Strange Brew, Chapter 14

  • Posted on June 4, 2023 at 3:30 pm

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls and, with the help of her best friend and former lover, Terry Wilder, has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. Some suspect Terry’s involvement, including police chief George Fronse, as Terry’s ex-wife is a convicted drug trafficker. A drug raid on an abandoned meat locker goes awry, and Nettie’s father is killed in an explosion. A DEA agent named Bridgette Ramscone is brought in to work the case, and she seems to take a special interest in Nettie who, in the meantime, has entered into a clandestine affair with Terry’s preteen daughter.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

It takes a lot to knock me on my ass. I can take almost anything in stride and just keep right on moving, which is one of the reasons I’m good at my job. At work they call me the Iron Lady for exactly that reason, although I like to think of myself as the little dog in the fire. You know… the meme where the doggie is sitting in the middle of a fire, he’s smiling, and the caption reads ‘this is fine’? That’s me.

But it’s still possible to pull the rug out from under me, I guess. When DEA agent Bridgett Ramscone asked about my relationship with Halee, my gut twisted in knots.

Somehow, I forced my face to remain expressionless. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start simple. Is she a good kisser?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bridgett shook her head. “Oh, Nettie, we’re not going to do this, are we? I thought I made myself plain at our first meeting. We’re kindred spirits, you and I. Probably the first one you’ve ever encountered. That’s one of the reasons you should come work for me in the Twin Cities. I could introduce you to an entire community of women who love girls… and girls who love us back.”

My pulse quickened. I had to resist the urge to pinch myself. Was this actually happening?

“You know how to pick ‘em, too,” she went on. “That young lady is smokin’. Not only is she pretty, but you can just feel the sexual energy oozing out of her. How long has this been going on between you two?”

I stood, a little too abruptly, and turned away from her. “I should be getting back to my place,” I said.

The next thing I knew she was behind me – hand on my waist, tits pressed against my back, hot breath on my neck.

How long?” she breathed. Her hands slipped around to the front, traveled up my belly, and cupped my breasts.

All at once I could feel my panties dampening, and my breathing becoming ragged. There was no point in even trying to conceal my sudden and intense arousal.

“It’s… kind of a new thing,” I got out in a breathy, uneven voice.

“Is it your first time with a kid?” One of her hands was tracing its way down my belly, pulling up my shirt, caressing the warm flesh beneath.

I nodded, my breath coming in hot gasps as she undid the button of the slacks I’d changed into after the funeral. Then the zipper came down, fingers dipping even further to fondle me through the pants. I moaned and went up on tiptoe.

“Girls are so beautiful,” she was saying in sensuous tones. “So soft and delicate. And they taste different from women, have you noticed? Do you like the way little Halee tastes?”

“She’s d-delicious,” I whispered. Bridgett’s fingers slipped inside my slacks, insinuated themselves beneath the waistband of my panties, and moments later were rubbing up and down inside my slit. “Oh… oh, God…”

“What are her tits like?”

“Tiny!” I wailed. “But perfect. It turns her on so much when I… when I lick… oh my God…”

“Where I come from,” she whispered, as the waves of pleasure intensified, “a woman who knows where to look can find all kinds of girls who want what she has to offer. Black girls, white girls, Mexican girls, girls in their teens or girls in grade school. Girls with smooth, wet, needy pussies. Girls who want us to do to them what I’m doing to you right now. To touch them, to kiss them, to make them come…”

My orgasm hit right then. I cried out repeatedly, going back up on my toes, then down again. My legs almost buckled, but I managed with an effort of will to stay upright. Bridgett kept her fingers in my pants, pressed firmly against my clit, until I turned to face her. Her color was high, her breath coming in harsh gasps. I drew her to me with force, using my superior height as a blunt instrument. Bending her backwards, I mashed my lips to hers.

She met me with equal intensity, our tongues doing furious battle. I walked her backwards, her feet almost dragging as I backed her to the recliner she’d been sitting on, tumbling her into it. Then I was on my knees, undoing her jeans, yanking them from her body along with her panties. She was completely hairless down there; probably waxed. I shoved my hand between her legs, finding her dripping wet and receptive. I slipped two fingers inside of her, and her butt lifted off of the chair.

“Like the little ones, do you?” I growled as my fingers pumped in and out. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me, but I was totally getting high on taunting this domineering little bitch. “Well, you just think about Halee’s sweet little pussy, the one I get to touch and you only get to dream about. She has just a little bit of hair the same color as the hair on her head, long enough to be soft but not long enough to get between your teeth. Speaking of which, you’re right – she is so goddamn tasty. She’s got these delicate little inner lips that you just can’t get enough of. You just picture that, and keep on wishing you were as lucky as I am.”

With that, I dove in, my extended tongue finding her clit, glorying in her uninhibited cries of pleasure. I ate her and finger-fucked her forcefully, almost brutally, until she came screaming, a gush of warm liquid dampening my face. I felt a grin forming as I lapped up as much as I could catch; I do so love a squirter. It flashed through my mind to be grateful that the recliner was upholstered in leather.


We had a beer after that, seated together on the love seat. I’m not really a beer person, but that’s what was in Dad’s fridge. She told me about her own awakening to her unusual sexual proclivities, the pain she’d gone through coming to terms with it, and the communities available in metro areas that had no counterpart in my neck of the woods.

“It sounds creepy at first,” she said, “and I was worried that some of the girls involved might be trafficked. But that’s not how it is. Everything is one hundred percent voluntary, and most of the girls live perfectly ordinary lives with their parents. But these are girls who have discovered themselves as sexual beings, and desire the company of grown women. Basically everyone gets what they want, and nobody has to do anything they don’t want to do.”

“It sounds fantastic,” I told her.

“It’s amazing,” she said. “and you would be a natural fit. You’re tall, you’re beautiful, and you have an amazing tongue.” She chuckled. “Please understand, this is completely independent of my job offer. I could get you doing investigations work closer to home if that’s your preference. I really do think you’d make a phenomenal investigator.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll give it some thought. Speaking of investigations, how the hell did you find out about Halee coming to my place, anyway?”

She grinned mirthlessly. “The first evening we were here, I had some agents speed-review the last five days worth of surveillance footage from every public building in the city of Bronning, including the hallway cam coverage from every apartment building in town that has it. Which yours does. And…”

She shifted a little, an apologetic expression on her face. “You already know that Terrance Wilder is a person of interest to us in this case,” she went on. “So, anytime he or any of his kids appeared in the footage, it was flagged for my attention. Even on that shitty hallway footage, the sexual tension between you two was sharp enough to cut your hands. Mind you, I don’t think most people would have seen it. I do, because I’ve been down the same road you’re on.”

“But when I met you on Tuesday, you specifically mentioned our movie night,” I said. “How did you know that’s what we told Terry?”

“Because Halee was also caught on camera leaving your apartment complex the next morning,” said Bridgett, “and one of your neighbors spoke to her on the way out. I questioned the neighbor, and she told me that she just asked the kid what brought her there for an overnight stay. Halee told the neighbor that you’re a friend of her dad’s, and you had a girl’s movie night together.”

There must have been something in my expression, because Bridgett laid a soothing hand on my arm. “Relax,” she said. “I don’t think your neighbor suspects anything at all, and I’m pretty good at picking up on stuff like that. She was just making conversation. And speaking of all this, I’m expected back for a meeting with my team.”

I saw her to the door, and she got her boots back on. She slipped her hands around my waist, stood up on tiptoe, and kissed me. I hesitated for a moment, then kissed her back firmly.

“I’m going to stay in town as long as I can get away with it,” she said. “I don’t know if you’re exclusive with Halee Wilder, but if you’re not, I wouldn’t say no to an introduction. I would love to spend an evening with her – or even better, with both of you.”

Not giving me the chance to reply, she unfurled her umbrella and stepped out into the rain.


I had dinner with Uncle Jason and his family at the Franklin Supper Club just outside of town; the closest thing you can get to fine dining without driving at least thirty miles. We then returned to Dad’s place. Jason cracked open a fifth of bourbon he’d purchased for the occasion, and we talked long into the night. Jason had recently become operations manager for a large regional medical flight service, and was still working as a songwriter on the side. The songwriting royalties were, as he put it, his fuck-you money.

“The day I get bored with EMS, I can just tell ’em to piss off,” he said cheerfully.

Lisa was serving her second term as mayor of Dickson, and campaigning for state office. Julie was an electrical engineer doing design work. Mallory was a classical pianist teaching at the University of Colorado and pursuing a dual doctorate in music and art. We spent most of the time catching up rather than reliving the past, and for that I was grateful. The last thing I needed right now was to dredge up the phase of my life that encompassed most of our shared history.

I don’t mean to imply there were no good memories… there were, and I suspected there was much more than my traumatized mind would allow me to remember. Looking at Julie and Mallory, arms around each other on the couch, I couldn’t help but picture them the exact same way, but in immature, twelve-year-old bodies. With no clothes on. Was it a true image, or the product of my twisted imagination?

I could hear Julie’s little-girl voice, emerging from the past. “You can come sit with us if you want, Nettie. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” I imagined my first shaky step in their direction.

Then the memory, if indeed that’s what it was, vanished below the churning surface of my subconscious.


Late afternoon the next day found me in Terry’s living room, sipping coffee on the couch. It was a nice day despite the spring chill, and he’d kicked the kids out of the house so we could talk. Halee and Naomi were keeping watch over the younger girls at the city park.

“Interesting,” Terry was saying. “I wonder which of Kathryn’s former associates are here in the area. A lot of them, once all the arrests happened and the smoke cleared, turned out to be people I knew. Not well, but folks I’d met at parties and other such. Some of them I’d probably recognize if I saw them, but Special Agent Perky Tits hasn’t come to me with any questions about it. Or about anything, for that matter.”

“I don’t think she really trusts you,” I admitted.

“I can’t say that I blame her,” he replied with a shrug. “It doesn’t take a genius to see how all this has to look from her perspective.”

“She thinks you’re lying about not knowing what your ex was up to. She says you’re too smart to not have seen it.”

Terry laced his hand behind his head. “She was pretty damn forthcoming with you, huh?”

Terry, honey, you have NO idea. “Very,” I said.

“Interesting, considering that she had to assume I’d hear about it from you afterward.”

“She’s grasping at straws,” I said. “That’s her words, not mine. The investigation isn’t getting anywhere.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he said, “because that means it’s going to happen again. Maybe not here, probably not, but somewhere.”

“She didn’t say it, but I think she’s worried about the same thing. I don’t think she really even believes you had anything to do with it. She’s just jumping down every rabbit hole she can think of before her bosses pull her out.”

A sour smile twisted his lips. “She thinks I’m lying about my knowledge of Katryn’s business activities, but doesn’t really think I’m involved in the meat locker situation?”

I squirmed a little. “She didn’t really suggest that you were actively involved with what your wife was doing,” I countered. “Just that you must have at least known that something was going on.”

Terry blew out his breath. “I think most of the agents that questioned me after Kathryn’s arrest believed the same thing, and I get it. Granted that I was insanely busy once my career started to take off, but I clearly had a tremendous blind spot where she was concerned. Looking back, there were a thousand red flags. I simply failed to see them for what they were. Maybe even subconsciously pushed them aside, because I didn’t want to think about it.”

I searched his face, looking for truth. Bridgett’s words were hammering through my head. But it was Terry who had stood by me for three years running, in spite of my fucked up shitty behavior. Terry who treated his daughters like precious jewels. Terry who was always there when people needed him. I liked Bridgett, but I knew where my loyalties lay. Besides, I thought I understood the wistful look on his face.

“You really loved her,” I said, “didn’t you?”

“Guess I did,” he said, grinning ruefully. “Guess I still do. She was something, Nettie. Stone cold monstrous bitch at the end of the day, but really something.”

He sat back. “As for Special Agent Stick-Up-The-Ass,” he went on, “I wonder if it’s dawned on her that if I’m as all-fired brilliant as she thinks I am, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to start a drug operation right in my own backyard, in an out-of-the-way place that I moved to for no reason she can understand. Or to bring in my wife’s former partners. That’s the literal definition of shitting where one eats, then flaunting said shit under the noses of the authorities.”

I snickered. “I said literally that,” I said, “and she agreed. She’s not a bad sort, Terry. I think she’s just really frustrated that she’s going to have to go home empty-handed.”

“Fair enough.”

Talk turned to other things, and after a while the girls returned. Dawn came in ahead of her sisters, cryptically informing us that Halee might need help at the door.

“We picked up a stray,” Halee told us as I stepped into the foyer, Terry close behind. She was assisting Chelsey Milne into the house. I remembered that they’d had a sleepover planned for the previous night, and wondered how that had transpired. I knew Halee had designs on the little cutie, but doubted she’d been able to accomplish much with Naomi present.

I moved to help her get Chelsey to the bench, as Naomi came in behind them with her friend’s wheelchair. Chelsey was wearing a simple blue t-shirt with wide sleeves, and a long skirt. It was elegant in a young girl sort of way, and I supposed it was also a practical ensemble for someone with braces on an arm and a leg.

Terry grinned. “Didn’t we just get rid of you a couple of hours ago?” he said to Chelsey, a note of teasing in his voice. Chelsey looked uncertain, as if not knowing whether to take him seriously or not. Something about that bothered me; most eleven-year-olds know better than to take such a remark personally. I wondered if she was accustomed to the adults in her life wanting her to go away.

Naomi solved it by playfully whacking her dad on the arm. “We brought her here to help with the famous Disappearing Parent Trick,” she informed him saucily.

This elicited more hilarity from the younger girls than it probably deserved, but it served its purpose. Chelsey giggled with them, looking at ease once more.

“She was at the park with her aunt Judy,” Halee explained, “and her mom showed up wanting Judy to help her run some errands. They were worried about having enough room in the car with Chelsey and her wheelchair, so I invited her to come back with us. Hope that’s not a problem.”

I turned my head towards Terry so that only he could see me roll my eyes. His expression matched my thoughts pretty well. I wondered what errands they’d be running that could possibly exceed the capacity of Judy Milne’s Suburban.

Terry made a show of spreading his hands. “My entire existence is already comprised of a giggling gaggle of girls,” he complained good-naturedly. “What’s another, more or less?”

“How are you feeling, Chelsey?” I asked her.

“Better,” she assured me. “The physical therapy isn’t much fun, though. But the doctor says next week my arm’ll be good enough I can start using crutches; then I won’t need that stupid wheelchair.”

We helped Chelsey down the hall to the living room. Then, just when people were getting settled, Terry’s pager sounded. I was vaguely aware that the on-call crew was already on a run with Rig One.

“Bronning Ambulance, respond with Bronning Fire to the junction of County Road Two and Merlin Creek Drive for an ATV rollover; victim is pinned under the machine and has an altered level of consciousness. Caller believes the victim has been trapped for some time. ALS intercept from Melville is being dispatched as well. You’ll have county channel FC3; your time is 16:30.”

Terry looked at me questioningly. “On-call is already out,” he said, “You up for it?”

“Let’s go,” I said.

Terry plucked his radio from the charger. “Bronning Ambulance Rig Two, Franklin. We’ll be responding with an ALS crew, so you can cancel the intercept from Melville.”

“Copy, Bronning, 16:31.”

As we headed for the foyer, Terry called out over his shoulder. “Sorry, Halee, but this leaves you in the unenviable position of Queen Monkey of the Wilder Zoo for a couple of hours. There’s chili in the crock pot for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” came the sardonic reply, “and I know about the chili, because I made it.”


Terry was behind the wheel, the rig chewing up the gravel and spitting it out behind us. We were about three miles south of County Two when the radio crackled.

“Bronning Fire to Bronning Ambulance Rig Two.”

I snatched up the mic. “Go for Rig Two.”

“We’re on scene at the rollover. It’s one of those big four-seat Ranger models, and the victim is pinned at the waist. We want to get it off of him, but that DEA lady and a couple of her goons are here too, and they won’t let us. She says it could kill him. Any instructions?”

I felt a cold chill, but a wave of relief as well. “Absolutely do not extricate the patient. She’s right. When did she arrive on scene?”

“They were right behind us.”

Terry was turning onto County Two.

“Is the patient alert?” I said into the mic.

“Awake but confused. He’s really cold, too.”

I considered the implications. Merlin Creek Drive is a minimum maintenance road that hardly sees any traffic until the handful of snowbirds who live there show up in late May. He could easily have been lying there all day without anyone noticing, and the temperatures hadn’t climbed above fifty until noon or so.

“Keep his upper half warm as you can,” I said, “and under no circumstances move that Ranger. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Merlin Creek Drive is narrow, rutted, and more dirt than gravel. Thankfully we didn’t have to drive on it. As we approached we could see a line of rescue vehicles, including George Fronse’s squad car and a County Sheriff’s Deputy cruiser. The black Suburban that Bridgett’s people had been using was there as well.

In the deep part of the ditch just past where County Two intersected with Merlin Creek, I could see a swarm of humanity milling around something I couldn’t make out. As we closed in, I realized they were working behind a large stand of marshes; whatever they were dealing with would have been completely concealed from cars driving by on County Two. Even in its brown, wilted early spring state, the aquatic foliage made for an impenetrable visual barricade.

“We’re going to want the monitor, the first-in bag, and the ALS bag,” I told Terry as he eased past the rolling iron, trying to get as close as possible. “I want you to get a four-lead, blood sugar, and vitals, in that order. We’ll have PD and fire get set up to load. I have to get a line and give him sodium bicarb before we get him out.”

I don’t know if Terry understood what I was up to, but he didn’t waste time asking questions. He tucked the rig into the spot that the other emergency vehicles had thoughtfully left for us. I timestamped our arrival, slammed the laptop closed, and picked up the mic, which was still resting in my lap.

“Bronning Ambulance Rig Two, Franklin, on scene,” I said. I was already opening the passenger side door.

I tossed the laptop onto the bench seat, and yanked the two bags out. Terry got the monitor. Hastening towards the ditch, I marched right past George Fronse, who was coming forward to greet me.

“Get some guys to pull the cot out and get the buckles loose,” I tossed off to him as I passed, “and have someone bring a backboard down here.”

“Oh, and tell someone to crank the heat in the back all the way up,” Terry added. He was right on my heels.

The Ranger was lying on its side, a man in perhaps his late thirties sticking out from just above the pelvis. I didn’t recognize him. It was in the very bottom of the ditch, in a morass of cold, mucky, wet goop. He wasn’t shivering, and that was a bad sign. Fire had placed a cervical collar around his neck, and he was receiving oxygen via a non-rebreather mask. His eyes were wild and confused. He was covered from the neck down with what looked like every blanket the rescue rig carried, and someone had wrapped one around the top of his head.

People parted for me as I approached. Standing directly over the victim on the opposite side from which I approached was Bridgett, with two of her subordinates immediately behind.

I dropped to my knees in the muck, momentarily regretting that I was wearing jeans I actually liked. Terry came round the other side, and as he settled to his knees I saw that he was staring at the patient, a strange expression on his face. His lips mouthed something I couldn’t make out. Then he gave his head a hard shake, and started yanking down the saddlebag zippers on the monitor.

As I broke the lockout tag on the first-in bag and extracted the IV kit, I addressed the firefighter nearest me, registering belatedly that it was Brian Severson.

“Have we got a name?”

“No one recognizes him,” said Brian, “and everything he says is just jumbled and confused. I don’t really have anything.”

I was wrapping a tourniquet around an arm, searching frantically for a decent vein. Cold and dehydrated; the worst of all worlds. I yanked a hot pack from the bag and slapped it down on the forearm.

I shoved the rest of them at Brian. “Pack his armpits with these.”

I pulled back the forearm hot pack, and was rewarded with a nice fat vein. I became aware of George Fronse standing directly over me, looking furious. I ignored him as I prepped my chosen site, and started the line.

“I’m just gonna say it,” George said suddenly. “Why are we treating him in the cold mud instead of the warm ambulance?”

I didn’t waste time looking up. I was drawing up a very large vial of medication into a big syringe. “Because,” I said, “He’s had no circulation to his lower extremities for Christ knows how long. Hours, from the look. All the blood trapped down there below his waist is going to be totally acidotic. If I don’t give him something to buffer it before we let all that crap loose, it could kill him.”

I started pushing the bicarbonate, and glanced at the cardiac rhythm on the monitor. No arrhythmias yet, but I knew that could change in a hurry once full circulation returned.

“The sugar was 89,” Terry informed me. He still had the oddest expression on his face. He finished wrapping the blood pressure cuff around an arm, and pressed a button on the monitor. I pushed the last of the med, detached my syringe, and got to my feet..

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “let’s roll this beast off of him. The moment he’s loose I want him on the backboard, and then we’ll carry him up to the cot. Don’t waste time with straps; just be careful not to drop him. We’ll buckle him up once we have heat blowing on him.”

People surrounded the large ATV, Bridgett and her two men included. “All right, people!” Bridgett called out, effortlessly taking charge. “On my count. One… two… three.”

With that many people putting their backs into flipping the machine, the lift appeared effortless. It came down on all four wheels ponderously, splattering muddy water. The man on the ground let out a loud groan. He was on the backboard in seconds, being hauled up to the cot. Terry was carrying the monitor, cables trailing between him and the man on the backboard. I didn’t wait to observe the loading process; I went in through the side door, plopping onto the bench seat as the back doors were opened from outside. After several minutes with the heat at full blast, the back of the rig was like an oven. I instantly broke out in a sweat. Grabbing supplies from an overhead cabinet, I spiked a bag of fluids.

As the cot was shoved in past my legs, Brian Severson stuck his head in through the side door. “Need a driver?”

“Yes, please.”

Terry got in, slammed the monitor into its mount, and wordlessly began cutting clothes off. His face was a mask chiseled from stone. I hung my fluid bag, and as I switched the hose running to the face mask from portable oxygen to the truck feed, I was dimly aware of the driver’s door opening and closing.

“Ready to roll, Nettie?” Brian called from up front.

“Let’s move,” I told him.

As the rig eased into motion, I rubbed the patient’s sternum, hard. “Hey, can you hear me?” He blinked at me and groaned.

Terry was doing a trauma assessment as he removed clothing, his hands running up and down limbs. I grabbed one of the crappy house stethoscopes that were hanging from a nearby hook, cursing the fact that my own was in my work bag at home. Before placing the bell on the man’s chest, I caught Terry’s eye.

“Someone you know?”

“Someone I met a few times back in LA, but be damned if I remember his name. He was arrested in the same sting that took Kathryn down. She used to introduce him as her broker, with the air of someone enjoying an inside joke. One of about a million clues that I should have taken seriously.”

I covered the chest back up with blankets and got a thermal cap on the guy’s head while I debated the merits of intubating him. Terry was still talking as he cut off the pants.

“Note the location,” he said. “County Two and Merlin Creek Drive bracket the valley containing the auction grounds and the meat locker on the south and east sides. Nobody is getting into the valley itself right now, what with the presence of the Black Suit Brigade commanded by Special Agent Delectable Tushie, so what do you suppose he was up to?”

Finishing with his cut, he pulled the denim aside. “Jesus, Nettie, look at the discoloration on his legs.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I examined the dusky, mottled flesh. Terry pulled a shoe and sock off, and that looked even worse.

“Worst compartment syndrome I’ve ever seen,” I observed. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “He’ll most likely be a double amputee by this time next week… if he survives.”

Sliding back up the bench seat towards the patient’s head, I shined my penlight in both pupils, and leaned in close.

“Hey,” I said again, enunciating carefully, “can you hear me?”

“Who’re you?” These were the first words I’d heard him speak.

“I’m Nettie, and I’m a paramedic. We’re taking you to the hospital. Can you remember what happened?”

“Tell Kathy what happened.”

Terry, who was pressing his hands into the patient’s hips to assess pelvic stability, froze in place.

“Who’s Kathy?” I asked.

“She’s Kathy. And she needs to know. Someone has to tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“That it happened.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “I can’t tell her if you don’t tell me.”

“Just tell her.”

Suddenly Terry was leaning in from his place on the jump seat.

“Is your name Darren Sanders?” he inquired.

“Darren! That’s my name.”

“And by Kathy, are you by any chance referring to Kathryn Wilder?”

The man squeezed his eyes closed. “Just tell Kathy,” he groaned through clenched teeth. He spoke no more for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

On to Chapter 15



27 Comments on Strange Brew, Chapter 14

  1. Kim & Sue says:

    Holy Fuck! What a chapter. We mean that in a good way.

  2. Michael v. says:

    Ms Rachael…

    You are a master at the art of giving me and the rest of your adoring fans just enough to keep us salivating for the next scrap of a chapter. Although I am a child of the sixties, I have managed to never sample weed much less anything stronger than the occasional ‘adult’ beverage. I’m not a prude, obviously, or I wouldn’t be on this site immensely enjoying you exceptional mastery of the erotic arts 😈😂🤣!.

    I can image how much fun of a date you would be no matter which team you play for. I say this because you obviously enjoy the art of the slow tease. I also realize that since I believe you already have finished this masterpiece, Jetboy is probably actually responsable for the release schedule. I, and many others I’m sure, just wish it was more like some streaming services, binging the whole story at one time.

    I know that makes me sound greedy! And I’m sooo thankful you and the admins and other authors are doing this wonderful experience as a labor of love ❤️, it’s just that it is so exceptional that it leaves us all desperate for the next story.

    Now that I’m retired, I can truthfully admit I have read every story on this site, and quite a few more than once. I am also reading thru Leslita using the alphabetical listing, almost finished with the
    Letter ‘e’. I can truly say your talent is sooo great I can really see your words become a world in my mind.

    With the greatest appreciation and respect!
    Thirsting for the next chapter,
    Your humble reader Michael

  3. guiaume says:

    More……………….Soon Please.

  4. Mo says:

    Rachel! Oh I think that’s one of the best chapters yet!! From the hard fucking with Bridget to promises of a 3sum and then back to the drug plot…honestly I love this!

    What a twist at the end…Kathryn is suddenly thrust into the plot.

    Oh and what chances of an Agent Ramscone spin off in the future?

    Roll on the next chapter

  5. Purple Les says:

    Still each chapter topping the one before, seemingly impossible to do.

    When DEA agent Bridgett Ramscone asked about my relationship with Halee, my gut twisted in knots.

    So did mine. Something about her I don’t like. I find the relationship between Nettie and Haylee somehow pure, and Agent Ramscone forcing her way in felt a little creepy. Hot for sure but…

    Left me looking forward to the revised Pages when ever it happens and it will again lead me back to this story for a binge read.

    Anyway I give up guessing what will happen and to who, and will just enjoy each chapter as it comes, and I come too.

    • Rachael Yukey says:

      Thanks, Purple! Where Ramscone is concerned… if she makes you uncomfortable, but part of you also wants to have sex with her, then I’ve accomplished my goal.

    • Brother Bethor says:

      Well, for me it was unacceptable as what agent Ramscone did was she basically assaulted Nettie. I lost all interest in her.
      Beside that regrettable incident it was a good chapter. The plot thickens!

      • Rachael Yukey says:

        Well shit… I was going for sexually aggressive but not quite rapey. Guess I missed the mark… 😕

        • Mike says:

          I don’t think it was rapey at all, Agent Ranscone saw a kindred spirit in Nettie & decided to “interrogate” her in a most delightful way that was mutually beneficial. Hope we hear a lot more from Agent Ranscone & her young associates.
          Fabulous story that had me hooked from chapter one

  6. Carol Anne says:

    Oh Rachael you keep outdoing yourself with each chapter. You deserve to get a big head, your writing is fantastic. The scene with Bridgette and Nette was so hot and I am sure there will be a 3 some but it might be more likely with Nette, Halee and Chelsey rather then with Bridgette. It is a thrilling story and I can’t wait to hear what happens in the next chapter with the newest twist that showed up at the end.

  7. Bryan says:

    Phenomenal story

  8. Dondo says:

    What a tease. Great very hot opening, I love me some Bridgett, and then well into the thick of it to end the chapter. Now I’m aching for the next installment. You’ve still got me hooked Rachael.

  9. dw says:

    We’re now ten days out from this getting posted and I’m jonesing for the next chapter – c’mon, Jetboy, post it!! 🙂

    And Rachael – thank you! The story is even better than the sex…and the sex is very very good!

    • Rachael Yukey says:

      Ah, the joys of serial release schedules. Jetboy is actually being very generous; my stuff is going up every third post. I’m glad people are so eager for more!

  10. Michael v. says:

    Ms. Rachael

    You have continued to raise the bar with basically every chapter. This chapter has exceeded even my high expectations (due to your extraordinary talent !). I am beginning to question how I can adequately continue to heap praise upon your efforts, I fear my vocabulary may prove insufficiently superlative to the task 😂🤣!

    This wonderful world you have created in your deliciously naughty 😈 imagination and now have so graciously shared with us horny folks, is like a wonderful pastry, layer after layer revealing unexpected carnal delights. You must have a string of best sellers under another name, I have been an avid reader starting in elementary school, having read many famous (and not so famous) authors in my 61 years. I can truthfully say your storytelling is at a master class level.

    Echoing others saying I am desperately waiting for the next chapter is a given. I really hope you have or are working on other tales in this genre…

    I continue to thank you for pleasure of enjoying your efforts,


    • Michael v. says:

      Oops….I have apparently posted this chapter 15 comment in error on chapter 14. I had already posted a chapter 14 comment previously.

      Is it possible for an admin to please delete this erroneous posting?

      Thank you!


  11. BB says:

    I am loving Bridgette and her interaction with Nettie. Her adventures can be a spin off when this series ends. Would love to see her with Halee alone or in the 3sum she alluded to. very charged writing and the story so far is phenomenal.

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