair off her neck and her lips start suckling on the exposed flesh. Vivian closes her eyes briefly but doesn’t move Valarie away.

“Oh, Baby,” Barbie pants with barely an inch separating our lips, “I know I say this often but I so love this. You tear me up inside and I want it so bad all the time, it scares me.”

“Vaginal sex with you scares me,” I tease back.

“Will it be even better?” she draws in an even deeper, breast flaunting breath.

“You never know, but you are so damn good at everything else, I can’t imagine you doing anything but haunting my dreams forever,” I say, as I coax her movements with my hands on her hips, flanks, and thighs. Barbie shows her appreciation by running her hand through my bangs and pushing my hair back so that she can cover my forehead, eyes and nose with kisses.

“You like that romantic shit, don’t you, Mercy-slut?” Rio grumbles playfully from the other side.

“Yes,” Mercy whispers. I know Rio well enough to know that when a spiteful reply isn’t immediately forthcoming, she’s dusting off (and unchaining) her Better Angel. Mercy is looking at Barbie Lynn and me, her head facing sideways as she lies on her back. Rio crawls on top of Mercy, prompting Mercy to open her legs, and locks her hands over her head to gaze down on her.

“Your skin is so pure, your hair so black, and your eyes so full of passion, it breaks my heart to look at you, My Little Whore,” Rio begins. She leans in and bites Mercy’s earlobe, causing her victim to moan and buck up slightly. “Mercy, you give and give, making me so hot inside that I want to grab you and never let go.”

“Really?” Mercy gasps. “I – “

“Don’t get used to this,” Rio growls with famished sexual enticement. “But – well, I want you to know that I hope all our children look just like you.” Poor Rio was running out of material. It was terribly uncomfortable for me to show her where to go. I ran my hands over Barbie’s body, which is an absolute torture I am forced to struggle through repeatedly.

I start by massaging Barbie Lynn’s tits, rotating three fingers over the nipples before rolling up the whole meaty breast in my palms. Barbie Lynn starts pushing back on my cock harder and grunting to the rhythm.

“Damn, Mercy,” Rio teases, “I love these titties.” She accentuates by sucking the top third of one breast into her mouth and twirling her tongue around it.

Vivian gives a visible shiver from her side of the bed; Valarie has done something to her beneath the sheets to turn her on. In the interim while I have been watching Rio and Mercy, Valarie has been working over Vivian, temple to shoulder, with her lips. Now I see Vivian pulling up her left (upper) leg until it is resting snugly against my upper ribs, giving someone easier access to her snatch.

She’s also put her left arm behind her back between herself and Valarie. I’m starting to wonder if there is something in the air filters of my place, some undiscovered aphrodisiac mold, fungi, or spores that turns nice, virtuous girls into promiscuous bi-sexual vixens. To the best of my knowledge and belief, neither Valarie nor Vivian had the slightest lesbian tendencies before they started coming to my room.

I give Barbie Lynn’s luscious orbs one final squeeze before migrating my hold down to her ass, giving each cheek a double-slap. Barbie Lynn exhales a huff of ecstatic relief as the impact travels through her. Rio smirks and follows suit, her hand reaching between their thighs, prying Mercy’s leg up – up and up until Mercy’s knee is nearly at her breast.

“Your body is the first female form that I’ve ever lusted after,” Rio murmurs as she rubs and pats Mercy’s buttocks. “I think I’ve always wanted you, to taste you on my tongue, your scent strong in my mind and your sweet, sweet ass under my hand.” Mercy brings one hand up to stroke Rio’s cheek as she gives a strangled sob. No matter how much Mercy fears loving a woman, Rio can chisel that away and get her to love openly and freely.

Barbie Lynn bounces up and slams down on me repeatedly as she is coming to the end of her fuse.

“Zane…Zane, oh yeah,” she pants. Vivian chooses this moment to sneak her climax in on the rest of us. I am vaguely aware of her biting her lip, rocking her hips under the sheets, and perspiration beginning to bead on her lower lip.

“Holy God, Christ, and…my…hot damn…Val…ugh…Oh, God!” Vivian squeals as Valarie vigorously whips her hand in a tight pattern, cloaked from sight but obvious to the knowledgeable. Vivian’s clit, lips, and the gateway to her vagina are all supers-stimulated. Valarie cools her down and holds her with enough strength to stop Vivian from rolling face-first into the sheets.

“Jesus Loves Me!” Barbie Lynn screams one last time. Her body bows, her breasts thrust forward and up, bouncing so deliciously while her thighs tremble in climax. Her anal muscles rippling from sphincter toward my cockhead are grinding me toward orgasm. Finally, she collapses against me, still twitching and fighting for breath.

With my arms wrapped around her, I roll us over toward Mercy and Rio, placing Barbie Lynn on her back. Barbie Lynn has her legs pulling back before I can even move to push them back. While I had never fully pulled out, I was nearly there. I shove my hips forward, forcing my penis back in hard, causing Barbie Lynn to grunt, her mouth to gape open, nostril flaring, as her eyes squeeze shut.

“Oh, hell, yeah,” Barbie Lynn gasps, “hammer me!”

“Oh, fuck,” Valarie moans, “I am so lonely.” Vivian is still roaming her hands over Valarie’s special place, picking up the pace as she’s inspired by Barbie Lynn’s passion. Rio expresses her perverse nature by going at Mercy slow while the rest of us are going gangbusters.

“Here is my baby-smooth, tasty friend,” Rio says as she kisses Mercy’s bald twat. Rio pushes her thighs apart, her leg muscles taught while laying on the bed. Rio’s restraint could only last so long. Every lick became more insistent, every nibble elicited a greater yelp, and every hip-thrust by Mercy into Rio’s hungry mouth was more desperate.

Valarie gives off one long, cavernous growl, then screams in between Vivian’s shoulder blades.

“Damn,” Vivian whispers, as a sympathetic orgasmic shiver coasts through her body. I’m pushing up on my knuckles, Barbie Lynn’s legs between them as I rise up until my bulbous head is fixed in her sphincter; then I slam down once more. She’s rocking her hips up to maximize the depths I reach as she cries out, again and again and again.

When I finally let go, I feel a volcano of lust, frustration, and fulfillment exploding out all at once. Barbie Lynn’s head sways rapidly side to side as she comes unglued.

“Zane – Jesus loves me…Jesus Loves Me!” she howls loud enough to shake the glass panels overhead. Those words ringing in my ears are going to haunt me in whatever church I go to.

“Ugh…ugh…ugh, Love…right there…feels so good,” Mercy drags out with shallow breathes.

“Mmmm…” Rio gurgles. Mercy has gotten quite wet and visibly aroused. I’m sure Rio has worked a finger or two into the action and in Mercy’s butt. Mercy starts bouncing off the sheets as she hisses out the last of her restraint.

“Motherfuckergoddamn!” Mercy cries out. Rio growls, slurps, and sucks up Mercy’s pussy juice while lapping up and down her slit.

“That’s my baby,” Rio’s fluid-marked face looks up from between Mercy’s legs and smiles. “Was that good for you?” Rio asks? Mercy nods dreamily. “Are you a happy little whore?” Rio teases. Again, Mercy nods with pleasure. “Did you use the ‘L’ word, Ass-fuck slut?” Rio hardens.

This time Mercy realizes her mistake and shudders. She raises her head and looks into Rio’s eyes.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Rio,” Mercy mumbles.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time, Bitch,” Rio sneers. “Tomorrow morning you are going to get it coming and going…all day long.” I am actually aware of what that threat means.

“Okay,” Vivian sighed, with more contentment than annoyance, “we’ve all cum so let’s try and get some sleep.”

“I haven’t gotten off yet,” Rio chuckled. I knew what I had to do before someone else volunteered my services.

“Come here, Rio.” I smile to her and extend a hand. “Let me get another taste of my best bro.”

“I’ll clean you up,” Barbie Lynn grins up at me, as she wiggles her body around my own so she’s on top again. She slithers down my torso, waggles my still mostly hard cock against her lips, then begins to take it into her mouth. Barbie Lynn’s tongue licks along my shaft as she gobbles up more of my rod.

I expect Rio to come over but Mercy, following along and lying on her belly, her head propped up on her hands and elbows as she watches my blonde angel’s skilled fellatio, is a bonus. Rio ends up near my pillow, one hand on my chest and the other resting between Mercy’s ass cheeks. Her fingers are definitely sliding in and out of Mercy’s cunt. If Mercy is a bit sore, she’s smart enough not to complain to her Mistress about it.

“What do you have in mind, Zane?” Rio catches my gaze.

“I want your teeth tearing up the mattress with your ass up in the air as I plow you through the headboard,” I inform her. I make a focus group assessment of the situation by slipping a finger into her pussy – she’s creaming already.

For Rio, the greater physicality of the sex, the better it is for her. She’ll let me have my foreplay and some good loving, but she goes wild over the raw, brutal act of sex itself.

“I think you are ready to put that smile on her face,” Barbie Lynn taunts Rio as she informs me she’s finished. “Come with me,” Barbie Lynn turns to Mercy. “My nipples need some attention. Can you do that for me?”

After checking with Rio, Mercy gives a hungry look and lick of the lips at Barbie Lynn. Barbie crawls over Mercy to land on her back on the far side. Mercy twirls around and latches on to Barbie Lynn’s left breast with such rapidity, it momentarily causes my visage to blur.

“I want some of that,” Valarie suddenly blurts out.

She makes her own quick trek around Rio and me as we are still positioning ourselves to come swooping down on Barbie Lynn’s right side. The right nipple disappears into our school biker girl’s mouth with a decidedly audible smacking of the lips. Val’s hand starts to stroke the inside of Barbie Lynn’s thigh but Mercy’s free hand reaches over and starts tweaking Valarie’s closest nipple. Yes, I definitely must check the air filters.

Rio resumes her sensually crawl my way and I give her a beguiling look to lure her in. I’m on her in a flash once she’s close enough for me to make my move. She screeches like an alley cat but I’ve got a hand on the back of her head and the other on her hip as I slam her face first into the pillow.

“Bastard,” she screams through the fabric, but she’s not following through with the anger.

“Give it up, Bitch,” I snarl back. My cock slides full-throttle all the way into her cunt on the first pass. Her pussy feels like slick, melted butter as I bottom out in her hole. At the same time, I let up on her head a bit.

“Oh, fucking-A,” Rio gasps. “Did someone sneak a gerbil up behind me or is it Needle-dick pretending he’s a man?” I give her another powerful slam. “Oh, fuck…stop that.”

“What? Too much for the bitch whose had it all?” I tease Rio.

“I swear…if I spit up…my ovaries,” she chokes, “we are…going to have…words.”

“Words like I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had’?” I taunt Rio between packing her vagina as full and deep as I can. She’s squealing and moaning yet thrusting back strongly against me all the way.

I move my hand off Rio’s hip and take hold of a breast, squeezing and torturing the nipple. She’s snarling like a wounded tigress now. She possesses no acceptance of defeat, no surrender to exhaustion, and no fear of pain; in fact, what we are doing is a turn-on. I’m actually becoming beaten up by all the impact of my hips against Rio’s ass. Within ten minutes, her fluids are all over her crotch and mine and she’s actually starting to dribble down her thighs and onto the mattress.

“Zane, don’t forget she’s your friend,” Vivian sounds worried.

“Shut…up,” gasps Rio, violently and with passion. This is what Rio craves right now, a brutal fucking, and she’s not going to be denied by Vivian’s compassionate sensibilities. “Ah, fuck me…fuck me…break me, you bastard,” Rio pants. “Hammer me, Bitch!” she screams, and that’s all she can take. She has some sort of seizure, thrashing and pulsating all over the place.

For the second time tonight I’m shooting my seed into a woman; this time Rio’s vagina. I plunder Rio’s barely responsive form for several more savage thrusts until I’m spent, collapsing with my full mass on top of her, which is not my normal form but I want Rio to feel warm and encompassed by me at this moment.

I make sure that some of my weight is taken onto my knees and elbows so I don’t suffocate my crazy best friend.

“Zane,” Rio pants a half-minute later, “that vice-like bump you were feeling with that horse-cock of yours…”

“Yes?” I respond softly. I pull her hair out of her face as she turns it to the side so she can speak clearly.

“That was my cervix, dumbass,” she giggles. “Next time I want my uterus scrubbed, I’ll call a fucking gynecologist.”

“Hardy-har-har,” I chuckle. “Doing it with a Princess Barbie Pony Action Figure doesn’t qualify as bestiality, you bimbo, and it certainly doesn’t give you horse-cock experience.”

“Rio, you are kind of gross,” Vivian chastises my buddy.

“Thank you,” Rio pants, “I knew you cared.”

“Behave, Rio, and next time it’s going up your ass,” I murmur into Rio’s ear.

“Oh, that’s just cold, Bro,” Rio pouts as she wiggles her tight butt against my semi-flaccid cock.

“A person uses the threat of denying anal sex to a girl as a means of enforcing polite behavior,” Vivian ponders as she flops on her back and stares up at the stars through the glass ceiling. “Worse, it makes sense to me. What has happened to my life?”

“Rio, are you okay?” Mercy whispered.

Rio turns her head the other way to address her lover: “My vagina is numb, my hips feel dislocated, I’ll be pulling pillow fiber out of my teeth for a week, and I think he bruised a nipple – I feel fucking awesome.”

“I’d ask Zane to do it to me again but I know Vivian would choke me out,” Rio snickers. “I know what I am going to do, though: In the morning I’m going to have Zane pounding your butt as hard as he fucked me right now so I can hear you cry and scream.”

“Um, okay,” Mercy answered, trying not to sound too anxious.

“Damn,” Valarie mutters. “I hate being a virgin, and I’ll pimp slap the first one who suggests anal sex. All I want to do is get laid without the repercussions.” No one said anything for a minute.

“I’ll help with that,” Barbie Lynn and I volunteered almost at the same time.

“Bed,” Vivian laid down the law. Thankfully, the rest of us were too tired to argue.


At our five a.m. wake up, I swept up Valarie into a six-nine, her on top. Barbie quickly got behind Val and began licking my nose, the back of Val’s cunt, and teasing her butthole with tiny probes. At first our biker babe resisted and grumbled with her mouth around my cock, but Barbie Lynn was as relentless as she was sensually enticing.

Val returned the surprise by slamming her thighs together as the dam of her sexual frustration burst; she clamped her thighs tightly on my head and bucked so hard she bounced us off the bed as she screamed. There were no words to it; the scream was primal, violent and somewhat frightening. The other remarkable thing was that Barbie Lynn retained her hold on Valarie’s ass cheeks and kept tongue-fucking Val’s anus.

Valarie’s mouth had released my cock seconds before orgasm. She gave it an occasional swipe of the tongue until her last orgasmic quivers stopped. I motioned for Barbie to let up and when she did, Valarie collapsed beside me.

“Oh,” Valarie panted, “that was good. That should tide me over until lunch time.”

“Showers, everyone,” Vivian reminded us. There were a few groans but cleanliness was an inevitable bonus for all of us – and Rio, if we bundled her up and took her squirming, griping form with us. Rio gained a measure of revenge by announcing to my shower buddies that I had an unresolved morning blowjob begging for attention. Brandi elbowed two girls aside to bend over at the waist and take me in.

Opal was kind enough to stroke Brandi’s kitty from behind, getting us off almost at the same time. Opal gave me several finger scoops of Brandi’s nectar to slake my sexual thirst. I was busy getting a taste of Opal with a bonus clitoris massage when Iona dragged me away. Outside the showers, I bent down, wrapped my arms beneath Iona’s towel-clad posterior, and lifted her up so that she was looking down at me.

“Thank you,” I smiled at her. “You’ve always got my back.”

“You are welcome,” she beamed happiness back down at me, “and it is my pleasure, Zane. Do you think we can go motorcycle shopping Thursday?”

“Sure, that won’t be – oh fuck, it’s Wednesday,” I gasped. I realized I had confused Iona.

“I told Erin I would call her Monday and totally lost track…of a woman,” I blinked. “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

“You have a ton of things going on,” Iona comforted me while hovering above me still. “I think she’ll understand.”

“Thanks again, Iona,” I sighed as I let her slide down my body.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” she asked.

“Of course,” I grinned. “Are you going to give me your scrumptious behind?” Iona’s smile grew even brighter.

“You will have to wait and see,” she teased me before racing off to her room. I made my way up to my room for a short workout and a few minutes meditating. I was peripherally aware of Paige coming into my room and rummaging around (i.e., she wanted me to know she was there without noticeably ruining my concentration).

The main distraction was Rio and Mercy getting dressed. They had both long since moved all their belongings into my place; that wasn’t a problem because of the massive space I had. The problem was, it is insane to put two pseudo-lesbian young lovers who are new to their relationship into a space where they are constantly tantalized by each other’s naked or scantily clad bodies.

Mercy couldn’t resist reaching out shyly and touching Rio’s lesser erogenous zones. Rio couldn’t resist bending Mercy over the bed, licking her from behind, and/or spanking her – just a few taps but that hardly helped them get their clothes on. Today, Rio added the extra complication of inserting a vibrating butt plug into Mercy’s butt and taping a vibrating egg against her clit.

She was finishing up the work when I felt a glimmer of evil intellect enter my mind.

“Hey, Rio, why don’t you do the same thing?” I suggested.

“Are you going to ring my bell?” she teased me.

“No. I actually thought you would share with Mercy,” I clarified.

“Share what?” Valarie questioned as she entered the room.

“They are each going to have a vaginal and anal stimulation device, theoretically with the other having the controlling mechanism,” Paige stated. She held up two pairs of bra & panties for me to examine – gossamer peach bow-knot or strawberry crotchless/cupless.

“I don’t know, Babe,” I mused. “I’d have to see you naked to make a determination.”

“You’ve seen me naked, my Boy-toy,” Paige gave a wicked turn of the lip.

“I – I have no recollection of it,” I confessed. “Maybe it was that blow Rio gave me upside my head. I guess I need to see your nude, nubile form once more.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” Paige pouted. “Someone as helpless as you cannot afford to lose any of your already inadequate brain power. I really should help you out.” She was knee crawling up the bed, unbuttoning her shirt. When she was only a few feet in front of me, she sat down and worked her skirt off as well. She wasn’t naked; she still had her knee-high socks on.

“You really ought to cover those little boobies up,” Rio taunted Paige. “Someone is going to think Zane has a middle-schooler up here.” Paige’s head turned and I could feel her anger, but before she could spew forth her vitriol, I latched on hungrily to her closest teat and sucked it in on one gulp. Paige gasped and thrust her body against me. Soon her hands were running through my hair as I soaked up her tender flesh and swelling nipple.

I also stroked my hands down her body. My left hand drifted from right below her suckled breast, along her smooth, flat stomach, before dropping south until I cupped her sex. My right hand went down the ribs and around to her ass. I weighed and fondled her small yet firm buttocks, then reached between her cheeks and rubbed over her sphincter without pressuring it.

“Paige,” I said quietly as I released her nipple, “today go with the peach.”

“Umm…maybe I will,” Paige teased me with a nibble to my neck, “after all, there are a very few things you are good at, and female sexiness is one of them.”

“Paige?” I continued. She was a little more suspicious now. Our relationship had always been rocky.

“I appreciate you giving me some space the last few days,” I thanked her. “It has really helped me get my head on straight.” Paige’s eyes lit up once more. She had sacrificed (in her mind), and I had noticed and was grateful.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” she started to say, then abruptly softened. “You mean a lot to me, you really do.”

I put my hands on each side of her jaw and pulled her into close face-to-face contact.

“Paige, bouncy, bouncy,” I whispered into her ear. Paige gasped slightly and twisted her head to make eye contact, looking somewhat expectant.

“Meet me for lunch and I’m going break that ass open,” I taunted her quietly.

Rocky the squirrel must have snuck up on me and then clubbed me with Bullwinkle the Moose because her response was,

“Okay,” while she looked at me with a mixture of fear and lust.

“Are you sure?” I was curious.

“If that is what you really want,” Paige responded.

“Oh, I don’t want to do it until you feel ready, Paige. We’ll wait,” I confessed. “I will have to think of something else to do with you at lunch today.” All Paige did was grin in a very mysterious way. She held that look until Valarie put a hand on each butt cheek and pulled them apart. This time, someone had snuck up on Paige.

“Hey!” Paige gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Encouraging you to get dressed,” Valarie chuckled. “Otherwise, Zane and I are going to slip one finger into your pretty little cunt and rub them in and out like a buzz-saw. Then we will smear your juices over your face and force you to go to breakfast smelling like sex.”

My girls really need to work on their ‘discouraging’ speeches.

“I should get dressed,” Paige hiccupped with reluctance. “Peaches – got it.” Paige scurried away and began dressing while eyeing Valarie and me.

“Oh, yeah,” I joked with Valarie, “that terrified her.”

“Ask her about the party; then it will make sense,” Valarie snickered.

In the annals of female migration through my bedroom, Vivian wasn’t really sneaking up on anyone, but her presence didn’t send up shockwaves of alarm either.

“Zane, we need to be heading out soon,” she greeted me. She greeted Valarie by putting a hand on her shoulder and rubbing it.

Quickly enough, Paige got dressed, Rio and Mercy got their acts together, and we gathered up Iona, Barbie Lynn, Brandi and Opal before heading down to join the rest of feminine humanity that constituted my dorm. My old (way back in Chapter 3) buddy Easter Valentine had me rate the top ten Christian Rock bands which was made much more difficult by my utter disbelief that there was actually something called Christian Rock – color me biased.

Breakfast passed uneventfully, as did Assembly, before things began happening. First off, I touched base with Erin now that she was most likely awake.

“Hey Erin, this is Zane,” I started off, “and I am so sorry that I blanked on my promise to call you. Can I make it up to you and Gerry?”

“Oh,um,okay, I guess,” she drew me out. “What do you have in mind?” That was a good question; what was I going to do to make it up to them?

“Have you ever heard of the SYFY network?” I asked.

“Sure – Eureka, Warehouse 13, Being Human, and Lost Girl,” she answered.

“Saturday night they are showing Ice Spiders versus Snow Beast – I know, great title; right? And I’d like it if you two would come over to my house, get some pizza, and watch it with me,” I offered.

“Let me think about it…yeah, we’d be glad to come by and eat something,” I could feel her grin coming through the airwaves.

“Okay, one more question; how do you feel about three-ways?”

“I’ve never been part of one but I’m willing to give it a try,” Erin sighed happily, “if I must.”

“It’s a date, then,” I agreed, and after trading ‘goodbye’s', I hung up and caught my crew gathering outside. As I made my approach I saw Heaven give me a look and a smile then turn on Rio.

“Handmaiden’s Duty, Rio,” Heaven beamed maliciously.

“What do you want, you old cow?” Rio sneered right back.

“Give me your controllers.” Heaven grinned as she held out her hand to Rio. Mercy gulped (the two boxes controlled her vibrators) and Rio looked stunned. “Hand them over.” Technical Mercy would have been immune – except it was Rio with her controllers.

“How?” Rio mumbled. She looked around for support but found some sympathetic eyes, not comrades in arms. She angrily slapped Heaven’s palm as she handed them over.

Heaven handed those two small white devices to Hope, then reached out toward Rio once more.

“Give me the ones Mercy is holding for you, too,” Heaven snickered. Rio snarled before motioning for Mercy to hand them over to her. In short order, she handed those over to Heaven as well.

“I’ll be expecting those back at ten o’clock (one hour from now),” Rio growled.

“Of course,” Heaven chuckled. “I’ll see you then, Sweet-cheeks.”

“God damn it,” Rio leaned into me and whispered, “who – aaahhh…mmm…betrayed me?” Apparently, someone was playing with her controllers. By the way Mercy developed a little tremble and a blissful smile, someone was having a go at her too.

“I swear to God, it wasn’t me,” I shrugged.

“Well, it wasn’t Iona – she’d never do that to Mercy,” Rio mused, then, “Paige! That little cunt did this to me.”

“I don’t know if she did it or not,” I pleaded, “but please don’t kill her.” Rio was several seconds in responding as she wobbled slightly and skipped a step.

“Two fucking vibrators,” Rio glared at me. “What were you thinking?”

“Liking it?” I teased.

“Love it,” Rio gasped. “Mercy?”

“Mmmphf,” Mercy gasped. Added to the smile on her lips, I had to see that as an affirmative.

Ms. Goodswell’s class was good but what came afterwards was far more amusing.

“What do you mean, you traded them to some random upperclassmen?” Rio snarled.

“Oh, I had to explain what they did. When I told them they were inside you, they jumped at the chance,” Hope nodded serenely to the furious Rio.

“How am I…oh…oh…oh, yeah…supposed to get them back?” Rio fumed.

“Maybe they will run out of power soon,” Mercy put a positive spin on things.

“I put long-life batteries in those bitches this morning,” Rio grumbled. “They can go for 24 hours of continuous use.”

“I insisted that they be returned to Zane at nine this evening,” Christina said in a detached manner.

“I swear, I’m going to tie down all you bitches one weekend and then we will see who’s so superior,” Rio seethed; “Dildos and lube all around. Aaaarrghhhh,” Rio growled. She staggered over to the closest wall and put her hand against it to stop from falling over. “Some whore just discovered the ’10′ setting,” she gasped.

“I was going to say something cruel,” Hope stated, “but now it would be redundant.”

“Rio and Mercy, stay hydrated,” Chastity suggested. “I’ll pick you up between classes to…decrease your difficulties.”

“Thanks, Chastity,” I patted her arm.

“Heaven and I will watch after Mercy,” Christina chimed in; being surprisingly helpful to someone she had shown no interest in before now. Christina was all about responsibility and since this was Heaven’s stunt (or so it seemed), she was doing ‘the right thing’.

“Classes everyone,” Vivian insisted. Thankfully I had one capable adult in my life. I hoped that me turning her into a vibrant bi-sexual didn’t change that.

Today I received an hour’s warning of my lunch appointment with Dr. Victoria Scarlett, our beloved Vice-Chancellor. I let Paige know that I had to postpone our get-together.

“It is good to see you…” she was going to say ‘Mr. Braxton’ but she was sensitive to my preferences, “…Zane. How are things going on this first full day of our experiment?”

“Well, Dr. Scarlett, let me say that you are even more deftly beautiful than you are deceptively manipulative,” I countered. “As to your question, my efforts to corrupt your intentions precede a pace.” She smiled, shook her head, and walked around the table, stopping when she was in front of my chair-bound form.

“Come now; the tribal elections have begun. Seven leaders have been named and the rest of the tribes should do the same tonight,” she informed me. “What were you able to accomplish yesterday?” Oh, so that was today’s tune. I stood up and cupped her facial cheeks.

“What do you think you are doing?” Victoria Scarlett mumbled.

I pressed in and kissed her, leading by example as opposed to words. Her hands pressed against me. She wasn’t shoving so I didn’t stop. Victoria didn’t even make a token effort to keep her mouth shut, though her tongue refused to play an overly active part in my French kiss. My hands didn’t wander and my body didn’t thrust against her.

“I think I’m working out our relationship – your Kahina to my Pelagius,” I responded, our faces only inches apart. Victoria rested her hands on my hips so I placed mine on her shoulders.

“Kahina…have you been reading my works?” she smiled far too seductively. You would figure that a dedicated, righteous Christian theoretician would have body proximity issues. Not Victoria, damn it.

“The only things hotter than smart, sexy chicks are smart, sexy, and sensually lethal chicks,” I allowed.

“This could be construed as sexual harassment or inappropriate sexual behavior,” Dr. Scarlett grinned, all bold and gracious.

“A ‘no’ on your part would suffice,” I assured her.

“Not you, Zane; me,” she corrected me. “You are my student, after all, and my hands are on your hips.” I arched an eyebrow; she kept smiling so I went back in for a kiss. Three minutes later I had worked over her lips, eyelids, cheeks, jawline, and the left side of her neck…and it was getting me nowhere except closer to a sexual-deprivation induced coma.

“Damn, you are good,” I panted.

“I think this is something we need to work through first before we can constructively move on,” she related patiently. She was trying to break me with her highly developed self-control. I had to figure out what the hell I was doing wrong. Overt sexual contact – breasts, buttocks, pubic area – was off-limits…or was it? Lingerie; why did Scarlett wear racy lingerie?

I slipped my arms around Victoria’s waist and pulled her off the desk and into me. I caught a slight, over-confident smirk on her lips. We started kissing again, Scarlett somewhat passively, as always, and me out to disguise my intentions. She didn’t protest when my fingers wandered below the beltline or when I traced out the very risqué lines of her panties.

Fighting the urge to yank them up and make her squirm, I languidly let my fingers dig into her skirt and hook the bottom elastic of her panties, then slowly wiggled the fabric gently. She gave me a few uninterrupted seconds before I sensed her inner struggle begin; did she stop me and give me this round in the struggle – a psychological edge over her – or did she see if she could tough it out. She went with the spiritual resistance.

Once I had my fingers inside, I could move freely forward and back. I avoided the pussy and the bottom of her ass. I was able to make the bottom of her panties a very tight fit, allowing the thrumming of my tugs to vibrate along her most sensitive spots. Victoria’s nostrils flared, her breath caught, and after a daring but futile attempt to distract me with her tongue, she broke our lip embrace and put her head on my shoulder.

I immediately stopped what I was doing and waited for her to speak.

“Oh, this is not good,” she muttered to herself. Then after a pause, “Thank you for stopping. How did you know what to do?”

“Where to begin,” I answered. “You are beautiful, passionate, and a woman who appreciates fine fabrics on your skin. I stopped because I’ll fight you with every tool I can, but I won’t violate you,” I added. Victoria looked up into my eyes.

“You see me as Kahina?” she changed the subject.

“You have this tragic, fervent yet noble character that charges with a burning blade into the face of adversity,” I waxed romantic. “The last Christian Queen of the Berbers who, when faced with the inevitability of her defeat, sent her sons to the enemy for their protection while she sought death in battle against the Islamic invaders.”

“I’m not very martial,” she countered.

“Ah, but in the Greco-Roman culture our faith grew up in, you would be considered a Patrician’s daughter, versed in Socrates and Virgil as well as St. Augustine,” I made my argument. “Besides, martial valor is in the job of the tribesmen; it is the job of the Queen to provide leadership – hopefully in the right direction. You are a smart damn cookie so the comparison is apt.”

“Thank you.” She then pursued her agenda. “What have you been up to?”

“I’m creating a democratic system with your tribal leaders as the parliament, a selected group of girls to become judges, and another group to become enforcers of the rule of law,” I responded. “Technically, I remain the guy at the top of the pyramid, so that’s a victory for you.”

Her look told me I hadn’t made an end-run around her Grand Plan, which was pretty unsettling. I was missing something.

“Why do you let me put my hands on you?” I questioned.

“I can’t take pleasure in the mannerisms of a proficient young man?” she countered.

“Care to prove that?” I challenged. I had her in a minor trap of her own connivance.

“Very well,” she bowed with a smile on her lips.

“Turn around and lean over your desk, if you dare?” I directed. She accepted my orders and did as requested. I knelt down behind her and placed my hands on her ankles before rubbing upward in slow but strong finger-furrows.

I teased my way up to her stocking line, grinding the silk hose into her skin, making her flesh shiver from the stimulation. I had her trembling by the time I migrated upwards to the elastic at the top of the stocking, past the garter, and onto her pliant warm thigh. As I brushed against the tuck of her butt-cheek and thigh, Victoria moaned.

“Stop,” she whispered.

“Do you really want me to stop,” I inquired, “or do you want me to stop before you reveal something?” I ceased my activities, waiting on her reply.

“You know the answer,” she panted briefly. I moved off and up, placing my hands on her shoulders and pulling her back up to my chest.

“Can you promise me to consider the possibility that a woman wants something outside the realm of motherhood and spiritual purity?” I suggested. Dr. Scarlett turned around while remaining in my grasp.

“The body may feel a certain way but you must resist those impulses from the Devil,” she told me. “Fortunately, you are the only one on campus that can elicit such response.”

“Huh? Seriously, I can only imagine the kind of sexual trouble the women on campus can get into – unless you don’t believe in Sapphic impulses either,” I grinned.

“Homosexuality is a myth,” Victoria stated firmly. “There are misdirected desires and abnormal passions, but men don’t lie with men and women don’t lie with women, except as a perversion of the normal, natural order of things.”

Oh, here we go again, I groaned.

“I hate that you would think that way. It stands in opposition to God’s Love in my eyes and portrays you as a weak creature given over to the Devil’s lure of fearing, hating, and even denying what is mostly a good thing – namely, compassion for one another,” I sighed.

“How can you have compassion for instincts you can hardly understand?” she posed.

“I’ve been with men before,” I informed her; “on more than one occasion.”

“What?” Victoria was stunned. She struggled to get away from my arms and I let her. “You have such a strong ardor for so many female students. How can you be tricked into perverse practices?”

On the bright side, I’d finally gotten under her cool exterior; on the downside, I had shaken her faith in me.

“Can I incite a rational moment, please?” I said calmly. She was halfway around the desk when she stopped and nodded.

“Okay,” the Vice-Chancellor responded with a careful edge.

“How am I any different than the man you thought me to be two minutes ago?” I led off. “I certainly liked your body and you appeared to appreciate the touches I gave you. How does anything I did with anyone else before touching you matter? You are very attractive to me. Am I now repulsive to you?”

“Those are multiple questions,” Victoria seemed suddenly weary. “You are the same person you were a minute ago, but I had forgotten that you are a boy, not a man, and boys have infatuations with unusual, rebellious ideas. With your Father dead, it seems you were rudderless. You are definitely not repulsive to me. I admire you, but you also reveal yourself to be immature. Would you please leave? I need to reconsider some things.”

“No,” I replied.

“No? No, you won’t leave, or no, I’ve committed some grievous error?” she inquired.

“You believe I’m a boy, you don’t believe in homosexuality,” I answered, though I fondly day-dreamed of Victoria and Barbie Lynn – or Hudson Lane, the school lawyer – in a lesbian tryst, “but I don’t want your newfound doubts in me making you change – specifically how you treat yourself.”

“You want me to keep wearing lingerie,” she sliced to the heart of the matter.

“It is a simple pleasure you allow yourself, the only one I can detect. I will certainly be a source of displeasure for you in the future; don’t let me do you harm over my careless confession,” I pleaded.

“My indulgence is a form of weakness,” she argued.

Once there was a traveling sales man named John, selling his wares on the back roads of Iowa. One evening, he was lost, driving down a deserted country road. When he hit a pothole in the night, it threw him across the ditch and into a tree. John got out of the car, he wasn’t hurt but the car wasn’t going anywhere. He looked up and down the road. No one would be traveling these roads this late at night he thought. So he picked a direction and started walking.

As John walked in the dark, he could hear all the sounds of the night. “What was that?… “He startled, “Oh just an owl.” Then a coyote cried out. “Holy Shit what was that?” He shivered. He picked up his pace. You might even say he started to run a little. Over an hour went by and John came across a farm. He went to the front door and knocked. Soon a old farmer opened the door. As John explained what had happened, he could see the two most beautiful farm girls he had ever seen. One was a gorgeous blonde, the other a gorgeous brunette. John finished his story then asked if the Farmer would have a room he could stay in for the night.

The farmer thought for a moment then gestured to the blonde. “This is my daughter Nellie, she is eighteen.” He then pointed to the brunette. “This is my daughter Venus, she is nineteen.” The farmer continued. “As you can see they are very beautiful and I’m not going to have you sneaking around my house trying to get in bed with one of them.” Sternly he finished “No you can’t stay. Be on your way. “

John was tired and begged. “Please sir. Could I stay in your barn? I promise I won’t go near your house or your girls.”

Once again the farmer thought. Then replied.” In that barn sits my antique Chevy it’s in mint condition. A very beautiful car. I’m not going to have you sneaking around my Barn messing it up.” Once again, sternly he finished “No you can’t stay. Be on your way. “

John looked over his shoulder into the darkness. He remembered the owl and the horrifying sounds of the coyotes. Only heaven knows what else lurks in the night out here. He was truly scared to continue walking.

“Sir.” John began. “The sounds of the night scare me.. If you’ll let me stay in the barn. “He took out his billfold. ” I’ll give you one thousand dollars. I promise I won’t touch your car or come near the house or your girls.”

The farmer thought for a moment. The girls watched their father. It had been a hard farming year the crops were short and prices low. The farmer looked to his girls then to the barn and back to the salesman. “Son you don’t know how much I need the money but I have to protect my own. ” No you can’t stay. Be on your way.”

Nellie and Venus came up behind their father. winked at John. Nelly said “Father!” He turned to his lovely daughter. She continued, “What would mother think if she knew you were acting like this.” “Rest her soul.” finished Venus.

The farmer shrank in resolve, “Ok then, you can stay in the barn,” he continued,” If you touch my car or come near the house,” he paused, you’ll meet my shotgun. You got that?” John thanked the farmer, and then disappeared into the barn for the night.

Once in the barn John saw the beautiful car. “What a ride!” He admired.” they don’t make cars like they used to. “He walked a large circle around the car. Not wanting anything to get blamed on him. “I don’t want to meet Mr. Shotgun.” He thought. John found a pile of straw and quickly went to sleep.

John suddenly bolted awake. Standing over him with a very dim light was Nellie in a very very light baby doll tee and a pair of denim short shorts that would make your eyes water.. Even in the dim light, he could see her nipples standing tall through the ultra-thin tee. Her shorts were so tight to say you could see her camel toe and butt cheeks, was an understatement. Breath taking, she was to die for. The farmers words came to mind.

Nellie knelt down beside John she said to him ” don’t worry I won’t let the night get you.” John just stammered. As she raised her tee up her nipples popped into view proclaiming her arousal, the tee continued off over her head. Her lovely breast bounced only once. They were the firmest natural breasts john had ever seen. The farmers words could not be heard.

Without a word, John dove into her breasts. Feeling, licking, sucking like there was no tomorrow. His hands travel her soft skin. He pinched her nipples softly. Nellie moaned pulling him closer. They kissed deep there tongue exploring each other’s mouths in anticipation of thing to cum. As her hands slid down his body, she unhooked his pants. She wrestled is hard cock into the open. This is what she wanted, this is what she needed, this is what she had to have. Sliding down his body Nellie took his cock into her mouth. So slow, so soft, deeper and deeper. Then with force enough to suck a golf ball through a garden hose she pulled up. Johns eyes rolled up into his head, he had never experienced a blowjob this intense. She repeated this action many times. Just as he was about to cum

Nellie rolled from him in a move he couldn’t believe removing her shorts in one fatal swoop. Nellie landed near her fathers prize Chevy. Nellie opened the door and slid in backwards her legs were spread wide and her shaved pussy gleaming wet in the dim light. In a voice so soft John wasn’t sure he had heard it Nellie said. “You want it, you eat it!”

John never hesitated. He slid head first into the car, between her legs lapping, and sucking the sweet fluid of her honeypot. Her aroma intoxicated him. John was beyond thinking, all he wanted was to drink from her over flowing fountain. Nellie bucked wildly, moaning in the orgasmic pleasures the sexually drunk man was bestowing upon her body.

Nellie grabbed John roughly by the ears pulling him up into position to enter her. His ears hurt but he didn’t care, his cock needed to find her love canal. She reached down to lined him up. When John felt her warmth he thrust forward unable to think of anything but to be swallowed up by her hungry wet pussy. Nellie cried out in orgasm. Like a wild horse he could not tame. She bucked and he rode her into the most awesome orgasm he had ever witnessed. With his eyes full of lust sweat running all over their bodies john moaned unloading into Nellie. They collapsed sexually drained and tired they slipped out of the car back into the straw kissing and snuggled together to slowly fall asleep.

John bolted awake again, not knowing what time it was. “Where is sheeee.”

His thought trailed off. There before him stood the beautiful Venus. As beautiful as her sister Venus was wearing a cross tied button down shirt and a glorious pair of short shorts that could only have been painted on her. The gates of heaven had opened to him this night. John didn’t hesitate this time. He stood floating into the arms of this goddess. The soft light dropped to the floor as he engulfed her lovely body with his arms.

They backed into the side of the car, With passionate wet kisses on her neck John untied her shirt driving his lonesome face into her Firm breast. Her nipples were standing tall and proud. He cupped her breast with his hand while sucking on her nipples .Venus opened the door and they fell into the Chevy. The feel of her smooth skin quickly aroused his man hood so he anxiously removed her shorts. John kissed her smooth skin as he so slowly slid down her body, her mouth, her chin, her neck, her breast, her nipple, her tummy, her thigh. Venus moaned as john began to lap at her womanly delight. His tongue dove deep into her sweet honeypot. Well…, Almost Sweet. John was not going to allow this beauty to report to her sister that she had been shorted.

Venus lovingly retch down and drug John up her body. Kissing him they rolled over she moved down Johns body taking his member in her mouth. Her soft mouth slid down his shaft swallowing him to the hilt. Johns eyes popped open as Venus created a vacuum from the depths of space its self. John couldn’t believe twice in one night to receive a blowjob like this. As he reached the edge of orgasm she moved back up his body, she held him tight and whispered “Take me lover.” They rolled over and she guided his cock into her pussy. She moaned in ecstasy feeling his cock slide in. John decided to give Venus a long slow ride to the stars. He started so slow enjoying every stroke. Her wetness made his mind spin. Speeding up with her pleading voice. He loved the look of orgasm building in her very being. John wanted to hold this feeling forever. Finally, with the plea from this desperate beauty he drove her hard to the orgasm she needed so desperately. As Venus orgasmed, she twisted her body and John fell out just before he shot his load. He came on her ass crack and the car seat. Their bodies were soaked in sweat so they rolled out of the car into the straw kissing and cuddling into a blissful sleep.

Once again, John bolted awake. “Wake up boy, Time to get you on your way.” Said the farmer. John was so tired it had been a long night. They crawled on the tractor and headed down the road to the young mans car. It didn’t take long for the farmer to tie on and pull the car back on the road. With a little bailing wire and duct tape, the farmer had John ready to go.

“Thank you for the help sir.” John said as he handed the farmer the money he owed him.

“And one hundred more for the toe and quick fix.” The farmer gave John directions to the nearest town to get the car fixed to last. John then gave the farmer his business card and drove away.

A month later John received a letter from the farmer. It said.

” Are you the one that done the pushing and the pulling…. Left your foot prints on my dashboard upside down… If you’re the one that messed with Nellie she’s had trouble with her belly and I think you best be comin’ round.”

John thought for a moment. He was very afraid of the farmer. He didn’t want to meet MR. Shotgun. What was he going to do? A few days later John drafted a letter to the farmer and sent it.

“Yes I’m the one that done the pushing and the pulling…. I left my footprints on your dashboard upside down. But ever since I messed with Venus I’ve had trouble with my penis. So I think we are even round and round.”

John never returned to Iowa. He knew Mr. Shotgun was waiting. Although he really missed the two beautiful farmers daughters. He would never forget the taste of heaven he had received form the girls that night. Special thanks to Venus.

The short, pleasantly plump woman in the white tunic stood behind the store counter surrounded by freshly baked pies and cookies and cakes. Her very round, very pink-cheeked face smiled and nodded as she double-checked an order receipt. She then looked up and said with a beaming smile, “Ok. So we’ll have the cake ready by 10:00 Saturday morning.”

Mia, already stepping back upon hearing this, returned the smile and replied, “That’s great. Thanks very much.”

The baker-lady nodded her head and winked, “And Mr.Tall-and-Handsome will be picking it up, right?”

“Yes he will,” Mia concurred, “Right, Mathis? Mathis? Mathis!”

Mathis stood off to the side in front of a shelf filled with a selection of breads. He was poking one loaf gently.

“Mathis! What do you think you’re doing?” Mia snapped, locking her hands onto her curvy hips.

The young man turned to her. “Hmm?” he replied, looking back-and-forth between the baker and Mia. Then he smiled mischievously and added, “Feels good.”

Mia clucked her tongue. “Stop being an idiot. You’re picking up the cake at 10:00 before you come to the party. Pay attention!” She reached up and gave his ear a yank.

“Ow!” Mathis swept her hand away and frowned. He grumbled, “Alright! Alright! Got it. You’ve said it ten times already!”

“Yeah, well I’ve learned that things stick in your coconut head after the eleventh time,” she said, reaching up again and giving his temple a sharp poke of her finger.

“Looks like someone was interested in my loaves,” the jovial baker said with a chuckle.

Both Mia and Mathis looked at her, simultaneously raising their left brow.

After a moment, Mathis shook the stupor out and laughed. He took a deep breath and stood tall, and answered with a deep, satiny voice, “I gotta say, your loaves are mighty fine. Mighty fine.”

The baker’s round blue eyes lit up like a pinball machine, her pink lips circling. “Ooh! Really? Do tell?”

Mathis nodded and leaned up against the counter. He levelled his dark, glassy green eyes on her. “Mm-hmm. They’re nice and soft and plump. Just the way I like them,” he continued deliberately, holding up his hands, “Perfect texture and size, too. I can wrap my hands around them perfectly, dig my fingers into them and give them a nice, firm squeeze.” He gritted his teeth, sucked in a loud breath of air, and angled his fingers into claws, loosing a stiff grunt, “Urh!”

The rest of the baker’s round face, along with her cheeks, glowed a honey-glazed ham pink as she held her breath. Hand on top of her ample bosom, she laughed.

Mathis winked and smiled flashing a perfect set of white teeth framed by a strong angular jaw and attractive face wrapped in velvety cocoa colored skin. The baker almost fell back into her muffins.

“Enough!” Mia interrupted, slapping Mathis in the arm. She pulled at his shirt. “Let’s go already.”

Still giving the swooning baker the laser-eye treatment, Mathis said, “And I was just about to talk about your sticky buns.”

The baker couldn’t control herself. Her whole body was shaking like gelatine as she snickered. “Oh my!” she said taking a breath, “Are you the birthday boy’s daddy?”

Mathis leaned harder against the counter. He shook his head slowly. “Uh-uh,” he replied, “Much too young…and much too available to be a daddy, yet.”

She nodded aggressively.

Mia rolled her eyes and pinched him in the arm. “Move your ass!” she snapped.

Mathis chuckled, pulling away from the counter, “Okay. Okay. Relax.”

Already walking towards the exit, Mia pointed to a large sum of shopping bags on the floor beside the shelves of bread. “And bring those,” she said dismissively.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he sighed and scooped them up. As he backed his way through the door, he nodded, flashed his perfect smile again and winked back playfully toward the baker. She giggled and waved.

He had to immediately stop as he stepped out of the bakery. He bumped into Mia who stood on the sidewalk doorstep checking her phone.

Mathis rolled his eyes and his shoulders. “Can you not just stop in the middle of the street like that?”

“And you should learn how to stop while you’re ahead,” Mia replied. She continued to scroll through her phone.

Mathis shrugged and looked down at all the bags of varying sizes in his hands. “Don’t you think we have enough crap already?”

Mia ignored him and swept back her wavy, reddish brown hair over her shoulders. She put on her sun glasses then continued to check the list on her phone.

Mathis looked upwards towards the sky and squinted at the sun as it floated high above the tops of the buildings. It was another beautiful summer day. With the heat, he was starting to feel the weight of the shopping bags. “Damn it’s hot,” he declared, the short curls of his close cut dark hair glistening from perspiration.

Without a word, Mia turned and marched ahead down the sidewalk.

Cinching up the bags, Mathis sighed and followed her. “Man, we’ve been to Toys R Us. Parties R Us. Cakes R Us…” he grumbled as he trailed her from behind, “Where to now? How about Feed Your Brother Some Lunch R Us?”

Continuing to walk without looking back, Mia replied, “We’re going to Ass-Beatings R Us if you don’t stop your whining.”

“Aaron should be here. Shawn’s his kid,” he groused, “Where’s he at?”

“It’s called a career,” she declared referring to her husband, “When you’re done with university and working for a salary you can be exempt from pack-mule duties. Besides, it’s summer vacation and you don’t have work today. You got somewhere else to be?”

Mathis grinned and snickered, “Hey, I ALWAYS have somewhere else to be!”

“Some place better than helping your sister as she throws together a birthday party? For your nephew who, Lord knows why, admires you like some sort of GI Joe action hero?” she said clicking her tongue.

Mathis’ stride lengthened as he walked tall, beaming. “The boy knows quality,” he said with haughty sniff. He held up the bags and shook them, quipping, “He won’t be interested in all of this junk.”

Mia shook her head. “You rather we just go to the dollar store and buy him a card?” she hissed, “Besides, what did you get him?”

“Gift card for video games,” he replied, “AND a Giants’ jersey AND a slick model sports-car.”

Her head still shaking as if it were loose from all those years of disagreeing with her brother, Mia sighed, “Typical of you. Video games, sports and cars.”

“And sex,” Mathis announced with a cheerful chuckle, “You forgot about sex. It substantiates the under 25-years of age, black, male stereotype to say that I want to have lots and lots of nasty, non-committal sex.”

Mia finally stopped and turned, eye-balling her younger, taller brother. “What in the world are they teaching these days in university?” she asked disapprovingly.

“Statistics,” Mathis shrugged. After a pregnant pause, he added with a wink, “And sex.”

Mia continued to give him the evil-eye. Mathis bounced his eyebrows back at her. Against his relentless grin his sister’s frown broke slightly, morphing into a bemused smirk. She jabbed him in the stomach. “You’re crazy, you know that?” she chided, “You are such a…such a…clown.”

Her voice suddenly trailed off along with her gaze past Mathis.

“A ‘clown’?” Mathis blinked, a step behind in thought. “C’mon, sis. You can do better than that. Maybe call me a pig or…” He was unable to complete that thought as Mia quickly side-stepped him and ran across the street.

“Mia?” he called after her, “Hey watch the cars!”

Mia made like a butterfly through the traffic over to the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

Still unmoved from his own spot, Mathis frowned, trying to glimpse what had caught his sister’s scattered attentions this time. Once he figured it out, his frown twisted into something even more sour and he muttered, “Uh…no. No. No. No.”

Even after he had crossed the street, Mathis hadn’t completely absorbed the sight before him as he approached his sister. She was talking to a clown, an honest to God carnival escapee clown. It had the big rainbow afro wig and the round bozo red nose which stuck out against the ghost white make-up caked onto its face. Even under the heat of the summer sun, the clown wore white cotton Mickey Mouse gloves and an over-sized puffy jump suit that covered it from neck-to-toe, speckled with so many different colored polka dots that it looked like the Easter bunny had barfed all over it. Bottoming out the outfit were size-28 blue bowling alley style shoes that may have made the clown’s feet look bigger, but it certainly didn’t help its height. Mia was still an inch or two taller and Mathis already towered over his sister.

“I play instruments and do puppets, too,” the clown spoke as Mathis stepped into their conversation. It was either a woman or else a male soprano.

“Great! Perfect!” Mia replied eagerly, “Oh, and balloon animals?”

The clown gave her a knowing smile and waved her hand, “Of course! That’s Clowning 101 stuff. Wouldn’t get my clown diploma without being able to twist together a few dogs and cats.”

The two laughed. Mia was enthralled.

“Uh, Mia?” Mathis broke in, “What the hell…?”

Mia looked up at him and held out a business flier:

“JYNX THE KLOWN Available for birthday parties, public events, fairs, bazaars, Papal and/or Royal visits, and much MORE. Puppets, songs, magic, balloons and fun, fun, FUN! You name it, I’ll rub my big red nose in it! $30 an hour or negotiable flat (like my FEET!) rate.”

Mathis stared at the sheet of paper, his lips slightly ajar. Then he looked at Mia giving her the ‘you-gotta-be-kidding’ gaze. “No way,” he remarked, as if he actually had a say in the matter.

“The kids will love this!” Mia dismissed his reaction and immediately pounced, “So you’d be able to come by on Saturday, say from around 11:30 to 1:30?” She was already writing her address on the back of one of the fliers.

Jynx didn’t reply immediately. She was looking up at Mathis. From behind the stark white make-up, a set of two dark-brown eyes gazed up at him, widening. An open-mouth grin slipped across her red outline painted lips.

Mathis stared down back at her, frowning crookedly. What was up with chuckles here? His eyes narrowed and he grinned back. Man, he was on his A-game today if he could make a clown all moon-eyed.

“You…don’t recognize me?” the clown asked him, pointing an oversized finger at him. “Really?”

Mathis tilted his head, puzzled. “Oh, yeah,” he finally said, “Sure! You were in Playboy, special annual Babes of the Circus edition. Posed with Dumbo the Elephant, didn’t you, with nothing but the shoes and the acid trip ‘fro? Centerfold with the staple right through your whoopee cushion. Classic.”

Mia slapped Mathis in the arm. “Don’t be rude!” she scolded him and turned back to the clown, “Excuse my brother. He’s been reliving puberty for the past 10 years.”

Jynx blinked then laughed. “No problem!” she chuckled, “Kids ARE my specialty, after all.”

“Well, he’s certainly a kid, that’s for sure.”

“I entertain all sizes,” she said with an exaggerated smile. She leaned to the side and, looking up, gently elbowed Mathis thrice in the ribs each time with a “honk” from some hidden horn. “Huh? Huh? Huh?” she joked, her eyebrows bouncing.

Mathis thought of a suggestive reply to her “entertain all sizes” remark but just swallowed it instead. He couldn’t be bothered to take on the wacko earnestness of the diminutive clown. Still he protested, “Sis, do you really think this is a good idea?”

“Sister?” Jynx asked, looking at Mia.

“Yeah, this is Mathis my brother,” she reached up and squeezed her fingers around his mouth and jaw, “Cute and charming but totally lacking the class of his older sister, isn’t that right?”

Mathis brushed her hand away and fluttered his lips.

“You think YOU’RE a clown?” Mia said to Jynx, thumbing towards Mathis and continuing, “Meet a card carrying lifetime member.”

Mathis just shook his head unimpressed.

“Ooh! There’s a way we can be sure!” Jynx said and just as quickly reached over and pinched his arm, along with another honk from the horn. Her eyes widened as she looked at Mia. “Did you hear that?” she asked as if she heard the voice of an angel. She pinched his arm again and the horn honked once more, “That’s my clown alarm! You’ve definitely got clown blood flowing through you, my friend!”

His sister laughed as, to his mounting annoyance, the clown continued to poke and pinch his arm, the squeaky horn sounding each time. As Jynx continued to prod him, he turned to Mia and said, “Now see, this is what I’m talking about.”

“What ARE you talking about, Mathis,” his sister asked.

“The kids are gonna HATE it,” he urged.

“‘It’?” Jynx said, taken aback.

“Why?” Mia asked.

“Yeah, why?” Jynx followed, cocking her head.

“Clowns are just…you know,” Mathis shrugged like he was shaking off a bug, “Old school creepy and weird.”

Jynx’s pokes slowed somewhat.

“Nobody finds them funny anymore. Just sad and boring,” he went on and finally punctuating his argument, “And will you stop poking me already?!”

Jynx blinked. “Oh,” she breathed and slowly lowered her head, her rainbow sherbet mane drooping over her face. She started sniffling. She said softly, “Sorry. I’m just trying to get some work.”

Mia fired a wicked frown at her brother. “Mathis! How could you be so mean to this sweet thing?” she berated him, “Look how much you upset her!”

Mathis held his breath and looked around. People passing by on the sidewalk looked at them with curious and bewildered gazes, taking in the odd sight of a woman in a clown outfit weeping in public in the middle of the day. Grudgingly, he put down his bags and, placing a tender hand on the small clown’s shoulder, said, “Hey. Uh…look, I didn’t mean that. You’re not creepy or dumb or anything like that.”

Jynx’s head hung low. She pulled out a large pink handkerchief from her pocket and held it against her face as she spun deeper into her breakdown.

Mathis looked towards his sister apologetically. Mia crossed her arms and tilted her chin towards him insisting he continue.

Softening his voice further, he leaned in and continued, “Aw c’mon. I was just messing with you, you know? I’m a big clown, right? Go ahead. Do your poke thing again. We…we’ll have you do our party, okay? Alright?”

Jynx lowered the handkerchief to her chin and raised her head bawling outright as if she had been shot. Mathis’ brow spiked upward, stunned. Before he could react though, a stream of water shot out from the handkerchief and sprayed him point blank in the face.

“Bingo!” Jynx sang out.

Mathis stepped back, sputtering against the stream of seltzer water. When it finally died down, he stood dripping and drooping like a wet dog.

Mia nearly threw out her back as she leaned back laughing her head off. “Ooh yes! He had that coming, for sure!”

Jynx held up her hand and Mia gave her a high-five.

Soaked to his skin, Mathis’ brows twisted together. His big lower lip was puffed out almost past his nose. He remained unmoving on his spot.

“Well, you did say you were hot, baby,” Mia declared, stifling her snickering, “And you did say we can hire her, too!”

“I’ve got the gig?” Jynx asked, elated.

“You’ve got the gig,” Mia agreed, handing her the flier with her address on it, “You can be there by 11:30?”

“You bet yer booties. Oh wait,” Jynx answered, reaching into another pocket. She pulled out a big foam watch. The numbers on it were replaced with chickens and the hands just spun around wildly. She checked it anyway then said, “I’ll have to arrive in my mild-mannered alternate identity. Mind if I change into my gear at your house?”

“Alternate identity?” Mathis finally muttered.

“Playboy centerfold,” Jynx replied with a knowing squint of her eyes.

“Yeah, doubt that,” he grumbled, looking away at nothing.

“That’d be fine,” Mia said, ignoring the brief side exchange,

“Great. I’ll be there before 11:30 then,” Jynx said, and added, “Prep time will be gratis, of course.”

Happily satisfied, Mia put her sunglasses back on again and marched away like usual. Mathis continued to eye the clown for a moment.

Jynx looked around towards the sky, a portrait of innocence.

Mathis finally moved along, trailing his sister. He glanced back at Jynx and caught her doing the mocking “put up your dukes” boxing routine towards him before quickly resuming her examination of the sky.

“Yeah, can’t wait to see the kids eat her alive,” he fumed.


Mathis was cornered. Breathing hard, nerves racing, rivulets of sweat dripping down his face, he pressed his back against the tree trying to steady himself. They were closing in ready to take him down hard. There was no talking or charming his way out of this fight and he was prepared to take them all on.

“Alright. Alright,” he nodded wearily, beckoning them with a defiant curl of his fingers, “Come and get me.”

With a howl, he pushed out from the tree, springing headlong into his attackers. He heaved the first one onto his shoulders and spun him around. Even as the attacker flailed and raged against him, he scooped up another and held him aloft on his other shoulder. A third one, a female, went for his leg, clutching it in her arms. Mathis spun around again and she lost her grip, tumbling away into the grass. Two more quickly took her place and clung to both his legs.

Mathis struggled mightily even with the mess of humanity assaulting him. He pushed and spun and roared. More of them joined the fray and he was quickly overwhelmed and brought down to his knees.

“Ahhh!” he wailed to the heavens, before finally collapsing onto the ground under a heap of bodies. He inhaled the sweet, earthy smell of the grass and soil before closing his eyes.

“Mathis!” Mia called out from the back door of her house, “I need your help. Quit your fooling and get in here!”

Mathis rose to his knees, shedding a gaggle of kids who had piled on him during their battle. “The master calls,” he said regretfully.

There was a collective “Aww!” from the kids surrounding him.

“Don’t worry, little dudes,” he assured, “We’ll continue the Ultra Maniac Wrestling League after Machismo Mathis helps out his sister.” He got to his feet and looked around, “Hey, where’s the champ?”

A thin boy with a haircut similar to Mathis’, wide dark eyes and big ears sprung up, holding up his hand.

“Alright! Let’s go for a ride,” declared Mathis and he picked up his nephew Shawn and carried him under his arm towards the house. The young boy giggled and kicked.

Mathis navigated his way to the back door. Mia’s spacious backyard was already filling up with guests. It was another gorgeous, sunny day and almost everybody was outside. Her son’s birthday was also an excuse to have a full on gathering of family and friends. To appease her siblings, she told them they could invite a friend as well.

“Hey ‘Machismo’,” a dark-tanned, tree of a man with a long main of black hair and sporting the same blue varsity football jersey Mathis was wearing, khaki shorts and sandals called out to him from the patio table, “Need more suds, man!”

Mathis went to a cooler and came back with two bottles of beer, one for his friend and team-mate, Ernesto, the other for Janelle, another friend. She had insisted on tagging along with Ernesto when he told her that he was going to hang out with Mathis.

“Thanks, man,” Ernesto said with a broad smile.

“Thanks, handsome,” Janelle repeated, taking the bottle from Mathis. She leaned back in her chair, one long, bare, mocha colored leg crossed over the other, bouncing it slowly. “When are you going to join us?” she asked.

Mathis shrugged. “Sorry. My sister’s got me running around doing all sorts of crap today,” he apologized.

Ernesto gave him a lazy wave of his ham like palm. “Don’t sweat it, bro’,” he said with his usual relaxed cadence, “Doing just fine.”

Janelle’s sharply angled face revealed more disappointment and she simply pouted her lips.

“Well, help yourselves to anything, okay?” Mathis said.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Ernesto assured him, “In a couple of weeks it’ll be the big kids’ party, anyway.”

“You’re coming for that, right?” Janelle spoke up.

“Oh yeah,” Mathis nodded, “For sure!”

“Mathis!” Mia called out again from inside the house. He was sure that even if she were on the other side of the city, he could still have heard her.

He gave his friends another sheepish look and shrug and jogged into the house, his nephew still under his arm.

There was frenzy in the kitchen with Mia, his other older sister Margueritte, and a couple of other female guests busy with all the food. Somewhere, there was a small grocery with nothing left on its shelves except for a can of Spam.

“What’cha need?” Mathis asked, lowering Shawn to the ground.

Mia walked over to them and crouched down looking at her son disapprovingly. She gave his powder blue polo top and cargo shorts a rough brush of her hand. “Don’t go getting his new outfit all stained, Mathis,” she scolded.

“That all you wanted to tell me?” Mathis sighed.

Mia stood up and eyed him. “No,” she said pointedly, “I don’t know where Morris is at.”

Mathis rolled his eyes upwards. He had a good idea where his brother, Morris, and his ‘guest’ were.

“More guests are arriving and Aaron is busy talking with Dad and Mom downstairs talking about some legal advice,” she continued, “I need you to mind the door and put away the presents in the living room for now.”

“I’m supposed to be a door man?” Mathis frowned.

“Better than just being a door STOP,” she quipped.

Shawn tugged on Mathis’ hand, trying to pull him out to the backyard again.

Mia clicked her tongue and gave Shawn a gentle nudge on the head, “Your uncle has some work to do, baby. You’ve got all of your friends here. Go play with them.”

Grudgingly, the little boy turned to leave the kitchen.

“Catch you later, champ,” Mathis waved.

“You,” Mia pointed at his nose then towards the hallway, “Go…but put on your good shirt, first. That one’s filthy.”

“Want me to drive the limo while I’m at it?” he replied sarcastically.

Mia was already onto something else.

With another heavy sigh, Mathis snatched a piece of ham then left the kitchen and went upstairs to one of the guest rooms. He tossed off his jersey and grabbed a white button down T-shirt from his gym bag. Slipping on the shirt as he made his way back to the stairs, he stopped by the second guest bedroom. He paused, and then leaned the side of his face against the closed door. The sound of heavy breathing and panting escaped from the room.

“Morris,” he murmured. An impulsive, impish thought crossed his mind and he reached for the knob.

Just then, the doorbell chimed.

Holding onto the knob, Mathis paused and frowned. “Damn,” he whispered, then quickly made his way downstairs to the foyer.

Opening the door he was greeted by a petite, fair-skinned young woman standing on the front step. Her pink lips were stretched into a long smile and her cheeks held a healthy rosy glow. Her auburn brunette hair was braided and tied back and up and tightly along her head. Everything served to highlight her eyes — round and wide like chestnuts and the same roasted brown colour– that appeared ready to infect anything within their view with an illuminating spirit.

She wore a yellow spaghetti strap tank top and a pair of tight, blue gym shorts. She also had a large suitcase, about half her height, by her side.

“Uh…” Mathis stood holding the door, frozen, unsure of what to say.

The young woman then reached out and poked him twice in the arm, adding, “Honk! Honk!” each time she did. She giggled.

His jaw slipping further down each time he blinked, Mathis still was having trouble jump-starting his brain.

She looked off to the side and laughed, finally amazed by the tall, brawny man’s stultification.

The melodic sound of her laughter further pushed him for a loss.

“Mathis! It’s me,” she declared gleefully, “Jynx!”

He shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly.

No. It wasn’t Jynx.

It was Sam I Am.


*A year and a half ago Freshman year Winter semester Prof.McDaniel’s Humanities course tutorial group B*

Mathis Abrams stood at the podium at the front of the group, 25 pairs of eyes set upon him. He was dying up there. He knew it. The class knew it. The prof knew it though he was really trying to be encouraging and lead the freshman towards some answers.

It was the beginning of the course, just the second tutorial session and the first assignment was intended to be an ice breaker of sorts. It combined some easy reading –a children’s book– with a subject that every first year student should have been eager to explore — sex. Just the announcement of the assignment had stirred a giddy commotion amongst the students.

Using the idea “Every Child’s Book Can Have Sexual Undertones” as a basis, the students were to pick a children’s book and apply it to the theory. Of course, the prof didn’t actually believe that stories like Harold and the Purple Crayon were written with any intentions remotely sexual but the idea was just to get the students to start thinking outside the box and then see what they can stuff into it.

Mathis had chosen comic books — specifically Superman, his hero. The problem was, after a minute of talking about it, he realized that stating the facts that Superman was obviously drawn to sport a “big package” underneath his tight red underwear and that he and Lois Lane were so ready to “get it on” was not exactly what the prof was looking for. He managed to garner a good chuckle out of the group but he hit a wall when asked to delve deeper and not just think of the surface of the story.

That’s when the uncomfortable silence set in and he kept looking down at his notes for some answers written in invisible ink to appear. After another minute, the prof opened up the floor to further questions. Still more silence. He hadn’t given the other students much to work on.

Usually smooth with the words and carried by a charismatic smile, Mathis felt like a mute and could hear the sweat roll down the side of his head. The confidence he usually exuded was replaced by unfamiliar awkwardness and even a man of his size and build seemed strangely small at the moment.

Suddenly a hand went up.

Mathis pointed towards it hesitantly.

“Why does he wear the costume?” a young woman asked.

He thought for a second trying hard to get the wheels going again. “It’s…um…it’s to show who he is. It’s to tell everyone that he’s Superman.”

The young woman nodded, a pensive expression on her rosy-cheeked face. “It’s awfully form-fitting,” she said with a relaxed grin and an angled brunette brow, “All his muscles rippling and puffed out like that.”

Mathis chuckled, “Yeah, like I said, there’s no hiding what Supes is packing. I guess he’s kind of showing off for the ladies…kind of like a male peacock…all those bright colours and stuff.”

“He goes from mild mannered Clark Kent to super stud,” she elaborated.

Mathis gave her a firm nod in return. “It’s…a transformation,” he said. It felt like his brain was pushing marbles through pinholes but he continued, “Like…role-playing fantasy, right? Role-playing’s a big deal in sexual fantasy.”

He glanced over towards Professor McDaniel and noticed him sitting up in his seat a little more, but he just as quickly returned his focus on the easy-going young woman he was having a conversation with.

“And his powers…overcompensation?” she asked, leaning forward in her chair, big brown eyes set on him.

Again Mathis gave this some thought. With a casual wave of his hand he said, “Nah! Nah! Guy’s Superman. He has nothing to overcompensate about. He’s strong. He’s confident. He’s handsome. Knows how to work it. He’s…uh…like the most desirable man in the universe. The powers are like pheromones.”

“His powers are a show of his virility?” she asked with a gentle tilt of her head.

“Yeah! Yeah! They’re uh…uh…,” he frowned turning his head aside and snapping his fingers before his eyes lit up and a broad smile appeared on his face, “They’re extensions of his sexuality. Yeah, he saves the world, defeats Lex Luthor, and he’s like the top dog, Alpha man in the world. Ladies want to lay a banquet out for the guy.”

He paused like someone had hit the pause button a video, his hand still extended towards the young woman. He was breathing hard and felt an unsteady thump beneath his chest. It felt like he had just scored a touchdown. In his mind, for that moment, she was the only other person in the room and when she smiled and offered him a simple nod of her chin, he felt unexpectedly elated.

Finally, the prof wrote something down on a sheet of paper and then looked up and said, “Okay. Thanks, Mathis. Who do we have next?”

Touchdowns had more satisfying celebrations, that was for sure. Still, Mathis was happy to return to his seat.

“Samantha Petric?” the prof announced.

The young woman with the naturally blushed cheeks and long brunette hair tied in a simple ponytail, got up and walked to the front of the room. As she passed Mathis who was settling into her chair, she gave his shoulder a light tap and whispered, “Good job.”

Mathis pursed his lips momentarily, nodded once then replied, “Thanks. Good luck.”

Light on her feet, she seemed to be bouncing on her toes as she took to the podium. Once there, she paused to scan the group, ensuring everyone noticed the confident yet playful look on her soft, pixie-like face.

“Hi, my name is Samantha. Some people call me Sammy,” she began, her voice flowing and wistful, “But you can call me Sam. Sam I am.”

She held up her book. “Would you like some Green Eggs and Ham?” she said with a knowing grin.

There was a light-hearted murmur amongst the group.

Putting the book down, she leaned leisurely against the podium, spiking her eyebrow up and speaking very slowly and deliberately said, “Would you like to try it in a house? Would you like it with a mouse?”

A few soft giggles and chuckles floated through the room.

“How about trying it inside a box? Could you, would you, HAVE you with some FINE looking fox?” she went on, her face seductively expressive.

“Ohh yeah!” a male student growled. He was followed by a “Whoo” and some further laughter.

Samantha stepped to the side of the podium, leaning against it, placing a hand on her hip and throwing it out to the side in a diva-pose. Even with her small size and her baggy track-suit outfit, it was an attractive tease. “Now I know you like it in the dark. But would you, could you in the rain? Have you ever on a train?”

“Been there. Done that,” one of the female students who had been sitting beside Samantha sang out. She waved her hand, “You know that already, though, Sammy!”

The laughter continued unabated by the prof who held his fingers over an obvious smile. The upward hitching of his back was an obvious giveaway of his amusement, as well.

Mathis also had a crooked grin on his lips as he chuckled along with everyone else.

“Well how about a boat?” Samantha stood tall, hands up and to her side.”Have you ever tried it…with a goat?”

There was a collective “Oh!” amongst the class. Some people pointed accusingly towards others and comments like “gross” and “sick” rippled through the room.

“Naughty, naughty!” She wagged a finger like a mother at everyone. The woman loved to pantomime.

Samantha walked back behind the podium and concluded, “The fact is as long as we’re open-minded, we could like it here, we could like it there, we could like it ANYWHERE.”

“Praise Jesus!” someone declared.

The young woman scanned the room again, and with her doe-like eyes crossing Mathis’, she said, “And we could like it with ANYONE.”

Mathis leaned back in his seat slightly, looking as if a feather had just tickled his nose.

Samantha went on to elaborate and field a few more questions. The notion of bestiality involving the mouse, fox, and goat evoked some fervent lurid chatter.

“Well,” the teacher announced with a coughing-chuckle, “That was great. I believe my response should be, ‘Thank-you. Thank-you, Sam I Am’.”

A polite applause was bestowed upon her as she went back to her seat.

Mathis, who was slapping his hands together with solid appreciation, held one up and back as she passed by. “Good job,” he offered.

She slipped her palm against his. “Thanks,” she said, her pink lips smiling warmly back.

Samantha took her seat. Her classmate and friend gave her a nudge with her shoulder and the two giggled.

As the rest of students went up one-by-one to do their presentations, Mathis caught himself glancing over towards Samantha more and more for the remainder of the tutorial period.


“Sammy? Samantha?” Mathis said, unable to contain his surprise at who was standing just outside the door. “It’s Sam I Am.”

“Any and all of the above,” she replied with a quick-step curtsey.

Mathis leaned back, shaking his head like a baby rattle. “Sammy Petric,” he declared.

Samantha chuckled. “Stop it. If you say my name one more time I’m afraid an evil spirit might appear behind me,” she jokingly insisted.

Finally managing a more normal smile, Mathis asked, “What are you doing here?” Samantha put her hands on her hips and tossed her head back –though she really couldn’t toss her tied up hair– and said, “I’m here to pleasure you, big boy.”

Mathis did a double-take. “Come again, say whu’?” he sputtered.

“What do you think I’m here for?” She chuckled again and waved her hand, “Can you let me in already? I have to put on my clown costume.”

He blinked. “You’re Jynx?”

She shook her head. “Shh! Secret identity!”

“It’s alright,” he nodded towards the back, “Everyone’s either in the kitchen or in the backyard.”

“You didn’t recognize me on the street the other day.”

Mathis looked her over. “Yeah well, let’s just say you’re easier on the eyes when you’re not in the clown getup.” She did look sweet in her simple little outfit right then.

Samantha also gave him a once over from head-to-toe. “Casual dress, I see?” she asked suspiciously.

“What do you…oh,” Mathis paused as he looked down. In his haste to answer the door, he had forgotten to button up his shirt. At least while he hurried to do them up, he noted that she wasn’t looking at him disapprovingly.

Finally stepping aside from the door, he watched her come in hauling in her suitcase.

Overcome with giddiness, the spritely young woman quickly wrapped her arms around Mathis giving him a warm hug. It took him by surprise but he quickly returned the greeting, holding her gently in his arms. It felt very good.

“I’m so happy to see you!” she declared as she stepped back. “You have no idea!”

“It’s been over a year since I saw you,” he remarked.

She nodded. “Yeah, first year Humanities course ended and that was it. How are you doing? How did your sophomore year go?”

“Doing alright,” he replied still watching her closely as she looked what she could see of the house from the foyer. “I can’t believe we didn’t run into each other over the year.”

She shrugged. “Huge university, different programs. I changed campuses in 2nd year,” she looked up the stairs as she talked, “Saw you, though.”


She nodded, a perpetual smile on her fine red lips. “Mm-hmm. At the football games.”

“You watched me play?”

“Yup.” She stood in front of him and looked up. “The team sucked,” she said thoughtfully.

Every part of Mathis’ face drooped. “Thanks a lot,” he grumbled..

She giggled and gave him a nudge on his arm. “I’m kidding!” she said, “I don’t know anything about football. Is a 2 and 10 record good?”

His brow dropped even more heavily over his eyes.

The bubbly young woman laughed. “Okay,” she breathed, “Let’s catch up later. I should get ready. Anywhere I can change?”

Mathis thumbed towards the stairs. “Yeah, up there,” he said, sounding as deflated as she sounded perky, “Guest bedroom on the right.”

Samantha walked past and made her way up the stairs, pulling up her luggage.

“You want help with that?” he asked.

“No. It’s alright thanks.” Though the size of it was cumbersome, she really didn’t look like she had any trouble lifting it. Mathis figured she had been keeping up with her yoga and aerobics.

“Like how you’re rocking the Princess Leia hair, by the way,” he said.

Samantha made it to the top and looked back down at him. “Makes it easier to put on the wig,” she said, winking and then turned away.

Mathis watched her go, still a little stunned to see her.

“Yo bro’, whassup?” Ernesto ambled up to him, with Janelle in tow.

Shaking his head and smiling crookedly, Mathis started to say, “Check this out, you will not believe…”

Suddenly a shout rang out from the upper floor. “Hey! What the fuck…?!” an angry male voice hollered.

All three of them turned and looked towards upstairs..

Mathis suddenly realized something. “Oh shit,” he said under breath then bolted up the stairs.

He got to the top just in time to see Samantha backing away from the door of the guest bedroom. “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” she pleaded with words and a ‘calm down’ motion of her hand.

Mathis’ brother, Morris stood at the door. His lanky, lean body was bare save for a shirt held in front of his crotch. “Do you not know how to knock, woman?!” he yelled at Samantha. Behind him, a figure was hidden under the sheets of the bed except for a hand pawing around blindly on the floor for bits of underwear and clothing at the side.

Samantha’s mouth was gaping, her round pupils completely visible as her eyes widened, and she was glowing hot pink all over her face and neck. She was shocked, and yet, strangely, she was having a difficult time trying not to gawk at the bizarre sight and sputtering with laughter.

“What the hell are you grinning about?!” Morris snapped.

Mathis quickly joined the scene, wrapping an arm around Samantha’s shoulders and holding up his other hand in his older, but shorter, brother’s face. “Hey! Hey! Be cool. Be cool,” he said, talking him down, “She’s a guest. Just got a little lost.”

“Man, I don’t care who this pipsqueak elf is!” Morris spat.

“‘Elf’?” Samantha said taken aback. She pointed to herself. “No, no. Clown. Me.”

Morris’ face contorted sideways.

“She probably didn’t even see nothing,” Mathis remarked, “It’s no big thing. Right Sammy?”

“Uh, right,” she looked up at Mathis then back at Morris, then down towards his hidden crotch. She gave an exaggerated nod, “It’s definitely ‘no big thing’.”

Both the brothers froze for a good three seconds. Then Mathis sniggered.

As if in slow motion, Morris began to talk, “Man…what…the…fuuu…”

“You know what?” Mathis said to Samantha giving her shoulder a squeeze, “You’re right. No big thing, for sure!”

He tried to snatch the shirt away from Morris but his brother just as swiftly jumped back. “Get the fuck outta here!” Morris shot back and then slammed the door.

Samantha and Mathis stood in front of the closed door for a moment then looked at one another and laughed.

She regained her breath and asked, “This wouldn’t happen to have been a way for you to get back at me for spraying you in the face the other day?”

Mathis shook his head vigorously. “Uh-uh. Swear. That was purely an accident. AC-CI-DENT unlike what you pulled on me,” he replied, “But thank-you for reminding me that I do owe you one…pipsqueak.”

With his hand still around her shoulder, he steered her away from the bedroom and then further down the hallway. He opened the door to the other guest bedroom and said, “Here. You can change in there.”

“Thanks for showing me my ‘dressing room’” she said with her usual glowing smile. As she walked in, she winked at him and added, “No peeking.”

Mathis said nothing but only offered a tempered smile as he closed the door. He continued to hold the knob for a second, thinking. From the time he first met her, Samantha always managed to make almost everything she said both genuinely sweet yet teasingly suggestive. It caught him off guard and stirred a strange reaction from deep within him.

After taking a deep breath, he finally released the knob. He turned…and jumped back, startled. Ernesto and Janelle stood in the hallway three feet away from him.

“Damn! Don’t sneak up on a man like that guys!” he snapped.

“Who’s that?” Ernesto asked.

“Yeah, who is she?” Janelle also asked arms crossed. A more pointed hint of suspicion embellished her voice.

“Uh,” Mathis hesitated looking back towards the door, “Mia hired her for the party. She’s like a clown or magician or something, I think.”

“You two seemed nice and familiar with each other,” Janelle remarked, narrowing her eyes a little.

“Yeah, sort of but not really. Took a class with her in first year. Haven’t seen her since.” Mathis stuffed a hand in his pocket. The other he used to scratch the back of his neck as he shifted on his feet.

“Mm-hmm,” Janelle replied in a cool tone.

Ernesto nodded. “She’s a cute little package, huh?” he stated with a grin.

Mathis said nothing. Janelle looked unimpressed.

“Mathis! Where in the world are you?” Mia called from downstairs.

“Up here!” he replied quickly looking past Janelle and Ernesto. “Coming down!”

He slipped between the two of them. Janelle just pivoted on her feet, turning to watch him go downstairs, her arms still crossed.

“Where have you been?” Mia scolded him as he trotted down the steps. There was a group of newly arrived guests in the foyer.

“Found Morris,” he said to her, then added, “And Sammy is here.”


“Ah, I mean Jynx,” he corrected himself, “She’s upstairs getting changed.”

As he greeted the guests and took their presents, he glanced anxiously back up the stairs.


*First Year University Campus Promenade*

Samantha shuffled through the slush and snow covered pathways that criss-crossed the campus. It was one of those grey sky days. The snow covered grounds seemed to deaden the sounds around her and it was easy to become lost in thought. She felt a tap on her right shoulder, but when she turned no one was there. A tap on her left and she turned again facing just emptiness. A couple of quick twists of her neck and she saw Mathis looking down at her, a toothy white smile on his face.

“Hey!” she breathed, wisps of steam escaping her lips into the frosty air.

“Hey, good to see you,” he said.

She nodded, her mouth dipping behind her red knit muffler each time she did. “Aren’t you freezing?” she asked, pointing her pink-flushed nose towards his flimsy varsity sports jacket. “You don’t even have a hat or gloves.”

“Nah! Nah!” he exclaimed with a wave of his hand, “This body has way too much heat. See? The snow doesn’t even come close to touching it before it melts.”

Samantha laughed. “I see,” she said. She held up he hands towards him like she was warming herself by a fire. She pursed her lips and nodded. “I should have brought marshmallows.”

Mathis smiled then said, “Hey. I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me in class the other day, helping me with the Superman thing and all that. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. It was just a minor thing. 5% of our mark,” she replied with a shrug, “How’d you do?”

“Got a ‘C-’,” he sighed, “But I’m sure you helped pull it up from a ‘D’.”

She grinned and looked down, shaking her head.

“How about you?” he asked.

“An ‘A’,” she replied.

Mathis leaned back and smiled wide, “Aw yeah. Saw that coming. Good for you. That was some twisted stuff you brought up with Green Eggs and Ham!”

She chuckled warmly. “You know, I didn’t even get into some even more wicked ideas,” she explained, “Would you, could you on a ship? Have you ever considered doing it with whips?”

“Ohh! No! No!” Mathis laughed upwards. “How does someone that looks like you come up with such freaky shit?”

“Cuz I’m not that innocent,” she sang with an accentuated nasally voice as she did a little spin move. She giggled, “Sorry, did Britney Spears in karaoke the other night at the pubs.”

“That’s just sick,” Mathis said then added in a more officious tone, “Now look, I’m telling you to stop it.”

He reached for her hand and held her wrist as if he was checking her pulse. She looked at him curiously but her smile was stretched wide as she chuckled.

“As a medically trained professional,” Mathis went on, “I’m advising you to curb your freakiness before you find yourself on some stage dressed in leather with some middle-aged white man in a dog collar, on all fours, saying that he has mommy issues.”

“But sometimes the urge just takes over, ‘doctor’,” she joked along, “What’s a poor girl to do?”

“Set up more appointments with her doctor, of course,” he suggested dripping on the dramatics. He clasped both of her hands in his and urged, “Together we can get through this. Just gotta believe. Be strong.”

They stared at one another for a moment then both broke into sputtering laughter. The few other people crossing the promenade looked over at them until they subsided and Mathis released her hands.

Finally, Samantha noted, “You skipped out pretty quickly after class.”

“Yeah, I have to head over to practice right after,” he replied, “Football.”

Samantha gave a little pump of her fist. She offered a tiny cheer, “Yay. Go Blues!”

“I play wide receiver.”

She tilted her head and studied him. “You don’t look that wide,” she remarked innocently.

“Yeah, right,” he chuckled. Season’s almost over though. Just playoffs now.”

“Good luck,” she said, “I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Thanks. I’ll have more time to focus on studies, soon.”

“Well, a small group of us were thinking of starting a study group the period before the tutorial. You want to join?”

Mathis looked off to the side and nodded, “Yeah…yeah, I’ll get in on that. I could use all the help I can get, I guess.”

“Great. I promise to contain my freakiness,” she announced. She bounced on her feet, “Brr! It’s freezing! I was gonna meet up with some friends at the coffee shop. Do you want to come along?”

Mathis stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, sure. This cold really is a bi…-”

A snowball smacking him in the back cut him off. He turned around in time to get another one in the chest.

“Hey, Mathis our man! Where you been at?” Ernesto waved to him. A group of young men all wearing the same varsity jacket as Mathis surrounded him. He called out, “We’re heading out to Big Smokey’s for some wings and curly fries. Come on!”

Mathis looked briefly at the group then back at Samantha. He winced a little as he thumbed towards his team-mates and said, “Ah…sorry. I probably should…”

“No problem,” she replied, “Rain-check? Or should we say snow-check?”

“Sure,” he said as he started to walk away. He pointed back to her. “Next week for the tutorial group, alright?”

“Right,” she answered, standing for a moment in the middle of the promenade watching him before turning away.

As he and the group walked, Mathis looked back towards Samantha. He stopped and squinted. In the distance he could see her meeting up with a man, another student. He was dark, olive skinned. They exchanged a kiss then held each other as they continued to walk away.

Mathis shivered.


To Mathis’ surprise, Jynx the Klown was a hit at the birthday party. He had been certain that her reception would resemble something like a priest in a strip bar but the kids really took to her antics. Instead her magic tricks, balloon animals, miming, and jokes had her rapt audience of kids jumping up and down for more.

She moved all over the backyard, hyper and energetic even under the sun. Nothing ever seemed to slowdown the woman, or get her down. A joke would fall flat, she would just take it on the chin, try something else, and have the kids eating out of her cotton-gloved hands again.

He was a little dismayed about it. Before he had known who was under the costume and make up, he had been secretly hoping the clown would crash and burn after the water to the face stunt from the other day. Now he didn’t want Samantha to screw up badly, but he still amused himself with ideas of getting back at her in some small fashion.

He watched from the patio table as the kids followed her around the yard like she was pied-piper.

“Hey, champ,” he called to Shawn, as he ran past trailing the clown, “Your uncle Mathis is free now. How about I give a helicopter spin ’round the house?”

The little boy just shook his head and followed after Jynx.

“Ooh. You’ve been replaced, my friend,” Ernesto chided, “By a clown.”

Janelle sat beside Mathis, arms still crossed, one leg bouncing over the other. She shook her head as she frowned and glared at Jynx. “I don’t get it,” she groused. She looked at one of Jynx’s fliers the clown had been handing out to some of the older guests, “Lame-o the Clown.”

Mathis shrugged. “She’s alright. Kids seem to dig her,” he said, “Who knows?”

Shawn ran back to Mathis. “Look!” he said, holding up a balloon shaped into a long sausage dog.

Mathis lifted him up and sat him on his knee. “Hey! That’s a cool looking dog there, champ,” he remarked, “Ain’t you lucky! Woof! Woof!”

“Wheeeere’s the birthday boy?” Jynx called out from across the yard, her palm stretched over her brow as she scanned the area, “Where’s he hiding?”

The kids all pointed towards Shawn and Mathis shouting, “There! There!”

“Oh no,” Janelle remarked cringing, “Here she comes.”

Jynx strode over in her big floppy shoes and stood in front of Mathis and his nephew. Her hands were behind her back. He grinned. She was almost unrecognizable in her make up.

“There’s the handsome boy!” Jynx announced.

Mathis waved, feigning embarrassment. “Aw shucks….go on,” he joked, “It’s his birthday. You shouldn’t be talking all about me.”

Jynx rolled her eyes and fluttered her lips. She leaned down close and addressed Shawn still seated on Mathis’ knee. “I see you have a really delicious looking birthday cake,” she said, “But where’s your birthday pie?”

Shawn shrugged. With that, Jynx brought her hands out from behind her back and held out a pie covered in cream. There was a collective “Mmm” amongst the gathered kids and guests.

“Do you like pie, Shawn?” Jynx asked.

The little boy shrugged.

“No?” Jynx pouted and shook her head. “How about your uncle? Do you think he’ll like my pie?”

Mathis suddenly realized where she was going with this, frowned and protested, “Oh no! Don’t you…”

He was cut off as Jynx splattered the pie against his face. A glob of it filled his mouth.

His eye blinking beneath the fluffy, white cream, Mathis could hear the hysterical laughter erupting around him. Even Shawn was kicking in hysterics on his knee.

Jynx poked him, honking her horn. “Oops, sorry,” she said, “That was an accident. An AC-CI-DENT.” Then she pranced away leading the kids, including Shawn, to another area of the yard.

Mathis was left motionless on his seat, still blinking, sticky whipped cream starting to fall from his face. Janelle sympathetically grabbed a napkin and started to wipe it off.

Ernesto leaned up beside him, looking at Jynx. “I’d like to try her pie,” he chuckled.


After changing out of her Jynx costume, Samantha came out from the bedroom, pulling her suitcase along. Mathis came up to the top of the stairs just as she did.

“All good?” he asked.

She nodded. With a playful tilt of her head, she said, “I thought you would be standing outside the door, keeping guard while I changed.”

“From what?”

“Your brother barging in to get back at me for interrupting his brunch time delight?”

Mathis chuckled as he walked over. He waved his hand and said, “Nah. Morris isn’t pissed, just embarrassed. Besides, he’s not interested in…uh…someone like yourself,”

Samantha grinned. “Someone like me?”

“You know,” Mathis said rocking his head side-to-side as he looked at her peach-skinned face, “Like…uh,,,”

“He’s not into clowns?” she offered with a lift of her brow.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah. Clowns.”

Samantha shook her head sadly and sighed, “So much prejudice in this world.”

“He just has no appreciation for trying different things,” Mathis explained.

“Unlike his brother?” she asked smiling up to him.

Mathis grinned and pointed to himself with both of his hands, shrugging. “Hey, how can I deny all of THIS to ANYONE on the planet?”

A spirited chuckle escaped from Samantha. She reached out, almost mindlessly, and tugged at the bottom of his shirt as she did. “Hey,” she noted, “Your shirt is stained.”

Mathis examined his shirt spotted with several off-colour blotches. “Yeah well, SOMEBODY managed to get my good white shirt covered in messy cream, you know?” he replied, pointing his dimpled chin towards her.

“Hmm, maybe your brother Morris wasn’t the only one getting busy in that bedroom?” she quickly fired back. She then chewed her lower lip, restraining a lascivious smile.

His mouth dropped at her suggestive words and look. Something squeaked up through his throat. He shook his head and blinked. Pointing back down the stairs, he asked, “Does my sister know what kind of woman she hired to entertain her kid?”

Samantha leaned back against the bedroom door, hand at her chest, laughing. Mathis joined in.

With a heavy sigh to regain her breath, she said, “I AM sorry about your shirt.”


“It’s just that a clown is only as good as her foil, you know?” she explained. She folded her hands behind her back as she continued to lean back against the door, looking up towards him.

“Well in that case, that must mean you’re a great clown,” he said, taking a step towards her.

With an easy smile, she gave a telling shrug and said, “Uh-huh. The absolute best.”

“A talented clown,” he said, his voice smoothing out.

“Oh, VERY talented,” she concurred, with a slow blink of her dark lashes. “You have no idea.”

“And of course, a very hot and sexy clown,” Mathis said through a telling grin, the words coming fast from his mind and suddenly heavy beating heart.

Samantha’s lips parted slightly. She didn’t say anything.

Not only did Mathis not realize he was steadily leaning down towards her, but his mind was wandering. He imagined his hands moving to her hips. He thought about how the inward curve of her waist would feel against his palm and fingers, his thumb nudging between the edges where the bottom of her top and the waistband of her shorts met, caressing her smooth, milky skin.

For the first time since he met her again, he saw a nervous, hesitant look in her always bright, spirited eyes. For whatever reason, it drew him to her even more. It felt like a warm wave of water was sweeping him forward towards her.

Still as he moved in slowly, she said nothing and didn’t look away.

Suddenly the sound of a cell phone chime interrupted them. They both flinched.

“Sorry,” Samantha said as she cleared her throat and quickly reached into a side pocket of her luggage. She pulled out her phone.

Mathis took a step back, inhaling deeply as if he had just come up for air, or had been pulled out of some deep, fantastic dream.

She turned aside and answered her phone. “Hi?” she said, “Yeah. I’m coming out. Just pull up to the curb. ‘Kay. Thanks.”

Dropping her phone back into the pocket, she said, “My ride is here.”

Mathis nodded slowly, his lips tight. Finally he said, “Is it that guy….what’s his name? Joachim?”

Samantha frowned slightly, “Joachim? No, my sister. She’s going to take me to another gig across town.”

After a moment’s pause looking at one another, she finally simply turned and started for the stairs. Mathis observed her for a second then strode by her taking hold of her luggage without asking, and carried it down.

“Thanks,” Samantha said softly, pausing at the top of the stair momentarily before following him down.

“No sweat,” he replied, “But damn, what do you have in here? A dead body?”

“Why does everyone always assume it’s dead?” she snapped back.

Mathis stopped to look back, giving her the eye. She flashed him an innocent smile. They both chuckled and then let out a long sigh as they made it to the foyer.

“Well,” she began, clasping her hands together, “That was fun. It was great to see you again, Mathis.”

“Yeah, that worked out alright, surprisingly,” he admitted with a nod.

“Let’s meet up again, okay?” she added, “Talk about school…or not. Let’s just get together, alright? Call me?”

Mathis felt encouraged to hear that. He replied, “Yeah, sure. I…”

“Oh, don’t forget about your pay!” Mia hurried down the hallway towards them, holding up an envelope. Janelle trailed her.

Samantha blinked. “Oh, right!” she exclaimed, “I honestly almost forgot about that!”

Mathis stepped aside as Mia came over and handed her the envelope. She held onto it, though, even as Samantha tried to take it from her. She gave the young woman a thorough once-over. “You’re kidding?” she remarked, frowning, “This sweet looking girl was under all that make up and hair and causing all that fuss with the kids?”

Samantha grinned. “Guilty!” she declared, obviously pleased with herself. “Best job in the world.”

“Amazing!” Mia said. She pushed the envelope into Samantha’s hand and winked. “Well, you take this. You earned it, for sure. There’s a little something extra from some of the others, too.”

Samantha was elated and smiled broadly. “Thanks so much! That’s great!” she said, “Oh, if you wouldn’t mind. Could you hand these out to some of your guests?”

She passed copies of her flier to Mia and Janelle as well.

“Certainly,” Mia replied. Janelle looked like she would just as soon drop them in the waste bin.

Samantha thanked everyone again and said good-bye. They all watched her as she turned to leave. As she passed by Mathis, she looked up at him, smiled, and shrugged.

He watched as she made her way down the home’s walkway towards the curb where a silver Honda was waiting, its motor running and the trunk popped open. A woman stepped out from the driver’s side and waved to her.

After she and her sister tossed her luggage into the trunk, Samantha looked back towards Mathis and waved. He pointed back at her and called out, “Hey, Sammy! That’s two you owe me, girl!” He held up two fingers to accentuate his demand. “I have to get you back!”

Samantha rolled her eyes. She did her boxer’s bravado pose again, laughed, then she got into the car and headed off.

“That’s two what she owes you?” Janelle asked, suspicious, as he closed the front door.

“Ah nothing,” he assured her, “Just some private business.”

“Well, how about you and I go out and play for awhile. Enjoy the rest of the day,” Janelle asked, easing down somewhat.

“Yeah, sure. Uh…that okay?” he asked looking at Mia.

His sister looked at him dryly and finally just turned away. She waved a hand dismissively as she spoke, “Sure. Fine. Party’s wrapping up anyway. I’ll get Morris to help clean up.”

“Cool. Thanks, sis,” he said to her. Then he turned to Janelle and said, “Let me just go grab my stuff upstairs.”

“Sure, handsome,” she replied.

As he headed up the stairs, he paused and added, “Oh, go find Ernesto. Tell him we’re heading out.”

Janelle’s smile wavered noticeably. She had forgotten about Ernesto. He was probably in the kitchen finishing off leftovers in the warming trays. A decidedly pouting frown on her face, she glared at the Samantha’s Jynx the Klown flier.

Mathis hadn’t even made it to the top of the stairs as his mind drifted to thoughts of Samantha. Damn, he really had given up on ever seeing her again. Her appearance at the door brought on a magnified realization of how much he had missed her. It was unnerving, an unusual feeling for his typically cool and unflappable demeanour. His senses and body had been kicked into autopilot a few minutes before, drawn to her.

His thoughts slowing his pace as he moved down the hallway, he looked up and saw something small and flat lying on the floor outside of the guest bedroom where they had been standing. He figured Samantha might have dropped it when she pulled her cell phone out of her luggage.

Yet, even as he approached it, he sensed something familiar about it. He frowned. When he bent down to pick it up he stopped, his arm hanging, his fingers inches away from the little object.

He suddenly realized what it was.


*First Year University Hyde’s Pub*

“It’s your what?” Samantha asked, raising her voice to be heard over the din of conversation of their friends around the table and the music in the pub.

Mathis pulled his seat closer to hers, draping his hand around the back of her seat. “It’s my shoe,” he said, holding up his key chain. At the end of it dangled a crudely cut piece of leather, somewhat resembling the shape of a shoe and etched and tanned with stripes and symbols.

“You made that?” Samantha asked, impressed.

“Like when I was 12 or something,” Mathis scoffed. “It ain’t that great.”

“I like it,” she answered, smiling. “Didn’t you say this is what you want to get into eventually? Design and marketing?”

He paused then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess. Market athletic goods –shoes, equipment, clothes.”

His aspirations and goals seemed so faraway.

“That’s really great,” Samantha said, “I can totally see you doing that.”

“Thanks,” he replied. He held up the little bauble and gazed at it fondly saying, “For now, it’s just my good luck charm for football.”

Samantha winced then sighed, “I can really use some luck for school, right now.”

“Yeah?” he said. Without another word, he separated the little shoe from his keys and offered it to her.

She blinked. “Really?” she said, sitting upright, her eyes brightening. “You don’t need it?”

He shrugged. “Season’s over and it’s not doing me any good for school, that’s for sure. Why don’t you give it a shot.”

Samantha took it from him looking like a kid who had just picked the ripest cherry from the tree. It made Mathis chuckle the way she handled it.

“That’s great! I love it!” she declared. Then she held up her hand and gave him a serious look, adding, “Oh, but I swear I’ll return it to you after exams.”

“You better,” he sniffed. “Or I know some dudes who’ll bust your ass if you don’t.”

“Ha! Like they’d stand a chance against me,” she exclaimed. Typically defiant and spirited Samantha. She added, “But I probably should show my gratitude, right? Hey how about you and I…-”

Mathis had ready leaned in closer to hear her suggestion when her cell phone rang, interrupting them.

“Oops. Excuse me,” she apologized, then answered her phone.

While she talked, there was a call for another round of drinks from their friends around the table. As they rounded up their orders, Samantha ended her brief call.

“Sorry, I gotta run,” she said, rising from her seat and gathering her belongings, “I’m meeting Joachim after his class this evening.”

A few “oohs” and raunchy jokes were launched at her. She laughed rolling her eyes.

Before she turned to leave, she looked anxiously back towards Mathis holding up the small shoe. She mouthed the words “Thank you” then hurried away, leaving him seated, his arm still resting around the back of her chair.

After one more drink, he decided to call it an early night.

He had really wanted to hear what her suggestion was going to be.


It turned out that meeting up with Samantha by design was proving to be more difficult than running into her again by coincidence. Mathis tried calling her over the next couple of weeks. No more than once a day, though — he still had his manly pride to keep in mind. Still, it took a noticeable bit of concentration to maintain his cool, suave demeanour whenever she did answer, which was only a couple of times. He usually got her answering service.

Between her summer classes, her self-advertising stints on the city streets, and her gigs as Jynx, Samantha had very little time these days. He couldn’t blame her, really. It was already mid-summer when they had run into each other. People would be fully immersed in their plans for the season. He had his own summer job that closed off a potential meet up time between them and commitments with friends and family closed off a few more.

Plus, there was the possibility she was spending time with Joachim, though he never came up in their brief conversations.

Though she was obviously tired after a long day when they spoke over the phone, he could still hear the chirpiness in her voice, envisioning her expressive eyes widening when she talked or narrowing into crescents when she laughed. He felt at ease talking with her and at the same time invigorated. She had that way about her, like the battery that recharged his systems.

Late on a Thursday night, they managed to connect over the phone again. Both he and Samantha had an early day ahead of them but they both seemed determined to squeeze in a short chat.

“You took clown school?” he asked her, sceptically.

“Not really clown school per se,” she giggled, “They taught mime, acrobatics, stuff like that.”

“Twisting balloons into animals?”

“Self-taught,” she declared, “I’m very good with my hands.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. “Do you say that to a lot of guys?”

“They’re usually interested in hearing about it…along with other skills,” she teased.

“Yeah, I hear that,” Mathis said.

They both laughed.

“But why a clown?” he asked with disdain.

“Well you know, it’s fun. It’s about trying something different. Being something different,” she explained.

“Like Green Eggs and Ham,” he said, a little bulb illuminating in his mind.

“Like Green Eggs and Ham,” she concurred. “And it really is liberating,” she went on, “Dressed up like that, I feel like I can be as silly as I want to be.”

“You mean to say you’re not already silly?” he remarked flatly.

She giggled. “Okay, it accentuates my silliness.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a face-full of your silliness twice now, girl,” he said pointedly.

“You’re a great foil,” she said, reiterating her comment from the party.

It brought back to mind their encounter outside of the guest bedroom. Mathis didn’t want to broach it for now, not over the phone.

“Hey, there’s a pool party going on at one of my team mate’s place this Saturday,” he said, changing subjects, “Starts in the afternoon. Want to check it out with me?”

“Oh, sorry,” Samantha apologized, “Can’t do it. Jynx has a gig lined up for Saturday afternoon already. I’m really sorry.”

Mathis lay on his bed looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah. I should have guessed you’d have a job on the weekend,” he sighed, “It’ll probably go late night, though. You can always stop by.”

“I’d love that…” she exclaimed. Pausing briefly she continued, “But it’s a four hour booking. Apparently it’s a huge ass birthday party for some two year old kid. They want the works. I think I’m going to be pretty exhausted by the end of it and I’ve got another gig on Sunday.”

“Ah, yeah,” Mathis replied, deflated, “Good for you, though.”

“Mm-hmm. Besides,” she breathed, also sounding disappointed, “All my white make up will end up floating around in the pool. It’ll look like the sewage water from the Liquid Paper company.”

She laughed quietly. Mathis managed a chuckle, as well.

“But maybe we can do a coffee together when I’m done,” she offered, “How about that?”

He hesitated, then said, “Nah. You’ll need to recharge.”

“Come on, it’s me. The Energizer Bunny,” she declared.

“Rest,” he insisted with a chuckle.

“Alright,” she sighed, “Rain-check?”

“Snow-check,” he offered.

“That’s a promise,” she noted. He could sense her gentle smile through the phone. “I really want to get together with you, though. We’ll make it happen.”


“I should get to sleep,” she said, “Good night.”

“Night, Sammy.”

Mathis didn’t bother calling on Friday.


On Saturday, Samantha arrived at the house where her afternoon gig was supposed to have been booked. It was hard to miss. It was huge and there were certainly enough cars parked around it. She had to park by the curb down the street a ways off which was a bit discouraging.

The request from the party planner was that she come in full costume already. Fortunately her sister lent her the car for the afternoon. Not that she really minded herself, but sometimes a clown on a bus was like the elephant in the room to the other riders. What does one say?

Once she was out of the car, she put on her big shoes and pulled out her luggage from the back seat, and then flip-flopped her way to the trunk. Having the car turned out to be a necessity for this particular party. As she carefully opened the trunk, she reached in and grabbed hold of the strings for two dozen pink and white balloons all adorned with images of Disney princesses or the words “Happy 2nd Birthday”. She pulled off the cover netting and they instantly floated up into the air, reaching for the pale blue sky.

As she approached the house, she steeled herself to confront a gang of sugar-high pre-schoolers, getting into full-on Jynx mode. A thumping heavy techno R&B beat pulsated from the walls of the house as she made her way up the steps. There was also a lot of shouting and laughter to be heard. This was some kicking birthday party, she thought.

It took several knocks and long pushes of the doorbell for someone to come open the door.

She took a deep breath and shouted, “Happy Birthday!”

A very tan, bare-chested man built like a gorilla and wearing sunglasses and a pair of camouflage cabana shorts, belched back at her. Expressionless, he stood at the door as he took another swig of his beer.

Still maintaining her open-mouthed, red-lipped grin, Samantha blinked through her thick white make up. She leaned back and checked the number of the house. She was at the correct address. There was an awful lot of commotion inside of the house. None of it, however, seemed like anything that would be normally seen or heard at a children’s party.

She leaned forward and raised her voice to be heard. “Where’s the birthday girl? Is Chrissie around?”

The roadblock frowned. He leaned down closer, tilting his ear towards her.

“Chrissie Turlo?” she repeated.

He leaned upright. “‘Chrissie’…?” he said, looking puzzled. He glared at her, then gazed up at the balloons. An invisible hook suddenly pulled a crooked grin onto his lips. He chuckled once and nodded, holding up a finger and telling her to wait a moment. Twisting his head back, he bellowed over the cacophony, “Chris! Oh, Chrissie! Come to the door! Got a present for ya!”

He continued to grin at her as she stood anxiously on the steps. She peered at him carefully, and finally recognized him. Before she could react, though, he was joined by someone who was decidedly at least two decades removed from his 2nd birthday and definitely not a girl. She doubted the short-cropped strawberry blonde hair of the 6 foot gentleman had ever been in pig tails or curls, as well.

Chrissie or Chris glared at her as if she were a dog covered in turd. Then, he slapped a backhand against the big man’s chest. “Ernesto, what the fuck is this?” he demanded.

Samantha suddenly became the living version of a ‘sad clown’, her perpetual red painted smile hiding the downward pout on her lips and her shoulders slunk low.

The balloons slipped her grasp and quickly and quietly made their escape.


Mathis was running late for the pool party. His job earlier in the day went late into the afternoon and there was already colour mingling in the early evening sky by the time he trotted over to the house. It didn’t really matter to him. He knew the party would just be cranking it up the further the sun set.

The thrumming sound of heavy beats and loose, loud laughter greeted him as he went around the side and headed straight for the back. Just before made it to the gate though, Ernesto emerged.

“Hey, you made it!” he welcomed Mathis. He raised and crossed his arms and they exchanged forearm bumps.

“Yeah, sounds like you guys are kicking it,” Mathis remarked. His attention, however, was quickly drawn downward. He stepped away from his friend. “What…the….hell….?”

Wrapped tightly around the lower trunk of the stocky Filipino man was a belt made out of what looked like long, thin, multicoloured balloons linked together at the ends. In the middle, just around his crotch stuck out one long neon pink balloon. The tip of it was shaped into the discernible head of a cobra.

It was an animal balloon strap-on.

Ernesto offered him a jovial crotch-chop. “What do you think of my cobra of love?” he declared proudly.

Mathis’s eyebrows went in two different directions. He grinned, amused. “Wow. That’s just…wow,” he said stroking his chin and unable to peel his incredulous gaze from the wagging pink serpent. He looked up at his friend and said, “I guess dreams really do come true.”

They laughed then Ernesto handed him his beer. Mathis took a sip, watched his big friend shake his crotch, and then said pointedly, “Man, will you DESIST from shaking your glowing love snake in my face?! Where in THE blue hell did you get this thing?”

Ernesto beckoned him toward the gate. “Heh, check it out!”

Stepping into the back area of the house, Mathis looked out amongst the throng of people scattered all over the expansive yard and around and in the pool. He scratched his forehead and squinted to be sure of what he was seeing.

“What the hell…?” he repeated for the third time.

It turned out Ernesto’s makeshift strap-on wasn’t an exclusive. Many of the guest, young college-aged males and females, were decorated with a variety of colourful strap-ons, peep-hole bras, garters and so on. There was a huge roar of laughter from a circle of people, sucking or licking long, squeaky lengths of red, pink, and green balloon dildos complete with tied up testicles. The patio lanterns and Christmas lights strewn over head just seemed to highlight the multi-coloured suggestive balloon shapes. Ernesto ran off and belly-flopped into the pool wearing all of his inflated accoutrements.

Mathis grinned crookedly. In his stupor, he didn’t notice Janelle sidle up to him and give him a hug around his waist and a peck on his cheek. “‘Bout time you showed!” she scolded him playfully, “Go get changed into your trunks. We’ll go for a swim!”

“Heyyy!” he remarked, returning her hug. He checked her out. “Where’s your blow up joy box and dildo?”

Janelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. She wore a ruby bikini that adhered to her shapely ebony form quite nicely but other than a pair of matching high-heels, she sported nothing else, notably any of the twisty and twisted party favours that others were wearing.

“Uh, no. Don’t think so!’ She blew off the question.

Mathis was distracted by the sharp honk of a horn followed by a cheer. Across the pool, standing on a patio table, with a small crowd of people around her was Jynx…or at least, it was sort of Jynx. Gone was the thick white and red make-up, though her round red, light-up nose remained. Also gone was the rainbow coloured afro and instead, her almond brunette hair fell lightly around her shoulders and pink-flushed face. Somehow, she managed to convert her full-body costume into a pair of very baggy trousers held up by large, orange suspenders hanging onto her shoulders, revealing a form-hugging black sports bra and nothing else above her slender waist and flat belly.

Like a crazed savant, Jynx was frantically blowing up and twisting lengths of balloon into all manners of shapes and forms, mostly sexually suggestive, to the delight of the crowd. In the middle of a very elaborate creation, the balloon popped and the people pointed at her, cheering, “Penalty!”

Jynx made a sad face. Someone handed her a beer and, pausing for a heavy sigh, she chugged it to the incessant chants of the group: “Jynx! Jynx! Jynx! Jynx!”

With lager dripping around her mouth and down her neck to her belly, Jynx wiped her lips with her forearm and then pulled out another balloon and started again. Her tongue stuck out as she focused.

Mathis tilted his head, frowning. “Sammy?”

Completely disengaged from Janelle’s chatter, Mathis made his way around to the other side of the pool. At the back of the crowd, he called up to her, “Sammy, what are you doing here?”

“Ah-ah!” she replied, wagging a scolding finger, “The name is Jynx!”

The crowd chanted, “Jynx! Jynx! Jynx!”

She waved her hands over the group. “And I’m here because all of these fine looking gentleman and ladies paid for me to be here!” she announced with a slurred tongue, her face glowing a rosy red. She honked her horn. “Isn’t that right?”

Another cheer erupted along with a few calls to drop her trousers and to show her tits.

“Alright. Alright,” Mathis said with an uneasy grin. He waved her down with his hands. “Show’s over for now, folks. C’mon down, Sammy.”

“Who wants to see what I’ve got under my pants?!” Jynx suddenly shouted.

A singular “Yeah!” rang out.

“Nah! Nah! Nah!” Mathis insisted, “Not happening. Come on down to me, sweetie.”

“You!” she said, pointing to Mathis, wobbling a bit on the table, “You want to see what I’ve got under these britches?”

The crowd parted a little between her and him. “Go for it man!” somebody urged him with a slap on the back.

“Nah, I don’t want that,” he repeated, “Just come down, already.”

“You do, don’t you? You want to see what’s under my hot pants!” she slurred, slipping the suspenders off her shoulders.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes you do!” She took hold of the side of her trousers.

“No…I don’t,” he said in a firm deep voice,. He pointed to the ground. “Now get down.”

“Here goes!” she shouted, and gave her trousers a yank.


A stiff stream of seltzer water hit him square in the open mouth like some carnival shooting gallery target. He stood motionless with his hand still pointing downward as she emptied her hidden bottle onto his face. When it was done, he still stood there, dripping pathetically.

A brief hush seized the group as they held their collective breaths.

“Oh my,” Jynx said, pulling up her pants and holding a couple of fingers to her lips, “Does anyone have a cigarette? That felt wonderful!”

Someone sniggered and they exploded into a mass of hilarity.

Mathis dropped his hands to his sides, not even bothering to wipe down his face.

“Okay everyone, time for a break,” Jynx said clapping her hands together. She was nowhere near as tipsy as she had been pretending to be. “Go enjoy the pool or each other or something.”

She was sent off with an enthusiastic applause as a couple of guys helped her down from the table.

She walked over to Mathis and said, “You’re a wonderful foil, you know that?” She poked him in the arm with a honk of her horn.

“So you’ve said.”

Giggling, she then offered him a towel.

Mathis eyed it for a second.

“It’s safe,” she assured him, grinning. She removed her round red nose. “See? Clown mode off. It’s me, Sammy.”

He nodded slowly and finally accepted it. “Yep. Okay,” he droned as he wiped down his face, “I deserved it because I fell for it.”

“That’s what makes you so cute,” she jested.

Mathis handed her back the towel and then pulled off his shirt. He saw her looking at him, her brow arching. “Hey, it’s a pool party, okay?”

“I’m not complaining,” she replied. “Do you want to grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

Mathis agreed and the two of them grabbed couple of slices of pizza and some pop from the buffet table then found some seats in a corner of the garden.

“Finally caught up with you again and you pull another stunt like that on me,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“Don’t blame me,” she mused, as she took a big bite. Through gritted teeth she added, “I’m just getting you back.”

He frowned. “Getting me back for what? It’s me who owes you a couple.”

Samantha swallowed then said, “You set me up to come here thinking that it was going to be a kid’s birthday party — a little GIRL’S birthday party. I’m sorry to say that Chris is most definitely a dude who needs a good shave.”

Mathis sat back in his chair and shook his head. “Hey, I had nothing to do with you being here,” he insisted, “I swear. I was just as surprised to see you showing your talents on that table.”

Still chewing, she eyed him and asked, “Really? It really wasn’t you? It’s just a coincidence that we ran into each other here?”

He crossed his heart, then circled his hand around his face. “This face is too pure to lie,” he said.

Samantha chuckled. She frowned and said, “So who could have done it?”

Mathis shrugged.

“Well,” she sighed as she finished off her slice, “As long as someone pays for it, I don’t mind. It’s been fun.”

“You really had them going. Those balloons are a riot,” he admitted.

“Told you I was good,” she said with a wink. She leaned towards him and added, “You know, you and I work well together. Ever thought of…”

“Ah, ah!” he said cutting her off, “Not going to be no clown. No respectable black male is ever going to be caught in some overgrown Cabbage Patch dress wearing a hooker wig and white face.”

“Did you not learning anything from my presentation about Green Eggs and Ham?” she teased, “It’s all about sexual liberation.”

“Can’t make me anymore sexual than I am, baby,” he joked, “Women would explode just being near me.”

“What about your transformation like Superman?”

“Hey, I am ALREADY the embodiment of Superman,” he boasted. “No big red-nose or freaky wig is going to enhance that.”

She laughed, “Ok. Ok. Besides, we don’t want to cover up that handsome face of yours, right?”

“See?” he said with a toothy grin, “Now you’re catching on!”

They chuckled. Pausing for a moment, Mathis thought he sensed Samantha taking a long, indulgent look towards him. He turned to her and she smiled.

“I’m still hungry,” she said as she gathered up her hair from behind and tied it into a ponytail.

He cocked his head, frowning. “Where do you pack that food and drink in that tight little body of yours?” he joked.

“It’s all in the hips,” she said as she stood and slapped her baggy trousers. She thumbed towards the food table back by the pool. “I’m going to get another couple of slices. You want some?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. He watched amusedly as she waddled towards the pool in her giant shoes like Charlie Chaplin only more sexy-cute. Somehow, she actually made that funny looking outfit work.

As she made her way carefully between the edge of the pool and a row of lounge chairs, a long dark leg wearing shiny, ruby high heels flicked out against her hip and shoved her into the pool. Samantha yelped as she hit the water. Janelle sat up in her chair and laughed.

“Hey!” Mathis yelled as he got up from his seat. “Hey!” he shouted again and he ran towards the pool.

Samantha floundered in the water, her baggy pants and floppy shoes weighing her down. She was just able to keep her head up. Before anyone could jump in or swim towards her, Mathis dove in. Quickly he was beside her, wrapping his arm under her chin. He pulled her to the side of the pool and hoisted her up onto the edge before pulling himself up.

“You okay?” he asked as he patted her back.

She coughed a little but nodded, her feet still dangling in the pool. Someone brought a towel and he wrapped it around her, rubbing her back.

“Clumsy little girl, ain’t she?” Janelle muttered.

Mathis eyed her. “That wasn’t cool, Janelle.”

“Oh for God’s sake, she tripped over her own big, stupid shoes,” Janelle groaned.

Mathis stood up and glared at her. “No…you kicked her into the pool.”

Janelle got up as well and leaned into his face. “I did not! If anything, she stepped on my foot!”

“Stepped on your foot, my ass,” he snapped, “I saw you kick her into the pool with your heels.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever! It was an accident.”


Janelle crossed her arms and stuck out her chin towards him. She hissed, “AC-CI-DENT!”

Mathis shook his head and said, “Yeah, you know what? If that was an accident, so is this.”

In one fluid motion, he grabbed her by the shoulders and tossed her into the pool. Some “Oohs” and some laughter ensued.

Ignoring Janelle’s swearing and protests as she splashed around in the water, Mathis pulled up Samantha and led her around the pool and towards the house, her water-drenched shoes flopping around like fish on a dock.

“She doesn’t like clowns?” Samantha asked.

“I think she’s envious of their hairdos or something.”

“Well, I have an idea of who might have arranged for me to be at this party,” she said as she stepped into the house.

Reluctantly, Mathis nodded in agreement and followed her in.

She continued, “I don’t suppose she’ll pay me later?”

Mathis smiled and shook his head. “Don’t count on it.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “Thought not.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks but you don’t have to. No worries. I think my work is done here, though,” she decided. She looked up at him and added, “Oh, thanks for the save, by the way.”

“Not a problem,” he said.

“You finally managed to get me wet, though.”

He looked at her shiver slightly, her trousers heavy with water and her top soaked. “You’ve got a change of clothes with you?”

She nodded. “In my bag. It’s parked in the den downstairs.”

After taking off her cumbersome shoes, they made their way through some people dancing in the living room and sitting on the stairs leading to the lower floor. They passed through a large, crowded rec room and down a hallway stopping in front of a door. Samantha took a peek inside to see if anyone was in the den.

She looked back up at Mathis and grinned. “Good,” she said, “No one having nooky.”

“I’ll wait out here while you get changed,” he said.

“Thanks,” she replied, but then her eyes widened and she said, “Oh, wait! Come inside for a sec. There’s something I want to show you.”

Mathis followed her in and shut the door. The spacious den was set up as something like a library with fine rosewood shelves, a large wing chair and ottoman in the corner, and a large, ornate, dark wooden executive desk as the centre-piece. The room was warmly lit with wall lamps and was well insulated doing a nice job of subduing the grinding, steady rhythms filling the rest of the house.

Mathis stood by the door as he watched Samantha rummage through the pockets of her luggage. After a moment, she rubbed her temple with her palm and grumbled, “Where is it?”

“Looking for this?” Mathis held up a small bauble, his hand-crafted little leather shoe.

Samantha’s eyes lit up. “Where did you find that?” she asked. She walked over and took it from his hand.

“I think you dropped it at my sister’s place,” he replied, “I found it on the floor.”

She held it like some small treasure and then offered it to him, “It’s yours, by the way.”

Mathis rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I think I know that!” he said, grinning, snatching it back from her, “You had it all this time? Weren’t you supposed to give this back to me after first year exams?”

She smiled sheepishly and blushed. “Yeah, sorry about that,” she admitted, “But I liked it so much.”

Mathis held it up and sighed, “So this is why we had such a lousy year on the field. Missing my little good luck charm.”

“Uh-huh,” Samantha said. Squinting slightly, she added, “And also because the team sucked.”

He rolled his lips inward trying to absorb the sting of her words and hold his tongue. Instead, when he finally managed a reply, he said, “So-o, did it bring you any luck at school?”

She rocked her head back and forth, looking upward. “Mmm…maybe. I just really liked it because it reminded me of you.”

Mathis shifted his eyes away from the piece of leather and looked at her. A very gentle, warm smile eased itself onto her red lips.

“And I held onto it all this time hoping I’d eventually find you again,” she said without any hint of sarcasm or jest, “So maybe it is lucky?”

“Could be,” he answered. His look, his voice, both softened as he slowly began to shut everything else out and focus on the pretty, attractive young woman standing alone in the room with him.

Samantha suddenly looked anxious. She turned her head aside and cleared her throat while pulling loose strands of her damp hair behind her ears. Chewing on her lower lip, she hesitantly returned her gaze upon Mathis. She slowly reached out and gently took hold of his finger at his side. “You know,” she spoke softly, “Me and Joachim…we broke up the summer of last year.”

“Yeah?” he replied like he was speaking in a dream except, this time, his hands did move forward and curved around her waist. He felt the subtlest tremble underneath her smooth, tender skin.

Her head tilted downward as she tentatively reached out and touched his bare stomach, tracing the lines along his defined abs with the gentlest touch of her finger tips.

Her subtle caress was electric fire coursing through him, sending a surge of blood through him. For Mathis, it was the little matchstick that ignited the blazing fire. With more than words he wanted to show her how much he wanted her.

He moved a hand under her chin, raising it up towards him with his fingers. His eyes locked onto her own dreamy gaze. She didn’t turn away, didn’t flinch, as he swiftly, smoothly, angled his mouth towards her parted lips and kissed her once — a gentle press, yet full and warm. Parting momentarily, they quickly locked their lips together once more in a bold, determined kiss. His full, passionate lips massaged hers, a swipe of his tongue moistening them. They held each other in an intimate embrace, his arms wrapping around her small, yet strong and tight frame, her around his torso.

She held him close, turning her head away from his kiss, pressing her face against his broad, strong chest and sighing. As Mathis inhaled the scent of her hair, she kissed his chest, nipping at his mocha skin, and slipping her tongue around his dark, brown nipple.

Mathis dragged his fingers through her damp, fine strands of hair. They moved further down along the soft flesh of her smooth back, angling them downward and pushing them under waistline of her baggy pants. His hand slid over a pair of round, firm mounds of tantalizing flesh, pulling at her panties till his palms pressed nothing but supple skin. His fingers managed an indulgent squeeze, eliciting a breathy moan from Samantha.

Her suspender straps fell off her shoulders. With a little help from Mathis, her loose pants easily dropped down to her ankles, bunching there until they were unceremoniously kicked away into a corner.

When their lips parted, Samantha looked at him with a mischievous smile. In a teasing whisper, she said, “I just knew you wanted to see what was under these pants.”

Mathis grinned. “You can put the nose back on if you want,” he said, moving back within a breath’s length, “Just keep the shoes off.”

He pulled her in close, melting their bodies together. Bold kisses now gave way to urgent ones. Lips folded over one another with illicit intent, and tongues pushed and twisted together demanding satisfaction. Their bodies almost shuddered from how desperate they were for each other. Mathis felt his blood pulsing into his crotch, quickly stiffening his length. Samantha felt him stirring too, a pronounced nudge against her upper belly.

She took a half-step back, curling her body away. Chewing on her lower lip, grinning, she pressed and cupped her palm up against his crotch. The response from beneath his shorts was immediate, like a creature being roused from slumber. He hardened against her touch.

Mathis’ head listed back as Samantha eagerly undid his fly. His shorts dropped to the floor revealing an enticing, shifting bulge straining against his boxer briefs. Hesitating for a second, Samantha rolled both lips into her mouth then pulled his underwear down, his imposing length of hardening muscle slipping out.

For a moment, he thought that she might make some comment about how good she was at manipulating lengths of balloon, but instead, the young woman said nothing and aggressively gathered him up in her soft hands. She looked up at him, still grinning, as she stroked him steadily, her grip firming around him as he became more swollen. Joining their mouths together as she continued her pleasing touch, Mathis hummed his approval.

“Is this good?” she cooed as they broke from their kisses.

Mathis nodded, “Baby, you have no idea.”

“Yeah? You think?” She smiled, pleased, but still maintaining that spirited, cocky look implying that she could definitely do better. She crouched down slowly, kissing his chest, his abs, his belly button, his hips.

“Uhh!” Mathis groaned the moment her soft lips enveloped him, sucking him in deep inside her mouth. By the time her tongue went to work and he was nudging the back of her throat repeatedly, he barely had enough senses remaining to reach back and lock the door to the den as he leaned up against it. Then his hands clasped themselves against her head and shoulder.

Samantha’s head bobbed back and forth with soft groans and gasps for air slipping from her throat. She swirled her tongue around his bulbous head, pressing it deftly into the tip, eliciting another guttural moan from him. Then she licked him down his length to his soft sack then back up again in a deliriously deliberate motion before inhaling him deep into her mouth once again. Her mouth was stretched wide, her lips slick and glossy from the glistening saliva she was coating along the length of his shaft. She felt the hand on her head gently guiding her, easing her into an increasingly fervid rhythm.

Both of his hands clutched at her head. A hard frown had set upon his face, his mouth cracked open as he tried to draw in steady breaths of air as he watched her from above. She was relentless. She had energy and drive. He always knew it, but now he was experiencing it first hand and it was incredible.

There was no way he was going to let this petite temptress show him up.

Though it practically pained him to do so, he pulled her off with a grunt. Samantha loosed a sharp gasp as her head leaned back and he slipped out of her mouth, saliva rolling down her chin onto her chest and the carpet. He hoisted her to her feet. As they kissed again, he wrapped his hands around her butt and lifted her from the floor as if she were filled with feathers. His muscular frame easily carried her slender, small frame, but her legs clasping around his waist was not an unwelcome action.

He held her aloft as he moved towards the desk. Her hands were at his face, holding it steady as she kissed him hungrily, sinking her tongue past his lips and slashing at his own. Gently he lowered her onto the desk. Without separating their mouths, they both swept the desktop clear of papers and pencils and other obtrusive objects. As she sat up on the edge, his hands moved upward from her hips, pushing at the bottom of her bra, lifting it over her round, creamy breasts. Her hazel, pert nipples drew him in quickly and he immediately sampled them with wanton licks and sucks. He massaged and pushed them together as his mouth hungrily indulged in their sweetness. Samantha’s head lolled back and she braced her palms behind her on the desk top.

His mouth always in constant contact with her flesh, he moved downwards. He flicked his tongue playfully at her belly and it flinched with teasing delight. As he knelt onto the carpet, he swept her legs over his broad shoulders, her heels pressing into his back. He dragged his pink tongue and soft lips against her milky, white inner thighs, earning more aching sighs from Samantha. Two fingers pressed at the crotch of her panties, circling with increasing tempo and pressure. He looked up at her. Her small red lips were parted, trembling as she licked them, trying desperately to keep them moist.

“Take it off, Mathis,” she gasped, “Rip it.”

He obliged and he easily snapped her panties with a sharp tug.

A small, angular tuft of curly auburn strands pointed the way and his tongue and lips surged forward. He slicked his tongue against her first then plunged it in deep, twisting and swirling its way past her soft petals and into her moist warmth.

“Ah-hn,” Samantha groaned. She nearly lost her balance as a wave ecstasy coursed though her petite body. But her abs tightened, sharpening her breaths, and she clutched the back of his head and neck keeping herself upright as she endured his oral skills with unbridled pleasure.

Mathis’ full lips plucked and pinched at her bud, spurred on by her heels digging against his back. His long fingers joined the heated fray and sank into her, emerging with a glistening coat of her pungent fluids. His tongue lashed at her and he could think of no better taste in the world.

Shaking, shuddering, Samantha groaned aloud and finally collapsed back onto the desktop, her nude body arching and writhing with pleasure upon it as she blinked and cried out towards the ceiling. Her damp back rubbed against the smooth, cool, dark wood of the desk, streaking it.

Mathis arose, then. His hand under her left thigh, he held her leg aloft. His other hand deliberately stroked his length, hardened to its full imposing size and potency. Samantha raised herself to her elbows to watch him, first gazing at his rigid shaft, then up towards his face. His brow felt heavy over his eyes as he locked them on hers. Her face was flushed, strands of her hair falling across it seductively. Despite her deceptively diminutive size, there was a determined look, a playfully challenging look. Mathis knew that look. He loved that look on Samantha.

He nudged her opening with provocative rubs of his solid tip. His hips swayed and the first inch of his head moved into her. Samantha gasped once then bit her lower lip. She raised her head more and looked downward watching him hold himself there. Her eyes couldn’t move fast enough between his face and towards their crotches.

Mathis took hold of her other leg, positioning his feet on the floor in a stable stance. Firming his jaw, he surged his thick dark cock into her with a steady, yet powerful and passionate, thrust.

“Uhhn!” Samantha moaned, her mouth stretching open wide. Heaving swift gasps of air, she watched as he moved his length into her.

Mathis could feel his own internal temperature spike as he sank deep into her. Tantalizingly tight yet forgiving, her damp warmth and softness engulfed him and he could no longer hold his own breath once he fully inside. He felt her inner muscles pulse against his shaft and he groaned, “Unn!”

Within moments, his well-toned body had every muscle working with an urgent precision. Rhythmic, almost graceful, motions of his hips moved his shaft with long, heated strokes. Her slender legs were pushed wide by his solid torso and he had an unimpeded path to her tenderness which he exploited with ferocious desire.

(Author’s note: You may have noticed the title change. This is to accommodate Literotica’s word limit. Be happy folks, it just means I’m adding chapters now!)

My name is Todd Thomas, and I see dead people. And no, in all my years, I’ve never seen one that looked like Bruce Willis. None of them has ever asked for help “moving on”, or telling me what it’s like “on the other side”, or any of that crap. In fact, I’ve never even heard any of them make a sound, ever.

“Well poop” you say, “there goes all my hopes of finding an afterlife.”

Yeesh, who let that guy in? Now I just feel sad.


Yeah, so ghosts float around a lot, and fuck people’s brains.

“Say what? Just what have I stumbled onto?” you cry out in horror.

Goddamn it, really? Where’d all these people come from? Go read my first story first! Who even starts reading something in the middle?

Okay, I think that’s all the exposition I can stomach in one sitting.

Now, this next story happens about two weeks after my first one. Nothing special happened in those two weeks. I mean, aside from having sex with my boss at every opportunity I could. Holy hell, that woman is amazing.

“That’s it, Todd?” you say, your arms crossed, with a pouty look on your face, “Is that all you have to say about her? She’s a strong, smart, independent woman, and all you can say is “amazing”?”

Jeez, relax! I didn’t want to go into details, okay? I work in an office, in a cubicle. Nothing interesting ever happens there.

I will say this though. After that first time, Emma got a lot nicer to me, and everyone else, for that matter. She ever smiled once. It looked like it hurt her face to do it. Maybe if she practiced more often….

So yeah, this next bit happens in my house (read: apartment). I started working late regularly, since it gave me an opportunity to spend quality time with Emma on a regular basis. This particular night though, I got back earlier, and hadn’t had time to be with Emma.

You guys don’t realize how easy you have it. I had to take the subway home, horny as hell, while all around me, ghosts were fucking people. Normally, you only get one or two per subway car, and they usually go for people wearing headphones, or reading a book. Tonight, they seemed to have it out for me.

Not only were there at least five of them, but they all seemed fixated on people sitting either right next to me, or directly across from me. Do you know how awkward it is to have to hide an erection while the woman across from me is staring blankly at you while an ephemeral dick is sliding around her noodle?

“Wow, Todd, you’re such a sympathetic hero!” you gush, “I can really understand your pain, and suffering!”

Nobody likes a smartass, dear reader.

I’m just trying to set the tone here.


Nah, I think that’s enough tone setting. The tone has been set. Were I to think of a word describing the tone, I would use “set”. Heh.

Oh, gosh, I crack myself up.

Okay, let’s jump into the story.


I woke up in total blackness. I raised a hand to my face, to rub my eyes. I couldn’t even see it. I tried to think back to what had woken me, when I heard a loud crash, and the sound of breaking glass. I looked around, but I still couldn’t see anything

I flopped out of bed, trying to untangle the sheets from my legs. I fumbled around until I found the chain to the lamp next to my bed. Without a second thought, I yanked it, turning it on.

Ohgodohgodohgod. A brilliant pure white light filled the room, burning my retinas as testament to my stupidity. I fell on my ass, with my hands clapped over my eyes. With one hand, I blindly groped around until I found the stupid lamp and turned it back off. Gently easing my hands off my poor eyes, I looked around. Still darkness, but it was now accompanied by floating white spots that lingered in the center of my vision.

I remembered why I woke up in the first place. I got to my feet, and stood up. I walked towards the main room, and smacked my face right into the closed door. I staggered back a few steps, clutching my nose. I blinked away tears, and forced myself to stand still. I stood there until I felt awake enough to go into the other room. With a quick nod, I opened the door.

You’d think for a guy who regularly sees ghosts floating around, there wouldn’t be much that could surprise me. But what I saw in my living room made me pause for thought.

My living room window was open, letting a stiff breeze in. On the ground next to my window, were three things: A broken glass bottle, a girl wearing all black, and a ghost that was currently fucking her brains out.

She was dressed in black sweatpants, a black sweater, and a black ski cap. Long blonde hair hung down past the ski cap, and pooled around her face. Her face was cute, round, with freckles on her cheeks, and large blue eyes that stared blankly ahead while she drooled into the carpet. She looked like she was a sophomore in college.

The ghost holding her head in a death grip while it pistoned in and out of her, was a personal favorite of mine. She had long black hair and large heavy breasts, but what really got me was the look of fierce pleasure she got every time she fucked someone. I guessed in real life, she was a sadist. I had nicknamed her Penny.

I walked over to this bizarre tableau to get a closer look. From what I could tell, our would-be-thief had jimmied the window open, and slid her way in, but knocked over the bottle holding Penny while she did. Catwoman, she ain’t.

Right now, Catwoman was on her knees, with her head on the floor, with her arms lying limply on the floor, with her ass sticking high up in the air. I took pity on the girl, and hoisted her to a standing position. I held her by her shoulders, and led her over to the couch.

After sitting her down on the couch, I decided to get some answers. I waved my hand around Penny’s ephemeral form, dispersing it enough to break her away from Catwoman’s head. I managed to get her trapped in my cupped hands, but I knew it would only hold her temporarily.

I sat down in the cushiony chair next to the couch, and waited for the girl to snap out of it. Since Penny didn’t get to finish, I didn’t have long to wait. She blinked a few times, still staring ahead, until she shook her head, and looked around.

“What happened?” she asked, with a confused look on her face, “the last thing I remember was…” I let her finish her train of thought.

“Just take it easy, okay? You had a nasty fall.” I said, in a tone I hoped was calming. “Can you tell me your name?” I couldn’t just keep calling her “Catwoman” after all. (Okay, yes I totally could, but telling the police Catwoman robbed you probably wasn’t a good move).

“Yeah, it’s Kari. I was-”her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. She abruptly stood up, and started running towards the door. I got up too, and started towards her.

“Hey Kari, stop!” I tried to grab her, while keeping my hands clasped together to hold Penny in. Kari turned around and, I kid you not, let loose a spinning kick that would’ve made Jet Li proud. My whole world turned upside down and sideways and backwards as I crashed onto the carpet. My legs turned to jelly, and I let loose some kind of garbled noise, halfway between a squeak and a groan.

I groggily looked up from the carpet to see Kari standing listlessly yet again. When I had expertly blocked her kick with my face, Penny had slipped out of my hands, and resumed fucking Kari. Poor Kari was slumped against a wall, knees barely supporting her weight.

As I occupied myself with the task of sorting out what was my face, and what was floor, I pulled myself up. I stumbled my way over towards Kari, and held her shoulders.

“Okay, that was uncalled for. Just for that, I’m going to make you my bitch for the night”. I sat her down on the couch again. I worked the zipper on her sweater, revealing a black tee-shirt with a low-cut neckline. Her skin was pale and soft, tantalizingly leading down under her shirt. I pulled off her shirt with some manipulation of her arms. I was greeted by small, perky breasts, clad in a plain black bra.

“You really like color-coding for the occasion, don’t you?” I said, as I gently kissed each breasts. I fumbled with the bra clasp, opening it with a snap. Firm rounded breasts greeted me happily. A few freckles stood proudly at the top of her breasts, leading up to her shoulders.

I played with her nipples, enjoying the firm feel of them. I slipped the ski cap off her head, and let her blonde hair tumble down past her shoulders. I stared into those blank blue eyes briefly. She looked totally out of it. A quick glance up told me Penny was having the time of her life. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy as she pumped in and out of Kari’s head. She looked like she could go all night.

I grabbed the waistline of her sweatpants, and pulled them down, revealing smooth, pale legs, and cotton panties. Unsurprisingly, they were black. I pulled those down to her knees, and lifted her legs up.

A neatly trimmed vagina revealed itself to me. I leaned down, and slid a couple of fingers in. Unsurprisingly, she was already wet. Prolonged ghost fuckings tend to do that. I teased her clit for a few minutes, just to be sure.

I let go of her legs for a moment, and quickly pulled down the boxers I had been sleeping in. My dick was already rock hard, thanks to me being blue-balled today. I put her legs over my shoulders, and slid the tip of my cock inside her.

I grunted in surprise. She was tight. Like, oyster tight. It took effort to push in more than a few inches. I guessed she was either a virgin who lost her hymen, or had only had sex once or twice in her life. With some work, I built up a rhythm inside her. The room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

I felt the pressure building inside me, and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer like this. I thrust in a few more times, and pulled out slowly. I slowly stroked my cock, while thinking to myself. My jaw still hurt from her ninja kick, and I wanted payback for that. My eyes glinted devilishly as an idea popped into my head.

I grabbed her arms and legs, and flipped her over, so her stomach was on the couch, and her rear hung off the edge of the cushions. With some work, I propped her legs underneath her, so her butt was high in the air. I stuck a few fingers in her wet vagina, to lubricate them. Then, slowly as I could, I slid my sticky fingers into her ass.

There was a ton of resistance as I forced my finger in. Her ass muscles clenched involuntarily, squeezing my finger tightly. I persisted, slipping another finger in. I kept this up, until I felt she was ready. With a gentle exhalation, I slid my dick into her ass.

I’d never had anal sex before, so I had no idea what to expect. For future reference, “the tightest hole you can imagine, squeezing from all directions” would be accurate. I let out a strangled moan as I was met with incredible resistance. Even lubricated as it was, my dick was not being greeted kindly.

I gripped her hips for leverage, and started pumping deeper. Her ass jiggled as my stomach hit it, bouncing her whole body forward with each push. The sensations were overwhelming, and I once again felt the pressure building. I didn’t slow this time, instead thrusting in as hard and as deep as I could. When I could take no more, I shoved my cock in as deep as I could, and came so hard my ears popped. My tortured balls released their load deep into her ass, sending currents of pleasure running through me.

With a pitiful little gasp, I slumped down against the cushions. I gently pulled my softening dick out of her poor ass. I plopped down on the couch, looking upwards to see how Penny was doing. She had opted for long, slow thrusts, her hair drifting weightlessly around her with every movement. Her back was hunched, her breasts hanging low enough to tickle the top of Kari’s scalp.

After taking a moment to regain muscle control, I gathered up our clothes, and put them on their respective body parts. I made sure to use a few Kleenex on Kari’s ass, for what it was worth. By the time I had tidied up, Penny had increased the speed and pacing of her pumping, the tip of her dick poking out of Kari’s forehead with each thrust. Not much later, she came too, spewing ghost semen inside Kari’s skull.

I grabbed an empty bottle, and coaxed a tired looking Penny into it. I sat back down as Kari started to wake up. She looked around again, a confused frown plastered to her face.

“How did I…” she trailed off, trying to recall how she got here. Once again, she jumped up, and made for the door. Like the idiot that I am, I got up to stop her, again. I grabbed her arm with one hand. She whirled around and drove her knee straight into my balls.

As I lay on the floor, clutching my groin, contemplating my existence in the universe and certainly not whimpering like a dog, I heard the door open then slam shut, as rubber-soled sneakers beat a quick staccato on the floor outside.

I dragged myself over to my easy-chair, and hauled myself up into it. I leaned back, and let out a sigh. Once I felt confident enough to stand without the aid of crutches, I tiredly made my way back to my bed. Flopping down on the soft mattress, I curled up against my pillow, and was asleep in minutes.


Whew! Pretty crazy, right? If you think that was fun, you should’ve been there in the morning, when I counted the number of bruises I had! Buckets of fun all around.

And before you ask, beloved reader, I’ll answer your most pressing question first. Yes, “Penny” is short for “Penelope”. There, I’m sure that will satisfy all your curiosities for quite a while!

Don’t worry dear reader; we’ll get back to Emma eventually! What am I, a Tarantino movie? Chronological order is for wimps!

Thanks again for all your feedback! It gives me a warm tingly feeling inside! Okay now, Ciao!