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SNDCSL04 video cassette labeled `Miki My guts

THE USUAL WARNINGS:

This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind. If you

are offended by graphic descriptions of natural and/or

unnatural sexual acts, if you are underage, or if this

type of material is illegal where you are, don't read

any further.

This is a fantasy. You will have to loosen your clench

on reality a little when you read it. This is a tale in

which physical acts and human responses are not limited

to, nor necessarily based in, reality. Some acts and

responses in this story may be physically impossible

and/or physiologically improbable.

Also, as is the case with most of the stories in this

newsgroup, all the women in this story are beautiful -

gorgeous, even. Gravity has not caused breasts to

droop nor have wrinkles creased unblemished faces. The

men (the leading men, at least) are hung like bulls.

They can get it up and keep it up often and at will.

In this special little fantasyland, there are no STDs,

morals, or unwanted pregnancies. Guilt is a four-

letter word. Most important of all, neither strength

of character, courage of convictions, nor moral belief

stand a chance against any erotic stimulus. This can

be as benign as an accidental glimpse of a bared ankle

or as stimulating as a whipping on the genitals.

For those of you who didn't understand the preceding

statements, GO AWAY!

This story is intended for the salacious entertainment

of consenting adults. Do not try to do any of the

things described in this story. You could injure

yourself or your partner, be arrested, or shot by her

father....

If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY! This story
will burn your eyeballs and fry your brain.

If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited

where you are, GO AWAY!

By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility

for any disgust, revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure

that results from reading this story. If you don't, GO

AWAY!

You have been warned!

If you enjoy this story and feel the urge to post it on

a <free> site, at least give me (NightShade) credit for

it.

So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy

the story!....:)

NightShade











Sandcastles

by NightShade

Chapter 31

During this time we had been ignoring the symphony

concerts for the most part. There had been other

concerts since that first one, but none by composers

either of us wanted to hear. The second major concert

of interest in the symphony season was at the mid-

point. This one had some pieces by one of my favorite

composers and I announced that we would be going. I

gave them two weeks notice.

Again, as before, the packages from The Guild began

arriving in sealed boxes shortly after my announcement.

Whether they wanted to go hear the concert or not, they

wanted to go just to see what was in the golden boxes.

The day of the concert started early. This time the

two women knew what to expect and they fully enjoyed

the pampering and primping that was done to them. By

the time the last technician was done, they were about

as on edge as I had seen them.

I smiled at Sally standing there in her short silk

robe. I handed her a set of headphones and a new CD

along with a steaming cup of her favorite tea.

Gleefully she curled up in the over-stuffed chair in my

office and went off into her own world. I could tell

she was curious about what I was going to do to Janey,

but she knew I treated the two of them differently.

I led Janey into her room. She was so excited I

thought she would burst. When I selected the first box

and handed it to her, she even squealed. Opening the

box she saw a jeweled collar similar to the one her mom
had worn to the first concert. She looked up at me,

eyes sparkling.

"I know you're curious about the other boxes, Janey,

but I thought you should know that the Collar Rules

will apply tonight. If you don't want to wear your

collar, that's perfectly OK. I want you to know that.

Half of these boxes are just in case you don't want to

wear it tonight."

"Do I still get to keep all the presents?" Typical

female.

"Yes," I grinned.

"Wow! Dad, it's beautiful!"

"So are you, Janey. I noticed you haven't been wearing

the collar every chance you get, and I just wanted to

make sure it's OK with you now."

"I was kind of looking forward to it, Sensei. These

nights are always so special, and," she grinned

impishly, "I don't just mean the presents. I was

hoping you'd think of it, too." With that, she slipped

to her knees and offered me the gift of her collar.

She must have been practicing with her mother, because

the gracefulness of her offering was exactly the same.

I fastened the collar and helped her stand.

I slipped off the silk robe she had on and stood back,

admiring her naked body. She was much more comfortable

with her nudity now, and reveled in my admiration of

her beauty. I went over and selected a second box, the

largest of the ones she would get tonight. She opened

it and gasped.

She pulled out an exquisite corset of deceptively

sturdy manufacture. It felt light as a feather, but I

had been reassured by the designers that the material

was strong and that there was no give in it.

Janey stepped into the garment and pulled it up. "Oh,

God!"

I grinned. I knew what she was thinking. It didn't

cover a thing. The top of the corset rested snuggly

under her youthful tits. The bottom barely touched the

top of her trimmed pubic patch.

I had her lean over, her arms braced on her vanity

table, while I cinched down her waist. As this was her

first corset, it wasn't as restrictive as the ones she

would be able to get into later, when her body had

adapted. I pulled the drawstrings as tight as they

would go, tied them off and then zipped up the heavy-

duty zipper. The zipper gave the garment a finished,

smooth look from the rear.

"Am I supposed to be able to breathe in this thing?"

she said, turning to me.

"Dunno," I grinned at her. "But who cares, really.

Look in the mirror and see what it does for your tits.

God, Cricket, you're beautiful!"

She turned, and saw what I meant. The gleam in her

eyes told me she liked what she saw, too. She ran her

hands up over her cinched waist and ended with them

cupping her breasts. Her eyes closed and she shuddered

as a minor tremor swept through her.

I pointed to the remaining boxes, kissed her lightly -

copping a feel or two as I did - and left to get her

mother ready.

I walked in a bit ahead of schedule. I took the

opportunity to drink in the beauty of my love. I

hadn't had much time lately to observe her unobserved.

Her eyes were closed as she listened to the music. Her

empty teacup was cradled in her hands. She looked very

happy.

She cracked one eye open when the CD was done. "That

was nice. Thank you, Master. I hope you didn't wait

long."

I grinned like a schoolboy at her sitting there. I

almost hated to ruin that picture, but there was more

to do tonight. I offered her my hand and she took it,

smiling back at me.

I led her to our room. I took her jeweled collar from

her jewelry box and handed it to her. Immediately she

knelt down and offered me her collar, which I locked

around her neck. I took her hand and helped her stand.

I left her standing there and went in to get Janey.

She was just finishing inserting all the Rosen's

gadgets. It still embarrassed her to have someone

watch her put them in, so I usually let her do it

herself. She looked flushed, the corset adding extra

pressure and making it harder for her to bend.

I took the last remaining items, a pair of high-heeled

boots made of the softest leather, and slipped them

onto her feet. I probably touched her more than was

necessary zipping them up, but she didn't protest.

From her moans and sighs, I would say just the

opposite. She just grinned at me when she saw how tall

the heels were. By now she knew of my penchant for my

ladies to wear very high heels, so these were not a

surprise to her. I helped her walk back to where Sally

was waiting.

"Oh, my!" was all Sally said when Janey appeared.

Sally looked around for her boxes and realized there

was only one on the bed. I picked it up and handed it

to her with a grand flourish. She tried not to look

hurt, but she didn't quite succeed. That all changed

when she opened it. She reached in and pulled out a

white leather riding crop. It was stiffer than any we

had in our collection.

I pulled a silk cord out of my pocket. I turned her

around and bound her wrists behind her back. I placed

the crop in her hands.

"Don't lose that, my Love, or there will be Hell to

pay."

While she was standing I had her stand with her legs

about shoulder width apart. I personally inserted the

Rosen's little devices in her. Sally didn't like them

as much as Janey, she said they took too much control

from her. They made her feel too good and they

frightened her. She was trembling when I finished

securing the earring posts through her pierced ears. I

sat her down and slipped a pair of hose on her legs,

then a pair of extremely high heels. She was flushed

and radiant.

I took another cord from my pocket and motioned for

Janey to turn around. I tied her wrists together as

well, and led both of them to the front door. There I

placed the green cape around Sally's nude form and

snapped the closures down the front. I pulled out

another blue cape for Janey and slipped it around her

shoulders.

The limo was waiting, so we exited the house and drove

to the concert hall. I made sure we had the same

excellent driver. Since Janey was not my `date' this

evening, both my slaves had `equal' status. I quickly

realized that both were very greedy when it came to

having possession of my cock in their mouth. It became

a near ugly contest very quickly, with Janey holding

her own.

I pulled Sally to me and kissed her deeply. As I

expected, Janey swooped down and took possession of my

swollen prick. "Let the youth do the work, dearest," I

whispered to her alone. Sally giggled as I slipped my

hand inside her cape and took possession of one of her

fine breasts. We made out like teenagers for the rest

of the trip.

The driver gave us the two-minute warning by flicking

the dome lights as she approached the concert hall. As

mine were the only hands free, I closed up my fly.

Janey actually groaned as it disappeared.

I helped both women out of the car, much to Sally's

surprise. She started to walk behind me, as she had at

the first concert, but I would have none of that. I

took both of them by their cape-covered elbows and

guided them up the steps and to our box seats.

The arrangements were similar to last time, but there

was only one chair flanked on both sides by padded

prayer benches for the girls to kneel upon.

As I settled them onto their knees I held the remote

controls that ran their devices where they could see

them. As I pushed each button, I showed them. By the

second button they knew what to expect and their eyes

got wider as I methodically turned on each device they

were wearing to a moderate level.

Sally was sweating immediately and, after seeking my

permission with a questioning look, gasped through the

first of her many climaxes that night. I knew they

didn't really appreciate my favorite music, but maybe

in time they would learn to have whole new appreciation

for it. It would certainly be fun to try.

As the orchestra finished its tuning and warm ups, I

leaned back and prepared to enjoy the music. I nudged

the remotes up as the first bombastic notes filled the

concert hall. I don't think either Janey or Sally

heard a single note. I nudged the remotes up another

notch as each selection began. Sally groaned with a

mixture of terror and pleasure as each piece ended.

Janey just knelt there, a glazed look of bliss on her

face. I could sense she was riding wave after wave of

pleasure. She wasn't fighting it like her mom was and

her enjoyment was palpable.

Intermission came and I turned their units off. They

needed a break. Janey wasn't pleased with the absence

of the stimulation, but grinned at me after her little

pout. I helped her to her feet, then turned to help

Sally stand. Janey wandered towards the front of the

box and was looking down over the audience. I was

embracing Sally, feeling her fabulous ass beneath her

cape.

Suddenly, it was like a flash of lightning stuck both

Sally and I. We looked at each other, then turned to

Janey. She was ashen and swaying like she was going to

fall. Her eyes were fixed on a point down below us.

I sat Sally down on her bench, then went calmly over to

Janey. I helped her back from the edge of the box and

sat her in my chair, away from the prying eyes below.

There was no need to look at what had frightened her.

I knew without looking. Sally knew. I looked just to

be sure. I was right.

Gary was back in town.

Chapter 32

When Janey was seated, I went back to the edge of the

box. I motioned for Sally to come up behind me, to use

my body as shield from being seen by anyone below us

who happened to look up. She understood and stood just

off my shoulder.

Gary was not hard to pick out. He, too, had two

beautiful women with him. They were as dark and tan as

Sally and Janey were blonde and fair. Upon closer

inspection, one was much younger than the other.

Another mother-daughter pair, I bet myself.

"I-I-I know her," came the quiet voice from behind me.

Janey had come up and stood, like her mother, behind

me, using my body as a shield. "She's new to my

school, a year younger. She has an accent."

I watched him. He was cocky, confident, and sure of

himself. He obviously dominated the older female and

enjoyed terrorizing her by fondling the younger woman

in public. His hands roamed the young girl's body

freely and nearly obscenely, causing more than one

matronly gasp from the staid bystanders. The mother
stood meekly, eyes pleading. Strangely, the daughter
was passive, not reacting at all, as if she were a

mannequin.

I don't know what it was or if we all came to the same

conclusion at once, but one moment I was standing there

despising that man and the next I was on the telephone.

I set in motion an information machine I hadn't often

used since I left the government's service. It would

take a few hours, but by then I would know all there

was to know about the man named `Gary'.

We left at the beginning of the second set. I called

the driver as we left the box. The car was waiting as

we exited the building, the driver holding open the

rear door. The drive home was silent and uneventful,

each of us lost in our own thoughts. Janey revived

sooner than Sally and I soon felt her steamy mouth

capture the head of my cock as she knelt down at my

feet. I caressed her smooth cheek as she lay her head

on my lap.

Her playfulness remained as we returned home. I'm not

sure if that was because she remembered my promise from

the last time or if she just figured that if both Sally

and myself were worried about Gary, she didn't need to

be. With both of us on the case, it was bound to turn

out right, right? Ah, the innocent trust of the na‹ve.

Inside the door, I relieved both of them of their

capes, exposing their beautiful bodies to my gaze. I

took the crop from Sally's hands and playfully swatted

her naked charms, teasing her with light to moderate

snaps on her very sensitive areas. She started to move

around the room and I followed her, finally finessing

her down the hallway and into our bedroom. There I

delivered a couple of harder swats to her ass, raising

her temperature several degrees. I laid the crop on

the makeup bench and turned her to me. Her eyes were

snapping, all thoughts of that ugly man pushed to the

side.

I made her kneel in front of that bench and face the

crop. Her hands were still tied behind her. "Stay

here, please," I asked/ordered her. Then I left the

room

Janey was waiting impatiently, shifting from one booted

foot to the other. She was not facing the door I came

through so I was able to watch for several minutes

before she turned and saw me looking at her. Unlike

her mother, Janey blushed a deep, deep shade of red as

she realized I had just been standing there looking at

her nakedness. It made her seem all that more innocent

and alluring.

I took her elbow and led her to her own room. She got

suddenly shy and lagged a bit behind. I stopped

leading her and quietly took her and held her in my

arms.

"Afraid?"

She shook her head.

"What, then?"

"I don't know. I, I just don't know if I'm ready for

this."

"Ready for what?" I teased.

"You know, for- for- it."

"Oh."

She was silent for a while, then with all the

enthusiasm of a kid who hadn't studied for an exam she

was about to take, led me into her room. She lay down

on her bed and awkwardly spread her legs. God, she was

beautiful!

"Now what?" I asked her.

"Huh?"

"Now what?" I repeated.

"Aren't you going to, you know, do me now?"

"No."

She looked stunned, then slowly closed her legs in

embarrassment. "No?"

"No."

"But you promised. You said..."

"I said that next time it was your turn." I sat down

on the bed next to her.

"Right. I thought..."

"Cricket? Who's in charge here?"

Her slave name brought her up short. "Oh. Right. You

are, Sensei."

She lay in shivering disappointment as I removed the

various gadgets from her. Tears began flowing silently

as I unzipped and removed her soft leather boots. It

wasn't until I had her second wrist secured to her

headboard by the straps I had installed earlier that

she realized that something was going to happen. She

almost choked on her sob of relief.

I waited until she was breathing normally then patted

her on her legs, indicating for her to spread them

again. This was a touchy time. The last time someone

had been between them had been traumatic for her. I

wondered if she would do it.

It took her a little time, but she did, smiling bravely

up at me, offering me open access to her most private

areas. I moved between her spread legs and knelt

between them. I caressed the smooth skin of her thighs

gently. I could feel her fear and I almost pulled

back. I don't know why I kept on, but I did. I guess

I didn't want to waste her courage, to mock it.

"Now it's your turn, Cricket," I said softly as I bowed

my head and kissed that softest of skin on the inside

of her thighs. Nothing more was said as I proceeded to

bring her to heretofore unknown heights of ecstasy

using only my tongue. She was screaming and thrashing

her blonde tresses as she came over and over.

I started to remove her corset when she was sated, but

she shook her head `no', pleading with her eyes. I

silently nodded my assent, then inserted into her cunt
and asshole the larger sized appliances that had been

custom made for her by the Rosen's. The diabolical

ones. The ones that plugged into the wall and didn't

wear down.

I tied her ankles to the footboard and left her

corseted and spread-eagled for the night. She wouldn't

get much sleep. I had programmed those big vibrators

for `simmer.' They would monitor her biofeedback and

keep her at a fever pitch until they were turned off.

About once an hour they would let her go over the edge,

then they would keep her at that higher level until the

next push to the next level. By morning she should be

nearly crazy. Of course, she could get loose with a

stiff pull, but she wouldn't do it. I turned my

attention to my next task, my love.

Sally was weeping silently as I came in the room. I

knew she was as unsure as I was of what she had asked

me to do with Janey. I opened my fly and pushed my

dick under her nose.

"Taste."

She did, hesitantly. She wasn't sure if I was rubbing

it in or what. She jerked her head up in amazement as

she realized she didn't taste cunt juice.

I leaned down to kiss her. "Taste," I said, smiling

gently.

She kissed me gently, then, with the tip of her tongue,

tasted her daughter's juices on my face.

"Forgive me, Master, for doubting you."

"You're forgiven. But I'm still going to use the crop

on you tonight," I said with a wicked grin on my face.

Sally gasped at that reminder. I thought she got a

little paler, too. As much as she sought the pain and

submission, she still feared my inexperience. I hoped

tonight would help her get over that fear.

I helped her kneel in front of the bench with it

touching her ass. I then bent her backwards over the

bench as she had been that first night. This time,

however, I tied her wrists to her ankles under the

bench. Her tits were prominently offered to my whims,

as was her defenseless twat.

I started lightly, teasing the tips of her tits,

flicking it with the end of the white crop, caressing

them, almost. I laid a couple of light strokes quickly

across her taut belly, warming the flesh there. Then I

worked her shoulders to a ruddy glow, avoiding the

super sensitive neck areas. Still, the numerous blows

tantalizingly close to her face and neck made her

shudder. Slowly, as I worked the tensions and pain and

pleasure in her higher and higher, she realized I had

not misplaced one single blow with the dangerous

weapon. I felt her fears relax as she gave herself up

to the pain and pleasure.

I led her down the path she desired, wringing cry after

heart wrenching cry from her. Still she wanted more

and harder from me. Her tits were blazing red, a mass

of mottled color, but without a single welt or drop of

blood. When she was maxed out and could go no higher,

I stepped in front of her and with a vicious but

calculated blow, I brought the crop up between her

thighs to land on her swollen and throbbing cunt lips.

I thought she was going to break her back. I had been

chasing and stirring the lights of her aura, teasing

her and arousing her with the pain she sought. But

this was like a super nova. I had never seen so bright

a light from either her or Janey's auras. I played the

crop off the sides of her inner thighs, as close to her

crotch as I could get. I teased her with the pain,

then I would deluge her with it. She slipped into a

state of mind I don't think she knew existed. She was

far beyond the singing stage that Bala talked about.

If I could not have seen her aura to help her, to watch

her, I would have been terrified for her. As it was, I

was able to sense her needs and guide her as she

existed on that sensual plateau. Later, I lay beside

her in bed as she dreamed, or whatever she did. She

was so relaxed, yet so energized. I drifted off to

sleep, Sally cradled in my arms.

I woke later to find her watching me with quiet eyes.

There was no fear anymore, only love. I was her

Master. I tossed and turned for the rest of the night,

troubled by dark thoughts. I felt Sally's cool touch

trying to sooth me.

I must have drifted off sometime during that short

night, as I woke up alone, the first time in a long

time. I remembered why I didn't like it. I also

missed my morning blowjob by Janey, too, but then I

remembered I had left her tied to her bed. Guess I

couldn't blame her for not getting up, huh? Still, I

wondered where Sally was.

I shaved and showered, again alone, so I finished in a

lot less time. I missed shaving Sally. She was so

appreciative of my attentions afterwards. I don't know

which of us enjoyed doing that more.

I dressed and wandered into the kitchen. I was

surprised to see Janey up and about, dressed and perky.

After the night she must have had, I was amazed she

could walk, but I guess they are right when they say

that `youth is wasted on the young.' She saw me come

into the kitchen and her smile lit up the room. I

caught her flying body in my arms as she threw herself

at me.

"Ooooooh, thank you, Daddy!"

"I take it you had a good time?"

"Oh, God! I didn't know it could be so good! I mean,

I've felt a little bit of it when you and Mom, uh, do

stuff, but - Wow! Oh, yeah, speaking of Mom, what in

the Hell did you do to her last night?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's like I was feeling great, you know, and

then WHAMO, this tidal wave comes over the link, but it

doesn't stop. It just kept coming and coming." She

giggled at her pun. "But it didn't surge like usual,

it just flowed, but not a lot. It's hard to describe."

I kissed her on the nose and gave her my Cheshire cat
grin.

"Oh, not going to tell me, huh?" she teased back.

Then, seriously, "That's OK, Dad. She is incredibly

happy. I enjoyed what we did, too," she blushed, "not

just the licking part - but that was great! - but I

liked wearing the corset and being tied up, too. It

was a weird feeling, good, though. I didn't think I

would like it, but I kind of, well, like, felt secure

in it. I mean, I was as good as naked, but it felt

good, not naughty."

"Well, you certainly looked naughty. Lusciously,

deliciously naughty," I joked.

She giggled, then got serious again. It looked like

that was the way the morning was going. "I don't think

I'm ready for what you did to Mom," she said quietly.

"You don't know what I did, though, do you?"

"No, that's not what I mean. I meant I'm not sure I

could handle how mom felt. I don't know I would want

to come back down. She's stronger than I am that way."

I hugged her even closer. "Just say the word and I

will stop whatever it is you don't like or whatever it

is you're afraid of, even if it's that you're afraid it

is too good. I almost didn't do anything last night,

you know. You were so scared, but so brave. I'm proud

of you, kiddo."

This time it was her turn not to answer. She snuggled

into my chest.

"Where is your Mom, by the way?"

"She left about an hour ago, just after she let me up.

I didn't want her to but she was really serious. I

wouldn't let her take off my collar, though. What's

going on? She wouldn't tell me anything. She made a

telephone call, then rushed out."

I reached behind her head and unsnapped her slave

collar for her. She sighed as I slipped it into my

pocket. We stood for a long time that way, a father
and daughter. I could almost have believed we were a

normal family, until I felt her tiny hand wend its way

down to my jeans and unzip my fly.

"You didn't, uh, get any relief at all last night, did

you, Dad." It was a statement.

"Guy's won't explode if they don't cum, Janey.

Regardless of what your boyfriends tell you."

"Daaad! I don't have a boyfriend," she protested, a

bit too strongly, I thought.

"Well, last night was for you and your Mom. I can

wait."

"Well, this morning is for you," she quipped, as she

wiggled out of my arms and down to her knees. She

latched on to my cock with the full force of her mouth

and began seriously sucking and bobbing. Even though

she had been doing this on a daily basis, with her

nearly naked and in my bed, this blowjob seemed sexier

than any she had ever given me, with the exception of

the first one. This time both she and I were fully

clothed, and in the kitchen. It was somehow highly

erotic, highly charged. I held off as long as I could,

but I blew into that luscious mouth in much too short a

time. Janey didn't stop with one load, though. She

seemed determined to drain me of all the excess build-

up from last night.

Sally came in carrying a heavy canvas bag while her

daughter was still busy on her knees. She stopped and

looked at us and gave me a wry grin. "Damn, I wanted

to say `thank you' first. She beat me to it."

"Uh, I think there'll be more when she's done, Love," I

grinned back. I was amazed there was no jealousy

between them. "I missed you this morning."

She looked appalled, as if she had made a serious

miscalculation by leaving. "I, uh, I just, I..."

"It's OK, Love. I didn't mean anything by that. I

just missed you and our time together. I wanted you to

know."

She got all teary eyed and blubbery on me. For the

second time that morning I had to catch a launched

body, only this time I had a hot sucking mouth attached

to my groin that hampered me. I managed.

Sally smothered my face and chest with kisses. Then

proceeded south. I don't know how she managed to

dislodge Janey from her possessive sucking, but soon I

recognized Sally's talented mouth on my shaft. I

cracked open my eyes and saw Janey standing there,

grinning at me.

"Feel better, now, Pops?"

"Pops?"

"Yeah! You shot off so quick this time, like you just

`popped', you know? So... Pops!" She giggled at my

responding growl.

I maneuvered my butt over to a chair and settled in it.

With Sally on her knees, Janey busied herself with

breakfast. No fancy cooking today. Today it was dry

toast and yogurt. Only by wheedling could I get her to

make the coffee.

Sally swallowed, then stood up. She still looked

weepy. I guess she was still being whipsawed by the

emotions from last night. She settled on my lap after

carefully putting away my softening cock. She fed me

breakfast as I held her. I could tell she needed to be

held. But there was something else, too. She wasn't

normally this serious.

Janey cleared the breakfast mess and we sat together in

silence. When the last coffee was gone, Sally got up

and lifted the heavy canvas bag onto the table.

Unzipping it, she proceeded to set out two semi-

automatic rifles, two very large caliber pistols and

several dozen boxes of ammunitions for each. Talk

about breaking the mood!

"Done a little shopping, have you?" I quipped.

"You're going to be gone." Damn that woman! How the

hell did she know? I know for a fact I did not talk in

my sleep. How?

"Only a couple of days."

"He was too confident last night." She was referring

to that cocky son-of-a-bitch, Gary.

"I noticed. You want to tell me exactly what you said

to him to get him to leave?"

"Shit!"

We both turned to face Janey, who never used language

like that. I raised my eyebrows in an unspoken

question to her.

"You're talking about him, right? Gary?" We nodded.

"God, I remember that night, what happened. I must

have only been, what, 11? Anyway, she didn't say

anything to him, Dad."

"Nothing?"

"Nope. Not a word. But we were patching bullet holes

in the walls for months. She must have shot a hundred

times."

I turned to Sally. "I thought you said you couldn't

shoot?"

Janey chimed in before Sally could speak. "Oh, she can

shoot. She just can't hit anything. She missed the

bastard ..."

"Janey! Watch your language!"

"...every single time, except the last one that blew up

his car. And you called him a `bastard' yourself, Mom,

along with some other choice names."

I sat in stunned silence. It takes incredible talent

to miss that many times at such close range. I had

seen her shoot. I had suspected she was too good to

have been a novice, even if she had screwed up with the

safety on my gun. My pistol was an unusual model, so

she may not have known where it was or how it operated.

Regardless, I knew what it was like to be shot at. I

knew why Gary had stayed away. Up until now.

That didn't tell me why he was back. Or if he had

plans for Sally and Janey. He may have seen Janey's

picture on tv after the attack. It could have stirred

old feelings of revenge. I didn't know. I just knew

there was some unfinished business and I hated loose

ends. I had to tie things up.

I looked at the weaponry spread out on the table.

Sally had selected well, if she was going to stop an

elephant. Or an enraged man. I also didn't think she

intended to miss this time. I didn't intend to let it

get that far.

I knew what it was to kill a man, what it did to you

inside. In the course of my agency work, I had had to

learn to kill. I had done it very well. Too well, for

my taste, even if the targets had deserved it.

Something dies inside of you each time you take a life,

though, and there had been many times. Too many, but

even once was too many when it came to killing - or

dying. I did not want that to happen to Sally or, God

forbid, Janey. I, myself, would avoid doing it again

if I could. If I couldn't, well, that was a bridge to

cross when I came to it.

"You can't stay here. He knows the house too well."

"I was going to take Janey to Mac and CeCe's place for

a while."

I thought about that. "Mac's out of town for a series

in Seattle. CeCe works all over the area and couldn't

be there all the time. I'd rather you go stay with

Marion, my sister. She's just moved back into our

folk's house and has plenty of room. Her court isn't

in session right now and I know she'd love the

company."

"I don't know her that well."

"My point exactly. Neither does Gary. He may know

about your relationship to CeCe."

"Oh. Right. OK. Will she be OK with those?" She

indicated the guns.

I grinned. "She can probably train you how to field

strip them, although something tells me you know how

already. There's a target range in the second

basement, too. Oh, and have her show you her assault

weapons collection."

"I thought she was a Federal Judge! Aren't those kinds

of guns illegal?"

"Yeah, but they only get really excited when you wave

them around on the White House lawn. Some of them in

the collection are mine, too." She looked at me even

more shocked. "What, I can't have some toys...?" I

asked in mock exasperation.

After that there wasn't much to say. Sally and Janey

packed and left. Just before they drove off, Sally

hugged me goodbye.

"Be careful, Larry. Janey's right. He is a bastard.

A ruthless and dangerous bastard"

Janey just squeezed me like she never wanted to let go.

I felt the same way, but things had to be finished. I

couldn't let that unknown threat stay out there. I had

to at least know what the man was like.

When they were gone I made my way to a nondescript

building in the center of town. Most towns have one of

these quiet structures, those buildings that look like

offices, generally close to the municipal offices, but

no one actually knows anybody who works there. They

may have the first floor or two occupied by small shops

to make the building look occupied, but the buttons to

the upper floors are disabled or missing in the

elevators.

The entry to the upper floors in this building was

restricted to the underground garage, another part of

the structure most people didn't remember being built.

The entry to the garage was two blocks over, through

the restricted parking garage under the city hall, so

the general public never saw it. Most city employees

were too dull to notice the extra cars disappear

through that locked automatic garage door on the second

level. The ones who weren't were too smart to ask

questions.

Stepping off the elevator on the top floor of that

building, I slid my ID into the reader. I underwent a

retinal scan, a voice scan and had my fingerprints

checked. It always amazed me how much detailed

information the government had and to what extent it

went to hide that knowledge from the public. And all

this happened in what was supposed to be a so-called

democracy. If the public had even the smallest clue

exactly how much their government knew about them, they

would tear it down, brick by brick. I used to think it

was the price we paid for our freedom. Now I wasn't so

sure. Those nagging unanswered questions were the main

reason I was no longer active for the agency.

I still had full access, however. They liked me. I

had done well for them, and never screwed up, e.g., got

caught. I also knew where too many bodies were buried,

literally.

Our local analyst had just finished with the

information I had asked for. He looked up at me as I

came through the heavy metal door and grinned.

"Interesting case," was all he said.

That got my attention immediately. Most Americans,

99.99% of them anyway, live humdrum, mundane lives,

those `lives of quiet desperation'. They are

uneducated, unmotivated, apathetic, lazy, boring, bland

or any combination thereof, yet corporately, they have

been capable of achieving some of the greatest feats in

history, when properly aroused. Our current government

felt it was their sacred duty to keep the people from

becoming motivated to any action, whatsoever.

The analysts for the agency had seen it all. If agents

like me were the legs of the agency, the analysts were

the brains. They spent most of their waking hours

looking at trivial, seemingly unrelated data points and

finding critical patterns. From those patterns emerged

their best guesses. Some of them were able to make

very good guesses about the behavior of certain types

of people.

Our analyst was one of the best. We had worked

together before and kidded each other good-naturedly.

I accused him about being a closet voyeur and he was

always asking me to introduce him to my ex-girlfriends.

We never saw each other socially, however. It just

wasn't done. I think he grudgingly admired some of the

work I had done, or had been able to accomplish based

on his work, as he put it. What these guys never

admitted to was being surprised. So, for a case to be

`interesting' to him meant that Gary was different. To

me, that meant he was dangerous, unpredictable.

He handed me a surprisingly thin file. I took it to a

secure office and locked myself in. I would have to

give him back the exact same file before I could leave

the floor. Security was really tight and I didn't

object.

The file on Gary was interesting. I reviewed his file,

always with the awareness that there could be some

critical piece of information that was missing,

something that the government just didn't know. Nobody

could know everything. I looked through the list of

his known girlfriends and the dates they had been

together. I saw Sally's name and cringed. That would

cross-link back to my file. I would have to be extra

careful that, if anything terminal happened, it

couldn't be traced back to me.

While he had been with Sally for a long time, there

were a number of others he had also seen during that

same time period. He had two-timed her. I saw that

pattern run throughout his relationships. One steady

girl, a lot of flings.

One of the other names I recognized, or thought I did,

and it brought me up short. A name from my past. I

got a sinking feeling in my gut. This girl was the

daughter of a friend of mine from Chile. I remembered

her as a high-spirited wisp of a girl, determined to

make it in a man's world and totally unprepared for the

consequences. Not exactly spoiled, but naively unaware

of the evils of poverty and the depravity of which

mankind was capable. Juan Miguel had protected his

daughter too well.

She had run away from his loving home, come to New

York, and then after a couple of months had gone

missing. I was in Chile when she had disappeared,

working with him. I owed him my life, in fact, but

that's another story. He had been distraught when she

ran away, especially to New York, but she was a

headstrong girl. Her subsequent disappearance had

devastated him. She called herself `Miki' and

pronounced it like the shoe company `Nike.'

I found the specific piece of information I was looking

for buried in a list of his assets, hidden under an

assumed name. He had used several aliases, which

didn't surprise me. That he used them as well as he

did, did. Most people get clumsy and screw up. He

didn't. He was too good to be lucky. Gary had been

trained, and by a top group, too, was my guess.

When I handed the file back to the analyst, I pointed

out the list of known associates. I knew several of

them, fellow agents or agents with other agencies. "Is

he one of us?"

He grinned at me, always seemingly amused that I could

think. "Not that I could tell. I looked as deep as I

could, and that's pretty deep. Hell, I can get your

file. The good one, your operations file."

I was impressed. I couldn't even see that file. "Any

chance he's deeper?"

"Not with his profile. He's interesting, but, well, we

know just a little bit too much about him. If he were

any deeper than you were, we wouldn't know anything.

Hell, your file is only two pages long and most of that

is what you told me!" He grinned wryly. "I haven't

gotten around to entering some of it, you know. Just

too busy. Of course, if I had a nice lady to go home

to, I would be even busier..." he tailed off, hinting.

I looked up at him sharply. He knew about Sally. I

had mentioned her to him several times, especially

since I was living with her now and had to let him know

where he could reach me in an emergency. He paled at

my look and knew he had tread too close to blackmail to

suit me.

"Damn, Sampson, you know I'm joking," he blustered

lamely. "Besides, they already know about her," he

added softly. "They are really insistent about knowing

everything about you, you know." He glanced around to

see who could overhear us. "I shouldn't even tell you

that, though."

"I know. This one just hits too close to home. For a

couple of reasons. But I'm a little touchy about

Sally."

"Yeah. I saw that when that bastard spoiled brat of a

jock raped her daughter. He got off lucky only losing

one ball." His voice was venomous. "What exactly did

you do to get rid of all that media?"

"You don't know?"

"I tried like the devil, but corporate lawyers are the

hardest bunch to crack for information. We still

haven't got a clue."

I told him what I had done, about the letter, the

threat.

He just chuckled. "Damn, you play hard ball."

From him, I took it as a compliment.

The key piece of information I had found in Gary's file

was an address. Not just any address. It was an

address in a middle class residential part of town.

One of the biggest secrets the government doesn't want

you to know is that the greatest threat to the security

of America resides in the vast middle class

neighborhoods. Not from any of the middle class

Americans who live there, but from the enormity of the

apathy that does. No one cares who lives next door as

long as they mow the grass, don't make noise at night,

don't park clunkers on their lawns and above all, don't

lower the property values. No one knows who lives next

door to them, either. You could deliver an atom bomb

and then hide it in a basement in suburbia. No one

would know. No one would have a clue.

That's what I found here. Gary had discovered the

anonymity of suburbia. I had asked Sally if Gary had

ever taken her to his place for a party or anything.

She had said no, only her place, hotels or sleazy bars.

Towards the end, she said, he had been hinting that

they could do more bondage stuff at his special place

full time, but kept implying that Janey was a problem.

He had kept trying to get her to pull Janey out of

school and home school her. Sally had refused,

insisting that Janey needed the social interaction.

But he had never taken her anywhere that might have

been his safe house.

I was impressed when I drove by the house. He could

have qualified to entertain the president with the high

level of security he had installed. None of it was

classified that I could tell, as it was all

commercially available - at a hefty price, too. As it

was, it was almost a challenge for me to break in

undetected later that night. Almost. It was good. I

was better. It made me wonder what he had to hide that

was worth what that setup must have cost him.

I was sickened when I found out his dirty little

secret. With all the external security he had

installed, he didn't feel he needed a safe. It

wouldn't have done him much good, anyway, so he

probably saved himself some bucks. The bastard was

meticulous, all the photos and videos were neatly

labeled and dated. There were several files of photos

and videos labeled `Sally' with dates that corresponded

with the time they were together. There was also one

video cassette labeled `Miki.' My guts were in a

twisted knot as I slipped that one into the VCR. I

dreaded what I would find, but even I was unprepared

for the brutality of the film.

Miki, beautiful, proud, brave Miki was tied to a bed.

The film showed Gary talking to her, telling her that

he just wanted one more thing from her and then he

would let her go. He wanted to make a film with her.

She spit in his face. He slapped her. She spit at him

again. He hit her. Back and forth. He got tired

first, but they were both covered with her blood and

spittle when he quit hitting her.

He kept a knife at her throat as he released her

wrists, then handcuffed them in front of her. The next

scene showed her dangling from her cuffed wrists, her

beautiful face swollen and bleeding, but still

recognizable. He approached her with a heavy-duty

cattle prod. She was screaming in pain, swearing in

Spanish at him. Then he cut her intentionally with his

big knife. Badly, across her face. A look of horror

and realization flooded her proud eyes. As protected

as she had been from the seamy side of life, she still

knew what kind of film she was going to be the star of.

To her credit, she refused to cooperate with the

bastard.

From that point on in the movie, she made no sound,

made no movement at all that wasn't literally forced

out of her body. Oh, he could still get her to twitch

with the cattle prod and moan when he cut her, but for

all practical purposes she was a slab of beef swaying

on a meat hook. Then, just as I was about as sickened

as I could get, she mustered her waning strength. In a

clear voice that would have done her father proud, she

turned her face and spoke to the camera.

"My name is Madonna Micheala Lucinda Carmalita de la

Fernando. The souls of those buried here around me are

crying out for vengeance. I swear upon their souls and

the soul of my sainted mother that my father, Senor

Juan Miguel de la Fernando, will hunt you to the ends

of the earth and bring you to justice." It had taken

all of her strength to say that, and from then on she

just hung there.

I sat there in the darkened house, stunned into

immobility as I watched him callously finish her off,

but her final haunting words gave me the structure of a

plan. Before I left, I checked out the rest of the

house. I found the room in which the film had been

made. It was the only room in the basement with a

solid floor. The rest of the basement flooring had

been removed, leaving only dirt. I looked over the

rows of mounds of dirt laid out in an orderly fashion.

Dozens of graves. One was Miki's. One might have been

Sally's. I vomited and left, taking the several videos
of Sally and the one of Miki, as well as the two thick
files with their photographs with me. Fuck the rules

of tampering with evidence. There was more than enough

evidence that I left behind. Even Clinton would have

had a hard time denying this one.

I called Juan Miguel the next day. It was one of the

hardest telephone calls I had ever had to make. I told

him straight out I had found what had happened to Miki.

And I had proof who did it. Would he like to see the

proof? I cautioned him it was the worst thing I had

ever seen. He knew I had been in some tough situations

and that I had seen a lot of the worst the human race

had to offer.

My bluntness seemed to stir him to life. He wanted to

see it. I over-nighted it to him. He called me back

the next day after viewing the tape. He wanted

revenge.

Now that I had his cooperation, over the next couple of

days, it wasn't hard to get Gary to cooperate with my

plan. He had one Achilles heel, and that was he needed

money to maintain his lifestyle and his image. A lot

of money. A friend of a friend of a friend told him of

a lucrative opportunity in Santiago, Chile. His friend

told Gary that he would do this himself, but that hands

were full, etc., etc., but if Gary wanted to go down

and shepherd this deal through, this big South American

honcho would cut him in for a stiff percentage. Just

go down, bring back a fugitive for someone who couldn't

enter Chile for political reasons and so on. In other

words, a political kidnapping. Just the kind of thing

to hook a guy who hung around with black ops guys, a

`wanna be.' Gary fell for it hook, line and sinker.

I told Juan Miguel that Gary would be down the day

after next and which flight he would be on. I had Gary

shadowed by someone Juan Miguel knew, insurance that

Gary would arrive in Santiago and also to act as a

Judas to point him out to Juan Miguel's agents. When I

told the shadow, an acquaintance, what was going on he

did it gratis.

When the shadow reported back three weeks later, I was

pleased to hear that Juan Miguel had not blown Gary

away in the airport. I'm sure he was tempted to, but

he was a better man than that. A beautiful servant

girl had met Gary at the airport. He was ushered to a

waiting limo and then leisurely driven to a hacienda

deep in the hills surrounding that beautiful city.

Another agent working for Juan Miguel and known to the

shadow had met the shadow as well. He was offered the

opportunity to watch Chilean justice in action.

Curious, he too, was driven to the hacienda, taking a

quicker route. They arrived before Gary and the maid

and were waiting in a private viewing room, watching

the proceedings through a one-way mirror.

Gary was visibly impressed with the accommodations.

This was real power. He was seated in a comfortable

chair in a place of honor. Seated where he was,

though, he couldn't see the movement of the people

behind him. One by one, the august group of sham

politicians who had been there to greet him left the

room and were replaced by armed guards. Juan Miguel

kept Gary focused on him by telling one ribald anecdote

after another. When the last soldier was in place,

Juan Miguel told Gary he wanted to show him a clip of

the fugitive. They darkened the room and turned on a

huge wide-screen TV.

The image flickered then became clear. They had cut

down the image so that just Miki's face showed. Her

voice came across loud and clear, even into the room

where the shadow was watching. After the short clip,

Juan Miguel stood and said, "Perhaps I should formally

introduce myself. My name is Juan Miguel de la

Fernando, and that was my only daughter. I should also

introduce you to Col. Eduardo Perez. He is the

commander of a small government penal facility at the

southern tip of my country, outside of Punta Arenas.

He has seen the entire video you made of my lovely

daughter. He will be arranging for your accommodations

for the remainder of your stay with us."

With that, he turned his back on the murderer of his

child and walked proudly out of the room. Gary, true

to his nature, tried to fight his way out when he

realized he had been lured into a trap. His brief

struggles ended with his nose meeting a rifle butt. I

don't think the rifleman cared much for Gary, either.

The shadow was invited to observe Gary's confinement.

It was brief, but it left the man shaken to the core.

All he said was that Gary, or what was left of him

after living in a rat-infested hole, died in less than

two weeks, a very old man. I knew what he meant.

The shadow then told me that Col. Perez had asked him

to relay a message to me. Apparently Juan Miguel had

told him of how he came by the video. The message was

that `between honorable men, all is forgiven.' He had

also extended an offer to visit him in Chile.

I thanked the shadow, my friend, and shuddered to think

of re-visiting Col. Perez. I had already visited him

once. That was enough. That small government facility

was a maximum-security hellhole dubiously called a

prison. I had been there, myself, in the same place as

Gary, with a collar the size of a manhole cover locked

around my neck. With the rest of my body crammed into

a putrid, rat-infested sewage pipe and the manhole

cover locked to the ground, only my head was visible.

I shuddered as I remembered the horror of trying to

defend my weakened body from the attacks of the

ravenous rats I couldn't see. Sleeping under those

conditions was out of the question, too. I could

believe he died an old man. You aged very quickly

under those circumstances.

Col. Perez was the only law in that part of Chile.

What he said overruled any other authority within his

jurisdiction. He and I had had a difference of opinion

while I was in his town. As a result, he wanted me to

stay in his prison. I did not. I think I am the only

person to have escaped from that place, though I still

regret the necessity of crippling two of the guards in

the process. Given the savagery they lived with, it

might have been kinder to kill them outright. I heard

later that the other inmates had found them crippled

and had tortured them to death.

That detail of the other inmates killing the guards had

been left out of the report to the local authorities

and thus, the search was on for a `cop killer.' The

search ended when I crossed out of his jurisdiction

with the quiet help of Juan Miguel, which is why I owed

him my life. Without his help, I am convinced I would

never have made it. I was wounded, exhausted,

penniless and drained of every ounce of energy I

possessed. I was down to my last hope and Juan Miguel

came through for me. Giving him closure on this

horrible incident was the least I could do for him.

As a final chapter to the story of Gary, I wrote up my

report on the incident, complete with my involvement

and of my relationships with Sally, Miki and Juan

Miguel. I never cut corners in my reports, I never

lied. Sometimes it hurt, but eventually, it had always

served me well. I wasn't about to change now.

I e-mailed my report to the analyst. He called me back

almost immediately and asked a couple of questions,

then rang off. A couple of days later he called me

down to the anonymous building downtown.

"Watch this," he said mysteriously. "The show is just

about to begin."

I looked at what appeared to be a video feed from a

stationary camera. I recognized the house as Gary's

suburban hideaway. Suddenly, like a scene from the

Keystone Kops, federal and local law enforcement

vehicles began filling the screen, lights flashing

crazily in the dark. Several agents with a yellow

"FBI" emblazoned like targets on the backs of their

dark blue windbreakers jumped out of a still-moving

vehicle and raced up to the front door, as if eager to

be the first ones on the scene. I knew, unless the

analyst had deactivated the alarms, that they had just

tripped three systems, two of which were booby-trapped.

"Did you tip them off?"

"Yep! Set up the camera feed, too, to watch the

fuckers screw up.

"Did you tell them about the security?" I asked him.

"Yep! I said the guy had tight security."

"Oh, God! You didn't describe the systems?" He shook

his head, grinning. "You know that to them, `tight

security' means the guy has a big dog."

I watched in horror as the first agent reached to open

the door. The ensuing explosion knocked him and his

partner flat on their asses. The other agents,

mistaking the explosion for resistance, proceeded to

try to blow the fucking house apart with small arms

fire and teargas grenades.

"You modified the explosives, you bastard," I chided

him. He just grinned. "You're just lucky those two

agents had the sense to stay down or they would have

stood up into friendly fire." He stopped grinning.

Analysts don't know or think of everything.

The FBI reported the shootout had been the culmination

of years of painstaking work by hundreds of agents to

capture a serial killer. They produced a credible

likeness of Gary and a conveniently bullet-riddled

corpse. The newspapers carried the photos of the dead

girls that were dug up in the basement. Due to the

carnage, several of the videocassettes had been damaged

so it wasn't too suspicious when there were more bodies

than tapes. Everyone just assumed one or two had been

destroyed in the shootout.

Miki was finally laid to rest in a proper grave.

Chapter 33

While I had been busy finding and setting up the sting

for Gary, Sally and Janey had also been busy. I should

have known better than to leave the two of them alone

with my sister. Although it still isn't clear what

part Marion played in all of this, I suspect it is far

greater than any of the three of them have ever

admitted to me, especially considering what happened as

a result.

To begin with, Janey had recognized the girl at the

opera as a student from her school. From there it was

a simple task to find out her name, Simone LeBrech,

that she was French, smart and extremely shy. Sally

took it from there and followed her home one afternoon

after school and found where she lived. The day she

had done that was the day Gary left for South America

and she saw him carrying his suitcase out of the house

and down to a waiting cab. She had been terrified that

Gary might have seen her, but she knew when he packed

like that he would be gone for at least a week.

She used the next week to set up a fictitious meeting

with the mother. Knowing Sally, she couldn't pull off

a lie to save her life, and the two women were soon

weeping and swapping horror stories about life with

Gary. Sally had come clean with her, so Nicole

confessed she was at her wit's end as Gary was sexually

abusing her little girl after he put Nicole into

bondage. He made her watch each assault. Lately, each

time he was getting rougher and rougher with the girl.

Sally liked Nicole immediately and wanted to help her

somehow. Her heart went out to her and being the kind-

hearted and generous person she was, she offered my

services, too. The only problem was, she hadn't asked

me first. In fact, I knew nothing of this, as I was

busy shanghaiing Gary.

So, there I was, innocently sitting at my desk, forcing

myself to work, or at least look like it. The last

week or two I had been out of touch with my clients

and, secure as their investments were, they liked to be

occasionally reminded I was watching out for them. I

managed to soothe a few ruffled feathers and nervous

nellies before I just gave up and stared at the blank

fucking wall.

That was how Sally found me when she popped into my

office. I was so preoccupied with not knowing how

things were going in Chile that I didn't notice her

until she finally cleared her throat.

I looked at her. She was sitting Indian-style on my

blotter and was offering me something. She looked very

serious. I really had been somewhere else mentally.

At first I thought she was handing me her collar, but I

knew this wasn't the position for that.

"What is that, Sally?"

"It is a thong of a bride." I remembered the story
Amud had told me about the thong, and what it was for.

Sally's next words confirmed it. "I , uh, need to ask

you for a favor."

"Sally, you know that everything I have is yours. You

don't need a thong."

"Well, uh, it's kind of a special request, Larry. It

would require a thong. Believe me."

I should have known right then that something

catastrophic was afoot. I should have run like the

devil himself was chasing me. Did I? Nope! Call me

curious, call me stupid, I stayed.

"Is that your thong?" I didn't think she had had the

time to finish one, even if she had started when we

first knew about them.

She paused at that. " Uh, no. I borrowed one from

Bala."

"Borrowed?" She nodded. "You've started one of your

own to replace it?"

"Yes."

"Borrowing is not a good idea, even from friends. Give

it back to her. Bring me your thong."

"It's not ready yet. This one can be used for singing

now."

"Can the favor wait for the thong to be finished?"

"I don't think so."

I thought for moment, making her wait. She squirmed so

nicely when she was nervous. "Bring me yours. I will

accept it on the condition that you finish it."

Sally climbed down off my desk and left the room.

Three minutes later she came back in. Kneeling this

time, she offered up her thong to me. It was still

damp from having resided within her vaginal canal.

"You're offering me this as a slave?"

"Yes, Master."

"But you're not wearing my collar! How can I accept

this?"

Her hands flew to her neck. Blushing, and unusually

flustered for her, she scampered to the rack that held

hers and Janey's collars. Returning to her knees, she

offered me her collar. I fastened it on. Again, she

offered me the thong.

"Are you properly attired, slave?" I asked her in mock

severity.

Her look at me was definitely not that of a calm

submissive woman. She realized by now I was teasing

her. I think I liked her exasperated with me. Well, a

little bit, anyway.

It took her longer to return this time and I heard

other voices being shushed in the hallway. Still

glaring at me, she made her way over to my chair and

kneeled for a third time. Once more, she lifted the

thong.

"When was the last time you did your Head Time, slave?"

I realized that she was desperate enough that I could

get this to go on indefinitely. This could be

interesting.

Her hands lowered slowly in surrender. She realized I

was going to make her work before I accepted the thong

from her. With a heavy sigh of frustration, she opened

my trousers and freed my hardening cock. This happened

far too rarely for me, having Sally in this position.

I settled back and relaxed, ready to enjoy the feeling

of utter silence and peace while having the head of my

cock bathed in my lover's mouth.

Sally gave an exasperated grunt as I settled back, but

did not break from her place. I let her wait for a

long 15 minutes before I gently caressed her cheek, a

signal she could finish.

"Thank you, Master. I have missed that, too." She

knew what I was thinking? God Damn!

This time, with utter supplication, she held up the

thong.

I accepted it, obliging me to honor her request. I

lifted the damp leather to my nose and inhaled the

scent of my love. I didn't realize yet what an

expensive bouquet it was going to be, but right then I

didn't care. I was still lost in the arousing aroma of

the thong and didn't notice when two other women

entered the room. Sally stayed bowed down, my prick

stayed standing free as she had left it, waving in the

breeze.

I think she knew what my reaction was going to be to

her request. She was right to be a little afraid.

Pissed would be a nice word for it.

She introduced Nicole and Simone, mother and daughter.

They looked vaguely familiar. When she mentioned they

had been the two women with Gary the night of the

concert, it hit me. And I suddenly had an awful

feeling I knew what the favor was going to be. Really

pissed would be closer.

Her request was that I allow Nicole and Simone to join

the household. Permanently. Both were aware of our

lifestyle and were willing to join. Eager, in fact.

Nicole would be another slave and Simone would be,

well, another daughter, sort of.

I sat stone still, trying to convince myself of my love

for Sally, trying to figure out what in the fucking

Hell she was doing. Was she really offering me another

woman? I mean, sure, Nicole was nice to look at, but

shit, Sally and I weren't even married yet! I for

damned sure wasn't tired of her and didn't think I

would ever be.

My knuckles were white on the arms of the chair. This

one was metal, so they didn't snap like the one in the

kitchen. But they did bend a little. I tried really

hard not to yell at her, to humiliate her in front of

the people she was trying so hard to help. I zipped up

my pants for starters, my erection collapsing as the

totality of her request hit me.

God Damn fucking women. Don't they always know when

you've reached that last piece of rope? I was worried

about two of my friends, the shadow and Juan Miguel,

and she brings home two strangers. I had just sent a

man to his death, albeit justifiable in my mind, and

had put another friend in possible peril. The waiting

was killing me and I wasn't ready for this right now.

And things with Sally and Janey were going so well,

too! How is it that just when you finally get a good

grip on what's going on, they ask you to do something

that totally fucks up the system? And then want you to

fix it? God Damn it all to Fucking Hell!

I managed to do two things. I didn't yell at her and I

managed to remind myself that I loved her. I didn't

have a clue what she was trying to do, but if this was

important enough for her to ask for, it was important

enough for me to consider. OK, technically, by

accepting the thong, I had no choice. But,

technically, it wasn't our fucking custom, either.

I reached down and touched Sally's head. I nodded

curtly for her and the young girl to leave. Nicole

LeBrech stood before me, her head bowed down. I looked

at her for a while in silence. She was a fine looking

woman, different in most ways from Sally, and I will

admit, the sight of her stirred my blood. I felt

guilty, momentarily.

She sat down at my request in one of my office chairs.

I asked her to tell me her story, to be as complete and

honest as she felt she could be. It was odd, but I

could not sense her as I could Sally and Janey. It was

like there was a nothingness there, like the feelings

had been beaten out of her. When I thought back, I had

sensed something from Simone, but it felt different

than what I sensed form Sally and Janey. Like she was

more stiff or something. I couldn't place it and,

right then, I didn't have the time to think about it.

Nicole was talking.

She had been born in a little village outside of Paris,

France. Her mother had died in childbirth, so she had

never known her. Saddened by the loss of his true

love, but a proud man, her Papa had refused all help

from the village women and raised Nicole by himself.

He was a loving parent, but refused to dote on her. He

was a perfectionist himself and demanded her very best

efforts in all she did, often punishing her for

substandard efforts. He did not punish her for failing

when she had given her best effort.

Nicole had thrived in that atmosphere. She proved to

be exceptionally bright and finished her basic

schooling, the equivalent of American high school, by

the age of 15. At the graduation festivities, Nicole

got extremely drunk. Simone was born 9 months later.

She hadn't exactly been raped, but she didn't know who

the father was.

Papa took this development in stride. He moved to

Paris with her so she could start University. Simone

was born between end of term exams. Papa found a job

at night in an auto factory and helped Nicole raise

Simone until she finished with her Ph.D. work five

years later. She had a doctorate in neurochemistry.

Papa had been killed in an explosion at the auto plant.

Devastated and alone with a young daughter, Nicole had

latched onto - her words - the first man to come along

that showed any interest in her. Using her small

inheritance, he brought her to America, but, when the

money ran out, so did he.

Determined to make it, she called one of her Professors

who had taken an interest in her career. He referred

her to the president of a small biotech company near

where she was currently living in the US who needed a

neurochemist. For the next year or two, Nicole worked

hard, as Papa had trained her to and she did well.

Being beautiful helped and she had more and more

contact with the CEO of the company, an old curmudgeon

who had gone through several wives already. Nicole

rebuffed his advances, but the old bastard really fell

hard for her. He prevailed and they married, much to

the dismay of her other suitors.

She continued to do well, the company prospered from

her patents and, predictably, the old man died. He

died happy, in bed with Nicole, but it was traumatic

for her. He had left her everything her owned, other

than what went to the other wives and the stockholders.

He had been smart enough to have everything tied up

legally so they didn't contest the will. None of then

wanted to fight his lawyers again, it seemed.

Nicole and Simone had been naturalized to US

citizenship during this stint. She ran the company for

a while, but it wasn't what she wanted to do. She

missed the lab. She wanted out of the corporate rat

race. Through her own contacts in the industry, she

found a buyer for the company and made several people

very rich, including herself.

Being rich, single and beautiful would not seem to

present a problem to most people, but Nicole seemed to

attract smooth con men. She had invested her fortune

wisely and had put several roadblocks between it and

any confidence scheme, but that didn't stop the pricks

from trying. Most of them tried the wrong approach,

trying to sweet talk or woo her with flowers. Those

she felt comfortable with, as those she could handle.

Gary was the first one to touch her submissive nature,

and it rattled her to her core. Knowing of his quasi-

intelligence training, it did not surprise me that he

quickly found his way through her obstacles to her bank

accounts and was bleeding them at an alarming rate.

But even at the rate he was going, she had enough to

keep him in fresh Gucci's for another four years or so.

My ears perked up at that. That was serious money she

was talking about. It was also obvious that that

represented something more to her than just security.

If she became a part of the household, I would have to

make sure her money was kept totally autonomous from

mine. I would handle it the same way I did with Sally

and Janey's funds, but I knew I would have to take

special care to make her feel comfortable that I was

not after her money. It wouldn't be easy. If I had

that kind of money, I'd be suspicious of everyone, too.

She didn't say much about Gary. She didn't have to. I

knew what he put her through. The gentle seduction

into bondage, setting the hook, then the humiliation

and degradation. That he was actually abusing Simone

sexually to accomplish this humiliation disturbed me,

as I hadn't seen a pattern of young girls in his

profile. Simone was a mature young woman for her age,

that much I could see, but she was still a little

younger than Janey. There must have been something

special about her to attract Gary to her.

I had come to realize that I couldn't have been the

only person in the universe to have the ability to

`sense' emotions, as I had been doing with Sally and

Janey. I think, on some level, we all do. We just

never recognize it for what it is. I think pheromones,

facial expression and body language get confused in the

mix, too. Besides, being `sensitive' isn't always

considered to be a compliment to a male, although I had

always tried to be. I was beginning to realize that

Gary must have had the ability to sense a submissive

nature in women. Hell, he may even have had the

ability to project one onto them, but the thought that

that might be possible scared the living shit out of

me. He did seem to be able to `find' a lot of

submissive women, though, and I didn't recollect Miki

being like that. I shuddered and put the thought

behind me.

Nicole went on to tell me about Simone. It was like

watching a train wreck. Simone had shown early signs

of genius. Not like her mother. Smarter. Off the IQ

scale. She was also a pretty child and, for the most

part, well adjusted, especially for someone with her

brilliance. If she had a flaw, it was her instinctual

trust in males.

That had led to Nicole's first lover raping Simone at a

very young age. Nicole had not known about the

continued sexual assaults on her daughter until he had

run out. Simone's pediatrician had discovered the

signs of sexual activity after a routine exam. Nicole

was devastated at this. Children's services almost

took Simone away from her. If she hadn't found the job

at the biotech firm and moved out of state, they would

have. By the time they found her again, she was well

established at the company and the corporate lawyers

took care of the legal matters for her. For once, they

were good for something. I made a mental note to find

out more about that law firm. Lawyers with good hearts

were rarer than honest politicians.

Simone's escape from the misery and pain of the

betrayal of her trust was in learning. Books of all

kinds were her escape, the more challenging the better.

She was like a black hole when it came to learning.

She sucked in everything she came across from music to

medicine, Plato to physics. Often, she would have

trouble applying what she knew, but that was probably

because she knew too much. She had too many choices

and, really, how often in life is there just one right

answer? I had to smile at that. I was facing the same

situation right now, but I was desperately trying to

find a suitable alternative.

Nicole had kept Simone in school with children her own

age for her social development. She knew too well what

the consequences could be of being so much younger than

all the other kids. It was important for her that

Simone develop a social maturity that could help her

through the tough times she was bound to have ahead of

her, being as different as she was from everyone else

in the `smarts' department. Simone had been adjusting

well, trying to find her place in each class,

developing a friend or two to pal around with. It was

lately that things began to change.

Gary's abuse of Simone confused her. True to form, she

trusted him. He used that trust against her, then he

began abusing her, mentally and physically. Unlike

before, when she had been told to keep what was

happening a secret from her mother, Gary flaunted what

they did in front of her mother.

When Gary began hurting her, her reaction was to

withdraw. Nicole broke down at this point and I had to

wait for her to regain a semblance of self-control

before she could continue. Simone hadn't spoken for

the last three weeks, not to anyone, as far as she

could tell. At first she thought it was just a phase.

Then the notes from her teachers began to come home,

followed by a quietly panicked phone call from the

school counselor. From her previous experience with

Child services, Nicole was frantic, afraid she would

lose Simone for good this time, but didn't know what to

do. She had actually been preparing injections for

suicide for herself and Simone when Sally showed up.

I sat there, stunned that this woman could show such

composure with the trauma she had been though. I

wasn't prepared to deal with all her baggage, though it

seemed trite to label her very real emotional problems

that way. Another traumatized daughter was not on my

most-favorite list, either. I remembered the agonizing

Sally and I had gone through with Janey, and that was

just last week!

But, like Sally, my heart went out to her. She had no

one else. It touched a chord deep inside me,

challenged me to rethink the paradigms of my own life.

This time, it wouldn't just be me, but Sally and Janey

would help, too. Somehow I knew that was what Sally

intended, but making them a part of our family? It was

time to call Sally back in.

She entered at my call for her, apparently standing

right outside my door. One look at her face told me

she had known everything Nicole had just told me.

There was probably more tragedy, too, but the

highlights were enough for me. She came and knelt at

my feet.

"Go sit down, Sally. Consider your collar off for the

time being. I need complete and honest answers to some

questions."

I turned to Nicole. "In this house, I insist on

openness and honesty, even when you are in a submissive

role. Sally knows that, but I just wanted to remind

her. Now, I have to ask you some questions about how

you see yourself fitting in here. You know, as you can

see from Sally's attire and collar, that she has a

submissive role in this relationship. That is, by the

way, her preference, not my demand. Can you deal with

that?"

Nicole lowered her eyes, but didn't blush. "What that

awful man did to me gave me the most intense feelings I

have ever felt. I was hooked from the first soft rope

he used to tie me up. I am so ashamed of my weakness,

to have wanted it so badly, but I couldn't help myself.

It wasn't love. I knew that. It was worse. I could

find love almost anywhere. He was the only person I

knew who could make me feel like that. It was like a

drug, an addicting drug.

"It tore me apart when he touched Simone, but I was

helpless to stop him. I..." she broke down again,

"...I orgasmed at first, it felt so naughty, being so

helpless to stop him. At first he only touched her,

then he made her do things. Soon he was fucking her.

Three weeks ago he beat her."

She paused, thinking. "I have thought much about this.

I am not an ignorant person. I realize, since talking

to Sally, but not only that, that I need to be in a

submissive role, too. Yes. If this life is possible,

I want it." She looked over at Sally, who took her

hand in support. "I need it."

Shit! They were in this together, already. I still

had some questions.

"OK, you want to do this. What about Simone?"

Nicole looked up at me now, her eyes sharp and focused.

This seemed to be more like her normal approach to

life. "Sally has told me about how you are working

with Janey..."

In a moment of panic I focused my link on Sally and

shot her a questioning `Everything?' I wasn't sure if

it would work, but my heart rate and adrenaline were

high enough that if anything would make it work, it

should now. Amazingly, it did.

"No. Not `everything,'" she replied softly through the

link. I think we were both stunned at what we had just

done, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"...to help her get over her attack. From what I have

seen of Janey, she seems very well adjusted. I

think..." she smile wryly, "...I think that this time,

for some reason, it is me who trusts you. I apologize

in advance, but Simone does not trust you or any man
now, and is bound to give you trouble."

Ah, the magic button. The hook. A challenge. I

couldn't resist. Not after getting walking pneumonia

in college, not with the risk of losing Sally. Not

now. Knowingly or not, she had offered me the bait I

needed.

What was I thinking? It was going to be a challenge

fitting two more attractive and probably willing

females into a sexually charged environment. What she

was telling me about Simone made her an impossible

challenge. With emotional stakes as high as possible.

I was hooked.

"Sally, how did you see this working? How did you

think they would fit in here?"

She looked flustered. Thinking of something is one

thing. Saying it out loud, in broad daylight is

grounds for commitment to the loony bin. "They, uh,

well, they, er,..."

"Start with Nicole, here. What would be her role?"

"Oh, well, uh, I though we could share, you know..."

She just left it hanging.

"You thought you and I would share Nicole? I don't

need another slave."

Sally blushed, and glanced over at Nicole for support.

She must have gotten it, because she actually said it.

"No, Larry. I thought Nicole and I would share you.

And before you ask, yes, I have thought about this,

and, yes, we would share you in every way." She was

rather abrupt at the end.

Well excuuuuse me.

"What if she doesn't appeal to me?"

Two sets of eyes widened and stared at me, one in

horror that the owner might be found unsatisfactory,

the other pair in the horror that their owner's master

could have voiced such a tactless question. One pair

caught on that I was playing with them.

"Sally, it's OK. He said `what if'."

"Huh?"

"He said `what if'. That means he likes me." Nicole

looked at me, suddenly shy. "I think."

I smiled broadly at having been caught out so easily.

Damn, I was going to have to get sharper in a hurry to

stay ahead of this one. And the daughter was smarter

still? Deep, deep shit we're in here, bubba. Deep,

deep shit.

I tipped back my chair and closed my eyes, trying to

think this out. Sally was trying to alter our

relationship and I thought I knew why. As overwhelming

as I had found her submissiveness earlier, I had seen

indications lately that she found my possessiveness of

her to be equally overwhelming. There had been hints,

even a small rebellion, in her own fashion.

This was not just another shot across the bows, though.

This was her solution. Served up on as attractive a

platter as I had seen, I must admit, but I didn't like

it. I didn't like not having a choice. This tasted a

little like an ultimatum.

"Sally...?"

"I know, Larry. You love me." She stopped, got up and

came over to my chair. She tipped me upright and sat

on my lap. "I don't like to shout that across the

desk," she said tenderly. "I love you, too. I always

will. Believe it or not, it won't change because of

Nicole, or Simone, or even Janey. I am absolutely

convinced of your heart, of your love, of your

intentions. It is that absoluteness that gives me the

freedom to ask this of you." She didn't add that it

was also that total dedication to her that was driving

her crazy. She always did have a kind heart.

"I know this won't be easy," she continued, "but you've

never shied away from the tough things, have you?" She

leaned down and whispered in my ear, digging into my

ribs with her fingers at the same time, "This one you

can fuck, too, lover. Really!" She collapsed in a

giggling heap as I dumped her unceremoniously off my

lap and onto the floor.

"All right! All right!" I had the attention of both

of them. "I'll agree, but with conditions." Sally

groaned. Loudly. It was almost a `God help us' moan,

but I couldn't quite make out the words.

"Nicole and Simone may move in. Until further

arrangements can be made, Simone will move into Janey's

room. Agreed?"

Sally nodded. It was always easiest to give away

someone else's privacy. I wondered what the two girls
would say to having a roommate.

"Nicole? You will be Sally's submissive. She will be

your Mistress."

Sally sat there, open-mouthed, stunned. Speechless,

for once.

Chapter 34

The new arrangement didn't work. It was an uneasy

arrangement to begin with. Sally got stressed out in

about two days, which made it worse. She became

overbearing, surly, bossy. She couldn't handle being a

mistress to Nicole.

The decision had not pleased Nicole, either, though she

was in a submissive role, as she had wanted. She

suffered from a reluctant mistress, however, and in

short order, her more aggressive personality made the

situation worse.

It got a little better for a while after I gathered

them together and told them what had happened to Gary.

I called them all into the Free Room. I answered every

question I could. I told them about Miki. We watched

the news coverage of the funerals for the dead girls.

Sally and Nicole understood they owed their lives to

their daughters being in a public school. I thought we

were all bonding nicely, and that the roughest part was

behind us. Boy, was I wrong.

Sally tried to assert her dominance, I will give her

that. I found her tactics intriguing and filed them

away in case I needed to impress my mastery over Sally

in the future. First, she stripped Nicole of all

clothing. Not a shred of covering. Not that I minded.

Nicole was indeed a beauty, but about as different from

Sally as you could get. Where Sally was petite, Nicole

was statuesque. Tall, almost 6 foot. Her dark hair
and olive complexion made Sally seem pale, even with

Sally's lightly tanned skin. Together with her

intelligent piercing aristocratic blue eyes, she was a

striking woman.

Nicole did not seem to have an ounce of excess fat on

her, now that I could readily see all of her. That's

not to say she wasn't feminine, far from it. She had

all the curves necessary to qualify, and then some.

Her breasts were about the same size as Sally's but

seemed smaller on Nicole's larger frame. Her waist was

incredibly narrow. Sally told me it was only 20

inches. I detected more than a little jealousy when

she told me that. Nicole also had that feature that

millions of men react to automatically. She had that

natural diamond-shaped open space between her thighs,

right at the top. Prehistorically, that meant a wide

carriage for bearing young and the eroticism of that

image was programmed into the male sex chromosome.

Sally had it, too, but Nicole... Oh, my! ...the first

time I saw her silhouetted in the light from the window

behind her, I think I began to finally lust after her.

That perfect diamond of light just below her crotch lit

a slow burning fire in me.

Next, Sally had Nicole sleep on the floor at the foot

of our bed. This I found interesting, as well,

because, if anything, her presence during our intimate

times added to Sally's stress and distress. She became

uneasy when we made love, to the point I had to remind

her who was boss. Well, at least, who it was who

thought he was boss, anyway. I never forced her to

have sex, but she didn't enjoy it as much with Nicole

there.

Third was that she had Nicole doing all the shit work.

Cleaning, dusting, scrubbing, shopping - grocery, not

clothes, gardening, and so on. Everything but what she

was suited to do, which was to use her brain. Mindless

drivel.

Added to all this was that Janey and Simone were not

getting along, either. Janey only had a single bed in

her room, so they were not only sharing a room, but a

bed, too. Simone was jealous of Janey's popularity,

Janey of Simone's brains. There were phone messages

that didn't get delivered, sabotaged reports and tests,

and so on. Simone was really trying to mess with Janey

and doing a good job.

For her part, Janey was trying to get along, if only

half-heartedly. She came to me one evening in tears,

sweaty from one of the pick-up basketball games.

Simone had begun to put a damper on these events, too.

I really think she wanted to participate, but she was

shy and unfamiliar with basketball. Janey poured out

all her woes, blaming everyone, including me,

obliquely, for the crap she had to live with.

I held her on my lap trying to work things out. This

mess was largely my fault. I know, I know. Sally's

way would have probably been better, but it still

rubbed me the wrong way to have her decide without

consulting me. Even if she was right.

I asked what Janey had done to make Simone's situation

better. She looked at me funny, as if it was a strange

concept that she might have to do something to help

Simone fit in. I asked her if she had ever made her

feel like she was welcome. Again she looked at me

funny.

I hugged her to me and, without thinking, I told her

that it might help Simone feel like she belonged if

Janey went out of her way to do something special for

her, to make her know she was wanted.

"Like what?" she wanted to know.

"I don't know. Just think about what would make you

feel special and wanted and do that for her."

Honestly, I didn't have anything in mind at the time.

Later that night, I woke to a familiar elbow in my

side. "Larry? You awake?"

"Uh-huh. Now I am."

"Oh, sorry. Did you talk to Janey today?"

"Uh-huh."

"About Simone?"

"Ummm."

"What did you tell her to do?"

Suddenly alert to the edge in her voice, I was now

fully awake. And I sensed it, too, but it was

different somehow. We had both sensed when Janey had

an orgasm and we were familiar with that. This one was

different, like it was learning how to feel good.

"God! It's her first orgasm!" Sally whispered to me,

after leaning over and checking on Nicole, just to make

sure she wasn't fingering herself.

"Should I check on them?"

"No. Let them finish."

"Them? How can you tell there are two of them?"

I could sense her smile in the dark. "Don't know. I

just do. Janey's giving Simone an orgasm. Again."

We both felt this one, too, stronger, more sure of

itself, more welcomed into the body it was entering.

Janey was diligent, I'll give you that. Simone was

cumming like a pro when Janey finally stopped working

her over. I slipped in to check on them when it had

been quiet for a while. I was greeted by a gorgeous

tangle of teen limbs. Simone was zonked. Janey was

still awake. I sat by her side and took her hand.

"What was it you did, kiddo?"

"What you said."

"Uh, I don't think I said to do anything like what just

happened here."

She grinned up at me. "You could feel her, too? God,

she didn't know what was happening to her!"

"And what was happening to her, Janey? Inquiring minds

want to know."

She sort of snorted when she giggled, most unladylike.

"Well, I thought about what you said, about doing

something to make her feel special and wanted. I

thought about what made me feel that way. Then I

remembered the time you did me with your mouth, about

how good that made me feel and all. So I did her."

"She didn't object?"

"Well, uh, I, uh, I kind of surprised her. After a

minute, when I didn't bite, she quit struggling."

"Struggling?"

"Uh-huh! I sort of tied her hands to the bed first,

like you did mine."

Oh God, I had created a monster.

"You didn't mind that she was a girl?"

"You mean that lezzie thing?"

"Yeah. People can be kind of mean if they find out."

"Oh. Simone wouldn't tell. And even if she does,

that's OK, too. It was my gift to her. What she does

with it is up to her. Isn't that what you've been

trying to tell me all along, Dad?"

I leaned over and kissed this marvelous young woman

goodnight, my tears dripping on her sweaty and slimy

face.

"I would have sex with you right now if you wanted,

kiddo." I knew she had not cum and was still sexually

aroused.

She grinned up at me, then hugged me tight. I thought

for a moment she was going to take me up on my offer.

I wasn't sure if I hoped she would or if I hoped she

wouldn't. She held me for the longest time, then

whispered, "Thanks, Dad," in my ear.

Maybe you had to be there, but I thought it was a Hell

of a touching moment. I went back to my room and went

to sleep.

OK. Now, if you came home and heard, `Oh, God, Oh,

God, Yes, Yes, Yes. Oh God that's so big and hard, Do

my ass, too, harder, please, please don't stop,' or

various repetitions and renditions thereof emanating

from your daughter's bedroom, screamed in a loud and

excited manner, what would you think? Right! You keep

a shotgun in the closet for just such an instance.

Unfortunately, it was Sally and Nicole who came home

from a foreshortened day of shopping, as Nicole was

being a real bitch. Unknown to them, Janey and Simone

had decided to play hooky from school to further

explore the territory discovered the night before.

What they walked in on was Simone pounding Janey with a

dildo, who was the one screaming. Simone was eagerly

returning the favor Janey had done for her the entire

hour before. The girls thought they were alone in the

house and were being as noisy and raunchy as they

wanted. It was all in fun, just girl stuff, sort of

like male bonding. Yeah, right!

Sally immediately knew what was going on through her

link with Janey. She thought it was strange that Janey

sounded like she was having a lot more fun than it felt

like she was experiencing through the link, but she

also knew that the other person in the room was not me.

We had said goodbye this morning in the shower, as I

had to run up to the Guild for some business meetings.

She deducted correctly that Janey's partner in passion

was Simone, and that was the reason for the verbal

encouragement. Janey and Sally had both commented to

me at the seeming inability of Nicole to feel anything

on their link, and that Simone's link felt funny to

them. The way they talked, it sounded as if they

really pitied them that loss.

Nicole, however, didn't know who was with Janey, only

that Janey seemed to be getting a good fucking, one of

a lifetime, from the sounds of it. Whether to herself

or if she meant Sally to hear wasn't clear, but she

muttered, "The little bitch will be as big a slut as

her mother soon." Of course, she muttered it in

French. Then again, maybe it was Sally's fault for not

informing Nicole she spoke fluent French and could

understand the colloquial vulgarisms she constantly

used when referring to her and Janey.

Needless to say, the comment didn't sit well with

Sally. I had learned early on that malicious words

would wound Sally worse than the whip. Those words

from Nicole cut her deeply. Unbidden, a vengeful anger

started to grow in her heart. Attack Sally and she

would fight back, attack her daughter and she would get

vengeance.

Uncharacteristic of Sally, she ignored her anger. I

had commanded her to be a mistress. She was trying to

do her best. She also didn't want to embarrass Nicole

by letting her know she understood French. There were

things to do, preparations for the next visit by our

friends. Sally still had to organize two more costumes

for Nicole and Simone, and, as she had discovered,

Nicole was domestically worthless. She couldn't cook,

clean, sew, iron, or straighten up. What exactly was

she to do with this worthless bitch?

Amud and Bala's next visit was to be a special

occasion. Not only would Nicole and Simone be

introduced to our friends and into the growing

relationship we had with them, it was also the occasion

for the first public dance performance by Janey. Bala

had been working them hard, and Janey had excelled

under her teaching. I truly appreciated the practice

drills that Sally showed me, especially when she was

impaled on my iron hard prick. But I think the very

fact that she practiced with me defeated the purposes

of the drills. She was still much improved from that

first dance she did for me.

Finally all was in readiness for the evening. The

women served Amud and I a sumptuous dinner, two

delectable maidens served the wine, and the cigars were

slowly smoldering down. It had been a delightful

evening. My belly was full, my cock was hard, all was

right with the world. I was beginning to look forward

to a wild night with my lover, when the ching-ching of

the music sounded. I leaned back to relax. I had

forgotten about the premier.

The occasion of a first dance was special as the women

were allowed to enter the main tent and sit with the

men. Bala sat with Amud. Simone, Sally and Nicole

came to sit with me, although Sally positioned Nicole

so she was not near Amud or myself. I wondered at the

intentional slight on her part, but just then Janey

danced through the veiled door. Or should I say she

floated through the door.

Her outfit, if it could be called that, was daring. It

was beyond daring. It was blatant. It displayed all

her womanly charms and then some. It highlighted her

coloring. You could see the blush across the tops of

her breasts. Hell, you could see everything! Even

that her normally tiny trimmed bush was now missing. I

don't know how that affected Amud, but my blood was

sure boiling.

Her dance was short, but energetic and erotic in the

extreme. Even the women seemed entranced with her

sexuality. She twirled and twisted, wiggled and

jiggled. I think it was probably a bit more acrobatic

than a traditional dance, but Bala had worked wonders

with what she had to work with. Looking over at my

friends, I wasn't sure she was entirely pleased with

Amud's obvious reaction to Janey's dancing. From the

way Bala was lying across his lap there was no way she

could miss his arousal. In fact, unless I missed my

guess, that hand I couldn't see was probably wrapped

around his throbbing swollen shaft. I chucked as I

thought of what his night would be like with that

wildcat of a wife.

At the conclusion of her dance, Janey ended up kneeling

in front of me, her head to the ground. She seemed to

be waiting for something. I looked over to Amud for a

hint. He seemed to be somewhere else, although his

eyes were still fixed on Janey's almost nude form.

"Amud?"

He started, as if from a dream. I almost hated to

bring him back from where ever he had been. "Yes, my

friend?"

"Is she waiting for something?"

He looked at Bala. Something passed between them, then

he nodded his head. "Ah, yes. Bala has told the fresh

one of the traditions of the first dance. In my

country it is traditional for the dancer to request a

favor of a sensual nature from her chosen benefactor.

It is always granted if the dance is deemed to be

acceptable."

He continued, "You seem to be her chosen benefactor,"

he sounded rather disappointed that Janey hadn't chosen

him, but a sharp nudge from Bala cured that, "as she

has ended her dance and bowed in front of you." He

sighed, earning him another playful elbow from Bala.

"For my part, if she had chosen me, she would have had

her most sexual of favors granted a million times over.

Gladly." He got a rather sharp elbow for that remark,

but the two were now laughing and showing more

affection for one another than ever before in our

presence.

I could see Janey blush from his compliment of her and

his implication that he would enjoy doing much more

with her. I let her stay bowed for a while, letting

her catch her breath. Also, I was somewhat leery of

granting favors, sensual or otherwise, before I knew

what they were. But some things you just don't learn

to resist, and a beautiful woman prostrate before me is

almost always going to get her wish.

"Janey, your first dance is deemed to be acceptable," I

intoned with all the pomposity I could muster. "What

is your sensual pleasure?"

I expected her to ask for that car she had been bugging

me for. The one with the leather seats. Or an

expensive trinket, maybe. But nope, not my Janey!

"I want to go to that place you took mom the night of

the concert."

I gasped. Sally paled. No one else in the room had a

clue.

"You told me you didn't want to go there."

"I told you I wasn't ready. I am now. I'm not afraid

of those feelings anymore and I am strong enough." I

could almost here `I think' or `I hope' on the end of

that.

My, my. My little girl is all grown up. But then I

knew that. I had just seen her dance. Someone was

going to be a very lucky man someday, to have that

body, that spirit to come home to each night.

"What place is she speaking of?" asked Amud, thinking

that Janey was referring to a physical location.

Sally told them of the white crop I had used on her,

how I had tied her and pushed her beyond any experience

she had had before or since. It was beyond the

singing. It was just beyond.

Bala turned to look at me. In awe she said, "You can

see the dancing lights in a woman as she sings?"

I nodded.

Simone, still puzzled, asked Sally, "Janey wants Larry

to whip her with a stick?"

Sally nodded.

Nicole had passed the point of credulity. Again she

muttered, this time about Janey now being as big a

tramp as her mother. Again in French. Bala and Amud

both spoke French. So did I.

It was the last straw for Sally. Remind me to never

push her too far. She was a blinding fury as she

pummeled Nicole, screeching and shrieking as she did

so. When Nicole was sufficiently limp, she dragged her

by her hair out of the room. We heard the body

thumping down the stairs to the first floor, then all

was quiet.

Embarrassed at the outburst, I apologized to Amud. He

gave me a quizzical look, like I was an idiot.

"Lawrence, my friend. You are a good master, but

sometimes you do stupid things."

I must have looked puzzled.

"Sally, your beloved, is not like Bala. She cannot be

mistress, too. It's is not in her aura. Different

lights. Your new beloved, Nicole, is not mistress.

Janey, she is young, she can learn both ways yet.

Simone, she is a special one." He grinned. "You are

one lucky son of the bitch, my friend, but I do not

envy you."

He stopped and fixed me with a stare. "Learn to see

your women, as a master. If you see the dancing

lights, you are far beyond me in skill. But maybe I

can help you with wisdom, no?"

With that, he indicated I should tend to Janey who was

crying with gathering hysterics on the floor. Her

debut was ruined, her request forgotten.

As I tended to Janey, finally getting her settled down,

Amud and Bala quietly slipped out and drove home. Bala

had seemed incredibly agitated, perhaps aroused, at

Janey's dance and the ensuing conversation. Amud, to

my surprise, had not seemed jealous of her attraction

to Janey or to me. When I thought back, Bala may not

have been envious of Amud's reaction to Janey, but

could have actually been exciting him with her hand,

enhancing his pleasure of the dance. Such non-

possessiveness was strange to me, but seeing it in

practice made me think it might work.

As Janey quieted down I carried her down to her room.

Suddenly she cried out.

"Oh, God, Dad, she's killing her!"

"Who? Where?" I demanded immediately.

"M-M-Mom is beating Nicole. Downstairs. Daddy? Why

is she so angry with Nicole? It hurts, oh God, it

hurts...." Janey rolled over in tears, holding her

stomach.

I dashed down to the dungeon, fully expecting the

worst. I just hoped I wasn't too late to stop her from

doing any permanent damage.

What I saw pained me. Sheer anger was being vented in

a blind rage. My meek, mild Sally had strung Nicole up

by her wrists and was using the heavy handle of a whip

to bludgeon her face and torso. There was no thought

to her wildly swinging blows, only rage.

My heart cried out to her to stop. I knew I couldn't

reach her before she struck a couple of more times, so

I did the only thing I could think of. I focused as I

ran to her, thinking of an iceberg and then wrapped it

around her. As corny as that sounds, it worked. She

froze, so to speak, in mid-blow.

My first priority was to secure Sally where she

couldn't harm Nicole any more. I led her gently over

to a set of kneeling stocks and placed her head and

hands in the appropriate half rounds, then closed and

locked the top bar. We had never used this device

before, but Sally had commented that if I ever wanted

to punish her, that was the way. It seemed

appropriate.

She hadn't resisted me. As soon as I had touched her

she had gone limp. I knew she knew she had made a

grievous error. So had I. Sally had known her

limitations and had tried to tell me. I hadn't

listened. I was too proud. This was my fault, too.

With Sally secured and unable to harm herself or

Nicole, I cut down Nicole. Her wrists were bleeding

from the plastic ties Sally had used. I wondered where

those had come from. I hated those evil devices. Not

only could they mark you permanently, they didn't have

a lock to pick. I quickly examined the unconscious

woman. As near as I could tell from a quick field

exam, there were no broken bones. I was more worried

about her spirit than her bones, though.

I carried her upstairs and took her into the Free Room.

We hadn't had to use this room much before, but

everything was there. A bed, a bathroom. I took the

pistols I had placed there and put them away. I hadn't

gone over everything with Nicole just yet, and didn't

want her running around the house with a loaded gun.

After Nicole was settled and as comfortable as I could

get her, I went to find Simone to tell her that her mom
was going to be OK and to try to explain to her what

had happened.

I couldn't find Simone. I looked everywhere. I looked

in on Janey to see if they were together. I checked

the dungeon just to be sure. I searched the house. I

checked my security system and ran a check for infrared

heat sources. I could only count four in the house or

on the grounds. I ran the security tape loop.

Three heat sources had left the house at nearly the

same time. Two had gone together, one had slipped out

just after the others were in their car.

I watched the tape from the outside security camera as

the third heat source disappeared down the driveway and

turned toward the nearest Interstate. To have been

that visible, Simone must have been outside the car,

riding on the rear bumper of Amud and Bala's limousine.

Simone had run away.

Chapter 35

I could have panicked. An underage girl I barely knew

and had accepted responsibility for had just left for

parts unknown, and I had only one clue where she might

have gone. Her mother lay unconscious in my guestroom,

beaten senseless by my lover. The unconscious mother
would have to be tended by the daughter of the woman

who had just brutalized her. What, me worry?

After checking on Nicole, I went up to Janey's room.

She was already getting dressed, her eyes still puffy

and swollen from crying, but her face set and

determined.

"Janey?"

"Be ready in a minute. Where do you think she went?"

"How'd you know she was gone? Oh, I see. Gee, you're

getting pretty good with your link thing, aren't you."

"Yes, and you should be better than me, Dad. I mean, I

can sense stronger than Mom, but she's real sneaky

sometimes about what she knows, so I can't always tell.

Simone and I can hook up pretty good, but she's way

different than I am. Like, the last time we did each

other, she was doing things to me I didn't think anyone

but you could do. I made her stop, you know, it was

too much. She's like you that way in that she can tell

what turns me on, but still, she's no match for what

you can do."

"What do you mean?"

She turned to me, exasperated but patient, like with a

slow-witted child. "Dad. Stop thinking. Feel. Reach

out. God! You can do it when you don't think about,

you know? I felt what you did to mom downstairs."

I must have looked surprised.

Janey explained, "Don't you know what you did? You

were shouting how much you loved her, how this was all

your fault, how you would try to make things right, but

to please STOP! I mean, you weren't making words with

your mouth or anything, you were like shouting in your

mind, or something. It was really clear. You were

really scared, not just for Nicole, but for Mom, too.

That sort of made me feel good. Then I got really,

really cold. Stop thinking of pictures, will you? I

mean, it works sometimes, but Geez, an iceberg? Be a

little easier on us weaklings, why don't you."

"You got all that, all the way up here?"

"Clear as a bell, Dad. Just stop thinking. Feel. Can

you feel mom now? Can you tell what she's feeling?"

I stopped and felt. I reached out for Sally. I found

her, waiting for me. A lump formed in my throat.

Shit. And I thought I felt bad. I sent her my love.

"Don't worry. She'll get over it. She knows you love

her. That's all she needs to know right now. She also

knows she really screwed up, too. And that you will

fix it. She trusts you. She loves you. I trust you,

too."

She finished tying her shoes. "Where do we start

looking for Simone?"

I was taken aback for a minute. "Uh, would you mind

holding down the fort here? I kind of need you to look

after Nicole. She's unconscious right now, but

nothing's broken, I hope. But when she comes to, I

need you to make sure she's OK. If she's not, call the

hospital and get her there.

"Your mother stays in the basement until I come back

home with Simone, or until I give up. That could be a

long time. Tough. Let her out of the stocks one hour

a day for a shower and exercise. You can change her

bondage if you think the stocks are too much for her.

I don't know how long I will be gone, so use your

judgement. I do not want to injure her.

"You may give her updates on Nicole's progress and

anything I tell you to relay to her on the telephone.

Otherwise silence. No chit chat, no making her feel

better. You'll need to feed her at least one meal

while she's in restraints. She cleans up her own

messes on her free hour. It will stink down there, so

be prepared for it."

Janey nodded, agreeing with everything I said, even the

tough parts.

"You're in charge, kiddo. I trust you, too. Remind

Nicole about the Free Room rules and that she can stay

there as long as she wants. That's where I put her.

Oh, the guns are put away, so you won't need to worry

about her getting a hold of one. Other than that, be

sure to sleep when you can, even if it's during the

day. You're going to need it. I'll call when I can."

She rushed into my arms. "Thanks, Dad, for taking

charge. I'm glad you're letting me do something."

I held her away from me. "You're not disappointed

you're not going with me to look for Simone?"

"That's your job. Besides, if you had to worry about

me, I'd just mess up your sensing thing. You have

enough trouble with it, as it is." Always the critic.

At least she was smiling when she said that.

"Good. I'm off then." With that, I turned and left

the house, knowing Janey would take charge. Just like

Sally would, if she could.

I called Amud on his cell phone from my car as I headed

for the Interstate.

"Amud, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Simone left the

house with you this afternoon."

"My friend, as lovely as the child is, I did not kidnap

her, I swear."

"Amud, again I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you had

anything to do with it. I didn't make myself clear.

She left the house riding on your car. On the back

bumper. She has run away."

"Oh, dear!"

"Yes. I need to know the first stop you made after you

left the house that she could have gotten off.

Probably in a city or large town."

He thought a minute. "Oh, yes. We stopped in at a

leather warehouse over near the new stadium. From

there we are now heading home."

"Thank yo...."

"Lawrence? Lawrence? Hello? Here is Bala. The girl,

the new one, she is missing, no?" From the blustering

in the background, I could tell Amud was not happy that

his little wife had snatched the cell phone from him.

I smiled, in spite of the circumstances. He would

enjoy reminding her of his mastery over her. I knew

she would enjoy it also.

"Yes, Bala. I have to find her."

"Use the lights, Lawrence. Don't think, just use

lights. You great master, use it. Find the precious

one." She then got all soft, unlike the Bala I knew.

"I like her. Please. She is very special."

"I know. I like her, too, Bala. Goodbye, and thank

you." I rung off, slightly puzzled by their comments.

You know, it was beginning to irritate me. With all

advice I had been getting lately to quit thinking, I

was beginning to think..., well there I went again,

thinking. Anyway, perhaps people were trying to tell

me I did too much of it, or maybe that I didn't do it

well. I wasn't sure. I decided not to think about it.

I had a haystack, a place to start. All I needed to do

now was find the needle. Piece of cake. Yeah, right.

The warehouse Amud mentioned was in an industrial area,

busy on the weekdays, but almost deserted at night and

weekends. I could hear the ruckus from the tail end of

a Heavy Metal band concert in the stadium a couple of

blocks over. This being a Friday evening, I figured

Simone got here just when the streets were empty, the

workers gone home, the concert in full swing. A pretty

young girl, alone, would stick out like a sore thumb on

these naked streets.

I sat in my car, at a loss for what to do next. I had

driven to the spot Amud had stopped. I parked in a No-

Parking zone across from the local police precinct.

Even it was deserted at this time of the week, manned

by just a skeleton crew of rookies. It had been too

much to hope that Simone would be standing there

waiting for me. I know it was na‹ve of me, but I had

hoped, just a little.

I closed my eyes in quiet frustration and lay my head

against the steering wheel of the car. I may have

cried for her, I don't know. I guess I really had

wanted her to be there, tears on her face, cold from

the long ride on the bumper, frightened of the strange

darkness, a big van, a friendly face, old kind of, kind

of cinnamon smell, candy, a warm car, warm blanket,

warm up, feels good, food, voices, laugh, a funny

laugh, money through the window, a door opening

suddenly, a bad man, fear, scared, ...

I woke up with a start. What the Hell was that? I

looked at my watch. No. I hadn't been asleep.

Simone! I knew I was sensing Simone, seeing what

Simone was sensing. Somewhere near, close, but going

away now. Then just blank, like she was drugged. I

had felt the needle jab into her leg. I could sense

her drift away, then it was still, not any feelings

from her at all.

I found myself out of my car. I could sense better

outside in the open. I couldn't get a bearing on a

direction with this sensing thing and it frustrated the

shit out of me. I just wandered the streets, hoping to

sense when it was stronger, when she was closer. She

was so close...

I wandered the streets looking for her, half running,

stumbling, walking. Looking for her senses. Just a

trace, anything. I found that the harder I tried, the

fainter she got. I lost all sense of time and of

myself. I immersed myself into her aura, and just kept

wandering, apparently aimlessly.

It happened so suddenly. I distinctly felt it when she

woke up, the pain, the slaps across our cheeks, a kick

in the ribs, one broke. I hurt, she hurt. Too far

away, now, she was going away again. Another needle,

another sleepless dream, floating. I followed that

dream, walking blindly through streets.

Then the men started coming. I could see them, what

they were doing to her, to us. We were ashamed,

please, no more, not again. The sense from Simone

started to fade, but wasn't moving away anymore. She

was going into hiding, into her shell. It was her only

defense, her last hope. I sent her a message, but I

didn't know if she got it. I was coming. Hold on.

Then it was just like static on an open radio signal.

I kept wandering, trying to find her. The streets were

empty through Saturday and Sunday. Monday I had to

dodge traffic as I stumbled along the sidewalks. I

don't remember if I slept or not. I do remember I

stopped looking at people as people. I started looking

at them as lights. I wasn't surprised to find most

people were pretty dim, if they had any light at all.

Tuesday came and went and I was getting desperate.

Just before I collapsed in a doorway, I heard it.

"Help me. Please."

Simone! She was close! I looked around and saw her

light. There were no windows in that abandoned

building, but I saw her lights. Dimming, but there. I

knew it was her.

I found my way into the building and damn near fell

down the dilapidated steps into the cellar. It stunk

of fresh urine and shit. I began a frantic search for

her in the dark cavernous spaces. The lights from her

had gone back out. There was only static again.

I found her. She was naked, bruised and barely

conscious. They had used a staple gun to fasten clumps

of her hair to a wooden post. She was hanging by her

hair in a position where she couldn't stand upright or

sit or kneel. The muscles of her thin legs had

supported her as long as they could in the awkward

position, but they had given out days ago. The floor

around her was in places several inches deep in feces

and pools of urine. It couldn't have been all hers.

The two men surprised me as I was vomiting. Given

their poor fighting skills, my retching wasn't much of

a disadvantage. I disabled the big one first. He was

obviously the bodyguard. The asshole was trying to

pull an Uzi out from under his jacket, if you can

imagine that. The clip or barrel or something got

caught on his belt, but by that time, it didn't matter.

His knee when one way, he went the other, shit

splashing everywhere as he landed hard. He dropped his

Uzi when he grabbed for his knee. I kicked him in the

head for insurance, then kicked the gun into a far

corner.

The smaller man, a pimp by his dress, was smarter. I

could tell because he had chosen a more appropriate

weapon. He had his knife out and was trying to appear

as if he was ready for me. I like fighting idiots with

knives. Mainly because most fighters don't know how to

use them and it makes the motherfuckers overconfident.

They always get a big one like Rambo or that crocodile

guy and the weight tends to throw them off balance.

Then they fucking hold them upside down, like I'm going

to be stupid enough to step inside his down-swinging

arm. This pimp with the yellow hat had really

overcompensated for his inadequacies with the monster

blade he was holding. I left him writhing on the

floor, the knife buried to the hilt in his thigh, right

where he had it aimed. The knife had driven clear

through his leg with the tip stuck firmly into the

wooden floor. I knew he wasn't going anywhere for a

while.

I was trying to get Simone free when the third guy

jumped me. He would have had me clean, too, but he

slipped in the shit trying not to get too close. A

little schmutz, and I would have been dead. As it was,

he still got my arm good with the deadly little knife

he was using. I think he thought he had me, now that I

was wounded, but he was wrong. He made the fatal

mistake of letting me get too close to him. Once I'm

in close, well, he died surprised. As I pushed his

lifeless body off me, I gave a start of recognition.

It took me a moment, but I finally placed him. He had

been in some of the pictures Gary had taken of Sally

during her humiliation.

I managed to free Simone using the knife I pulled out

of my forearm. I simply cut her hair free from the

staples and picked her up. They had not tied her arms

and she latched on to my neck with what seemed to be

all her feeble strength. I thought I felt her sob

once, but wasn't sure. Sensing the urgency of flight,

I kept trying to find my way to the stairs but my head

wouldn't seem to work. Every time I tried to look for

the door out of the room, my nose kept turning back to

the same dark corner. I would take a step to turn, and

my head would swing like a compass needle pointing

north. Same damn corner, every time.

I finally realized Simone was yanking on my ear,

forcing me to look at that particular corner.

Understand, I was brain-dead, tired, stabbed and trying

to escape, my survival instincts in complete command.

My mission was over. I had Simone. It was Miller

time. I was like a horse headed for the barn, ASAP. I

did not want to look in that stinking corner.

She was insistent, and my ear was starting to hurt. I

went over to the fucking corner. Nothing. I started

to turn away. My ear just about got torn off.

"What the fucking hell do you want!" I yelled at her in

my mind.

"Please. Hidden. Shiny. Silver. Important," came

the faint reply over our link. It wasn't exactly words

but images. I didn't really understand.

I shuffled around in the debris piled in the corner

until my foot kicked into an aluminum case. It was

heavy, and now my fucking foot hurt, too. I picked it

up with my good hand. Simone grasped my neck tighter,

easing the work I had to do with my injured arm. Where

she got the strength I don't know.

My ear released from her grip, I found an exit. On the

way out and up the stairs, I stumbled. I tripped over

a lit kerosene lamp one of the men had left on the

stairway. It fell to the basement floor and broke

open. The old newspapers that cluttered the floor

caught fire easily. The old dry timbers of the

crumbling warehouse exploded into flames, engulfing the

three bodies in the cellar.

I heard screams as I walked away, carrying Simone. It

didn't bother me at all.

As I cleared the killing zone, as I thought of it, I

had to stop and think where I was. I realized I was

many miles from my car. I was in the middle of an area

I didn't recognize right away. I couldn't see the

stadium. I couldn't see any landmarks or familiar

buildings at all until I got to the next large

intersection. God! I was two towns over from where I

had parked.

It was night, there were no buses running in this part

of town. No taxis were going to stop for me, not with

the way I looked after four days of wandering around,

bleeding from a big gash in my arm and carrying an

unconscious naked stinky little girl. I headed for the

one safe house I knew in this town.

Mac didn't recognize me at first when he opened his

door. I just hoped he would take over now. I

collapsed in his doorway.

Chapter 36

I woke up in a hospital. I knew that before I opened

my eyes. I could smell the familiar antiseptic odors.

My arm felt stiff and sore. I could feel the bandaging

they had used on the stab wound. Oh well, another

battle scar.

I kept my eyes closed and tried to link to Simone. I

was startled to find her so close. She was in the bed

next the chair I was sitting in. Sensing she was safe,

I drifted off to sleep again.

When I woke up again, it was dark. Simone was still

asleep, resting easy. I had been having some very

weird dreams. When I noticed she was holding my

finger, much like Janey had done when I had sat by her

bed, I suspected Simone and I had been communicating

over a similar link between us. I seemed to know her

better now. She was, indeed, a special person.

The dream had seemed so real, interactive. I had been

on a beach, and thousands, millions of others were

there, too. The fine white sand seemed to stretch for

eternity in both directions. When I looked down, I

couldn't focus on the sand around me, but it seemed so

real I could feel it between my toes. Most of the

people along the beach were building sandcastles. Some

castles were bigger than others were, as those people

had others helping them. Some others were struggling

by themselves to build one that could stand against the

relentless waves.

Some people along the beach were raging at the sea,

kicking at the water, trying futilely to keep the waves

from their sandcastles. As I watched, the waves would

come and wash away their castles or the castles of the

people near them. They were trying to stop the waves.

The waves would strike at random. You could never tell

when the waves would come, who would have to start

over, who would be wiped out, or whose castle would be

touched. Some sandcastles were barely touched by the

waves, some the waves wiped out. Wherever the water

touched a sandcastle there was sadness.

Sometimes the people would stop building and just

wander out into the waves, to become a part of the

vastness. Most of us just kept building our castles.

Like I was doing.

I had a bucket in my hand full of sand. When I

examined the sand in the bucket carefully, though, I

saw the grains were made up of the faces of Simone and

Nicole. When I looked at my sandcastle, I and I saw

that the sand there, too, was made up of faces, faces I

knew. I saw my parents, my sister, Sally and Janey.

Mac was there, as were others, some alive, some long

dead. I put the new bucket onto my castle and Nicole's

and Simone's faces became part of the whole.

Looking up, I saw Simone was there on the beach beside

me. The remains of two small ruined sandcastles were

visible beside her as she bravely attempted to build

yet another around the face of her mother. I saw in

her sand the face of an elderly gentleman that I knew

was the man she called Papa. The other man in the

ruins was younger. It looked as if she had kicked that

pile over herself, her tiny footprints visible in the

white sand, long deep scars where she had tried to kick

the face of that evil man away form her. But that

sand, that face, was still a part of her castle, a part

of her.

Simone wasn't raging at the waves as were many others

in less tragic conditions. The waves had touched her

as it had them, yet she persevered. I could also see

she was being very careful now, selecting the material

for her castle with greater care. She stood holding an

empty bucket, another was off to one side. Janey's

face was in her castle now, the new sand still bright

and shiny. I could see my face in the bucket she had

set aside. She was scared to mix it in with her

mother's sand. Unsure.

Suddenly, in my dream, I was telling a story, teaching

a history class. When I would turn to look at the

students, they would all have the same face, the face

of Simone. All of them asked different questions,

throwing them at me faster than I could answer as if

time was running out. I tried to answer as many as I

could, but some of them I knew I wasn't allowed to

answer, secrets from my past I could not share. Some

of the questions were easy. Some were hard. Others I

didn't know the answers to. The bell rang and the

questions stopped.

We were back on the beach. Simone was turning to me

smiling. Both buckets were empty. My face was in her

castle. I waved my hands and a space opened in the

walls of my own castle. When I looked around I could

see that Sally had her castle right next to mine, each

adding support to the other. Janey's was there, too,

as was Nicole's. I invited Simone to place her own

castle within the protection of mine, of my family's.

I could tell she wanted to, but she was hesitant,

afraid. It was not a feeling she was used to.

We were in the delicate and difficult process of moving

her sandcastle closer to mine when I woke up.

I tried to sit up. A pair of strong hands was there

immediately to help me.

"I called your house. Janey answered. She said to

tell you someone named `Bala' came over to help out.

Said you would want to know everything is OK and that

Sally is still in the basement, whatever that means.

Nicole, whoever she is, is awake and responsive and

didn't need to go the hospital. Now that you know

everything is OK, Lar, you want to tell me just what

the fuck's going on? Who are all those people?"

I relaxed as I heard the rapid-fire reassurances from

my friend. All the little things I hadn't been able to

think of, he had. Damn, it was good to hear his voice.

I smiled. "Mac! You should really watch your language

around impressionable young kids, you know?" Mac had

grown up on the streets in a very rough neighborhood.

Ever since high school I had ribbed him about his rough

language, helping him smooth out some rough edges. In

return, he taught me to fight dirty and about the hard

facts of life in the real world. We both learned and

improved, better individuals for our friendship.

He punched my arm, the good one. "Damn you, Lar, I've

been stuck in here for three days waiting for you to

wake up and tell them I had nothing to do with this.

Whatever this is. What is this, anyway, and who the

Hell are you and what have you done with my friend

Larry Sampson?"

"Oh, God, Mac, where do I start..."

"He can't tell you."

The two of us turned our heads as one to look at the

clear, sweet voice coming from the bed. Simone was

awake.

She repeated, "He can't tell you. He has integrity."

She said that last word as if it were the most

important thing in the world that a man could have.

She may be right.

"Damn, Lar, who is the beautiful woman who uses big

words with such a lovely accent?"

"Excuse my manners. Mac, this is Simone. Simone,

Mac."

He stuck out his hand, "Hi, Simone." His trademark

grin that had won him more than one fair maiden lit up

his face.

"Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Mac." She said his name

with her delightful accent, and giggled at his response

to her. I had seen Mac in many situations, but I had

never seen him this flustered. I swear, he even

blushed.

"I can get her to explain any big words you don't

understand, OK, lughead?"

"Fuck you!"

"Monsieur Mac!" That reprimand came from her, followed

by another laugh. I had never observed that particular

behavior they called coquettish before, but it was

truly amazing to see this teenaged girl keep Mac tongue-

tied and off balance.

After several minutes of valiantly waging a losing

battle, he turned to me for rescue. "Help me out here,

please! So help me God, I want to take her home with

me. But if you dare tell CeCe I said that, I'll make

you pay for our lunches for the next 10 years."

"I'm tempted to tell you to go fuck yourself, Mac," I

laughed, grinning at him. "But I don't think I could

afford you for the next 10 years with your new

contract." Mac had gone on a tear at the plate the

last month of the season. It hadn't been enough to get

the team into the play-offs, but it sure brought up the

gate receipts, which is what counts. He had been

expected to just be a part-time replacement for an

injured player. He had far out-performed expectations.

I knew he would, given the chance.

When the opposing pitchers kept getting hit, they

started walking him. Trouble with that was that Mac

firmly believed in scoring. Baseball to him was

simple. You get on, you score. He brought an exciting

sandlot quality to an aging team, invigorating the

whole team in the process. If you walked him to first,

he would steal the next three bases, including home

plate. The fans loved it. So did management. They

had just signed him to a huge contract for the next 3

seasons.

"Lawrence, is he OK?" Simone asked quietly.

I knew what she meant. Was he safe to have in her

sandcastle? Would he hurt her, leaving her to trample

more sand?

"Uh, `Monsieur Mac', as you have dubbed him, is my

closest and best friend. I would, and have, trusted

him with my life and yours. I hope someday you will

find a friend as good as he is to me. I can't tell you

if he will be good for you, but I would bet he would

be. That decision has to be up to you. Always."

"It is frightening, Lawrence. How can I be sure who to

trust?"

"Trust your mother. Trust Sally. Trust Janey. Learn

from them, watch them, see how they measure people, who

they let into their lives."

"But Gary, and that other man..." she didn't finish.

"Don't hold your mother responsible for Gary, Simone.

Sally fell for him, too. We all need to learn from our

mistakes and the mistakes of others."

"I know." She looked up at Mac with her sparkling blue

eyes, her decision made. I knew he was a goner. He

was going to be a part of her sandcastle whether he

liked it or not. Something told me he wouldn't mind.

CeCe's opinion was another matter, but one bridge at a

time.

A first for Mac, he had not interrupted this short

exchange. He was puzzled at some things we were

saying, others began to make sense.

"So, anybody want to tell me what you were doing on my

doorstep covered in blood and shit? Can you tell me

that much?"

I looked over at Simone, who nodded for me to tell him.

"Remember a couple of weeks ago, that serial killer

they caught?"

He nodded, shuddering at the reminder. It was still

fresh in most people's minds. Even with his tough

background, some things still touched you hard.

"He was Sally's boyfriend before she kicked him out."

"You mean the one where she just about shot apart her

house when she kicked him out, oh about four or five

years ago?"

"You knew about that and didn't tell me?"

"Well, yeah, CeCe told me but she said Sally would tell

you. I thought you knew. Honest!"

"Thanks, buddy. Thanks a lot. Anything else you want

to tell me about my fianc‚e before I start?"

He shook his head sheepishly. I knew he hadn't meant

to keep it from me. I continued the abridged version

and told him the story about Sally and Gary, then of us

seeing Gary, Nicole and Simone together at the

symphony. I told him what I had done to set Gary up,

just not the connections I used or how I had made them.

He assumed they were from my financial clients. I let

him.

I also glossed over exactly why Nicole and Simone were

staying with us, and what led to Simone running away,

just that there were some adjustment issues around the

house to work out. Then I turned to Simone and asked

her to tell both of us what had happened from that

point, as I was curious, too.

Simone lowered her eyes and spoke to her hands, which

were folded on her lap. Her voice was clear and her

words concise, no fear apparent in them.

"I was so jealous of Janey. She is so beautiful and

her dance was perfect. I will never be like her. She

has so many friends. It is so hard for me to speak

with people my own age, especially the boys. I try,

but I always say the wrong things and make them feel

stupid. I don't mean to. For Janey it is so easy.

Everyone likes Janey.

"I was angry at her for being so perfect. I did

something awful. I told one of her friends, a boy she

really liked, something that made him not like her. It

was a lie. She found out. It hurt her, and she cried

at night for several nights. She did not hate me,

though, and that made me feel so small. In fact, she

tried harder, spending more time with me, helping me.

I had never done anything like that before, to try to

hurt someone. It made me feel so dirty inside. It

shamed me.

"I know she tried so hard to make me feel welcome, but

it was still her room, her home. I missed my things,

too. You took us in to your home to help us, but it

was not my home. Mama felt the same way, a little.

Please understand, we were grateful for the help you

gave to us, but it hurt our pride to need it.

"I was angry with Mama, too, for saying those ugly

things about Janey. It was not the first time. Mama

isn't like that, really. Please do not hate her,

Lawrence, she is very frightened and alone. She needs

to have a man such as you take care of her. But she

kept saying bad things, worse and worse. I think she

was afraid you would not want me around with Janey so

perfect, so she tried to make her less perfect by

saying those things about her. I warned her that Mist-

, er, Sally was becoming angry with her. She didn't

care.

"Then after the dance Mama said that horrible thing

about Janey. My Mama is bigger and stronger than

Sally, but I have never seen such a rage in a person.

I wanted to stop her from hurting Mama, but I couldn't

move my feet. It happened so fast, too. I could feel

Sally's rage with that thing Janey showed me. The

intensity of her madness terrified me and kept me from

moving. I was ashamed to be so weak and useless when

my Mama needed me most.

"When that nice couple left, I hid on the back of their

car. I am sorry for running away, Lawrence. I did not

mean to go. I did not mean to cause you so much

trouble. I thought if I were not there, Mama would not

have to worry about you not wanting me around. If I

were not there, I would not have to live with Janey and

be compared to her perfection. At least, that's what I

told myself later, as we both know those are just

excuses, really. In all honesty, at the time, I did

not think at all, Lawrence. For once in my life that I

can remember, I did not think. I just did it.

"I had gone outside to get away from the things in my

head. I could still hear Mama screaming. I could

sense Sally's rage. I could feel the thump of Mama's

body as she was pulled down the stairs. I could feel

the hairs pulling out of her head. I had to get away,

as far from the pain and screaming and rage as

possible. I am sorry I was so weak.

"Their car was leaving and I ran and jumped on. I

didn't think. I had to do it before it got too far

away and once I took that first step, I was flying. I

have never felt so free before. I was doing something

without planning it out. Without knowing what would

happen. My heart was racing from the excitement and

the wind felt wonderful on my face. Such exhilaration

I have never felt before. I was free!

"The first part of the ride was like a magic carpet. I

was gliding along. Then the went too fast and I got

frightened. I couldn't see the exit signs because my

eyes would water in the wind. The temperature dropped

as it got dark and I got cold. I kept my eyes closed

most of the ride so I didn't know what road I was on.

I got off at the first stop of the car, but by then, I

was cold and lost. I didn't know where I was. I

started walking towards the lights of the big sports

arena and the music, looking for a telephone or a

store. A big van drove by me as I was walking along, I

think maybe twice. The second time it went by then

backed up. I was so cold, I was shaking.

"A nice man in the van asked me if I would like a ride.

I said no. He said just get in to get warm, it was

cold out tonight, and it looked like rain. He said he

would just drive me around to find a telephone, then

bring me back to where I was standing. I said no. He

asked me if I was hungry. I am sorry for all the

trouble I have caused you, Lawrence, but I was so cold

and hungry. I did not eat at the dinner, I had been

too excited with all the new things Bala was teaching

us. The nice man pulled a big sandwich out of a bag

and took a bite. I could smell it though the open

window. The juices dripped down his chin and he

reminded me of Papa. Just a little. It looked so

good. I am sorry, but I got in.

"He started driving around. I wrapped up in a blanket

in the back, as far from him as I could. It was so

nice and warm. He gave me a cup of hot chocolate, to

help me warm up first, he said. It tasted funny and I

think he had put something in it. But it was warm and

I drank it all. I felt a little funny later, but not

bad. I suddenly didn't care if he didn't take me to a

telephone or back to where he picked me up anymore.

"He made a phone call while we were driving around. I

didn't pay any attention to where we were going. I

felt like I was floating. I didn't care about anything

anymore. Soon we were far away from the sports arena.

He stopped the van by another car on this dark street

with all these broken buildings. An ugly man in a

yellow hat looked at me and made an ugly laugh. I

didn't like him. He handed the nice man some money.

Suddenly the door I was leaning against was yanked

open. A big man ripped the blanket away from me. I

felt the cold again and I screamed. He hit me. Then

he stuck a needle in my leg.

"I woke up where you found me. I felt you coming, I

think, but I had to hide. They..., they did bad things

to me. I got thirsty, and they peed in my mouth. When

I got hungry, they backed up to my face and defecated

on me. The other men, they always kept coming and

using me, in my mouth, in my bottom, everywhere. They

paid money to the man in the yellow hat to use me.

"When you found me, they were getting ready to move me

to another place. The man said someone had paid cash

for me and I was going far away, where no one would

find me. They had taken pictures of me first thing

before I got too dirty, to show to the buyers. The

yellow hat was happy with the price the new people had

paid him. He called me `prime.'"

She ended her story. Both Mac and I sat there,

unmoving, shocked at what we had just heard.

"Simone," I asked her, "were there two men or three who

took you the first time. When they grabbed you out of

the van"

"Just two. The man with the yellow hat and the big,

dumb one. He made a lot of piss. He grabbed me and

leaned on me until I was still after he stuck me with

the needle. I remember he carried me to the other car

under his arm like a loaf of long French bread, but I

couldn't feel anything. Then I don't remember."

"There were three men in the cellar. Do you know who

the third man might have been?"

"When they went away and left me alone, they said they

were bringing back someone to take me away. Perhaps

that was him."

I hoped to God it was, and that he had been acting

alone. I just wanted this nightmare to end for Simone.

Chapter 37

At that moment the door opened and a distinctive aroma

filled the room. The smell, close to a stench, was so

intense it made your eyes water the first time you

experienced it. I had experienced it many times, and

still couldn't quite get used to it.

"Hello, Gertie. It's been a while."

"Hello, to you too, Mr. Sampson. I see you've been up

to your usual stunts. Rescuing fair maidens now, are

we?"

I was still sitting. I tilted my head back to look up

at an enormous block of a woman who was smiling warmly

down at me in a motherly fashion. She was as large as

her unique perfume was intense. As far as I knew,

there was still a sizable reward open in the NIH labs

for anyone who could duplicate that odor and make an

antidote. God knows why she insisted on bathing in the

stuff. She was an intelligent woman, a world-renowned

medical researcher. She was published in more than one

field, she had a likeable personality. She just

smelled. It was rumored that certain airlines had

banned her from flying with them. Too many customer

complaints.

She was accompanied by an officious lab coat. The

local hospital administrator, was my bet. He started

right in on me.

"Yes, Mr. Sampson, I demand to know what is going on in

my hospital. Will you please explain to me what you

did to this young juvenile and why you were carrying

her naked though the streets? What is your

relationship to this black fellow, and what were you

two planning on doing to her? I have several important

questions I would like to have answered, mister.

You're going to be in real trouble if I don't get the

truth I'm after, and I'm talking criminal charges,

here. Your accomplice here has been particularly

insistent in trying to leave. Why? I want to know

what's going on, and right now!" he ended emphatically.

"And you would be...?"

"Carl Jones, Assistant Administrator."

"Well, Mr. Jones, in the first place, you'd better get

a lawyer real quick. I don't take kindly to

insinuations, aspersions or allegations, especially the

kind you have just made about my friend, this `black

fellow,' as you called him, and me.

"Now, I'm sure that Dr. Schwartz here will put you into

contact with some nice government people who will

satisfy your curiosity as to who I am. Of course, that

would be after you prove to them that you're capable of

handling that information, which could take several

years of their asking some very personal questions. In

fact, I'm sure those same government people would be

happy to bring several of their nice friends along who

will have questions of their own for you about your tax

records for the last 25 years."

I stood up for effect. I don't think the pompous

little snot knew how big I was. "Now then, I would

suggest you leave before I really get mad."

He was actually preparing to spout off again until I

mentioned the IRS. Blanching, he left the same pallid

color as his lab coat.

When the door was shut Gertie said, "Done with your

usual light touch, Sampson. Oh, by the way, we don't

use the IRS to threaten the populace anymore."

I looked at her, an expectant smile on my face. I knew

a punch line was coming.

"Uh-uh. Now we threaten them with the INS, ATF, or

Janet Reno. They go in with machine guns and point

them at your children."

She said this with such a straight face that, had I not

guffawed, Mac would have taken her seriously. Gertie

always was the one person who could be relied on to

have the latest sick government humor. As with most

sick jokes, however, there was entirely too much truth

in her statement.

"Excuse me, are you really Dr. Gertrude Schwartz of

NIH?" asked Simone from the bed.

The huge lady turned her considerable attention to the

girl in the bed. "Yes, I am, child. Do you know me?"

"You wrote a book, `The Dynamics of Hemoglobin Under

Physical Stress' published in 1985."

"Yes, I did," Gertie said with surprise. "How did you

know?"

"I read it," she stated simply. Simone could see the

disbelief in Gertie's face. I knew if it was Gertie's

book, it was undoubtedly a thick and very technical

book. Simone continued, "There were only four

typographic errors. I thought it was very well

written."

"Well, thank you, I think. And there were only three

in the text!"

"You misspelled Claude Coutier's name in the

references. That was the fourth one. So you are

correct in saying there were only three in the text."

"Dr. Coutier is an arrogant sycophant," Gertie

muttered.

Simone giggled, "He said nearly the same thing about

you! Only in French, of course."

Gertie sat on the edge of the bed, fully taken with

this amazing young girl. "You know Claude?"

Simone nodded, "I knew him. We corresponded until he

died last year. I had written to him to ask him if he

thought your radical theories were correct, as they

differed so much from his. He grudgingly admitted to

me you were most likely correct. Did you know him, Dr.

Schwartz? He would never say why he had such strong

feelings about you."

I had never seen the big woman this vulnerable. She

was as tough as they came, solid and dependable. I had

leaned on her for strength more than once after

returning from a hard mission. This young girl had her

near tears.

"Yes, I did know him, long ago at the University. Very

well, in fact. He and I were engaged. His mother
didn't like me and we, he..." She didn't say what, but

it was clear.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Dr. Schwartz. I did not mean to

bring up sad memories. I know he would have liked it

that you did it on purpose, as a joke on his mother.

He said many nice things about you in his letters, like

he missed talking with you. I can see why he loved

you."

Gertie sat quietly for a moment, alone with her own

thoughts. She wheeled on me suddenly. "I hear one

word of this from anyone, mister, and I will draw so

much of your blood for lab tests at your next physical

you'll blow away in a puff. Understood?"

I nodded, suitable threatened. My lips were sealed.

For now.

With that, Gertie was back to business. "What's his

clearance?" she asked me, nodding her head at Mac.

I looked at Mac. I shrugged. "I don't know. What do

you think, Mac? 410 feet? 415?"

He snorted, Gertie just looked puzzled.

"Mac is my oldest and closest friend, Gertie. From

before my Agency work. He, uh, he is a ball player.

Baseball. Gertie, this is Mac Washington, third

baseman for the Yankees. Mac, Gertie, my own personal

government doctor."

They shook hands, then Gertie's eyes widened in sudden

recognition. "You! You're THAT Mac! You're the one

who showed up out of nowhere and cost me all that money

in the Orioles game. Damn! Nobody can move that fast

on the bases. You must have stolen four or five bases

that game alone!"

Mac grinned, taking the praise, tainted as it was, in

stride.

"Gertie, you continue to amaze me. I didn't know you

followed baseball. And betting? Does the Agency know

about that?"

She glared over at me. "Screw you, Mr. Sampson. It

was a $10 bet with the director that went to double or

nothing when Mac got walked. He was an unknown who had

just been moved up from some hick Triple A club to

replace that injured player, what's `is name. Who was

I to know he could run like the wind? Besides, $20

won't get you a hot dog and a beer there, so shove it.

We went to the game on official business, too. Maybe

one of you will tell me, since we're on the subject,

why do they call you two `The Twins?' That name kept

coming up in some of your old teammates' interviews."

She turned to Mac. "It's an honor to meet you in

person. Excuse me for not recognizing you, Mr.

Washington. I didn't recognize you without your tight

pants..." For the second time she stopped short, not

finishing what she was saying. It was a most unusual

occurrence.

As much as she blushed when she realized what she had

just admitted, that she had only looked at his butt

during the game, Mac and I were still trying to recover

from her sudden unexpected question about our nickname.

The reason for the name was rather personal, and, thank

goodness, our teammates, though truthful about the

name, had had the loyalty to conveniently forget the

reason for it. I gave her the standard bullshit answer

we told anyone who asked.

"Well, it started out in high school. He would get a

hit, I would get a hit. I would pitch a no-hitter,

then he would. What ever happened, happened to both of

us. Ergo, `The Twins!'"

Gertie looked at me carefully. She knew me too well.

My answer had been too pat, too prepared. "Is that

your final answer?"

I nodded.

"Bullshit."

I shrugged. Take it or leave it.

Shaking her head in resignation, she finally got on

with why she had come in to the room in the first

place. "Well, first the good news. You, Mr. Sampson,

are as healthy as a horse. As usual. Even that little

scratch on your arm should heal nicely. That is due in

large part to me, as you well know." With that

prognosis she dismissed me from her realm of concern.

I was uneasy to get off so lightly with her.

She looked over at Simone for a moment. "More good

news is that the girl did not catch anything

particularly nasty from her ordeal. I did have to use

some, er, new things for a few of the bugs she had in

her system. You will have sign some, um, release

papers for her before I can let you leave." Something

told me we were very lucky to have this good doctor on

our side.

I knew more than a little bit about her `new things,'

as she called them, having been the recipient of a few

of them before. It was in large part the reason for

her continued interest in the state of my health. Or

that I had any health at all for her to be concerned

about. More than once I had heard the term `the guinea

pig' used when someone asked for my medical chart,

especially after she had patched me up after a mission.

I had a feeling the same label now applied to Simone.

Knowing Gertie, well, I trusted her to use her best

medical judgement, which, come to think of it, was

about the best in the world.

She hesitated for a moment, thinking and phrasing as I

had seen her do before when she was really serious.

When she spoke, she spoke directly to Simone, as if Mac

and I weren't there, "Young lady, I do not know who you

are or where you come from or why you are not more

affected than you are by what you have been through.

From the state in which you arrived, and the company

you arrived with, I have a very good idea of exactly

what you have gone through this past couple of days. I

saw the pictures they took of you when you came in, I

have read the physical exam notes from the emergency

room doctors and I have seen the lab tests. I have

also seen the results from the samples I sent to my

lab. I know many things."

Gertie seemed overcome with emotion, all choked up.

She pointed over at me. I thought I was a goner. "I

know this man. I know he did not do this to you. If

anything, he is probably responsible for saving you

from the people who were doing it to you."

Simone nodded her head in agreement. Gertie had her

rapt attention. Mine, too.

"I cannot imagine what would make one human being treat

another in the manner these people treated you. I

cannot fathom what would make a grown man think he

could treat a beautiful young woman in the manner these

men treated you. Not even among the most uncivilized

of peoples does this behavior exist. Only rarely does

it occur in the animal kingdom. I am beyond myself

with outrage. I ask you, give me one name, just one,

of one of the men who did this, and I will make him

suffer for what he did to you. He will beg me to let

him die. I swear to you, I will do it."

Simone shook her head. She didn't know their names.

Gertie misunderstood her, but, knowing me, guessed

correctly what had happened.

"You can't. They're dead, aren't they?" Not waiting

for an answer, she turned on me again. "Judge, jury

and executioner?" she accused bitterly.

I shook my head softly and held up my injured arm.

"One Uzi and two knives. Self-defense."

She snorted. "With your special training, that was

hardly fair odds..."

My alarmed look stopped her before she breached any

more major government secrets. I pointed to Mac, who

was staring wide-eyed at her careless slip that I had

had special training. I had never even hinted to him

what I had done after I left Triple A ball other than I

was working for the State Department. He thought I

worked at the embassies or something. I never really

said.

Gertie, who had been nearly beside herself with rage at

the brutality of what Simone had been through, forced

herself to calm down. When she was back in control,

she turned back to the girl. "Simone, dear, I was

prepared for you to be traumatized and emotionally

battered from your ordeal. I was looking for you to be

withdrawn and sullen, bitter and hateful. A normal

person would feel that way. I was expecting to have to

recommend years of psychiatric help and counseling for

you.

"But what do I find? A caring, sensitive, intelligent,

composed young woman. You reached out and touched my

heart with a fond memory. You had the sensitivity to

understand the love that old bastard and I had for each

other, two misshapen human beings that no one else

could love. You are truly an extraordinary woman.

"I would be pleased if you would keep in contact with

me. I would love to get to know you better as a

person, to watch you grow, to help you be even more

than you are now, if even in some small way. It would

be a privilege. Besides, latent repercussions of these

events may crop up later on. Rather than have to re-

educate someone new, I would be pleased to keep in

touch with you."

I nearly fell out of my chair. This was the woman who

had practically single-handedly re-invented the

rehabilitation program for traumatized agents. There

were today several active agents who, prior to her

program, would have had to be, well, put down, myself

among them. We could be a lethal bunch when we got out

of control. For her to offer to look after Simone

after the trauma she had been through was more than I

could have hoped for. It also indicated something of

the intensity of the trauma Simone had been through.

Simone's experience was, in many ways, the same type of

torture and degradation experienced by captured agents.

Simone's apologies earlier of her inability to resist

because of the cold and hunger had reminded me of

similar apologies I had made myself. We all had a

breaking point. When we reached it, we all felt it was

due to our weakness, a failure on our part. Gertie was

right. Simone needed more than my help for this.

I lost my head. I stood up and hugged Gertie, I was so

overcome with emotion. She tolerated it briefly, then

set me back down rather forcibly in the chair. "Don't

go soft on me now, Mr. Sampson. She's going to need

your help, too. I assume, somehow, you're in some

manner responsible for her? God help her."

I almost wished I were back in the agency. Almost. I

had so many things I could hold over her head from just

this afternoon, I could have owned her departmental

budget. Her former lover, betting with the director,

watching Mac's ass, her careless slip about my

training, oh, so many things. I could have had any

assignment I wanted. But, then, that was the trouble.

I didn't want any assignments, anymore.

"Yes, she is the daughter of my, uh, fianc‚e." I saw

Simone watching me to see how I would portray my

relationship with her mother. I thought I should

reassure her of the permanence of her situation with

me. I forgot about Mac.

"What!" Mac burst out. "Did you and Sally break up?

Holy Shit! CeCe's going to have a cow!"

"No, Mac. We didn't break up. Sally and I are still

going to get married. Too," I added weakly. My

position of superiority with Gertie had just been

eroded to nothing. I could see from her incredulous

expression that she was eating this up and just waiting

to hear my explanation. From her prior experience with

me, she knew to expect a doozy.

"But, but, that's illegal," blustered Mac.

"Multiple partner marriages are an accepted practice in

37 different cultures," piped up Simone from her

pillow. She was on my side, at least. She wanted to

get her mom married off and safe. I wanted to change

the subject.

"And just how many of those 37 cultures are in the US

of A, Miss Smarty-pants," howled Gertie, now shaking

with laughter. She was really enjoying this. Turning

to me, she said, "Which wife will you be bringing with

you to the festivities in Washington the week after

next?"

I looked at her blankly.

"Oh, right! You haven't heard, yet. The President

thought it would be nice to have a quiet bash or two -

complete with photo ops, mind you! - for all the hidden
soldiers that keep this country safe for democracy. To

protect the actives, the agency PR guys are pulling in

every coherent inactive agent they can find, and you,

Mr. Sampson, are at the top of their list. A very

short list, too. Since the festivities will be at the

same time as your next scheduled physical..."

I groaned at the thought of another 4-day stint as a

rat in her laboratory.

"...I have already taken the liberty of RSVPing for you

and the Mrs. Maybe I should specify a table for

three...?" She was really enjoying herself. If

laughter was the best medicine, Gertie Schwartz, MD,

was a very healthy woman at the moment.

Simone, however, remained fixed on the problem that had

been staring me in the face ever since I realize what

it was Sally was really asking me to do with her and

Nicole. What she said next was like a thunderbolt, a

revelation. The answer was so simple, it just might

work.

"But, it's only illegal if they file the papers with

the courts, isn't it. I mean, they could still pretend

or something, couldn't they?"

I don't know about the others, but I just sat and

stared at Simone, my angel. All I could think of was

that quote `And a child shall lead them...'

Chapter 38

Simone and I were kept for observation for 4 more days.

Gertie visited everyday. Shit, she did more than

visit. She spent more than 6 hours a day with us,

talking with Simone mostly. With her workload at the

NIH, I realized how important this was to her, that

Simone be OK. I left them to their talks. I used the

time to sleep, as I was awake at night, still on alert.

I think Gertie knew that. I didn't look, but I knew

there was an inconspicuous guard watching our door 24

hours a day.

I spent the nights by Simone's bed. We would talk

until she fell asleep. She would insist on holding my

finger as we talked. She quietly admitted it helped

her dreams. Other than that she didn't like me, or any

male, to touch her much. She liked me to talk while

she slept, too.

I remembered what I had done for Janey, so I did the

same for her. I didn't have that much history with her

to relive, so I told her things I remembered from my

own youth. I told her all about Mac, and how the first

time we met, we had defended each other back to back in

a playground fistfight. The rich kid and the ruffian.

We had been inseparable from then on. Our parents and

teachers never understood.

I told her about growing up poor, then suddenly

stupendously rich. I told her about my father and

mother, how the sudden riches had torn them apart and

how I missed them. I told her about Marion, my sister.

How proud I was of her being a judge. I told her

things I had forgotten and things I tried to forget,

but couldn't. I told her what I could about my time in

the Agency, and why I couldn't work for them anymore.

I talked until I would drift off. Then we would dream

together.

Each night the dream would be the same as before. The

beach. The sandcastles. Each night I would show

Simone a different set of faces in my collection.

Some, like Gertie and Mac, she liked and she would try

to touch them with her fingers. Pieces of the sand

from them would cling to her delicate fingers and she

would scurry back to her own castle and brush the tiny

shiny grains into her own mixture of faces. I would

watch her as she would sit and watch the grains fit

together. Her radiant smile was all the reward I need

for sharing those memories.

Some of the faces in my castle frightened her and she

would protectively move her own sandcastle a little

farther away from mine again, leaving that part of the

wall open and unprotected from any errant wave. I

would leave the gap open for her and gently show how

all the faces in the sand were mixed. The good with

the bad. I showed her that the bad would fade away,

while the good would continue to shine. I showed her,

too, how the bad sometimes made the whole castle

stronger. Not all the time, but sometimes.

I showed her the remains of my father's castle, down

the beach a ways. It was almost gone, as he hadn't

been there to tend it for a long time. The only faces

left in the ruins were Thorny's, his partner, Marion's

and mine. Everyone else had faded away or forgotten

him.

We found her Papa's sandcastle and carried it closer to

where ours stood. Simone seemed to like knowing his

sand was close by. She visited his crumbling castle

often. Once I watched her try to fix a breached wall

in his castle. Every time she dumped a bucket of sand

on the wall, it would disappear. I didn't know how she

would react to that, but slowly she came to terms with

the futility of it. Only the living could build

sandcastles. She didn't try to fix it again, but

focused on building her own.

From that time on, each morning when we woke, I would

sense she had moved her sandcastle a little closer to

mine. I would grin over at her as she opened her eyes.

Neither one of us understood what it was we were

experiencing, but we accepted it. I knew it would be a

huge step for her to commit to another relationship and

that it would take a long time before she was ready to

do it. That was fine with me. I would be there when

she was ready.

Mac came everyday, too. He had been `released' as soon

as Gertie had cleared him. He visited the children's

ward on each visit, too. I'm not sure who liked it

more, Mac or the children. When he visited with us, he

spent most of his time tripping over his tongue trying

to talk with Simone. She continued to fluster him and

took great delight in her ability to keep him

floundering. He brought her little gifts, trinkets and

flowers that she accepted as if he was presenting her

with the crown jewels. I could tell he was having

trouble justifying his feelings about Simone on several

levels, not the least of which being her young age, and

kept trying to draw me into a conversation about Sally

and Nicole. I ignored his unsubtle attempts, and left

him to work it out by himself. I slept when he was

there, sounder than when Gertie was there. I felt

safer with my friend.

Mac had retrieved my car while we were recovering in

the hospital. I drove home after they released us. I

was a little nervous about our homecoming. I was going

to insist on carrying Simone through the door, but she

kissed me shyly on the cheek. "I am not the invalid,

Lawrence." Flabbergasted, I let her walk.

The house was quiet when we entered. Janey had heard

us drive in and was preparing the bed for Simone.

Another bed was the last thing Simone wanted to see.

The two teens saw each other and ran into each other's

arms. There was more said in the fierceness of that

hug and in the mingling of their mutual tears than

could ever have been said with mere words. I think, at

that moment, they started thinking of each other as

family, as sisters.

I had not told Janey what Simone had been through. She

just knew it had been terrible. Simone did not

apologize to Janey for being jealous. She wasn't

anymore. It was too expensive an emotion to own. She

couldn't afford it.

I stood and looked at the pair. Simone was taller than

Janey, but not as tall as Nicole. Her coloring was

deceptive. It was dark like her mom's, I guess. I

would have to say it was best described as having a

porcelain quality, like fine china. I knew she was a

lot tougher than she seemed, but the fragile quality

came through in every fine feature, every gracious

movement. She made you want to wrap her up in your

arms and protect her. A china doll. A very feminine

china doll.

They broke their hug. Janey looked up at her and

grinned, "Nice hair. You meet a lawnmower salesman?"

Simone looked stunned for a moment, then proudly poofed

her hair, like a Parisian model. "You like?" she asked

seriously. "He has a nice truck, he'll come to the

house. I can get you a quick appointment. I think he

said his name was `Roto-Rooter.' Very exclusive. 24-

hour service, too!"

It was Janey's turn to be silenced. Simone had never

bested her before, but it was fun to watch. Her squeal

of delight at having found a sparring partner ended in

another hug, this one of excitement.

After the extended greetings were over, I took the two

girls into the living room. I noticed the door to the

Free Room was closed. I had not told Simone what had

happened to her mom, but she knew most of it. She had

felt it through her newly discovered link. I asked

Janey to tell us what had happened while we were gone.

"Well, Nicole was sleeping when you left, so I went

down to check on Mom. I could, like, tell she was OK,

but I wanted to see for myself. I told her Nicole was

resting quietly. I also told her she was to stay down

in the basement under restraint until you got back with

Simone. Or came home alone."

She looked up at me. "I hope that was OK to tell her

that. I don't think she knew Simone had run away."

I nodded.

"Well, I wasn't sure. She got really scared, not for

herself, but for Simone. She started to cry, really

cry. I made sure she wouldn't choke or anything, and I

left. I couldn't take it. I don't know how long she

cried, but I felt her sorrow. I still do.

"A couple hours after you left, Bala showed up. You

called them?"

Again I nodded.

"Yeah, well, she ended up being a great help. But

right at the first I wasn't sure. Ten minutes after

she got here, I sensed a change in Mom, like a panic or

something. I raced downstairs and found Bala standing

behind her with a whip. She hadn't hit her yet, but

she was teasing her.

"I'm sorry if I didn't do the right thing, Dad, but I

let Bala have it. I told her this wasn't the time or

the place for teasing. I told her she could stay if

she wanted to help, but it would be on my terms. You

had left me in charge. Otherwise, she could get her

little butt back to Amud." Janey grinned at that

recollection. "She looked at me funny for a minute,

then she got that neat twinkle in her eye. You know

the one? Then she hugged me and apologized."

She looked up at us. "I wouldn't have made it through

without her help, Dad. Anyway, I spent most of my time

with Nicole. When she woke up, I tried to talk to her,

but she was really far away. I got scared and started

to call the doctor. Bala came in and looked at her.

She got in bed with her, naked, and lay down with her,

front to back, like you and mom like to do. Bala just

held her, singing to her, holding her like a baby.

"I watched them. Nicole settled down and seemed to

like the touch of Bala. When Nicole went back to

sleep, Bala had me take off my clothes and change

places with her, so that I was in the bed with Nicole.

She went off to fix us a meal. One of us was always

with Nicole, holding her.

"Eventually she started crying. I got scared again,

but Bala was really happy about that. She said that

now that she was feeling again, she would be OK. Even

if she were feeling a lot of sadness, it would pass.

It was the blankness that never went away that was

dangerous. Some women never come back to the living,

she said.

"About then Mac called. He was so worried about you,

but he said you were in the hospital now and would be

OK. Scared the shit out of me - oops, sorry Dad - but

he reassured me you were OK. I had to ask him if you

had found Simone. He didn't know your name, but when

he described you, I knew it was you. He didn't do

justice to your haircut, Simmie!"

Simone, who had just acquired a nickname, snuggled her

head into Janey's shoulder. Her tears had been

silently falling as Janey told of her mother's

recovery.

"She wants to see you, Simmie. That's the only thing

she has said to either of us. She just asked if Simone

had returned, and to please send her in immediately."

She looked back up at me. "I didn't tell her, Dad, I

swear. Bala swore to me she didn't, either. She just

knew Simone had run away.

"She's asleep right now, or I would have sent you right

in. You could go in and sit with her until she wakes

up if you want."

Simone nodded and went to the door of the Free Room.

She hesitated outside the door. "Janey?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Any time."

Chapter 39

When Simone was gone, Janey came over and sat on my

lap, curled up in a ball and wept. All the fear, all

the terror, all the unknown came rushing out. Things

were OK, now. Simone was back safe. She could let go.

I let her cry. In between her tears, she told me that

she had remembered what I had done for her when she had

been hiding from reality. How I had sat by her bed and

talked to her. So she did that with Nicole. She told

about Steven's attack on her. What she had felt like.

How she had wanted to die. She told her of Sally's bet

with me, the whole thing. How I had agreed,

reluctantly, to help her adjust sexually. That that

was why we were so open in the house, why Janey could

tease me like she did.

I let her cry herself out. We were both lying there

when we felt the reunion between Nicole and Simone. I

felt almost guilty eavesdropping on their emotions like

that. I asked Janey if she ever got used to it. I

think she felt as guilty as I did. It was a rather

touching reunion.

Nicole and Simone came out of the Free Room together.

In European fashion, they were holding hands. They

came over to where Janey and I were sitting. Nicole

was naked, as she had been with Sally as her mistress.

That would have to change. I whispered for Janey to go

get her one of Sally's slave outfits. Janey jumped up

and came back with it in a flash.

I had Janey help Nicole put it on. It didn't fit quite

the same as it did on Sally, but it did wonders for her

ego. She knelt down at my feet and grabbed on to my

ankles. I felt her tears washing over them. I looked

up at Simone to see what she was thinking. I wasn't

prepared for the beaming smile she gave me. Whatever I

had done seemed to have been a step in the right

direction.

I had been dreading going down to get Sally. When

Nicole seemed to be less weepy, I told her to get up

and follow me. I told the girls to have Bala call Amud

and to help her pack. I knew he didn't like to be away

from her any longer than necessary. I knew he didn't

like her in the house with me when he wasn't here, too.

It's not that he didn't trust us both. He just didn't

trust us both together. I didn't blame him. Bala was

beginning to grow on me.

I had been sensing Sally since I got home. I had shot

her a message to prepare herself when I had arrived. I

had sensed a quiet resolution and peace from her in

return. I wasn't sure I liked that serenity in her

and, frankly, it scared the shit out of me. I made my

way to the dungeon, sending her reassurances the entire

way. All I got back was that damned calm message that

she was at peace with herself.

Nicole followed me into the dungeon. She gasped as she

saw Sally. Her face was drawn, haggard, as if she had

not slept in the week we were gone. It was entirely

possible that she had refused herself that luxury. In

preparing for us, she had fouled herself. There was a

trail of urine beginning at her knees that was slowly

heading for the floor drain. Streaks of brown on her

thighs indicated the path of her feces. The stench was

just beginning to reach eye-watering intensity. Her

eyes clouded with tears for another reason as she saw

Nicole wearing one of her slave costumes. I felt the

fear in her heart. I did nothing to still it.

"Master? Has she been here the entire time?"

"Yes."

"Mon Dieu!"

The whip Sally had used to beat Nicole was still on the

floor where it had fallen that night. It had been

within her view the entire time as she knelt in the

stocks. I went over and picked it up. I handed it to

Nicole.

"Get it out of your system."

She looked at the whip as if it was of alien origin.

She looked up at me confused. "Master? I do not

understand."

I pointed at Sally. "She hurt you, beat you badly.

Now it is your turn."

Sally, already pale, whitened completely at that

statement. That was not what she thought I had meant

when I told her to prepare herself. She braced herself

when Nicole went up to her holding the whip in both

hands like a club. I was prepared to intervene if

necessary as she raised it high over her head.

The whip crashed down, but I didn't move. The force of

the blow broke the shaft of the weapon, knocking it out

of her hands and across the room. Nicole walked over

to it, bent down and picked up the now ruined whip.

She handed it to me. "It is out of my system. May I

help her clean up now, Master?"

I looked at her and smiled in gratitude. She had made

the first important unilateral step of forgiveness in

the process of reconciliation between the two women and

made it in such a way that ensured a healing. She had

broken the whip over the post behind Sally. I was

looking forward to getting to know this exotic looking

woman better.

"Come into the Free Room when you are both ready." As

I was leaving, I heard the two women crying and

sobbing, asking each other's forgiveness. They had

both been wrong, they had both been hurt. It had been

my all my fault. We all knew that, too.

They made me wait. Amud came and gathered Bala. Janey

and I expressed our thanks to him for letting her come.

He sincerely wished me peace in my house. Bala,

surprising both of us, requested Janey to come visit

her. She had been impressed with her taking charge,

how she had handled herself. There was much she could

teach her, she said, if I would allow it. She didn't

ask Amud's permission before speaking up, and I saw him

roll his eyes in exasperation. He did give me a quick

nod of assent before I agreed, however, grinning as he

did. As much as he protested, I think he enjoyed his

wife's unpredictable nature more and more. It was

exciting, anyway. I agreed that Janey would go over in

a few days and stay for an extended visit.

When Sally and Nicole did come into the Free Room, I

saw immediately what had taken so much time. Sally had

whipped up a slave outfit for Nicole, one that fit her

like a glove and showed off her charms in a most

appealing and inviting way. I'm not sure who was more

pleased with my stares at Nicole, she or Sally. I kept

checking my sense for any jealousy from Sally, but

there simply wasn't any. So I kept staring.

Eventually at both of them.

Sally, giggling, finally broke the lustful interlude,

"Did you want to see us, Master, or just see us?" She

giggled at her own joke. It was good to hear her

laugh, but there were serious matters to discuss.

I grinned at her, and held out my arms to her. She

collapsed against me, dissolving in the sobs of the

deep sorrow that was still just below the surface. I

held her to me, consoling her. Nicole stood watching

our embrace. She was not embarrassed at this intimacy

nor did she turn away. It was simply not her turn.

She would wait.

Setting Sally down in one of the comfortable chairs

around the table in the room, I held another chair out

for Nicole. I took another chair facing the two.

Briefly, before I started, I checked with my senses on

the two teenagers. Both were intense sources of

curiosity, standing just outside the door. I gave them

a good-natured growl over our link, thought of a

picture of a grizzly bear, which I knew Janey would

hate, and sent them to clean their room. We heard mock

screams of terror as they fled the vicinity.

Nicole looked puzzled at what had just happened. She

had not experienced the link, perhaps never would.

Sally looked stunned. I had just sent a message with

such apparent ease over my link where a week before I

couldn't hardly come to grips with having the ability

at all. I didn't try to explain it to her, but she was

clearly impressed with my grasp of it.

"This is the Free Room. Free Room rules apply. Is

that clear?" I asked them.

Both nodded.

"I made an error in judgement giving Sally authority

over you, Nicole. I apologize." I turned to Sally.

"I made an error of pride in not listening to you,

Sally. Please forgive me." I waited.

Nicole spoke first, after first glancing at Sally, who

nodded. "Lawrence, what works with some will not work

with all. You need to see Sally and me as different.

You need to see us for who and what we are. For

myself, I do not wish to be a mistress and have

authority over someone."

"I find that hard to believe, Nicole. You were the CEO

of a successful company. You made decisions and

controlled people's lives every day."

"I was terrified every minute of the day, every day of

the week. It is not that I cannot make decisions, or

think, or act on my own. I just do not wish to have

responsibility for others. It terrifies me. Can you

do that, Lawrence?"

"You are asking me to treat you differently. I can do

that. Will you also accept that many times, most of

the time, in fact, I may need to treat you in the same

manner? That there may not be much difference?"

She grinned, nodding. "Apology accepted, Lawrence."

Sally was quiet for a minute. "You hurt me, by not

listening to me."

I nodded. This was not going to go well, I could tell.

"I forgive you."

It couldn't be that simple.

It wasn't. I suddenly felt an awful pressure on my

balls. I looked at Sally. Both her hands were on the

table, as were Nicole's. Both sat too far away to

reach me with their feet. Still the pressure

increased. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I groaned

in pain. I saw spots. More than anything I wanted to

reach down and break the grip of whatever it was that

was slowly grinding my gonads. But I knew there was

nothing there. I groaned again, fast losing

consciousness.

Opening my senses, I saw two dainty hands holding an

oversized garlic press to my nuts. I recognized those

hands. I had just seen them. They were resting on the

table across from me. I looked up in terror at Sally.

"Don't you ever ignore me like that again, buster,"

came her sweet voice lilting across the link. "That

hurt me, that you, you, you toyed with me. Oh. By the

way, you aren't the only one who has been practicing.

I've had a lot of time on my hands lately..."

I gasped as the pressure suddenly disappeared. "One

more thing. I love you, Master," she ended. I didn't

know you could giggle across the link.

I had to wait to stop shaking before I continued. I

would never be safe in this house again. With my voice

still shaky, I asked, "Are you done?"

"Lawrence, is something the matter. You don't look

well. You are flushed."

"He's OK, Nikki." Nicole, too, had apparently acquired

a nickname. Sally was looking at me, talking to me

through her explanation to Nicole. "Its just something

that happens to a man when he realizes how stupid he's

been. This time the pain passed quickly, but the

reason for it will be remembered for a long time. That

about right, Larry?"

Nicole looked puzzled, but didn't press it.

I nodded in full agreement, then got on with the

meeting. "There are going be some changes. First,

Sally, I want you to take Nicole down and set up hers

and Simone's accounts like yours and Janey's. Nicole,

the way the money is handled around here is like this:

I don't touch your money. Any interest, wages or other

income is yours. It goes into the accounts that Sally

will help you set up. You are free to spend or invest

your money however you want. Until Simone is of legal

age, you will have signatory authority on her account.

I will be paying for all living expenses for my

household out of my own funds. Anything having to do

with the functioning of the household, I will pay for.

Is that clear?"

Sally and Nicole both nodded in agreement. It had been

bothering Nicole that this issue had not been

addressed.

"Second, we are moving."

That got a bigger reaction from them. Nicole relaxed a

bit more. It was another area of concern for her.

Sally looked surprised, and a little distressed.

Before she could protest, I explained my reasons,

"Sally, this is your home. Nicole is uncomfortable."

I waited to see if she would accept that.

Sally looked over at Nicole, pleading in her eyes.

"Don't hold this against Nicole. It's my decision."

"Where will we move, Master?"

"To my family home. You just stayed there with

Marion."

"But Janey..." she started to protest. I cut her off.

I had thought this out. It was decided.

"...will commute to her high school here for her senior

year. She has her license and I will get her a

dependable car. Simone will be seeing a kind of

counselor in Washington on a weekly basis, and the new

house is closer for her commute. It is also closer to

the symphony, Mac and CeCe, and Amud and Bala. It is

also closer to the Guild, which is important for a

reason I will explain later"

Sally sighed in resignation. That attitude wasn't what

I wanted to see in her. She had to not only accept

this but embrace it enthusiastically.

"Sally, this is not a punishment or a reflection on you

in any way. You will still keep this house. You can

use it as an escape, a haven for yourself. I'm sure

Nicole will use her own home for the same thing, from

time to time. What you two are asking me to do means

we're going to have to turn all of our concepts of

marriage and the traditional gender roles of who does

what upside down. It could get intense during the

adjustment period and for a long time afterwards. New

things may come up and disturb the environment from

time to time, too. You may need to regroup, readjust

to the new situation. You may need to leave for a

while. You can't do that now."

"I would never leave you, Larry!"

"Never is a very strong word, Sally."

"I..." She stopped, suddenly realizing the enormity of

the implications of what she had started by bringing in

Nicole. It had felt right to her, she knew it could

work. She just hadn't bothered to work out the

details. Putting it into practice needed planning, not

feelings. I knew her a little better now, I knew this

was how she functioned. She went on feeling, I went on

fact.

"You are right, Master. I hadn't thought about that.

I'm sorry I doubted you."

"It's still going to be tough. I haven't worked out

everything, you know. You two will have to do some

thinking, too...." I grinned at them both. "Sally,

since you are in charge of the household - yes, that

will continue to be your chief function - you will be

in charge of the remodeling and the move. I want to be

moved by the start of school, so you're going to have

your work cut out for you. Work out with Marion which

rooms she needs, which ones we can have. There should

be more than enough room for all of us in one wing.

She can have the other. Work with her. Whatever you

decide is OK. Clear?"

She nodded, her mind already working. Give a woman a

reason to spend a lot of money, and you could generally

count on a few peaceful days.

It was going to take more than a few days to remodel

the monstrosity of a house my father had built. He had

been a struggling family lawyer, barely making enough

to feed his family and keep us out of the slums. As it

was, we were right next door to them. It was a hard

time for us - even I remember that - but we were happy.

I remember the laughter, the stories around the table,

the love.

Something happened to change him. He never said what

it was, exactly, but I suspect that he finally realized

the futility of trying to change human nature. The

people he represented were no more interested in truth

or justice than was the legal system. They just wanted

a ticket to easy street. He fought against the trend

towards frivolous lawsuits for years and refused to

file them, mostly as a matter of honor. He tried to

work out equitable settlements between the parties when

there was a real injury or loss. He was a highly

respected man, but you can't eat respect.

It nearly broke his practice when the courts started

making punitive damage awards on the basis of pain and

suffering or mental anguish. I can remember one winter

we had almost no food and less heat. Momma got sick

and any money we had went for medicine. We all chipped

in and helped, and she got better, but she wasn't ever

the same.

Whatever happened, he did a complete about face. Fuck

the system, seemed to be his new motto. He was going

for the bucks. As he did with everything, as he had

taught me to do, he went after it with all that he had.

He was good, too, but it ate him up inside.

Within a year, he had nailed several large contingency

cases with exorbitant damage claims. His contingency

fee was 50% for an out of court settlement, and the

usual 30% for a court settlement. He couldn't seem to

lose a case, even with the most ridiculous positions.

He took particular relish in quoting the liberal

court's rulings and turning them against the particular

perversion of justice that had instigated the ruling.

Most people remember the Bakke reverse discrimination

case, where a white male sued a medical school because

minority students, who were less qualified than he,

were accepted while he was not. My Dad was the

architect of that strategy, although he didn't

represent Mr. Bakke. He took particular delight in

setting the liberal court on its ear. I think he was

hoping the system would come to its senses.

When the dollar amounts of the court settlements he was

winning started reaching the stratosphere and going

even higher on the appeals, opposing counsels quickly

began offering out of court settlements to avoid having

to pay those judgements. It made no difference to Dad.

With more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes,

Dad decided to build a house. Not just a house,

though. He wanted it to be a fitting monument to the

ludicrous manner in which it had been earned. Against

all advice of the city planners, real estate agents and

pretty near everybody who knew about it, he bought a

huge parcel of land about 10 minutes from his office,

surrounded by low and very low income housing. An

imposingly high and very solid brick wall also

surrounded it. The property, about four city blocks

square, or 16 square blocks, had belonged to a cloister

that had consolidated with another order. Its close

location to Mac's house was the reason I went to the

same high school as Mac. As a white boy and girl,

Marion and I were in the minority in that school.

Whether he was a savvy investor or just plain lucky, he

bought the place, probably to spite the experts.

Knowing my Dad, though, it was more likely because he

hated a long commute to work. The reconstruction

project was initially called "Sampson's Folly", not

very original, but just try to buy that house today.

The last offer we had was approaching one billion.

Some country wanted it for an embassy or something.

Originally there was a monstrosity of a building on a

hill in the center of the estate. Veritable park-like

thickly wooded pastures surrounded it on all four

sides. A long sweeping drive led from the gatehouse up

to the house that I humbly called `home' during my

formative teen years. I still remember the first time

I saw it. I thought it was a hospital, it was so big

and had so many rooms with beds in them.

Dad gutted the place, starting on one wing. We lived

out of boxes in the other during the reconstruction.

The building was basically `U' shaped, about 3 stories
above ground, and at least 2 below. I say at least,

because it was rumored by the construction crews that

the floor at the lowest level didn't sound right. It

wasn't solid enough, as there were hollow sounds and

echoes that seemed to come up from below. Dad figured

that's where the nun's had buried their dead, as there

weren't any other burial grounds on the property. We

never found any way that led deeper, and the place had

really been torn apart during the remodel.

That make-over had been in the late 1960's. The task I

was giving Sally was to upgrade the place. Cable,

telephone and Internet access to the living and working

areas, modern fixtures in the bathrooms. In

particular, to revitalize the industrial sized kitchen.

That room was such a key area in our family life, and I

expected that to continue. She was going to have her

work cut out for her to add any functionality to that

monstrosity of a kitchen.

From the twinkle in her eyes, I could see she had

already accepted the challenge. I wanted to add a

small twist. There was one room I had in mind for a

particular use. It had been my favorite room growing

up.

The main entrance to the house was at the base of the

`U'. A huge double door opened onto an expanse of

marble flooring that seemed to stretch forever. Twin

staircases wound down from a salon on the second floor.

A mammoth chandelier hung from the ceiling, three

stories above the floor. Glass French doors along the

far wall separated the huge entry from the main

ballroom. These doors could be opened to nearly double

the floor space for a cotillion.

It was the salon on the second floor that was my

favorite room. The room above it, on the third floor

had been gutted and the floor removed. From the peak

of the roof and extending down the entire expanse of

wall to the floor of the salon had been glassed in as a

kind of solarium. When I had to think, I would go in

there, lie on the floor and stare at the stars high

above. It was like you were outside, they were so

clear.

I wanted that room to be the center point for our new

relationship. I told Sally to take the ideas from the

Arabian room we had here at her house and apply them

there. She looked puzzled, but on that point I was

insistent. There were to be pillows, thick carpeting,

a few plants, but no telephones, TVs or large

furnishings. I also wanted two distinct areas, a

Women's area and a Men's area.

Having said that and given Sally her tasks, I turned to

Nicole. "You will go to work. I've contacted some

people I know who could use a good neurochemist. You

will have the opportunity to meet them first and test

some of their devices before you decide to work for

them." I thought Sally was going to explode with

laughter when she figured out what kind of `testing'

Nicole would be doing with the Rosen's devices. A

sharp look from me barely contained her gaiety.

"If that place doesn't work out, we will find something

else, perhaps teaching. But you will work in your

field. Agreed?"

Nicole's face was streaked with happy tear-tracks. She

nodded her agreement happily. If she thought she had

been getting the best end of the deal so far, she

hadn't heard anything yet.

"Sally, I need you to know that my next decision was

very tough for me to make. I made the decision I did

for one basic reason, all other things being equal. I

know you have asked me to treat you differently, and I

will. I will also attempt to do so without showing

either of you a preference. With our history, Sally,

that will be hard. I know you, I'm comfortable with

you. Our feelings for each other have been tested and

found to be strong.

"That's the reason I have decided to take Nicole to

Washington with me. The President has decided to throw

a party, balls and fancy dinners and stuff. I have to

go. I need to spend time alone with Nicole to get to

know her. So, if Nicole will consent to going off for

a long weekend with me on our first date, she will

accompany me."

Sally took it hard. If she had one vice, if was for

fancy dress parties. She didn't like to throw them so

much as she loved to dress up and go watch the people

interact. She said it was like nothing else she had

ever seen. People who would stab each other in the

back if they met on the street would smile and talk

like old friends at a ball or cocktail party. It was

where she and I had met the first time.

Trooper that she was, she nodded. She understood, and

would try hard not to let it get to her. Besides, with

the deadline I had given her on the remodel, she was

going to be a busy lady. I knew she was going to make

me pay for it later.

We called the two teens in and broke the news to them.

Janey wasn't too thrilled about moving until she heard

she was going to get a car out of it. She was talking

Beemer or Porsche, she was getting a Nissan or Toyota.

Simone's eyes glistened when she heard she would be

seeing Gertie regularly and would be close enough to

her Agency office at the new house to see her whenever

she could. The only fly in the ointment came when I

told her she was going to have her own room. I could

see that disturbed her. I asked why. She asked,

looking shyly at Janey for confirmation, if they

couldn't just have a larger room and call it their

room, rather than one for her and one for Janey.

Janey nodded her agreement quickly and I looked at

Sally and then Nicole. They both agreed, a secret

smile shared between them. Already I didn't like the

way this was going. Four against one was just about

fair odds when I was in a combat situation against men.

I didn't stand a chance in this circumstance with one

woman, much less four! It was going to be a Hell of an

adventure, though.

Chapter 40

The next week was a flurry of activity. Nicole and

Simone spent most of their days at their old house

packing their things. Some things they moved in now,

some things were staying there and some would move to

the new house. Nicole had taken Sally over to her

house and asked her what would be OK to take where. As

far as I could tell the new relationship was working

out. I kept everything crossed that I could cross in

the faint hope that it would continue and thrive.

Sally met with Marion and got carte blanche to do

whatever she wanted to the family house. I had this

nagging feeling once again that I should be worried

about the apparent nonchalance with which my normally

stuffy sister was treating this unusual family
structure I was building. More than that, I was going

to be moving it into the same house she was living in.

I asked Sally what she had told Marion about us and our

living arrangements, and Sally said `pretty much

everything.' Including Nicole and Simone living there,

too. I checked.

Sally had already called in contractors and actually

had work being done by the end of the week. Marion

invited her to come down and stay with her while I was

gone so she could be close to the action and they could

talk. Again, that nagging feeling that I should be

worried something.

Later that week I managed to slip out for one of the

lunches Mac and I liked to grab whenever we could.

These lunches, which used to be weekly occurrences, had

now gone to catch as catch can because of his game and

travel schedule during the baseball season. He was

getting ready to go south for Spring Training soon, so

we would meet whenever we could.

We had a good lunch. I could tell he was dying to ask

about everything that was going on, but I held him off.

I explained I would tell him everything I could later,

but that he would have to be patient. There were some

things I needed to work out, and so on. I did give him

a little gift from Simone, kind of a `Thank You' from

her for all the time he has spent with her at the

hospital. It was a gold chain necklace.

It was funny to watch his reactions to the gift. It

was obvious he dearly loved the chain. Not only was it

a gift from Simone, it was tasteful and of high

quality. Mac, however, had this aversion to what he

referred to as the `Mr. T' syndrome. He didn't wear

jewelry, other than our championship ring and, now, his

wedding band. He looked up at me.

"How do I explain this to CeCe?" I don't think he knew

he'd already decided to wear it.

I just sat there, shaking from laughter. I couldn't

answer him. I almost wished we'd gone to a bar for

lunch instead of the trendy restaurant we were in.

That way I could have let it out. As it was, I nearly

hurt myself keeping relatively quiet so the management

would let us back in next time we wanted to eat there.

I did get several glares from the head waiter and one

offer for the Heimlich Maneuver from a neighboring

patron.

As we were leaving, Mac pulled a briefcase from the

trunk of his car and handed it to me. "Here," he said.

"Why, thanks, Mac. You didn't have to get me a gift,"

I half joked.

"I didn't," he said puzzled. "I think you left this in

my entryway that night you brought Simone. CeCe

tripped over it when she came back from her trip and

asked me to put it away. I had thought it was hers,

when I saw it there, so I hadn't touched it. It's not

hers, and not mine. You were the only other people

there. So, here." He held it out to me again.

I took it from him, but I was puzzled as to what it

was. Not wanting to make a major point of it, I put it

in my trunk. We shook hands and went our separate

ways. He would be at training camp for three to four

weeks before he got a break. I had told him to keep a

particular weekend free, if he could. We were planning

a small get together at the house. He grinned like a

high school kid when he realized he was going to get to

see Simone again. He paled when I said the invitation

was for CeCe, too. I was still laughing at him as I

drove back to the house.

Janey's spring break came the following week and she

went to Bala's for a visit. She wasn't dreading it,

but I could tell she wasn't thrilled, either. I asked

her about it.

" I dunno, Dad. I like her and all and I want to go.

Her country and culture are so neat. Not neat, like

cool, but like, tidy, you know. It's so old, too.

Everything and everyone has a place and reason, but at

the same time it's an exciting time of change there.

I, I really want to learn more about it and, if I can,

help them, be a part of it somehow. But, it scares me

that I want to be a part of it so much. I hope she's

not mad at me for the way I talked to her, and all,

too. I was pretty strict."

I reassured her that Bala wasn't angry with her, that

she just wanted to spend some time with her. She was

probably lonely, all by herself in that house when Amud

was at work. I knew she didn't go out without him.

Yet. Maybe that was why she had asked Janey to visit.

I hoped Janey wouldn't teach her to drive.

Simone asked if it would be OK if she stayed at Aunt

Marion's with Sally. Gertie had said she would pick

her up there for her first visit and they would spend

the day together. Sally agreed and so did I before I

realized with a sudden sinking feeling that there was a

good chance that Gertie, Sally and Marion would all be

together at once. I had expended entirely too much

effort keeping all the compartments of my life neatly

separated and, in one fucking coincidental fell swoop,

the three women who knew more of my life history than I

did would be in the same place at the same time. If I

had been so inclined, I would have had a panic attack.

I kept a firm grip on my emotions, though, and just

shit myself instead.

Nicole and I left for Washington after everyone else

had gone off on their own ways. I wasn't looking

forward to being in Gertie's lab anymore than usual,

but getting to spend some time alone with Nicole

certainly was a definite plus. She was kind of quiet

on the drive down. At one point I looked over and saw

her wiping away a tear. I pulled into to the next rest

area.

"We don't have to go, you know," I told her.

"Oh, no! I wish to go."

I kept silent. She would tell me when she was ready.

That much I had already sensed.

"I am terrified, Lawrence. I have never been so

terrified in my life."

"I will be there with you, Nicole. You don't need to

be terrified."

"It is that which terrifies me, Lawrence."

Again I stay silent. It seemed to be what she needed.

"I wish so much to please you, to be perfect for you.

This is so important to me. I need you to want me. I

know it cannot be like with her. You and Sally are so

comfortable with each other. I can see you love her,

as she does you. It is hard to enter this, this family
and not be envious of that love."

I knew there was more. I was right.

"And you haven't touched me. Not once. Not when Sally

made me stay naked all the time in front of you, not

when I lay at the foot of your bed like a dog. I saw

you look at me and become aroused, but you would take

Sally. Not me. Am I not good enough for you,

Lawrence?"

"Are you fishing for a compliment, Nicole, or are you

questioning why I have not had sex with you?"

She blushed, then gathered herself. "I know myself, I

know what I am, and I know that I arouse you. It is

difficult, though, to be sure of my attractiveness when

I put myself at your disposal and not wonder when you

refuse to use me. I have asked Sally about that, too.

She said you were very particular about the timing,

especially the first time. That you would make it

special, as special as possible for me, for us. She

told me of your trip to the beach. She let me borrow

her swimsuit, if I needed it. Forgive me for

questioning you, for doubting you."

Oh, God! Was nothing sacred between these

conspirators? I was a dead man, but there was still

one more thing to come out.

"Put all together, Lawrence, I am terrified about what

you expect from me on this trip. Please help me to

please you this week. What is it you require of me?

Tell me, please. I will be your slave, your mistress,

your slut, whatever. Please tell me."

OK, so that one I hadn't expected. I took a moment to

look at it from her perspective and realized she had

every reason to be petrified. I told her what I wanted

from her, not just this week, but always. As we sat

there at the rest stop, I told her to be herself. I

had seen glimpses of her personality sparkle through at

times when she had been relaxed. Simone had not

learned her delightfully coquettish behavior on her

own. I told Nicole I wanted her to feel free to dance

if asked, but only if I had fallen over dead from

exhaustion and couldn't dance with her, that is. I was

an aging man, remember.

She laughed at my weak joke and we got back on the

road, talking and laughing as we neared the Capital. I

sensed her lack of confidence in certain things and

tried to give her direction whenever I could. She

learned quickly to read the subtle signs of my body

language and my expressions. She ended the trip her

head on my shoulder, resting easily, enjoying the

initial closeness between us. Suddenly, Gertie's lab

didn't seem so terrible.

When Gertie found out I had selected Nicole to

accompany me, she insisted that I bring her with me for

the first day of labs. She wanted to meet Simone's

mother. Gertie wouldn't be conducting the tests. She

just did the analysis of the results, so she had time

to spend with Nicole. Mostly the exams they put me

through was a strenuous physical and endurance testing,

reflex response times, some skill testing, and taking

lots of samples of every possible bodily fluid and

tissue. I hated those the most. They took tissues and

fluids from every major organ system, including a bone

scraping. I would rather they would have yanked off a

fingernail. I was afraid to mention it, though, as

that seemed to be the one thing they were not

interested in.

I completed the whole battery of tests late that night

and dragged myself back to Gertie's office to pick up

Nicole. The peals of laughter, light sounds from

Nicole, a heartier tone from Gertie, met me far down

the hallway and danced around me as I crawled to the

open door. They saw me enter and were suddenly silent,

conspirators in some manner. I was not too tired to

notice. I was just too tired to mention it or even

lift a questioning eyebrow.

As I handed Nicole out the door, I turned to say

goodbye to Gertie and thank her for keeping Nicole. To

my surprise, she was sitting there watching us leave,

tears in her eyes. Then, to totally blow me away, she

gave me a two thumbs up sign and shooed me away, like a

blustering aunt.

I checked the schedule at the front desk for the time

of my next appointment the following day. Another

surprise. I was done with the physical tests and

didn't have to come back, unless they found something

in the analysis. I thought there had been an awful lot

more tests and needles than usual. I didn't complain

about it too loudly.

The round of cocktail parties and ball started the next

evening. Nicole and I had spent the morning doing one

of the Smithsonian exhibits and then the National

Gallery. It relaxed her to see things of such beauty.

It made me happy to see her so happy. She was so

attractive and vivacious as she warmed up to the

paintings that several other couples tailed along after

us, eager to hear her opinions of the masterpieces or a

story of the artists. She spoke as if she had known

all of the artists personally. Nicole was beautiful,

smart and confident. I was the envy of all the men
there. Some of the women, too, as I saw a couple of

them eyeing her hungrily.

We called it an early day after a leisurely lunch.

Nicole had brought several gowns with her, waiting to

decide which she was going to wear until the last

minute. The bellhop at the luxury hotel I had booked

for our stay had been astounded to find we were only

going to be there a night or two. From the mound of

luggage he had hauled into our suite, he had figured a

month at the least. I shut his mouth with a sizable

tip before he could insert his other foot as well.

Nicole looked up at me. "How should I dress for this

evening, Lawrence?'

I had just seen this woman enthrall total strangers

with her intelligence, her exotic accent and her charm.

She had a much better sense of these things than I did.

Having been burned recently by not playing to the

strength of my lover, albeit Sally, I took Nicole's

hand, kissed it lightly, and told her I trusted her

judgement.

I don't know if it was the kiss on the hand, our first,

or the fact that I said I trusted her, but it was as if

a fire had been lit inside of her. She glowed,

radiated, shone. I heard her singing a light tune in

the next room as she went about getting ready.

I prepared myself for the worst. A baggy burlap rag

slung over one corner. A horribly fashionable garish

lime-green tutu with striped purple and yellow

leggings. I was prepared to accept whatever she chose

to wear, to tell her she was beautiful and set her on

my arm with pride. In other words, I was prepared to

lie though my teeth and back it up with a smile.

I was not prepared for the vision that wafted though

the bedroom door an hour later. I knew Nicole was a

beautiful woman. I hadn't known she had the kind of

beauty that could take your breath away. She disguised

it well, behind the humdrum of life, but now, released

into the open, Holy Shit!

Apparently, my reaction to her was typical of other

men's as she patiently waited for me to put my eyes

back in their sockets, catch my breath and shut my

gaping mouth after I had pulled my panting tongue back

in.

"Is this suitable, do you think, Lawrence?" she lilted

in a melodious voice. Where had she hidden all this

before now?

My mouth working like a fish gasping for air, I nodded

dazedly. I was speechless. I think it pleased her,

the effect she was having on me. In a daze, we went to

the ball.

I felt like a sheep headed to the slaughtering house.

I didn't realize how close that was to reality.