Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Suzy Freeman

Hello again. I am Suzanne Freeman, and this is Part Three of an interview I conducted with Millie, age thirty-two. She has agreed to be interviewed and answer highly personal questions about her sexual growth from childhood to the present.

In Part One, we met Millie, who told us of her first sexual feelings and the encounters those feelings would lead to. Millie’s first sexual experience was at the age of five, with her mother, who was in her early twenties at that time. In that interview, she also told me that she’d gone on to become lovers with her two sisters… and years later, she would go on to initiate her young daughters into the lesbian life. They are Emily, age twelve, and Piper, age nine.

In our second meeting, Millie brought Emily along with her. It turns out that her eldest daughter also has a very pronounced sex drive as well. She ended up getting naked and masturbating while her mom told the story of a sexual encounter she had at fourteen with a pair of neighboring sisters, aged nine and ten.

Once Emily reached orgasm, her mother was so worked up that she began to kiss her daughter… and it quickly became apparent that they intended to make love, then and there. Because this is a study of human sexuality and how different people react and grow sexually, I have included the following, which is a description of what then happened.

***

We were at my apartment for the second interview, and Millie had allowed her twelve-year-old daughter, Emily, to get naked and masturbate, which Emily did without embarrassment or regret.

We watched in awe as Emily brought herself to orgasm. Once she’d finished, Millie leaned over and kissed her child in a way that was anything but motherly. Emily was quick to bring her tongue into play, and my excitement swiftly mounted as this sexy woman and her equally desirable daughter kissed like passionate lovers.

Despite knowing Emily was already a seasoned lesbian at twelve, it still surprised me to see her take the lead in making love to her mother. She blindly reached out to grope the woman’s breasts, circling Millie’s mouth with her tongue.

When they finally drifted apart, Millie looked my way. “Emily and I would love it if you’d get out of those clothes and join us,” she said, then leaned in to kiss her daughter again.

To say I was aroused by this would be quite the understatement. “Oh, I’ll definitely be joining in,” I said, absently stroking my thigh, “but first, I’d like to watch you two for a little while. I’ve never seen a mother and daughter make love before.”

“Well, brace yourself for one hell of a show,” Millie said, her eyes twinkling, “‘cause my little girl is an amazing fuck.”

She reached for the top button of her blouse, but Emily quickly put a hand on her arm. “No, Mommy!” she protested. “Let me take your clothes off!”

“Sorry, hon,” said Millie. “I’m all yours.” She got to her feet.

I watched in awe as Emily began to strip her mother, first removing Millie’s top before reaching behind to unclasp her bra.

At this point, I had yet to see Millie naked, so when her breasts were revealed, I was transfixed by their beauty, already aching to taste her nipples – and all the rest of her, truth be told.

I’d never had sex with a young girl before, not since I was young myself – but as an adult, I often found myself experiencing a powerful attraction to underage girls. Ultimately, that desire is what made me decide to conduct this research in the first place. So it was quite natural to hope Millie was willing to share her daughter with me, and that Emily would want me to make love to her. True, I had been invited to join them, but did that mean I could explore Emily as well as Millie? Of course, it went without saying that I wouldn’t so much as lay a hand on the girl unless she wanted me to.

Kneeling before her mother, Emily began to wriggle Millie’s shorts and panties down. This was no playful striptease – the girl wanted to get her mother nude as quickly as possible. The lustful gleam in Emily’s eyes made that abundantly clear.

As she helped Millie out of her remaining clothes, I gazed longingly at Emily’s pert little bottom. It’s my very favorite part of a woman, and hers was absolutely flawless. I ached to bury my face in it, nestle my face between those tender cheeks and bathe her rosebud with my tongue.

Soon, Millie was just as bare as her little girl. Returning to the sofa, mother and daughter met in another lustful kiss, their tongues flickering in and out of each other’s mouths

I could feel my pulse racing; nipples growing achingly taut. I’d chosen not to wear a bra that day, since I was conducting this interview in my own apartment. I felt more comfortable that way… and sexier. While Emily and Millie continued to swap passionate kisses, I tweaked the tips of my breasts through the snug top I’d chosen until they were at full attention.

I estimated Millie’s breasts to be something like a C cup. Her nipples were dark and engorged with arousal. Emily’s were pink – much smaller, of course, and visibly erect. I imagined what it must be like to take one in my mouth, praying I’d soon get the chance to find out.

Millie trailed a hand down Emily’s tummy, towards her pussy. The girl’s labia were spread a bit and I could see her juices were flowing well enough to coat the inner lips with her cream. Her clit was nestled behind the fleshy folds, but then Millie used her fingers to expose it, a small nubbin of engorged pink flesh.

My heart raced as I watched as Millie lightly stroked her daughter’s clitoris. Emily shivered every time her mother’s finger made contact.

Breaking their tongue kiss, Millie turned to me, casually licking her finger. “Do you want a taste?”

“Of… of Emily?” I asked.

“Well, first Emily. Then me, if you like.”

“Oh, I like, I like. Is Emily okay with – with me going down on her?”

Millie snickered. “Okay with it? Listen, she begged me to bring her along. Piper wants to fuck you, too. She’d be here as well, but she had a sleepover with her friends..”

That caught me by surprise. “Emily begged to come with you?”

“Yeah, but in all honesty, she didn’t have to beg much.”

“I totally wanted to!” Emily announced. “Mom found your picture on the internet, and I thought you were way hot. I ‘specially like doing sex with grownup ladies, and when she told me you were gay, I made her bring me along, just like she said!”

“Well, in that case…” I murmured, getting to my feet.

I was just about to kneel before Emily, already imagining how that sweet smooth slit would taste, but Millie stopped me. “Don’t you think you should get naked, Suzanne? That will make it easier for us to fuck you.”

“Oh, of course,” I said and stripped down to nothing as quickly as I was able. I noticed Emily watching avidly as I removed my clothes. Her excitement was a warmth in the air that I could feel on my bare skin.

Tossing my panties aside, I squatted in front of the child and positioned myself before her pussy, like I was about to pray to it. I inhaled deeply, allowing the pungent aroma of cunt to fill my nostrils. By then, I I figured it was a combination of Millie’s, Emily’s and my scents. I breathed it in again. So wonderfully fragrant, I told myself. There’s no perfume finer than the smell of an aroused woman – or girl.

I took my time moving in to lick Emily. As I said, it was my first time with a young girl since I was that age myself, and I wanted to savor it, to engrave the moment on my memory forever.

For her part, Emily was a bit impatient. “Please don’t make me wait, Miss Suzanne! Ever since me and Mommy g-got here, I wanted so bad to feel your mouth on me. Make me come, pretty please?”

Her hips were literally churning. She was that anxious for me to go down on her.

Never forget this, I told myself, leaning in to taste little Emily for the first time. I covered the girl’s slit with my mouth, then pushed my tongue into her vagina.

Emily let out a guttural moan loud enough to be heard by my next-door neighbor Hannah, and I hoped against hope that she wasn’t home… or if she was, Hannah would assume that cry had come from me. If I was to carry out a study of this nature, strict secrecy was of paramount importance.

I continued to pleasure Emily with my mouth, intent on making the child come for the second time that day. Well, it was the second time that I knew of. Emily was sexually precocious enough that she might have already had sex with other lovers that day – her sister, perhaps, or maybe she and her mother had enjoyed a nice morning fuck before getting ready for this visit. For all I knew, Emily would end up coming five times that day. Perhaps even six, which was my personal record.

As I feasted on the child’s succulent cunt, I noticed Millie getting down on her knees, then felt her hands on my ass, spreading me open. I braced myself for the caress of her tongue, then hummed my approval into Emily’s sex as she stroked the opening with a finger.

Millie was out of view but I did hear her say, “Is it okay if I lick you, Suzanne?”

I raised my face from between Emily’s legs just long enough to reply, “Mind? Why do you think I invited you to my apartment?”

She laughed, then pressed her mouth to my recently waxed mound, her tongue penetrating me like a lover’s finger. Within seconds Millie had whipped me into an inferno of lust, raging and relentless. My mind kept switching back and forth between two delightful sensations – my mouth against Emily’s juicy cunt; her mother’s tongue darting in and out of mine.

Emily began to come, thrashing about on my sofa, screaming in ecstasy as she bucked her hips into my face. Once more, I prayed Hannah wasn’t home to hear it. We were casual acquaintances, but she had no idea about what I was doing for research, nor did she know of my attraction to little girls. For that matter, I hadn’t known it myself until my first interview with Millie. Even then, I figured it was nothing I would ever actually experience for myself, just fuel for furtive masturbation fantasies.

As Emily’s orgasm began to subside, I was launched into my own climax. It seemed to last forever. Shock waves seemed to swamp my body, and I trembled and shook as they washed over me. Finally spent, I collapsed onto the carpet, panting for breath.

When my eyes finally drifted open. I was confronted by a sight that nearly made me come again. Emily was lying between her mother’s thighs, feasting on the pussy she was born from as if she was starving and this was her first decent meal in days.

I watched for a moment, then Emily sat back, pointed at her mother’s cunt and said, “You, too, Miss Suzanne!” Positioning myself where the girl had just been, I leaned in and began to lick Millie’s juices from her dripping vagina. Suddenly Emily squeezed in beside me, and Millie spread her legs more to accommodate the two of us. Now, we were both licking Millie, driving her absolutely wild. No doubt about it, she would be coming soon.

I had the left half of Millie’s pussy and her daughter was working the right half. Naturally, our tongues frequently met and danced together. Eventually, Emily’s pretty mouth was too much for me to resist, and I kissed her. She returned my kiss, and we ended up capturing Millie’s clitoris between us, our tongues teaming up on the swollen nub of flesh.

That was when Millie came. Her orgasm seemed to be just as intense as mine and her daughter’s. In fact, she was even noisier in her ecstasy as Emily had been. Well, if my neighbor was home, I hope she enjoyed the sound show we were putting on. Who knows? Maybe Hannah was masturbating to the sound of our threesome on the other side of the thin wall.

Once Millie’s climax peaked, she went limp, struggling to catch her breath. Emily and I snuggled up to her on either side.

“Fuck, that was good,” Millie finally said. Her eyes fluttering open, she gave me a weary smile. “Why don’t you come over sometime for dinner, Suzanne? I’m sure we can offer you a lot to eat.” She snickered. “Even real food, if you like. Piper will absolutely love you. In more ways than one!”

“Are you sure she’d be okay with that?”

“Believe me, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s probably doing the deed right now with Grace and her mom at the sleepover, she’d definitely have been part of this. In fact, she was giving serious thought to joining us and blowing off the sleepover, but I told her that would be rude.”

“Wait. Piper’s friend makes love with her mother? And Piper?”

“And me and Mom,” Emily said.

“Yes,” Millie said. “Grace and Joanne – that’s the mother’s name, by the way – they’ve been over many times, and we visited their home regularly. You ought to join us for our next get-together. Soon as the door closes, everyone strips naked, and that’s it for clothing until the party’s over. It’s a lesbian orgy like you wouldn’t believe.”

I wondered just what I’d gotten myself into, but at the same time, I certainly wasn’t broken up about it. “That sounds… fun.”

Millie smiled. “I’m sure both Joanne and Grace would be happy to meet you – and more. So, can we pencil you in for the next family fuck-fest?”

I somehow found my voice. My throat had gone dry. “Um. Okay. As long as everyone’s fine with it.”

“Relax, Suzanne,” Millie said. “I get that you’re a stickler for consent, but there’s no need to worry. I promise not to involve you with anyone who isn’t a hundred percent on board.”

We sat around naked for a few minutes, enjoying a lovely chat about this and that. Finally, Millie glanced at Emily. “Time to go home, kiddo.” . She asked me again if I wanted to join their next orgy, and this time I answered with an emphatic yes. We all got dressed and shared some very sexy kisses before saying goodbye.

I ushered my new lovers out the door, where we exchanged our last goodbyes, this time without kissing, and I watched them climb into Millie’s car and drive off.

Waving as they disappeared from sight, I reflected on how my life had just taken an unexpected turn. Somehow, I’d stumbled into an intimate relationship with a family that practiced lesbian incest, one where even the little girls were participating in the sexual antics. I was somewhat apprehensive about the risk involved, but not enough to stay away..

As I approached my apartment, my neighbor Hannah emerged from hers and stood there in the doorway grinning at me like the cat who got the cream. It was plain to see she was very much aware of what those sounds from my bedroom had been. What I wondered was how much she knew.

I hoped she wouldn’t tell her husband about this. Hell, I hoped she wouldn’t tell anybody! Figuring it was best just to brazen it out, I gave Hannah a fleeting smile as I reached for the doorknob.

“Got a minute?” she said.

I thought about making some excuse, telling her I had to go somewhere – but that would just be putting off the inevitable. It was obvious she’d heard the cries of ecstasy from my apartment. And if Hannah had taken a peek out her window a moment earlier, she’d have seen Millie and Emily leaving, which was close to a blatant admission that we’d had sex with a pubescent girl. Maybe I could convince her that Emily had been playing in another room while I was getting it on with Millie.

At least Hannah didn’t look angry or disgusted, so I figured a visit from the police wasn’t in my immediate future.

I decided we might as well talk now and get it over with. That way I could at least plead my case that she keep her mouth shut about what she’d overheard.

“Sure,” I said, trying to seem calm and casual. “Your place or mine?”

“Oh, yours. Danny will be home in about fifteen minutes. I can text him that we’re having a girl chat, and I’ll be home in a few.”

“Okay. Come on in.”

Hannah approached the sofa, but before sitting down, she leaned over to dramatically sniff the cushions, right where we’d just had sex.  “My, my. What an aromatic couch you have, Goldilocks.”

As I sat next to her, she said, “I heard you, you know.”

“Heard me what?” I knew the answer would be embarrassing, but I needed to hear it from her lips before I could respond.

“Uh… fucking?”

“Really?” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah. And, um, sorry to be nosy, but I was watching to see who left your apartment. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be a woman with a girl who looks to be around twelve or thirteen. And when I gave it some thought, it sure seemed like some of the noises I heard came from a young girl. Oh, and I saw a very distinct family resemblance between your guests. Would they be mother and daughter, by any chance?”

By then, I was a bundle of nerves. “They are, yes, but–”

“And you fucked at least one of them in this room. Maybe both of them, huh?”

There was a roaring in my ears, and I was on the verge of keeling over in a dead faint. “How would you even know that?”

Hannah’s cheeks pinkened ever so slightly. “Okay, confession time. I’ve heard you a couple of times when you had a lady friend over… but then, the sound was coming from the bedroom. It’s how I know you’re into women, by the way. But today, I could hear you through there,” she said, pointing at the wall that separates our living rooms. “By the way, this whole room reeks of pussy.”

“Oh,” was as much of a response as I could muster up. I had to give my neighbor credit for her detective work. She didn’t have any hard proof to back her conclusions, but knew enough to make things mighty hot for me if she so desired.

I’m sure Hannah could read the fear in my eyes, because her tone changed. “It’s okay, Suzanne. Your secret is safe with me.”

I felt a measure of relief, but was determined to remain cautious. “Why are you telling me this, Hannah? What is it that you want?”

“I want to know what happened here. All of it. How it got started, and what the deal is with that girl and her mother.” She snickered. “How you got that stain on your sofa.”

Taking a steadying breath, I began to speak. First, I told Hannah about my research project. I let her know that I had a signed confidentiality agreement with Millie, so anything she or Emily told me during our session was strictly off limits. She was fine with that; what mattered to Hannah was the threesome we had afterward.

I told my neighbor everything: how Emily had stripped naked and masturbated while Millie talked about her sex life, Millie undressing and pleasuring her daughter, then how they both invited me to join in. I saw Hannah press a hand between her legs as I described going down on Emily as Millie ate my cunt and anus from behind. I left out the part about Millie inviting me to her upcoming orgy, and made no reference to Piper, her younger daughter.

When I was done, Hannah shook her head. “Holy hell… that’s the hottest fucking story I’ve ever heard.”

“You enjoyed it?”

“Oh, of course. So, um, how does it feel to have sex with a girl that young? How old is she, by the way? Can’t be more than thirteen.”

“She’s twelve… and as I said, I’m not her first.”

“No, her mom was.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Truthfully? It turns me on more than I ever would have thought. Not that I ever wanted to fuck my mom, but it’s not like incest is a foreign idea to me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. More confession time, since we’re getting to know the real nitty-gritty about each other. I have a sister and a brother. Older brother by two years, younger sister by eighteen months.”

“And the two of you…?”

“From the time my brother was old enough to know how to seduce us – which, I have to say, wasn’t very difficult – we were all getting it on. He taught us what to do, then we did it to him. And each other.”

The researcher in me was emerging. “How old were the three of you?”

“Jake was twelve, I was ten, and Melinda had just turned nine when it began.” She was still gently rubbing her cunt through her jeans.

“How did it get started?”

She laughed. “I walked in on Jake in the bathroom when he was having a… private moment.”

“He was jerking off?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know he was in there?”

“No. It was a totally innocent thing. He forgot to lock the door and I caught him.”

We sat there in silence for a moment. Then Hannah spoke up. “Suzanne?”

“Yes?”

“Just to let you know… if you ever get horny and want some company, check to see if I’m home. I miss sex with women.”

I smiled. She definitely wasn’t going to breathe a word of what she’d heard. “Okay.”

“And if you ever have a girl that age over here again, one who likes grown women… would you call me? I’ll stop whatever the fuck I’m doing and come by soon as I can.”

That intrigued me. Was she truly interested in fucking an underage girl? “Are you sure about that?”

Without a word, Hannah stood and pushed her shorts and panties to the floor, then sat back down. Her hand went to her pussy, which I noticed was waxed like mine, and began to rub.

“So sure, it has me worked up all over again just thinking about it. So tell me, Suzanne: what was it like, licking that cute little twelve-year-old’s pussy?”

“Honestly?”

She nodded.

“It was heaven.”

Hannah plopped back onto the sofa, rubbing herself even faster. Soon, she was coming, fingers a blur as she mauled the rosy flesh of her cunt.

Once she’d caught her breath, Hannah stood to pull up her shorts and panties. She did it casually, as if masturbating before an audience was something she did every day. “Well, I have to get back to Danny now,” she said. “If you listen, you’ll hear us fucking tonight. I won’t tell him why I’m so hot and bothered. Actually, he won’t even care why.” With a wink, she added, “I’ll be extra loud when I come, just for you.”

With that, she drew close and kissed me. It was a brief but fiery lover’s kiss, long enough for me to suck her tongue. Breaking away, she paused to smear her wet fingers on my mouth, giving me a sample of her honey.

As she made an exit, Hannah gave me a little wave. “Toodles.”

When the door clicked shut, I hastened to my bedroom, stripping naked as I went, savoring the trace of pussy Hannah left on my lips. She tasted divine, and I was already thinking about when I’d get to enjoy her from the source.

Falling back on the bed, I began to masturbate. Usually I preferred to take my time, but right then I wanted it hard, fast, and intense. I wondered if Hannah would hear me getting myself off, deciding it was fine if she did. It would just add fuel to her fire.

On to Chapter Four!

 

The Story Thus Far

Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.

Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.

Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.

Chapter Four: At Nettie’s place, four women and Halee Wilder greet the morning after an evening of lesbian abandon. Later that day, Mallory rejoins Julie, Nettie, Cindy and Hannah for a day of fishing. Halee returns home and spends the day upgrading her internet in preparation for promised to be a fun night of video chat sex with her girlfriend Bethany. Meanwhile, Grace and Heather are in the custody of the mysterious man, who seems to takes delight in terrorizing them.

Chapter Five: After their day of fishing, Nettie, Julie, Cindy, Mallory & Hannah engage in a five-woman sexfest inside a tent… and with the use of Cindy’s phone, their old friend and occasional bedmate Emma attends the orgy virtually. In the midst of their abandon, Nettie has a weird, vague memory flashback that leaves her shaken, but she conceals it from the others. Back home, Halee and her new love interest Bethany (Hannah’s daughter) are having long-distance sex via their laptops. 

Chapter Six: Nettie has a heart-to-heart with Hannah about her personal demons. Later, she gets a call from Agent Bridgett Ramscone, who has an unsettling request: for Nettie to go through the documentation of her own childhood kidnapping — and the murder of her sister — as a possible way to gain insight into the abduction of Heather and Gina (who are still being emotionally abused by their kidnapper, but are also taking steps to escape). Nettie is shaken, but agrees to do what she can. 

Chapter Seven: Many years after the fact, submerged memories of Nettie’s kidnapping began to make themselves known — memories of a possible accomplice to the original crime. She shares her thoughts with Bridgett. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina work on a potential escape from their makeshift prison.

Chapter Eight: Nettie unearths more hints that kidnap victims Heather and Gina were abducted by the same man who kidnapped and brutalized Nettie and her deceased sister over a decade ago — but that man was known to have died in prison.  Gina manages to escape captivity. But Heather can’t fit through the opening they dug, and must remain behind. Nettie gets a possible fix on the girls’ captor who, while out and about, gets a flat tire — then he discovers the spare is flat as well. 

Chapter Nine: The man who kidnapped Gina and Heather must get his flat spare tire fixed, not knowing the police have been alerted to him and are searching the area. Nettie, who is also hunting for the man, manages to find his abandoned car — then, some time later, makes an even more startling discovery: little Gina, alone and weeping by an abandoned road. In the meantime, the kidnapper manages to make his escape from the area by phoning a mysterious woman to pick him up.

For a list of the characters from the story you are now reading, visit this page. 

For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

 

by Rachael Yukey

Could I be a warrior, warrior
Broken, alone, left for dead
Could I be a warrior, warrior
With courage to rise up again
Blaze Bayley 2021

At about the same time Nettie Hastings was lugging an exhausted Gina Dulcey through the forest towards the spot where she’d left the car, Mallory Kalvornek sat across from her mother in a corner booth at Longtrees Restaurant in Alexandria, scooping the last bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

Sharon, still attractive in her late forties, had just put down her own fork. “That hit the spot,” she proclaimed. “This place has changed completely since it was Doolittle’s.”

Mallory swallowed, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards in a wry grin. “The only direction to go was up. I remember paying damn near gourmet prices, for Perkins-level food.” She settled back in her chair, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. She was glumly aware that they’d spent the entire meal, the first hour they’d spent together in quite some time, on superficialities. She just couldn’t think of a way to pose the questions churning in her mind.

The server brought the check, and Sharon sent her along with a credit card.

“Thanks, Mom,” said Mallory, at a loss for anything else to say. “I’ll buy next time.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll be able to make time to see each other before you go back home.”

“Jeez, I’m going to be here all summer,” Mallory said with a grin. “I have to think we can figure something out.” Sharon just sat there across the table, smiling stiffly at her. The artificiality of it was enough to make Mallory’s stomach churn, and finally she decided she’d had enough.

“Okay, Mom, what the hell is it?”

An eyebrow arched. “Excuse me?”

“Whatever it is that you’re upset about. Whatever’s been eating you for the last three years and change.”

Sharon’s expression grew cool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mallory ran a hand across her face. “Of course you don’t. We’re right back to the fourth grade all over again. Okay, I guess I’ll play that game. Let’s pretend everything is fine, and talk about the weather. This time I’ll do it till you’re tired of it, and we’ll go from there.”

Sharon’s lips had compressed to a thin line. “Are you done?”

“I guess I’ll have to be,” Mallory replied with a sigh.

***

Nettie was seated next to Bridgett Ramscone on a plush settee in the best hotel in Virginia, with Latisha Miller across the table from them in an overstuffed chair. Nettie was holding a blowup of the clearest security cam photo from Crossroads Convenience, her hands beginning to shake.

All she could see of the face was the chin and part of a cheek, but there was something about the shape of those features, combined with the way he stood and moved, that said it all for Nettie.

“It’s him,” she muttered, her voice dull. “I know it is.”

True to her word, Gina Dulcey had been able to lead them straight to the abandoned shed deep in the woods, seated on Nettie’s lap in the passenger seat of the Ranger ATV. Young though she was, she’d spent much of her childhood playing in the pine forest, possessing woodsmanship to match.

The shed was one of the few remaining outbuildings on what had once been a dairy farm. The house and barn had been torn down, nothing left but thoroughly overgrown foundation. Most of the remaining buildings were busy caving in on themselves, but the one shed, protected somewhat from the elements by a sheet tin roof, had remained intact.

The only door had been secured with a hefty padlock, but Agent Fischer had broken it down with a heave of a sturdy shoulder. Heather Dulcey was inside, feebly scratching at the earth with fingers scraped so raw that Nettie suspected reconstructive surgery might be in her future. Both girls were now being looked after at Children’s in Minneapolis.

“Nettie.” Bridgett spoke in soothing tones, her hand closing over the top of Nettie’s. She used a light touch, mindful of the scrapes and scratches accrued during the morning’s adventures. “It can’t possibly be Jacob Brentshaw. You know that.”

“Brentshaw died in prison,” Latisha Miller confirmed. “There’s no way he’s at large now. Although I admit, there are similarities. The height is about right, and the shape of the chin is close enough for the discrepancy to be accounted for by aging.”

Nettie waved the paper at them helplessly. Her voice shook as badly as her hands. “Look at the thing, dammit. Or better yet, watch the cam footage. I know my memories aren’t clear, but I remember he moved like a friggin’ cat. You can’t seriously tell me that we have a copycat crime with a perpetrator that looks and moves this much like—like—fuck!”

Flinging her glasses aside, she buried her face in her hands, shoulders heaving. Tears dripped from beneath her palms.

“I don’t know what to say,” Latisha replied. “Because you’re not entirely wrong about his physical characteristics, at least the ones we can see. But he died in a federal maximum security facility; that’s about as much certainty as you can get. There has to be another answer here.”

Hands dropping to her lap, Nettie leaned her head back against the lush blue upholstery. The tears continued to flow, and she was powerless to turn them off. Hating the sobs that racked her voice, she forced the words out. “Any f-fucking leads on where he went after—after the garage?”

Bridgett gave her a handful of Kleenex she’d extracted from her purse. Nettie pressed the whole wad against her eyes, doing her best to muffle sobs that threatened to rattle the walls.

“None,” Bridgett replied. “They spent about six hours doing helicopter sweeps; didn’t turn up anything. We had agents on the ground looking for trails into the woods, but there wasn’t anything we could make out visually. At this point we have to assume he got away clean.”

Nettie drew her knees up to her chest and pressed her face to them, feet on the cushions. “I’m s-sorry,” she managed to get out.

“Don’t be,” Latisha replied in a gentle voice. “You solved a case in three hours that my team has spent the past three days coming up dry on. A case that comes pretty close to home, after what you went through when you were a kid. You saved Heather Dulcey’s life for sure, and maybe Gina’s too. I’d say you’re entitled to a good cry.”

Nettie gave in to it, allowing Bridgett to drape an arm around her and draw her close. Face still buried in her knees, she wept for herself, her sister, those two little girls who would spend years struggling to put this nightmare behind them, and for the lost opportunity to catch the sorry fuck who had done this to them once and for all. Bridgett and Latisha, bless them, remained silent and let her do it. Gradually, little by little, she pulled herself together.

Still hugging her knees, she lifted her head. Finally she let her feet drop to the floor, then dried her face and blew her nose with a fresh handful of tissue supplied by Bridgett.

“I know you’re right,” she got out, her voice raspy and harsh. “I guess there’s not much left to do here.”

“Well, my team definitely has some follow-up work ahead,” Latisha replied. “Not the least of which is to see if maybe we can nab this guy. If he’s still on foot, he has to still be somewhere close. If he was able to get into a car, either by hitchhiking or some other means—” she shrugged.

“Then he could be a couple of states away by now,” Nettie finished for her.

“Exactly. But as for you—you’ve done all you can for us at this point. Certainly if you think of anything, please get in touch, either through Agent Ramscone here or by calling me directly.” She handed Nettie her card. “After this morning, I’ll sure as hell never dismiss a call from you.”

Bridgett chuckled. “This isn’t the first time Nettie’s thrown open something trained agents couldn’t figure out. She has a standing offer to come work for me.”

“You’ve got competition now, honey,” Latisha said with a smile. “Ms. Hastings, you’d be a natural fit for the bureau. I’d get you hired in a second. If you also wanted to continue your work for the DEA, there are ways to accomplish that.”

Nettie offered a wan smile. “For now, I think I’m just going to bed. I’ll be driving home in the morning.”

Latisha rose. “Fair enough. And seriously, thank you. I don’t even care that you upstaged me and my agents, not with what was on the line. Agent Ramscone, shall we let Ms. Hastings rest, and confer further in my room?” The look in her eyes as she gazed at Bridgett was not lost on Nettie, nor was the tone of voice in which Bridgett replied.

“Absolutely,” said Bridgett, rising to her feet. “Nettie, if you need me, call. No matter the hour.”

As the two women exited the room, clearly already undressing each other with their eyes, Nettie couldn’t suppress a grin. A grin which faded the moment she looked back at the photo in her hand. It couldn’t really be Brentshaw, she told herself. Could it?

***

“So she just—shut down on you.”

“Pretty much.” Mallory turned the stick in her hand, the marshmallow over the fire blackening nicely. “Whatever are you talking about, Mallory? There’s no problem. More or less exactly like she did when I was in elementary school.”

“That sucks,” Julie replied, slowly rotating her own marshmallow. “I wonder what’s actually going on with her.”

Mallory shrugged. “You’ve seen her emails, and her Facebook posts. It’s all trivial stuff. The weather is awful, the job is going well, that kind of crap. I have no idea what’s actually happening in her life, and I don’t know anyone who does.”

Julie pursed her lips. “I don’t suppose it has anything to do with our—um—illicit activities with her? Like, maybe she has regrets now, or something?”

“I dunno.” Mallory felt a stirring in her loins as her mind flashed back to the numerous carnal liaisons she and Julie had enjoyed with her mother. These encounters had tapered off during the girls’ high school years, as Sharon had started dating more frequently, exploring her newfound preference for women. The last time had been early in their senior year, and even that had been something of a fluke. The three of them had shared two bottles of wine that night and ended up in Sharon’s bed.

Mallory pushed the images aside; she knew her motor would be running within seconds if she allowed her imagination to run wild. Illicit or not, those had been some of the most amazing sexual experiences of her life. “It’s occurred to me, I guess. But it seems damn strange that it would suddenly become a problem, after all this time.”

“Is she dating?”

“Beats me. It’s been forever since she posted about anything like that on Facebook, and she sure as hell hasn’t mentioned it in those content-free emails I’ve been getting over the past few years. I don’t even know who her friends are any more.”

“Maybe you should talk to your grandma. Paulette might know something.”

Mallory shifted her eyes to the heavens. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know. Grandma is constantly having to worry about my idiot uncles as it is… I guess I don’t want to add Mom to that list.”

Julie extracted her marshmallow from the fire, sandwiching it between two graham crackers with Hershey bar squares. Squeezing tightly on the crackers, she pulled the stick free. She glanced around at the farmstead where Mallory had spent her childhood, the big streetlamp near the grain storage tanks casting a nearby stand of oak trees in sinister shadows.

“You know,” she said, picking her words carefully, “if there really is something going on, I doubt you’ll be telling Paulette anything she doesn’t already know. She’s probably already worried.”

“Maybe,” said Mallory, carefully assembling her own s’more. They’d be getting electrical power restored to the house tomorrow, and a refill of the propane tank. The plan was to spend the summer living there. Tonight, they were camping out.

Polishing off her s’more, Julie sucked on her fingers, then rummaged in the cooler, coming up with a bottle of vodka and another of Sprite. “Something to make your troubles go away?”

Mallory shook her head. “Just the Sprite. I don’t really feel like I want a drink.”

Julie’s left eyebrow went up. “Camping without observing the rituals? That’s probably bad luck, you know.” She poured some Sprite in a cup for Mallory, then went about mixing herself the traditional Pussy Posse campfire beverage for herself. Mallory sipped her Sprite, gazing out past the grain bins into the darkness that shrouded the field.

Julie took an experimental sip of her mixture, nodded with satisfaction, took a larger gulp. She cast her eyes toward her partner. “Seriously— you feeling okay?”

Mallory tore her eyes from the middle distance and looked to Julie. “Yeah—oh, I don’t know. I’m just feeling a little off, I guess. Have been since this morning. Not sick or anything like that; just weird. I can’t really put my finger on it.”

Julie grinned. “Sweetie, you’ve been weird since the day we met.” Reaching out, she gripped Mallory’s hand tightly in hers, earning a firm squeeze in return. The two women sat in silence, sipping from their cups, content with the evening and each other.

“Know what this place needs?” Mallory said suddenly.

Startled from her own thoughts, Julie shook her head to clear it. “No idea. What?”

“A barn,” said Mallory. “It always annoyed me that my grandpa tore down the dairy barn when he switched to strictly cash grain. That was before I was even born, but there’s still pictures. It had one of those big, beautiful, old-fashioned hip roof barns.”

Julie gave her a sidelong glance. “You mean like the ones that are collapsing literally all over the countryside around here? Your grandpa was probably smart to tear it down before it turned into a hazard.”

Smiling, Mallory shook her head. “There you go, always thinking like an engineer. And yeah, I know you’re right. But they’re not all falling down. Some of them were preserved on purpose, and some of the others are still standing because they had a metal roof instead of shingles. A handful are even still in use.” She paused, then gave a thoughtful nod. “If I decide to sell the place, I should put a clause in the contract—the buyer undertakes to build a big, beautiful barn.”

Julie squeezed Mallory’s hand. “I know what you mean. There’s something about those old traditional homesteads, isn’t there? Not very practical now, I guess.”

“No.” There was another long, companionable silence. Julie mixed herself another drink, offering Mallory a refill of Sprite. Mallory shook her head.

This time it was Julie who spoke first. “You don’t really want to sell, do you?”

Mallory heaved a heavy sigh. “No, I don’t. But I don’t really know what the hell I’m supposed to do with the place, either. Renting the land is at least bringing in money, but it comes with some headaches, and it would take decades to make in rent what I’d get from the sale. Selling would be the practical thing to do.”

“The practical thing isn’t always the right thing.”

“Well, that’s not very… engineery of you.”

“I’m on sabbatical,” Julie said with a giggle. “I don’t have to be engineery again until September.”

“Unless I decide to make you build me a barn.” Laughing together, the two lovers gazed out once more into the night.

***

“I’m glad we found those girls, but I gotta admit—I feel a little stupid,” said Latisha. She and Bridgett lay in each other’s arms, naked, the comforter drawn over their spent bodies. “A half dozen FBI agents beating our heads against the wall, and this chick with zero investigation training just waltzes in and cracks the whole thing in all of three hours.”

Bridgett chuckled. “You’re not the first person Antoinette Hastings has done that to. Yours truly included.” She lay her head back and gazed up at the ceiling. “You didn’t have our advantages, is all. I saw the similarity to the Brentshaw kidnappings and murders, purely because I happen to be acquainted with the one person who ever survived being kidnapped by him. And honestly, I didn’t really think it would lead anywhere. I just figured we had to try.”

Latisha nodded. “My boss didn’t even clue me in on that. He relayed your request for info, so I sent what we had—he never told me why. I never even heard of Jacob Brentshaw until you called me this morning and told me your agent on the ground had a lead.” She chuckled. “What you didn’t tell me is that she ain’t really an agent.”

Bridgett laughed with her. “No, just a consultant so far. But she’d be a great agent. Nettie has damn good instincts, and an intellect that’s almost scary. I don’t think she even realizes how smart she is.”

“Even so, how are you planning to explain to your bosses why you let an untrained consultant who isn’t even an agent investigate a case like this on her own?”

Bridgett shook her head. “She wasn’t supposed to. I thought we were going to meet for lunch in Virginia, then start poking around together. Guess I should’ve known better. As for justification—” she shrugged. “It won’t be that hard to explain away. When the lives of children are on the line, no one really argues with success.”

“No, I guess they don’t.” Latisha rubbed her eyes. “But it wasn’t a total success, was it? We lost the bad guy. People who do that kind of shit—they’re compelled, you know? He’ll do it again.”

“You’re not done here,” Bridgett said reassuringly. “Maybe you’ll still manage to pick him up.”

The FBI agent shook her head. “Bullshit. He’s gone, and you know it. We maybe had a two-hour window to put hands on him. Could be we’d have even managed it, if getting those girls back hadn’t come first. But I’d bet you my car—and it’s a nice one—that he’s completely out of the area by now.”

Bridgett nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.”

Latisha stretched languorously. “If I get any leads, you mind if I call your girl? She sure does have a way of figuring things out.”

“No problem on my end. It’s up to her if she wants to participate or not.” Feeling a wave of heat arise at the delicious friction of Latisha’s body against hers, Bridgett reached up to caress the FBI woman’s cheek, then extended her fingers to delicately toy with an earlobe.

Latisha’s hand shot up, arresting Bridgett’s motion and lacing their fingers together. “Girl,” she breathed, “You tryin’ to start somethin’?”

A smile teased the corners of Bridgett’s mouth. “Me? Never.”

***

The cemetery wasn’t a sizable one, but hilly ground made it seem larger than it really was. Hannah’s almost-new Jeep topped a rise, where she found Nettie’s Kia, nosed off the dirt trail just enough to allow other vehicles to squeeze by. Hannah drove a little further until she found a clear spot, then pulled off of the trail and put the Jeep in park.

She spied Nettie standing in front of a fresh-looking headstone on a side-slope grave, the new sod a sharp contrast to the surrounding grass. Nettie was looking in her direction, and waved Hannah over as she opened the driver-side door and slid to the ground.

A twinge of excitement coursed through Hannah’s body; she hadn’t seen her lover since the previous weekend’s fishing trip. It was now late Friday afternoon, and she’d come straight from work, still wearing her trademark pink scrubs.

Hannah ambled down the gentle slope, headstones to the left and right. Many of them had dates far, far in the past. Coming alongside Nettie, she slipped an arm around her waist, pulled her close, then studied the headstone before them.

“Darrell Hastings,” she read aloud. “Your dad, right?”

“Yeah,” Nettie buried her face momentarily in Hannah’s hair, planted a kiss on the top of her head, then faced forward again. “How was work today?”

Hannah sensed that Nettie was engaging in small talk to delay a more serious discussion, and decided to play along for a little while. “A couple of minor surgeries, one intubation that my CRNA was scared to tackle, nothing special.” She paused. “You doing okay?”

The rescue of two preteen girls near Virginia, Minnesota on Tuesday had made national news, and its occurrence in a location where Nettie just happened to be participating in a police investigation had not been lost on Hannah. In their phone conversations since then, Nettie tacitly acknowledged her involvement, but had been unwilling or unable to open up about it. Hannah was burning with curiosity and concerned about her girlfriend’s mental well-being, but knew nothing about the operation beyond what had been reported in the press.

“I’m fine,” said Nettie. “I have to work Sunday evening, but we’ve got the weekend until then. What do you want to do? Anything special?”

“Well,” said Hannah with a grin, “you promised me dinner and, er, tongue exercises. But first—” she hesitated, then decided it was time to take the bull by the horns. “First, why don’t you tell me why you wanted to meet at your father’s gravesite.”

Nettie gently withdrew from her lover’s embrace, extending a hand. Hannah took it, then followed Nettie up the hill towards the cars. They crossed the dirt trail, then were once again moving downslope, on the opposite side of the hill.

About two thirds of the way down, Nettie stopped before a mid-sized stone, with flowers engraved on either side of the name. Hannah took note of the dates—it was the grave of a ten-year-old child. Annamarie Peyton Hastings. Her eyes fastened on the birthdate again, and realization came to her in a rush.

Utterly blindsided, Hannah blinked back sudden tears. If ever Nettie needed her to be strong, this was the moment. Looking sideways and up she saw that Nettie’s face was streaked with wetness, her open mouth working soundlessly. Not thinking, just reacting, Hannah threw both arms around Nettie, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Nettie began to sob. Her legs buckled, and she went to her knees. Hannah followed, still holding her tightly.

“Oh, Antoinette,” she whispered. “Oh, God—I had no idea.”

Nettie just cried. Hannah just held her. How long they knelt there in the grass like that, neither of them could have said.

***

“I can’t believe I’m just now hearing about this.” Hannah closed the browser tab, the fifteen-year-old news article vanishing from the laptop screen.

The tale it told had been a brief, matter-of-fact affair, detailing the kidnapping of ten-year-old twin girls, and the operation that had rescued them. Only one had survived, but their abductor had been arrested, putting an end to a long string of murder/kidnappings.

Thoroughly shaken, Hannah polished off her margarita in a single gulp. Closing the laptop, she turned to look at Nettie, seated next to her on the loveseat. Pale and silent, Nettie was sitting bolt upright, hands on her knees. Hannah put the laptop on the end-table next to her, took Nettie’s hand, and squeezed. Her fingers were ice-cold.

Hannah scooted over a little, so their bodies were pressed together. She wanted to throw her arms around the tall, dark-haired beauty once more, tell her that everything would be all right, whisper I love you. She resisted the urge, sensing that it might not be welcome at that moment.

She tried a different tack. “Does Terry know?”

That elicited the ghost of a smile. “Probably. I mean, he’s lived here four years—I figure he has to have heard it from somebody by now. We’ve never talked about it, though.”

Hannah shook her head. “That’s a hell of a thing to hold inside, babe.”

Nettie shrugged. “I know. I just can’t—I can’t stand to talk about what happened. And if I mention Anna at all, people want to know how she died. It’s easier to just skip the whole thing.”

“Do you talk about her with anybody?”

“My mom, but we don’t ever discuss the kidnapping. You know, she’s never asked me a single question about what went on while that fuckwad had us. Not once. Dad never did, either.” Nettie tilted her head back, gazing up at the ceiling. “Sometimes Anna’s name will come up when I’m talking to people we went to elementary school with—you know, remembering stuff we all did together, that sort of thing. It’s not like anybody is forgetting her, it’s just—” Nettie seemed to run out of words.

“What was she like?”

“Fun.” Nettie smiled, and it did Hannah’s heart a world of good to see it. “I mean, she was the girl who could always think of something to do on a rainy day. Or if we were out with friends, like in the woods or at the park, she’s the one who would come up with games, or think up some make-believe thing that we could all get into. She had a real vivid imagination, and was good at sucking everyone else into her world.”

“So the leader, kind of.”

“Yeah, for sure. She had charisma, even when we were little. People gravitated to her, way more than they ever did to me.”

Hannah cocked her head to the side. “Did that ever bother you?”

“Sure, sometimes.” Nettie was starting to relax, lounging back against the plush cushions. Hannah no longer felt as if she was snuggling an oak plank.

“I mean, she made friends without even trying,” Nettie went on. “I was a little jealous, at times. But we both had our super powers, I guess. I always had a real easy time at school. Reading, math—I just picked it right up. For her, it was harder. In the second grade I was placed a couple of reading levels ahead of her, and she got kinda sulky about it.”

“But you loved each other anyway.”

“We were best friends.” There was a hitch in Nettie’s voice. “We fought sometimes, but we didn’t stay mad.” Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes, but she plunged ahead. “I think it worked because we weren’t bitchy about any of that stuff. I spent hours helping her with her reading, and she included me when she hung out with her friends. At least when I wanted her to.” Plucking a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table, she blew her nose.

“You didn’t always want her to?”

Nettie was still leaking around the eyes, but a teary chuckle pushed its way through. “Anna was a little social butterfly. Having people around all the time made her happy. Me, not so much. I liked being around people, but I needed to be alone sometimes. Guess I’m still like that.”

Hannah nudged Nettie in the ribs with an elbow. “Guess you are.” Then she shook her head. “Am I really the first person you’ve ever talked to about it who didn’t already know?”

“Yep.”

“Well—I’m honored, but—why now? And why me?”

“A few reasons.” Nettie seemed to have the waterworks under control again. She dried her eyes and blew her nose once more before going on.

“First off,” she said, “if we’re gonna have a chance as a couple, I’ve got to stop running away from people. That’s what I do when the nightmares get bad, or when I just can’t get it out of my head—I push people away. I’ve always hated to be vulnerable in front of others, no matter who. Didn’t want them to see me cry, or be there when I woke up screaming.”

“I hope you don’t need me to tell you that’s not healthy.”

Nettie let out a humorless laugh. “Believe me, I know. And it’s been a real problem; I’ve torched a couple of relationships because of it. I don’t want to do that this time. I want us to have a real chance.”

Hannah pressed the back of Nettie’s hand to her lips, then cradled it to her breast. “That means a lot to me, Antoinette. Because I really, really want this to work. Is it too early to say I’m in love with you?”

Sniffling, Nettie shook her head. “No. No, it’s not. Because I feel the same way.” She took in a shuddering breath, then let it out slowly. “Another reason is that I’m starting to realize how badly this is fucking up my life. I drink too much, for one thing. None of it’s gonna get any better if I keep bottling this up.”

“You recognize that you’ve got a problem, and you’re taking steps,” said Hannah. “That’s half the battle right there. I’m proud to be your main squeeze right now, you know that?”

Now smiling, Nettie leaned in. Hannah met her halfway, and they shared a tender, leisurely kiss.

Hannah caressed Nettie’s cheek, her hand remaining there when their lips parted. “You said there were a few reasons. That’s two. A few implies more than two.”

Nettie looked forward again, pressing her head back against the cushion of the love seat. “The other reason—” She took a deep breath, then forced the rest of the words out. “The other reason is that it’s all happening again.”

Hannah frowned, not sure where Nettie was going with this. She was opening her mouth to ask for clarification, but then the light dawned. “You mean that case you drove up by Virginia for? The one you still won’t tell me about? It was those two little girls that got kidnapped, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“How involved were you?”

“I saved their lives, Hannah.” Nettie’s voice was stronger, more alive somehow. “I could play at being modest all day long, but the truth is that I’m the reason they were found. And it would’ve been a totally different story, if not for what happened to me and Anna all those years ago.”

Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. “Antoinette, you don’t—do you think it’s the same guy?”

Nettie pursed her lips. “Same make and model of car. Same MO, except he wasn’t as careful with the babysitter’s body. We’ve got—”

“Wait a minute. The news article I read said that the kidnapper escaped on foot and left his car behind. Can’t they ID the car by the—the engine serial number? I think I saw that on Law and Order or something.”

“Usually they don’t even need that. There’s VIN plates in a few different places on most cars. But those have all been removed, and someone stuck a re-man engine in it at some point. That aside—” she shrugged. “We have some security cam footage. He’s hiding his face under a big hat, but the height is correct. It all fits, but there’s one big problem.”

Hannah waited, but Nettie had gone silent again. “Which is?” she prompted.

“Jacob Brentshaw is dead. He was shanked in the showers of a maximum security prison just last year. There’s no way it can be him.”

Hannah nodded slowly. “I guess my first thought would be that he faked his death somehow, but in max? Seems kind of hard to believe.”

“Exactly. But—I dunno. Something’s off here. I know it, and Bridgett knows it too, even if she’s not saying it out loud. The moment she saw the MO, she contacted me. She can make noises about copycat crimes and accomplices all day long, but I don’t think she’d have bothered if she wasn’t seeing what I’m seeing.”

“So what’re you planning to do about it?”

“It’s not my investigation, Hannah. Bridgett Ramscone was only involved because there were drugs in the babysitter’s system. Nothing to do with the case directly, you know? She managed to stick her nose into the other stuff, and by extension mine, because those girls were missing. But now that they’re safe? It’s strictly an FBI thing now. We’re out of it.”

Hannah cupped Nettie’s chin, turning her head towards her and gazing into those dark brown eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, girl. What are you planning to do about it?”

Nettie’s expression hardened. “I haven’t figured that out yet. But I’m damn sure going to do something.”

On to Chapter Eleven!

 

by Emma

Chapter Two: A Desperate Good Girl on the Edge 

“Back seat, little one,” Miss Ashcroft said smoothly, opening the door for me like I was a little girl.

The inside of her car smelled like clean leather. She reached in the cargo area and pulled out a thick wool blanket from behind the seat, deep green and incredibly soft. “No proper woman leaves the house without one,” she said, draping it around me in a hug that set my heartbeat racing. “Preparedness is a virtue for mommies like me. Now, up you go.”

I climbed in without thinking, and Miss Ashcroft helped me up, fingers accidentally (accidentally…?) grazing my bottom beneath my tattered skirt.

“There,” she smiled, brushing damp hair from my forehead again. “No need to worry about a seat belt. Simply kick off your shoes and curl up with the blanket. You’re already such a little drenched thing… we need to make you warm again.”

Drenched was right. And cold. But deep inside I was warmed by Miss Ashcroft’s beauty, her kindness… but more than anything, the promise of Lollipop Lane. Could she really be taking me there?

I curled up tightly, thighs pressed together, the soft weight of the blanket pressing me down into the leather bench seat. Wow.

She turned the key, and immediately gentle instrumental music began to hum through the speakers. Piano and cello, a hint of humming. Soft. Lullaby-soft.

“What is this?” I asked, eyes fluttering closed.

“A piece my little girl composed,” Clarissa said. “She made it for bedtime, though I find it has universal applications.”

“You have a daughter?” I mumbled.

“Yes. She’s a little younger than you, and an absolute rascal.” She glanced at me in the rearview, eyes catching mine. “Perhaps you two will get along. Though, be warned, she’s the most mischievously insatiable little thing.”

By then, I was feeling mischievously insatiable, too. I still wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but I wanted to shed tears of happiness and rub my slit at the same time. “Thank you, Clarissa,” I whispered.

“Miss Ashcroft,” she gently corrected. “Say it properly, sweetheart.”

“Miss Ashcroft,” I whispered, correcting myself like a schoolgirl caught passing notes. Except my note would have read, Please, pretty please let me suckle your breast. I know I shouldn’t have peeked down your top, but your nipple caught my attention and now I just want to…

Her smile reflected in the rearview. “Good girl.”

Two words was all it took for my tummy to flip like a cheerleader on Adderall. Okay. Yeah. This was happening.

I was a good girl, and this was definitely happening.

I slipped the fingers of one hand between my thighs beneath the secrecy of the blanket, which now felt less like comfort and more like an obstruction. It smelled faintly of female. Her? Her daughter? I bit my lip, drawing tiny circles around my clit.

“Are you warm enough back there?” she asked, her voice a low purr. “You’re squirming.”

“I’m just… adjusting.”

“Mm. I do like pretty young girls getting… adjusted.”

Something inside me fizzled and sparked. The combination of the soft music, the blanket, Miss Ashcroft’s voice—every word brushing up against the part of me that still wanted to believe I was growing up, cutting away that illusion like a wet summertime bikini trimmed away by scissors.

I sank deeper into the seat, closing my eyes. But the friction between my legs was… wowie, it felt so good. I wanted more. I rocked once against my hand, just a little, just to see if she’d notice.

“Oh, sweetie,” she cooed, her eyes still on the road. “You’re going to leave a wet spot on my leather.”

“I—I’m not—”

“But you will,” she said, voice calm and final. “Protection from wetness is one of the best features of leather. Wait until we arrive home, love. First we’ll get you nice and comfy and warm. Then we see what else is wet.”

I moaned before I could restrain it.

“Oooh, lovely. I’ve a feeling you’ll be excellent company tonight.”

Lollipop Lane. Once more, those magical words echoed in my head.

The name was a vibrator permanently placed on the “oops” setting. My brain immediately launched a full printout of every rumor, urban legend, and half-serious high school whisper I’d ever heard.

“Isn’t that the place where you’re only allowed to wear collars?”

“My cousin said it’s just a house but, like, not JUST a house. Like a lesbian cult, but with cookies.”

“No, dummy. It’s a safe haven for queer girls. Like a rescue house, one where you go to escape from your parents if they’re making your life hell. And they all fuck.”

“Someone on TikTok said they saw a girl crawling down the street wearing a leash and nothing else.”

“I heard they have parties where they take turns peeing on each other.”

“Oh, my GOD. Shut up. There’s no such place as Lollipop Lane. It’s a myth!”

Apparently, there was something to the myth after all. Miss Ashcroft lived there. I was pretty sure if I asked nicely (or misbehaved correctly?) she’d show me more.

My heart thudded. My panties were a lost cause.

I swallowed hard. Glanced at Miss Ashcroft in the mirror.

She was smiling. Knowing. Like she could read my thoughts.

“Miss Ashcroft?” I asked softly, clutching the blanket tightly. My voice cracked, as if I was asking the headmistress a Very Inappropriate Question.

She didn’t respond right away. Just hummed along to the lullaby for five long seconds. It made me want her even more. “Yes, little one?”

I hesitated. “Who… are you?”

Her eyes flicked to the mirror. “I am a woman of refined tastes, impeccable manners, and a soft spot for lost girls with storm clouds in their lives.” She smiled, almost lazily. “As for the rest… well. I believe in earned intimacy, Lily, and you haven’t earned it yet.”

“Are you married?” I tried. “I—I mean, you said you were going on a date tonight, but some women… you know.”

“No. Thankfully, never, because no one on the Lane is ever alone like that.” Her eyes lingered a beat too long in the rearview. “You’ll see.”

I swallowed, the heat pulsing steadily between my thighs, dizzy with the ache of needing to release that warmth, to grind just a little harder… but I didn’t dare. I wasn’t sure. Not yet.

I watched Miss Ashcroft drive. Still humming, one hand on the wheel, the other in her lap. At ease. Queenly. What was it like, I wondered, to move through the world like that? To be so confident you could cause young girls to secretly rub their pussies in the back seat while you drove?

I imagined what she’d look like standing in a doorway, naked and bathed in warm candlelight, murmuring, “Come here, little one.” I wondered if this was truly a seduction, or something else, something that could become more.

Most of all, I wondered if she had the same hunger between her legs that I did, and if I had what it took to satisfy it.

“So…” I said, as innocently as someone with soaked panties and a burning desire could manage. “What’s the neighborhood like?”

“It’s usually very lovely and quiet,” she said eventually. “Well-kept. Extremely private, as I’m sure you’ve imagined.”

“Right. But, like… friendly?” I asked. “Close-knit? Lots of, um, gatherings?”

She gazed at me in the mirror. Those sparkling green eyes were borderline dangerous.

“You want to know,” she purred, “if my neighborhood community is a sex-fueled hedonistic contemporary isle of Lesbos, complete with orgiastic lesbian brunches every Sunday. Am I right?”

My mouth opened and I choked out a half-laugh, half-gasp, still snatching at the thought. “I didn’t—”

“Hush, now.” Her lips curved like she’d just been served a particularly juicy secret. “Of course not, darling. Don’t be ridiculous.”

I exhaled, flustered.

“They take place on Saturday nights.”

My heartbeat stopped.

THIS is Saturday night.

Miss Ashcroft’s laugh was low and melodious. “Oh, sweet thing. We are not monsters. One does need Sundays to recover, hydrate, and bake fresh scones.”

“You’re messing with me,” I muttered, trying to retreat into the blanket and my own lust-addled head.

“And you are squirming helplessly, beside yourself with the need to know,” she replied, pleased. “And I do admire curiosity. It’s a quality I nurture.”

“Nurture how?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Fuck it. Brazen, I began to rub, and rub, and closed my eyes as I imagined this amazing woman nurturing me with that sweet, lone nipple I’d glimpsed moments earlier, while I lay curled up in her lap, suckling and suckling while she hummed and stroked my hair and touched between my legs…

The car phone trilled loudly, shocking me out of images of Miss Ashcroft’s soft, warm pussy pressed against my mouth.

“Ah, it’s my little girl,” she said airily. “Hello, Bunny.”

A voice burst over the speakers like a glitter bomb made of sugar: “Momm-y-y-y-y! I was SUCH a good girl today, I didn’t even hump the pillow during my nap, unless you count that one time I—anyway, can I have cummies before you get home? Please? Pleeeease?”

Miss Ashcroft’s lips twitched as she, without an ounce of shame, locked eyes with me in the mirror. “Are you touching yourself now, little rabbit?”

Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod…

“Only with the pinkie. The rest of my hand is hovering, I swear. Hovering is allowed, you said so on Wednesday.”

“And what day is it, darling?”

“…It’s Saturday?”

“Is it?”

“Oh no.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m soooo sorry, Mommy! I got confused, I’ll stop! I’ll—”

“Bunny.”

A brief pause. “Yes…?”

“If I find so much as a hint of quim on your fingers when I return, I’ll have you crawling the lane with that vibrating pacifier in your bottom, and every dog we pass will have their way with you.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Sorry, Mommy…”

“Apology accepted. Now, be a good girl and draw a nice, hot bubble bath. Oh, and you should also know… I’m bringing someone home.”

A pause. “Is it… a friend?”

“A very pretty young guest. She’s very wet right now, and very curious about our home.”

“OmiGOD. Is she cute? Is she, like, cute-cute, or oh-no-I’m-in-danger-cute?”

“She’s precious,” Miss Ashcroft said, her voice dipped in honey. “And lost. Which, as you know, is one of my favorite flavors.”

The voice on the speakers whimpered right along with me.

Miss Ashcroft’s smile deepened. “You may be your real self tonight, Bunny. No need for secrets. Let our guest see what a pretty little girl you really are, deep down.”

A breathless pause on the other end. Then, in a voice quivering with excitement: “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good girl. Mommy loves her good girl so much…”

“I’m gonna cry—oh, Mommy, you’re gonna make me wet myself—”

“You will not. Now hop upstairs and get to work on that bubble bath.”

“Yes, Mommy! I love yoooou!”

“I love you, my sweet.”

Click. The call ended.

Miss Ashcroft didn’t speak for a moment. Then, a contented sigh. “She’s excitable. But pure and honest.”

I was panting under the blanket. “I…um…noticed,” I mumbled.

“Lily.” Miss Ashcroft’s emerald eyes flicked to mine. “You’re allowed to be nervous, little one. But you’re not allowed to lie to me. I appreciate obedience,” she added, adjusting her mirror. “But desperation is far more delicious. So. No more rubbing yourself, not until we get home.”

Though quaking inside, I reluctantly withdrew my hand. “Yes, Miss Ashcroft…”

On to Chapter Three!

by Suzy Freeman

Hello again. This is PhD candidate Suzanne Freeman, with Part Two of my interview with Millie, age 32, who has agreed to be interviewed about her sexual history. She has admitted to having a great deal of sexual contact as a child, particularly with women and girls. My current discussion concerns her lesbian activities before she was of legal age.

As with the previous transcript, “Q” indicates a question I am asking Millie, while “A” indicates her response. This has been transcribed from the original recording of the interview.

For this part of the interview, conducted one week after the first, Millie asked if she could bring her older daughter, Emily, age twelve, along to the interview. Since she had admitted to having sex with Emily in the previous interview, I decided to allow this. Any responses from Emily are indicated as “E” in the transcript of the interview.

I have been asked if these interviews stimulate me sexually. The simple answer is yes. In all honesty, any healthy and open-minded person, whether male or female, would surely find themselves stimulated by the content of these interviews. We might be scientists, but we are human as well. I myself am a healthy lesbian woman, age twenty-six, and am willing to admit that after Millie left the interview last week, I went home and masturbated myself to several orgasms. As a single woman, that is my most frequent means of sexual release.

This week, Millie requested we meet at my apartment near the college campus I attend. I agreed to this arrangement, mostly because if this interview aroused me as much as the previous one, there would be no need to drive home in order to provide myself relief from the resulting sexual tension. I mention this because of what happened in this interview.

***

Q: Hello, again, Millie. I see you brought your daughter with you today. Hello, Emily.

E: Hi.

(Taking assessment of this sexually precocious child, I note that she is very attractive with long dark hair and large, warm brown eyes. Emily is slender with lovely legs and budding breasts that are just big enough to tent the front of her top. She wears no bra, and the imprint of her nipples is clearly visible through the material.)

Q: So, Millie, are you ready to answer some questions in front of your daughter?

A: Certainly. In fact, I told her all about what we discussed last time.

Q: So, you told her about your bath time as a child?

E (laughing): How do you think she got started with me?

Q: Good point. Perhaps we can address that later. Millie, how many girls did you have sex with as a teenager?

A: (After considering the question) Five.

Q: Were they all your age or close to it?

A: Alex and Roxanne were, but the other three were younger than me.

Q: How much younger?

A: Lisa was ten, Riley was nine, and Terri was six.

Q: And how old were you when you had sex with each one?

A: Let’s see… I was fourteen with Lisa and Riley and fifteen with Terri.

Q: Last time, you told me about your first times with Alex when you were both eleven. How old were you when you first had sex with Roxanne?

A: Sixteen. I remember because we were both juniors in high school. Roxanne, though, was already seventeen by then. My birthday is in August, so I was sixteen my entire junior year. We hooked up around March or April when we were both in the school musical.

Q: Of these five, which one was the most fun?

A: Well, Alex was a lot of fun because she was my first with anyone, other than Mom, but I would have to say Lisa and Riley were the most interesting.

Q: You consider those two to be a tie?

A: Well, they’re sisters, thirteen months apart, so the three of us all did stuff together at the same time, so I can’t really choose just one of them.

Q: You had threesomes with Lisa and Riley?

A: Yes. They were lovers, too, you see.

Q: So, by now–

E (interrupting): I’ve had sex with all three, too – Lisa, Riley, and Terri.

Q: Really?

E: Yeah. Mommy still knows them.

Q: So, Lisa and Riley would be… twenty-seven and twenty-eight now, correct? And Terri would be twenty-three.

A: Yes. (Turns to Emily) Honey, don’t interrupt, okay? Suzanne will be asking you questions in a moment.

E: Okay. (Gives a deep sigh, the kind that only a young teen can do convincingly.)

Q: How did you first get together with Lisa and Riley?

A: They moved in two doors down from the house where I grew up. I saw my mother watching them play in their front yard, and I could tell she found them, well, attractive. I hadn’t really noticed them yet – they’d only been there two days – but when I looked over, I could see why my mother was so enamored of these girls. I immediately pictured myself lying in bed naked with them and doing all sorts of sexy things. I didn’t include Mom in the fantasy, though she would eventually take part.

(Millie paused, expecting another question, but I was already too fascinated by her story to think of one.)

Q: Go on. (Listening to the tape afterward, you can clearly hear how aroused I was.)

A: Well, I walked down to their house and introduced myself. Right away, I could see they thought it was weird that someone my age would seek them out. After all, I was fourteen, a high school freshman. They were in fourth and fifth grades. So I asked if their parents might need someone to sit with them if they wanted to go out sometime, as if I were looking for a babysitting job.

[As before, the transcript will now be shared temporarily as a dialogue.]

“We can watch over ourselves,” the older girl said. I figured her to be about ten or so. “We don’t need a sitter.”

I shifted gears, not wanting them to think I was treating them like little kids. “I was thinking maybe you had a younger brother or sister, you know, like four or five years old.”

“No. We’re it,” the younger girl said.

“Okay. Well, I’m Millie.”

“I’m Lisa,” the older one said, then pointed to her younger sister. “That’s Riley.”

“Hi. What’cha playing?” I asked.

They considered me again, obviously wondering why I would be interested in hanging out with them.

“Just kicking a soccer ball back and forth. Practicing,” Lisa said.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked.

“Why do you want to play with us?” Riley asked, frowning. “You’re, like, a teenager. Don’t you have friends your age?”

“Yeah, but they’re not around right now. Besides, teenagers know even better ways to have fun. I bet you two would have a lot more fun if you hung out with me.”

“What kind of fun?” Riley asked.

“You know. Older kid stuff.”

“Not drugs, right?” Lisa asked. “We don’t do stuff like that.”

“I don’t either,” I replied.

“Then what?” Riley asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe Truth or Dare?”

“We’ve played that before,” Lisa said, grinning.

“With someone my age…?” I replied. It’s true that I was being suggestive, but I didn’t want these girls to rush to that conclusion. Maybe they knew right away what I really wanted from them. I’d have to ask them now.

“Is Truth or Dare different when teenagers play it?” asked Riley.

“Try it out and see,” I challenged. “I’ll tell you this much… girls my age have more interesting truths to tell.”

I could see that Lisa was picking up on my meaning. She said, “Okay, I’ll play, but you have to let us ask the first question. Or make the first dare.”

“Deal,” I said. “Wanna come over to my house?”

“Why?” asked Riley. “What’s wrong with right here?”

“Because some dares you only want to do in private, dummy!” Lisa said, poking her younger sister.

Okay, now I knew that these two had definitely played the game as a way to get their friends to do things they wouldn’t do in public – like take off their clothes, expose parts of their bodies or even touch each other. They didn’t seem the type to stick to silly dares such as, “squawk like a bird,” or “touch your tongue to your nose.”

“So how about it?” I said, looking from one sister to the other. “Wanna come over?”

“You gotta meet our mom first,” Lisa said. “She won’t let us go into a house if it’s someone she doesn’t know.”

That made me a little nervous. What if the mom saw through my ploy? What if she wondered why a fourteen-year-old girl would want to play with her daughters?

“Okay,” I said, “but we have to tell her we’re going to play a different game… like Monopoly or something.”

“Of course,” Lisa said. “She wouldn’t like us to play Truth or Dare at anyone’s house, even someone our age. C’mon.” With that, she turned, beckoning me to follow, and I did.

Riley fell in beside me. “You wanna do some kind of sex stuff with us, huh?” Lisa was ahead of us and didn’t hear her sister say that.

Well, that caught me off guard. “What?” I gasped, trying to seem shocked.

She smiled. “It’s okay. Lisa and I do stuff with each other all the time. Every night, just about. See, we share a bed, ‘cause it’s a three-bedroom house. Our grandma sleeps in the other one. She lives with us.”

“You and your sister mess around together?”

“Of course. Don’t all sisters close to the same age do that?”

By that age, my little sister and I had explored just about every kind of lesbian sex there was, but I’d always figured we weren’t anything like a typical family.  “I… I never thought about it before.”

“We had neighbors where we used to live. Their kids were two brothers and two sisters, and they all did sex with each other.”

So they both had a good idea of what I was after. I felt relief, along with a twinge in my pussy. By then, we were entering the girls’ house, so we had to change the subject. Lisa called, “Mom?”

A woman who looked to be about thirty came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “I asked you girls to stay out of my hair while I get the kitchen unpacked,” she said.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “We are, Mom. I just wanted you to meet our new neighbor, Millie. She invited us over to her house to play Monopoly.”

I could feel my panties getting damp at the sight of Lisa and Riley’s mother. It was easy to see where they got their looks from. I stood there like a ninny until she laughed and stepped over to me. Apparently, she was used to girls getting mad crushes on her.

She offered me her hand. “I’m Heather. Nice to meet you, Millie.”

“Nice to meet you,” I whispered.

Lisa was practically bouncing in place. “So, how about it? Can we go to her house?”

Heather’s eyes had me entranced. “Where do you live?” she asked.

I pointed toward my house. “Just two doors down.”

“Okay, then.” She turned to Riley and Lisa. “Girls? Behave yourselves.”

“We will,” Lisa said.

We left their place, the girls practically skipping along. It felt strange, how quickly these two had gone from, “Why do you want to be our friend?” to, “Let’s have some fun together!” Then again, they’d both easily figured out that my offer to play Truth or Dare was really an invitation to get naked and fool around.

Approaching my house, Riley picked up our chat from where we’d left off. “One time, we dared our friend Tina to take off all her clothes in front of everyone, and she did.”

Lisa came to an abrupt halt, totally alarmed. “Riley! What are you doing?”

“Talking about how we played Truth or Dare before.”

“You’re not supposed to tell anyone about that!”

“It’s okay,” I said. “That sounds a lot like the games of Truth or Dare I’ve played.”

Relieved, Lisa gave me a pleased smirk. “I figured maybe you had… but still, Riley shouldn’t be telling you anything about the stuff we’ve done, not till we get to know you better.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It sounds like we all like to play the same games.” Gazing into Lisa’s eyes, I casually fondled my breast. She licked her lips, looking down at my chest.

My mother was busy in our front yard. “Mom?”

“Hmmm?”

“We’re going inside to play some games. Is that okay?” We were at the front door by now, and she signaled me over to her. I walked over to where she was sitting and leaned down when she gestured for me to do that.

“What kind of games?”

“Truth or Dare.”

She grinned at me. She definitely knew what I was planning, or at least what I hoped would happen. “Should I leave you all alone for a while?”

“If you would, that would be great.”

“Is an hour enough?”

“It should be. I’m gonna close my bedroom door. If it’s still closed, be sure to knock.”

“Okay. Tell you what. I have to go to the grocery store anyway. How’s an hour and a half sound?”

I grinned. “Even better.”

I led Lisa and Riley inside and to my bedroom, closing the door.

“Your mom’s pretty,” Lisa said.

“So’s yours.”

“So, I get to go first,” Lisa said. “Since blabbermouth over there already let you know we’re into sexy stuff when playing this, I have to ask – are you okay with that?”

“Okay with it? I was counting on it.”

Lisa grinned. “Okay. First, will your mom be busting in on us, or does she respect a closed door?”

“She definitely respects a closed door.”

“Okay, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I said, wanting to get the action going as soon as possible. No point in dragging this game out, I figured – these girls knew what I wanted.

“Take off your top and bra.”

“That’s all?”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “Okay then, take off everything.”

I stood up and began to undress, keeping an eye on Riley and Lisa as I got naked in front of them. I had boobs by then, though they were still small, and they both gasped when my bra came off. When they saw my pubic hair, they responded the same way.

“You’ve got hair on your pussy,” Riley said, staring.

“Of course I do. I’m fourteen. You will too, in a few years.”

They stared at my nudity as if trying to memorize it for later. That thought got my pussy even juicier than it already was.

I sat down, spreading my legs wide so they could get a good look at my spread pussy lips. I didn’t have to look to know I was dripping wet. I could feel it on the inside of my thighs, even trickling down into the crack of my ass.

I gave them both a big smile. “Okay, it’s Riley’s turn.”

Riley looked at Lisa, who shook her head. “Not me. Remember? We each get to ask her something, either a truth or dare, to start off. You can ask me next time around.”

“Okay,” Riley said, then turned to me. “Truth or Dare.”

“Truth.”

“Ever touch yourself to get off?”

“You mean… do I masturbate?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely. Like, practically every day.”

“Wow,” Riley whispered.

I was amazed at how nicely this was going. I’d met these two cuties maybe twenty minutes ago, and already I was sitting naked and spread-legged in front of them, openly admitting how much I like to masturbate.

“Okay,” I said, “my turn.” I looked at Lisa. “Truth or Dare?”

She considered before saying, “Truth.”

“Do you give yourself orgasms?”

“Like masturbating to them?”

“That’s one way,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“So you have had orgasms?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How often?”

“That’s another question!” Riley said. “You have to wait ’til next time around to ask that.”

“It’s okay. I’ll answer,” Lisa said. “Every night. Sometimes in the daytime.”

“Your turn, Lisa,” Riley said, obviously wanting to keep this theme going.

“Riley? Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

Just what I wanted. “Take off all your clothes.”

Riley smiled, as if she’d both expected and hoped for that dare. Standing up, she stripped off all her clothing, soon standing naked in front of Lisa and me. I couldn’t wait to explore that beautiful little-girl body. Her bare slit looked delicious.

Sitting, she turned to Lisa. “Truth or–”

Before she could finish getting the words out, Lisa answered, “Dare.” It was obvious what she wanted Riley to ask for, and her sister didn’t disappoint. “Take off your clothes and get naked like us.”

***

At this point of the interview, I glance over at Millie’s daughter, Emily. She has a hand inside her shorts.

Q: Emily?

E: Sorry. Mommy’s story is getting me hot. Like I said, I’ve had sex with Lisa and Riley, and thinking of them back then kinda makes me need to get myself off. You don’t mind, do you?

Q: Millie, are you okay with that? Do you mind if your daughter masturbates?

A: Not at all. In fact, why don’t you undress and do it, honey?

E: (smiles) Okay.

Emily stands and disrobes. When she is nude, she sits down again and begins to fondle her slit.

E: Go on, Mom. (She smiles mischievously.)

[Dialogue continues]

So, Lisa got naked, and now we were all sitting together in a sort of circle, looking at each other. Lisa and Riley seemed especially interested in my boobs.

“Whose turn is it?” I asked.

“Yours,” Riley said.

I turn to Lisa. “Masturbate for one minute.”

She swallowed, realizing exactly where this was going, which was probably exactly where she’d hoped it would.

Reaching down to her pussy, she began rubbing it, gently at first. As her sister and I could hear, she was already pretty wet. After a minute or so, she said, “Forget this stupid game. Do it with me, okay?”

We didn’t need to be told twice. In seconds, all three of us were masturbating.

As we got ourselves close, I asked Riley and Lisa about their relationship. “Do you two really mess around with each other?”

“Yeah,” they said simultaneously.

“Have you ever had your pussy licked?”

The sisters looked at each other, then back at me, still fingering their pussies. “You won’t think we’re weird?” Lisa asked.

“Of course not.”

“Then yeah. We lick each other.”

“Did you come that way?” I asked.

“Lots of times,” Riley said.

With that, I stopped masturbating and got down between Lisa’s thighs, planting a kiss on Lisa’s pussy before extending my tongue to lick.

“Oooohhh!” she said and lay back.

I turned to Riley. “Let Lisa lick you, and then you lick me! We’ll do a daisy chain.”

Neither of the girls were familiar with the term, so I took a moment to explain. Riley understood right away and put herself in position for Lisa to lick before fitting herself into the circle and going down on me. I watched as Lisa began to lick Riley’s pussy, and seeing that was nearly enough to make me come right then. It was obvious that they fucked, and not just once in a while, but a lot.

Soon, Lisa’s hips began to twitch and jerk as her orgasm approached. Just as she went over the edge, I joined her. Seconds later, Riley came, humping her sister’s mouth hard. If my mom had been outside my door, she would have definitely known we were enjoying a massive group orgasm. None of us held back with our moans and screams as the climaxes took us.

Afterward, we lay back to catch our breath.

“You think we could do this again sometime?” Lisa asked.

“Sure,” I said. “How about right now? Let’s turn the other way!” Shifting my position, I spun myself around and started licking Riley’s pussy. The soft flesh of her pubes were pressed against my mouth as if her pussy was kissing me back. She was delicious, her juices, such as they were at her young age, seeped from her vagina. I could also detect a hint of pee.

Her reaction was immediate. “Oh, wow!” she exclaimed as I applied my lips and tongue to her mound. She began to do the same for her sister. Just like that, we were in another daisy chain, with Riley licking Lisa and Lisa licking me.

After licking Riley for a minute or two, I moved my mouth to her rosebud. Apparently, she had never been rimmed before. “That’s my butthole!” she exclaimed, as if I was licking her there by mistake. My tongue was pressed against the sensitive pucker, stimulating it with small licks.

“Yeah, I know,” I said, briefly raising my head. “Feels good, huh?” Then I licked her there again.

Riley was squirming against my mouth. “Oh, fuck, yes! It feels great!” she exclaimed.

“Hey! Don’t stop licking me!” Lisa said to Riley.

“Sorry,” Riley said, and returned to licking Lisa, then Lisa got back to pleasuring me.

[Note: At this point in Millie’s story, I look over at her twelve-year-old daughter Emily. She is rubbing her pussy to an orgasm that I know is very near. I do my best not to touch myself, already anticipating how this lovely young girl will taste when I finally get my mouth on her. I continue to watch as she masturbates to her mother’s story. Millie’s narrative now continues while I keep stealing looks at Emily’s pubescent pussy.]

After a moment, Lisa stopped for a moment. “What’s it like to lick a butthole?” she asked.

“If it’s clean like mine and your sister’s, it’s great!” I said. I returned to licking Riley, moving my tongue from her small clit to her rosebud and back, bathing her most sensitive areas.

I could feel a small hesitation before I felt Lisa’s mouth move suddenly to my anus, as if she were doing it before she could talk herself out of it. Then her tongue began to move, and I was in heaven.

“Lick my butt, Riley,” Lisa said quickly before returning to my own butthole.

Riley glanced up at her sister. “Are you sure?”

“Totally. Do it! You’ll like it. I’m still clean from my bath this morning.”

The sudden gasp from Lisa told me her sister was now licking her rosebud for the first time. “Oh, God, that feels awesome!” she exclaimed before returning to her own feast.

I could feel my orgasm approaching and figured it was going to be a good one, but I was wrong. It was amazing. I did my best to keep from flailing all over the bed, not wanting to dislodge my pussy and butthole from Lisa’s mouth. To her credit, she was able to stay with me as my body trembled and shook.

Almost immediately after I came, Lisa went off. Her orgasm seemed to do the same thing mine had: grab on and not let go. She shook and jerked for what seemed like minutes, but was probably just twenty or thirty seconds or so. It was a long orgasm, though.

All through this, I kept my mouth glued to Riley’s little pussy and rosebud, continuing to lick up and down and bringing her enormous pleasure. After Lisa was done with her come, Riley began to tremble and shake as her own orgasm kicked in.

“Uuggghhhh!” she cried as she came. Her body heaved and shook until all was quiet. We three lay in my bed, catching our breath.

By the time the afternoon was over, we’d licked each other to three orgasms apiece. When we were done, Riley wanted to have fun with my budding breasts. Lisa was into that, so soon each sister had one boob to suck and lick while I played with their cute bottoms. I wanted to put my fingers in their buttholes, but figured it was too early for that.

Soon it was nearly time for Mom to get home. Of course, she wouldn’t have had any problem with seeing us naked and cuddling. More likely, she’d have stripped down and joined the party. But I wasn’t quite ready for Lisa and Riley to know that Mom and I were lovers.

So we got dressed, and when my mother arrived, we were playing Chinese checkers on my freshly made bed.

***

Her story complete, Millie relaxed, though I noticed she was somewhat flushed. She was silent for a moment, then spoke.

A: And that was the beginning of a lifelong love affair.

Q: Did you end up telling the girls about your mother?

A: Oh, of course! And my sister, too. Within a week, we were all having sex.

Q: And you still see each other?

A: Absolutely. I took Emily and Piper there just three days ago. It’s always fun when we do that.

E: Ooohhh… I’m about to come, Mommy!

We watch as Emily brings herself to orgasm. After she finishes, Millie leans over to give her daughter a kiss that is anything but motherly. It’s a lover’s kiss, complete with lots of tongue from them both.

Turning to me, Millie says, “Emily and I are going to fuck now. You can join in if you want, or you can watch.”

I chose to take off my clothes and join in. The details of what followed will be included in the next part of this study.

On to Chapter Three!

The Story Thus Far

Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.

Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.

Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.

Chapter Four: At Nettie’s place, four women and Halee Wilder greet the morning after an evening of lesbian abandon. Later that day, Mallory rejoins Julie, Nettie, Cindy and Hannah for a day of fishing. Halee returns home and spends the day upgrading her internet in preparation for promised to be a fun night of video chat sex with her girlfriend Bethany. Meanwhile, Grace and Heather are in the custody of the mysterious man, who seems to takes delight in terrorizing them.

Chapter Five: After their day of fishing, Nettie, Julie, Cindy, Mallory & Hannah engage in a five-woman sexfest inside a tent… and with the use of Cindy’s phone, their old friend and occasional bedmate Emma attends the orgy virtually. In the midst of their abandon, Nettie has a weird, vague memory flashback that leaves her shaken, but she conceals it from the others. Back home, Halee and her new love interest Bethany (Hannah’s daughter) are having long-distance sex via their laptops. 

Chapter Six: Nettie has a heart-to-heart with Hannah about her personal demons. Later, she gets a call from Agent Bridgett Ramscone, who has an unsettling request: for Nettie to go through the documentation of her own childhood kidnapping — and the murder of her sister — as a possible way to gain insight into the abduction of Heather and Gina (who are still being emotionally abused by their kidnapper, but are also taking steps to escape). Nettie is shaken, but agrees to do what she can. 

Chapter Seven: Many years after the fact, submerged memories of Nettie’s kidnapping began to make themselves known — memories of a possible accomplice to the original crime. She shares her thoughts with Bridgett. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina work on a potential escape from their makeshift prison.

Chapter Eight: Nettie unearths more hints that kidnap victims Heather and Gina were abducted by the same man who kidnapped and brutalized Nettie and her deceased sister over a decade ago — but that man was known to have died in prison.  Gina manages to escape captivity. But Heather can’t fit through the opening they dug, and must remain behind. Nettie gets a possible fix on the girls’ captor who, while out and about, gets a flat tire — then he discovers the spare is flat as well. 

For a list of the characters from the story you are now reading, visit this page. 

For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Rachael Yukey

Look around, wrong information
Attempt on our life
Hard to find, balance and wisdom
In this absurd circus
Labyrinth, 2021

The lean man with the clean-shaven head and careworn face pauses on the narrow shoulder of Scout Camp Road, heaving a sigh of relief at the sign reading MATER”S GARAGE, planted next to a driveway leading to a country auto shop nestled snugly amongst the pine trees. Sweaty and out of breath, he clutches the Datsun’s spare tightly to his chest and soldiers on, gravel crunching beneath his boots. The donut seemed light enough to begin with, but lugging the thing almost five miles has proven to be another matter altogether. He’s not looking forward to the return trip.

He does have help available, and it occurs to him that he probably has cellphone bars now that he’s not buried quite so deep in the woods. He’s reluctant to make that call, and decides to leave the option open, depending on how long it takes him to catch his breath after he puts this thing down.

He curses himself as he realizes he left the big, stupid-looking hat in the car. Hoping the little garage in the big woods doesn’t have security cameras, he resolutely continues up the drive.

***

“Mater’s Garage, this is Jesse.”

“Hey, Jess, it’s Steve.”

Jesse Thompson blinked in surprise. His relationship with his brother Steve was chilly at the best of times, and the two rarely spoke. Jesse had never cared much for cops, and Steve’s participation in a drug bust that got Jesse’s girlfriend sent up for fifteen months did nothing to improve their relationship.

“Steve.” As always, Jesse replied to his brother in as few syllables as he could muster.

“I was wondering if you could do something for me,” the voice on the other end replied.

“If you want me to check the other guys’ lockers for pot, go fuck yourself.”

“Jesus, Jesse.” Steve’s voice was exasperated now. “It’s not like I knew Katya was part of the ring, you know that. Look—we got an APB on a car, and you’re inside of the circle they’re canvassing. Datsun 210, 1981, gray with lots of rust, Minnesota plates. I’ll give you the plate number if you have a pen handy.”

“Why the hell are you telling me?”

“Because you work at a place that fixes cars, why else?”

“Solve your own damn cases, Steven.”

“Jesse, come on. We’re checking with all the other auto shops in the area, too. If you won’t talk to me, I’ll call your boss directly, because we need someone at your shop keeping an eye. Can you take that number, or what?”

Jesse grudgingly plucked a pen from a cup on the reception desk, pulling a notepad close with the other. If the boss found out he wasn’t cooperating with the cops on something like this—well, he was already one small step from being fired.

“All right,” he said, not trying to disguise the resentment in his tone, “hit me with it.” As he spoke, a hint of motion outside drew his attention to the front window.

“4HF 401”, said Steve. “If that car shows up at your place for any kind of service, don’t fuck around. Go where the driver can’t hear you and…”

“The fuck?” Jesse broke in, cutting Steve off.

“Something wrong?” Steve’s voice had gone from conciliatory to sharp and professional.

Jesse squinted at the window. “Well, there’s some fucknut walking up our drive right now clutching a goddamn donut.”

“You mean like—a pastry?”

“I mean like a spare tire, dumbass. Some guy walking in carrying it. I’d better go out and see what’s—”

“Whoa, hold on. What’s he look like?”

“Like a fucking guy carrying a fucking donut,” Jesse snapped, then let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. He’s thin, kinda tall, completely bald. Wearing what looks like an army surplus jacket. He’s—”

“Okay, okay.” Steve’s voice had gone up half an octave in pitch. “Listen to me, Jesse! Stall him. Tell him you’ve got a shitload of other things you have to do before you can fix his tire. Keep him there! We’ll have deputies on the way.” The line went dead.

Resentment rapidly flaring into anger, Jesse turned his eyes toward the glass-plated entry door, which the guy in the army jacket appeared to be considering how to open without having to set down his burden. At this distance, Jesse could see that the man was sweaty and disheveled. The spare, he noted, was mounted on a rim of outdated design, and small even for a donut. Both tire and rim appeared shiny and unused, most likely removed from a compartment that had never been opened.

Hurrying from behind the counter, he crossed to the door and pushed it open. The man staggered wordlessly past him, crossing the room and depositing the donut on the counter with a thud. Mopping sweat from his brow, he turned towards Jesse, the thinnest of smiles forming upon his lips.

Jesse glanced towards the inside service window that afforded a view of the garage area. Tim Jensen was rotating tires on a Honda Civic; Sam Noel changing oil on an F150. Neither seemed to have noticed that a customer had entered the lobby. Eyes narrowing, Jesse stepped close to the man.

The rundown middle-aged dude gestured towards the tire. “I’m afraid my spare is—”

“No time for that,” Jesse muttered, taking the man’s arm. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but we have cops heading this way, and I’m pretty damn sure you’re the one they’re after. You best bug the fuck outa here while there’s still time.”

The thin smile faded, and the man jerked his arm from Jesse’s grip. Speaking not another word, he crossed the lobby in two long strides, and was out the door before Jesse even registered that he’d moved. The ragged figure cut sideways across the lawn and ducked into the forest.

Slowly rounding the counter, Jesse ran his fingers across the smooth rubber of the tire still lying on the grease-stained surface. A glance at the service window assured him that Sam and Tim remained oblivious.

Settling slowly into the office chair, he considered how long it was likely to take for the deputies to arrive, knowing they’d most likely be lurking in the more populous areas of the county. Figuring he had at least fifteen minutes, he began concocting the story he would tell.

Lighting a Marlboro, then exhaling a long plume of smoke, Jesse extended a middle finger to the “No Smoking” sign posted on the opposite wall. Fuck Steve, and fuck the St. Louis County Sheriff’s Department. Be goddamned if I’ll help ‘em put some poor dipshit behind bars for what’s probably nothing more than a baggie of dope.

***

The bald man in the army field jacket didn’t stop running until he was almost a mile into the woods. Finally he came to a halt, sagging against an oak, clutching his side, the breath exploding from his lips in harsh, tearing gasps. This kind of shit was a young man’s game and no getting around it—he wasn’t anywhere near young anymore.

As his heartbeat gradually slowed, the fear began giving way to something darker. He hadn’t finished. He’d only just begun to play his special games with those two little lambs—so young, so delicate, so vulnerable. He’d been nearing the end of the first stage—simply drinking in their terror, letting it wash over him like summer rain—an appetizer for the feast of the senses that was to follow.

Next would come the screams, the cries of agony as he inflicted pain on those sweet little pre-nubile bodies. The music of those hideous shrieks was, for him, the ultimate ecstasy. He’d so been anticipating the indescribable surges of pleasure, the tightening in his jeans as his erection bloomed. It had been so long.

Resting his head against the tree, he began to beat it with his fist. “Fuck!” It came out harsh and guttural. Later he would rue his loss of control, belatedly realizing how lucky he was that none of his pursuers had been close enough to hear him bellowing out his fury and sense of loss. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

He heard a scattering in the leaves; saw a fat brown squirrel staring at him from about fifteen feet to his left. Seizing a dead, rotted branch jutting out from the tree at eye level, he broke it off, hurling it at the varmint with an inarticulate roar of rage. The tiny animal bolted, the stick of wood crashing down in his just-vacated bed of leaves.

There was a jolt of pain as he threw, quickly bringing him back to himself. Looking down at his hand, he saw that he’d beaten it bloody and raw against the tree.

Slumping back against the old oak, he weighed his options. Half a dozen scenarios danced through his head in which he somehow found his way through the woods back to that abandoned shed, and finished his barely-begun work with those tender little doves.

Painful though it was, he brusquely cast those possibilities aside. It was time to cut his losses. He’d avoided yelling for help when the tire blew, but now he had no choice but to call in the cavalry. He had maybe an hour to vacate this part of the forest before the pigs turned it into a killing box he’d never get out of.

Tugging his phone from its jacket pocket with the hand that wasn’t beaten bloody, he called up his GPS and located the nearest gravel road. Trudging off in that direction, he got into his contacts and placed a call.

***

Nettie was sitting in her car on the side of the highway, eyes fixed on the cordoned-off entrance to Keenan Trail and wondering just what the hell her next move should be, when the phone rang again, Bridgett Ramscone’s name on the screen.

She snatched it from the seat. “Where ya at, Bridgett?”

“Still a ways out. It looks like we have a hit, Nettie. A guy matching your description, minus the hat, has been sighted approaching a rural auto repair shop carrying a donut-sized spare tire.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yep.” Bridgett’s voice remained level, but Nettie detected an undercurrent of excitement.

“Do we know if he’s still there?”

“Staff at the garage have been instructed to slow-walk whatever his request is,” Bridgett replied. “It’s gonna take the Sheriff’s Department at least twenty minutes to hit scene, and the FBI is in even worse shape. Where are you?”

“Just a couple miles up the road from the convenience store. What’s the name of the garage?” Nettie was already calling up her GPS, hands shaking with excitement.

“Now hold on there, lady. Doing a little snooping is one thing. Butting heads with a murdering kidnapper—that’s something else. I don’t want you on that scene till the suspect is cuffed. We don’t go in until the police do.”

“I don’t want to go in, dammit,” Nettie protested. “If he’s there, he’s not wherever those girls are. Maybe if I go out in that direction, I can get some idea where he came from.”

Bridgett sighed. “All right. It’s Mater’s Garage. Promise me you won’t take any risks.”

Fumbling with the keypad, Nettie plugged the information into her phone. “Looks like a twelve-minute drive, Bridgett. I’ll be there in eight.” She was already shoving the gearshift into drive.

“No risks, Nettie.”

“Promise,” said Nettie, thumbing the steering wheel button to kill the connection as she floored the accelerator.

***

Gina hunkers down next to a little stream, greedily scooping handfuls of ice-cold water to her lips. Most of it runs out between her fingers, but she manages enough to take the edge off her thirst. She wonders how long she’s been stumbling along the little game trails that cut a maze through the undergrowth. It feels like forever, but some part of her mind is aware that it’s most likely been no more than a couple of hours.

She wonders if the bad man has returned to the shed, and if so what horrors he’s been visiting on her sister. The thought galvanizes her. She has to find help, before the bad man does something truly horrible to Heather. Pushing herself to throbbing feet, the grubby, exhausted child pushes on through the forest, this time following the stream. That, she’s been taught from earliest childhood, is what you’re supposed to do when you’re lost in the woods.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerges unexpectedly onto an abandoned stretch of highway, patches of asphalt appearing randomly between the encroaching shrubbery. She throws both hands up to shield her eyes from the glaring sunlight.

***

Nettie slowed as she approached the entrance to Mater’s Garage. The building was set back from the highway, only traces showing through the trees. She pulled off onto the shoulder.

Unfolding her lean frame from the car, she cast her eyes downward. The shoulder was recently graded, leaving a thick layer of fresh macadam. Good; new gravel meant an adult on foot would leave easily identifiable tracks.

It took her just a few minutes to find them, fresh-looking ones on the opposite side of the driveway from where she’d parked. The tracks came from the northeast, then terminated where the person who left them turned onto the concrete apron of the auto shop driveway.

Nettie hurried back to her car, put it in gear, and eased forward. She could no longer see the tracks directly alongside the car once she exceeded twenty-five miles per hour, but by looking ahead to where they were no longer rushing by, they were discernible at a higher speed. She found the sweet spot at around fifty, hugging the shoulder with her passenger-side tires just barely brushing gravel.

About two miles up the shoulder disappeared, the grassy ditch reaching its zenith at the edge of the blacktop. No more tracks. Nettie mumbled a few choice curses but kept on driving, knowing she would simply have to take the first side road she came across and hope for the best. She slowed to forty, keeping her eyes peeled.

Less than a quarter mile from where the shoulder gave way was a well-worn field approach, leading to what looked like four or five acres of alfalfa. There was an implement path around the edge of the field consisting of bare-earth tire tracks, a stretch of weedy grass in between. Nettie pulled into the approach, put the car in park, and got out. Walking around to the front of the car, she squatted down and examined the path closely.

The imprint of tractor tires were in evidence, but didn’t appear to be recent. Visible over the top of these was a set of tracks that looked a hell of a lot like the ones in the photo Nettie had been perusing at home just a few hours ago. These tracks barely made an imprint in the hard-packed earth, and she wouldn’t have seen them had she not gotten out of her car to look. The implement path skirted the edge of the field in both directions, but the car tire imprints veered off to the right. Looking more closely, Nettie realized the vehicle had been in and out of here a number of times.

Straightening, she turned back to her car, sliding behind the wheel once more. She eased forward to follow the implement path–alfalfa field to the left, forest to the right. A quarter of the way around the field she found what she was looking for, a vehicle-width path into the trees that might have been a hunting trail.

It was rough going, her Kia very nearly bottoming out a couple of times as she jounced along the rutted path. She kept it dead slow, alert for any trails veering off to the left or right. Pine boughs jutted into the trail, brushing her car and obscuring her vision. She didn’t see the Datsun until she was nearly on top of it.

She got out of the car, senses on high alert, wondering if this tallied with Bridgett’s warning to avoid risks. She pushed it aside, reminding herself that whoever the hell was behind this was currently several miles away, getting his spare tire fixed. She walked around the car. It was jacked up on the passenger side with a wobbly-looking center-screw jack, the right front tire lying in the dirt. The tire, Nettie noted, was so old dry-rot had set in, and a big hole had been ripped out of the side when it blew. No fixing that one. How long had this car been sitting undriven before it was pressed back into service?

She ran a finger across the side of the vehicle, shivering a little despite the heat. Was this the car that had transported her and Anna to that abandoned trailer deep in the pine forest? She searched her mind desperately, trying to dredge up a memory that might provide some insight. Nothing was forthcoming.

***

“What do you mean, he ran off?” St. Louis County Sheriff’s Deputy Steve Thompson stared at his brother Jesse. Jesse’s lips were pressed together, face sullen. Rex Mater, the owner of the garage, was standing next to Jesse behind the reception counter, arms folded and a thunderous expression on his face.

“I mean, he ran off,” a bristling Jesse repeated. He waved his hand at the donut spare, which had simply needed to be resealed and reinflated. It was on the counter, ready to be paid for and picked up. “I let him in,” Jesse went on, “he slammed the donut on the counter, just said, ‘fix this, please, I’ll be back,’ and ran back out. Last I saw of him.”

Steve’s mouth opened, then closed again. He turned to his partner. “Jake, you wanna go into the garage and question the other two mechanics on duty? I’ll handle this.” The beefy man with the handlebar mustache nodded once and turned to the door that led to the main shop. As the door closed behind him, Steve turned back to Jesse and his boss.

“So he just—left. Where the hell would he even go on foot? There’s nothing out here.”

“How the hell should I know?” Jesse shot back. “Maybe he went to take a dump in the woods. Maybe he has a baby momma holed up in some little shack. He could be jerking off in the middle of the goddamn highway for all I know. Or care. It’s not my problem, Steve. He wanted his tire fixed. I fixed it.” He slammed his hand down on the hard rubber of the spare tire.

“Cool it, Jesse,” his boss admonished.

“Fuck,” Jesse muttered, folding his arms and plopping his ass down on a stool.

Steve spread his hands on the counter, wracking his brain. He’d expected a quick pickup and arrest, some glowing accolades and maybe even a commendation. Not for a second had he anticipated anything like this. “Did you see which way he went from here?”

“Just back up the drive, I think,” said Jesse, making a vague motion of his hand in that direction. “Didn’t really pay attention, truth to tell. I had to go take a shit.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “So—I tell you to stall this guy, keep him around, do his fix slow so he doesn’t take back off—and you couldn’t even bother to watch which direction he took off in?”

Jesse glared right back. “I told you, Steve—I don’t care. Solve your own fucking cases. Don’t drag me into it. I don’t owe you any favors.”

“Would you care if I told you we’re after a kidnapper, maybe a murderer?” Steve was yelling now.

Rex, a portly man in chinos and a polo, fixed Steve with a wide-eyed stare. “Those little girls up by Iron Junction? You’re looking for whoever did that?”

Jesse’s mouth dropped open. He quickly closed it, his pale face gone distinctively paler.

Realizing he’d said more than he should, Steve sucked in his breath. He was opening his mouth to speak when his partner emerged from the shop door.

“The two guys in the shop didn’t see anything,” he said, settling himself onto one of the stools at the reception counter. “They didn’t even know someone came in.”

“Fuck my life,” muttered Steve. He turned his attention to the owner. “I don’t see security cams in here. Any hidden ones?”

Rex sniffed. “I’ve got two big dogs and a deer rifle. I don’t need security cams.”

“Jesus,” said Steve. They all turned their attention to the big front window at the sound of an engine outside. A black late-model SUV was pulling into the lot.

“And there’s the FBI,” said Jake. “This is going to be fun.”

***

Nettie glared at her cellphone, brow furrowed in annoyance. No bars. She didn’t know what to do next. There wasn’t room to get her car around the immobilized Datsun, and she had no idea how much further she had to go. Could be miles. Nor was there enough room to turn her own vehicle around. She’d just resigned herself to backing the Kia down a couple miles of badly rutted trail and phoning for help when she heard the sound.

At first she struggled to identify what animal made that particular noise, then realized it was someone crying. No, it was someone sobbing, high-pitched, heartbreaking sobs evocative of a world ripped asunder. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was probably a child.

Nettie opened her mouth to call out, then thought better of it. Closing her eyes and listening hard, she decided the sound was coming from off to her left. She plunged into the forest, pushing aside branches, heedless of the nettles and brambles scratching her skin. A few yards in she happened across a deer trail that seemed to be going in the right direction and followed it, hands out in front of her to push aside pine boughs and other assorted foliage.

The sound of weeping was steadily increasing in volume, so she was clearly headed in the right direction. The deer trail spilled out into an open space, about the width of a two-lane road and stretching from one direction to the other as far as the eye could see. Some broken chunks of asphalt identified it as an abandoned highway, but it must have been left for dead a very long time ago. A great deal of shrubbery had grown up, and even some smallish trees were beginning to dot the landscape.

Huddled on the ground in the center, head buried in arms, was a grubby, half-grown figure, most likely a girl from the long, scraggly hair. The child was filthy from head to toe, clothes torn and ragged, covered with fresh scratches and scrapes. Nettie rushed forward, stumbling over a jutting piece of asphalt and almost falling headlong. She caught her balance and proceeded more cautiously.

A small head jerked up at the sound of her approach. The girl’s face was dusky with grime, tears having smeared the dirt rather than washed it away. On closer inspection, Nettie saw the child had removed her shoes. Her feet, shockingly dirt-free compared to the rest of her, were bleeding.

“Who’re you?” The voice was hoarse from thirst and from crying, taut with fear.

“My name is Nettie. I’m a friend.” She knelt before the girl, reaching out to her but not quite touching. She didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was. Mentally comparing the face before her with the case file photos she’d studied, she was pretty sure this was Gina Dulcey. A wash of triumph and relief coursed through her, dashed away by an icy pit in her stomach at the realization that Heather was nowhere to be seen. Oh please God, no. 

She pushed the dread aside, keeping her voice calm and reassuring. “Are you Gina?”

Dissolving into sobs once more, the child propelled herself from the ground and into Nettie’s arms.

***

Bridgett Ramscone put her government SUV in park, surveying the scene with the automatic ease of long practice. Mater’s Garage might be an auto repair shop in the middle of nowhere, but judging from the condition of the poured cement driveway, the grounds, and the buildings, she figured it must do reasonably good business. Along with her own ride, the parking lot contained a few employee vehicles, a squad car with St. Louis County Sheriff’s Department emblazoned across the side, and yet another shiny black SUV. That would be the FBI.

She’d just been on the phone with the FBI agent in charge of the case, one Latisha Miller, who was speaking to her with a newfound respect now that one of Bridgett’s agents had gotten them this much closer to locating the kidnapper and, hopefully, the missing girls. Miller had given her the rundown on everything that had transpired on the ground, so Bridgett would be walking in fully briefed, ready to move on to the next thing.

She was worried about Nettie, though. It had been almost an hour since they’d last touched base, and she’d been unable to make contact since. Agent Miller had obligingly run a trace on the phone number, hoping to pinpoint her position, but that cellphone was nowhere to be seen. Nettie had gone off-grid.

As Bridgett exited her vehicle, the glass front door of the building was pushed open from the inside, a slender woman with milk chocolate skin, thick shoulder-length black hair, and black business attire similar to her own holding it open and beckoning to her.

“Latisha Miller.” The woman extended a hand as Bridgett approached. Bridgett grasped the hand firmly, receiving an equally firm grip in return.

“Bridgett Ramscone.” Their eyes met, and Agent Miller gave her a slight smile that instantly put Bridgett’s gaydar on high alert. She smiled in return, hoping to send a similar message, then filed the momentary exchange away for future consideration.

Bridgett stepped into a room that looked pretty much like the reception area of every auto repair establishment she’d ever been in. Promotional posters for auto parts and tools adorned the walls, a fake potted palm occupied one corner along with a couple of waiting area chairs, a battered Formica coffee table in between, stacked with hunting and fishing magazines. The reception counter was worn and grimy, with four padded bar stools on the customer side. The spare tire that had precipitated all of this was still resting on the counter.

The room was packed with bodies. On the customer side of the counter stood two male agents in FBI black business suits. A tall, lanky sheriff’s deputy leaned against the counter, a stormy expression on his chiseled features. His partner, a stout fellow with a handlebar mustache, was perched on one of the stools. Behind the counter on a stool was a sour-looking man with greasy hair, his features displaying a striking resemblance to the tall police officer, the nametag on his mechanic’s coveralls identifying him as Jesse. In an office chair sat a bulky man wearing business casual attire.

“Special Agents Tso and Fischer,” said Latisha Miller, indicating the FBI agents. “Sheriff’s Deputies Thompson and Lanne. Jesse Thompson here is the mechanic who interacted with the suspect, and this is Rex Mater, the owner. Do you have questions for anybody here, or are you satisfied with the briefing you’ve received?”

“No questions at the moment, thank you,” Bridgett replied.

“Excellent,” said Latisha. “Mr. Mater, we don’t want to interfere with your business any longer than necessary, and we’re kind of monopolizing your reception room. Is there another place that the rest of us can go to discuss the situation, so you and Mr. Thompson can carry on with your operations?”

“You can use my office,” said Rex Mater, indicating a door on the opposite side of the room, then gave Jesse a disgusted glance. “As for Mr. Thompson, he doesn’t work here anymore. Empty your locker, Jesse. You better wait around until these people leave, in case they have questions for you.”

“Fuck them,” Jesse snapped. “If they want to talk to me, Steve knows where I live. But he’d better have a fucking warrant.” Launching himself from the stool, he threw open the door to the shop. Through the window, they could see him cutting across the floor with long strides, approaching a bank of lockers against the wall.

The agents and deputies filed into Rex Mater’s small, cluttered office, Agent Latisha Miller bringing up the rear and closing the door behind them all. Bodies pressed together in the cramped space, they all turned to face her.

“Okay,” she said. “We have three issues in front of us. First off: the suspect was momentarily on the radar, and has gone right the hell off of it again. If you want my opinion, Mr. Thompson back there tipped him that we were coming.”

“Probably,” said Deputy Thompson. “Jesse’s been in and out of legal trouble since he was fifteen, and I was part of a sting that put his girlfriend in Shakopee. He hates cops, and he hates me especially. He’ll take any chance he gets to screw things up for us. I should never have called him.”

“If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be this far,” Bridgett reassured him.

“I agree,” said Latisha. “Anyway, we have a helicopter coming down from Hibbing to do a sweep of the woods—what’s the status on the dogs, Deputy Thompson?”

“The guy we contract for this stuff is on a fishing trip up by Duluth,” Steve responded. “We won’t get dogs today.”

Latisha nodded, without changing expression. Bridgett was impressed with how she took bad news in stride. “Unfortunate. Okay, item two. The suspect blowing a tire near here doesn’t necessarily mean the kidnap victims are close by. We don’t even know for sure that this is the actual perp. But it does give us an area to focus on, so once we’re done with this meeting, I’ll have Agents Tso and Fischer take a close look at our satellite photos of the immediate surrounding area. Some stuff that we dismissed before might be worth checking, now that we have a smaller circumference to focus on.”

She turned her attention to the two sheriff’s deputies, standing side-by-side with their backs to a bookcase stuffed to bursting with auto repair manuals. “Officers, I’ll ask you to start combing the roads. See if you can determine from tracks which direction the suspect walked in from, and start there. You’re looking for a car with a flat tire. Since he carried the spare in, it has to be pretty close. Maybe a five-mile radius, at the outside?”

“There’s a lot more little back roads and stuff within five miles than you might think,” said Steve’s partner Jake. “But we have another car coming as soon as they get through with a domestic about eight miles from here. We’ll get started.” Twisting their way past the black-suited agents, the two deputies exited the room, pulling the door closed behind them.

“Last item,” said Latisha, “Agent Ramscone, your agent on the ground that’s gone missing. We need to—”

Bridgett’s phone chose that moment to ring. Extracting it from the pocket of her blazer, she glanced at the screen—and felt a smile stretch the corners of her mouth.

“It’s her,” she said, and swiped at the green, following it up with a jab at the speaker button. “Nettie, I’m with a roomful of FBI agents, and you’re on speaker. Where are you?”

“At the top of a goddamn tree,” Nettie sounded thoroughly irritated. “I had, like, one bar on the ground, and it wouldn’t put a call through. Bridgett, I have Gina Dulcey. Heather is still back where they were being held, and was alive when Gina last saw her. We can—”

“Ms. Hastings, this is Latisha Miller with the FBI,” the supervising agent broke in. Her voice remained businesslike, but she was smiling. “Outstanding job, but I’d like you to back up. First off: does Gina require immediate medical attention?”

“No,” Nettie replied without hesitation, falling instantly into a long-practiced medical reporting mode. “She’s obviously dehydrated and a little malnourished, has minor lacerations and contusions in multiple locations, but the biggest problem right now is that she can’t easily ambulate. She walked her feet raw after she escaped this morning, so she took off her shoes to give them a few minutes relief. Then, of course, her feet swelled up, and she couldn’t get the shoes back on. I carried her to where we are now.”

“Okay, good. I figured if there was a medical crisis you’d have led with that, but I still had to ask. Tell us what happened. Be brief, but start from when you last talked to Agent Ramscone and end with where you currently are.”

“I found the footprints on the shoulder where the guy walked in with the tire,” said Nettie. “I followed those till the shoulder gave out, about two miles up. From there I just kept going till I hit a field approach. That’s the first field approach after the shoulder ends, on the right as you’re traveling northeast. I found car tire tracks there, but the ground is firm enough that I had to get out of my car to see them. I followed those tracks to the right on the implement path at the edge of the field, then found a little hunting trail leading into the woods, roughly a quarter of the way around the field. It’s pretty rough, but I was able to follow it in my car until I came across a Datsun jacked up with the front passenger side tire removed. Hang on a second.”

When next she spoke, her voice was distant. “I’m right here, Gina,” they heard her call out. “I’m on the phone with people who are going to help us.”

Her voice then came through more clearly. “Sorry,” she said. “Anyway, the Datsun is definitely the same one from the security cam footage I saw this morning. It’s blocking the path, and I couldn’t get my car around it. There isn’t room to turn around, so I’d have had to back out, and it’s quite a stretch. I was about to try it when I heard someone crying. I followed the noise through the woods and found Gina Dulcey on what looks like an abandoned highway. She…”

“Excuse me, Ms. Hastings,” said Agent Tso. He was a compact man of Eastern Asian descent, and spoke with a deep voice. He’d seated himself behind the owner’s desk, and had a laptop open. “I have the field approach pinpointed, and it looks like you must be on what was formerly County Highway Eight which, according to the information I have here, was taken out of service in 1967. Do you see anyplace on the old roadbed that might be usable as a helicopter landing zone?”

“I’m afraid not,” Nettie replied. “That’s the first thing I thought of, but it’s overgrown and pretty rough to boot. I don’t think it’d be safe.”

“That’s all right,” said Latisha. “We can at least get the deputies re-routed to your location.”

“I wouldn’t send a car up that trail,” said Nettie. “It’ll then be stuck behind mine, and we’ll have one more vehicle to back out of that mess. An ATV would be better.”

Agent Fischer spoke up. “I saw an ATV out back of this building when Tso and I canvassed the grounds. A Ranger; two seats and a rear storage bed. If the owner will let us use it, I could most likely get everyone out in that.”

“Let’s get the rest of the report first,” said Latisha. “Go ahead, Ms. Hastings.”

“Okay. Gina tells me Heather found a siding board that was rotted, where the wall met the floor of the shed they’re being kept in. The kidnapper has only been with them during the day. At night he goes somewhere else. They’ve been loose in the shed, but it’s locked. Anyway, they managed to break the rotted board out, then Heather spent most of the night digging enough of a hole that Gina could squeeze out. Heather wouldn’t fit, but insisted Gina go anyway. She walked through the woods till she hit a stream, followed that, and eventually it spit her out on this old roadbed.”

Nettie took a deep breath, then went on. “So—Gina tells me on the night they were taken, they drove down this long bumpy road through the woods. Probably the same trail my car is parked on. They stopped in a little clearing, and walked from there to where the shed is. Gina said there’s a few small buildings there, nothing as big as a barn or a house. She says it’s a long walk, but it was along the top of a ridge following a game trail. She thinks she could find it again.”

“She’ll probably have to,” Agent Tso broke in. “I’m not seeing any buildings at all within a reasonable walk of your location. It must be under complete tree cover. Not surprising; there’s a lot of deciduous stuff in that area right along with the pines. A few oak branches can obscure pretty much anything.”

“Can you carry Gina back to where the cars are parked, Ms. Hastings?” Latisha inquired.

“Yeah, we’ll make it,” Nettie replied. “Be advised that I’ll be out of contact from the moment I climb out of this tree.”

“All right, get moving. Our agent will meet you at the location of the vehicles. I can’t stress enough what amazing work you’ve done today.”

Latisha Miller turned to Agent Fischer. “You get going, too. Offer the owner compensation if you have to, but get the use of that ATV. We need to find Heather Dulcey as soon as possible. Have the sheriff’s department cover the field approach, and the entrance to the woodland trail, once you find that.”

Fischer nodded once, then exited the office.

***

An aged four-cylinder engine idled roughly, exhaust blatting through rusted-out pipes. The Toyota van parked at the edge of the badly-graded macadam didn’t look any better than it sounded. The bottom edge of the body was laced with rust; the remainder of the royal blue paint job caked with dust and bearing the dings and scratches of long, hard use.

The woman seated behind the wheel of this eighties relic wasn’t much better kept. Forty-seven and going to flesh, her uncombed hair yanked back into a ponytail, ragged old jeans and a t-shirt with so many wash cycles behind it that one could no longer make out the logo.

Not that she cared. Her life had narrowed down to a single focus, a desire put on hold for a long run of years. During that dry spell, this desire had escalated to the level of a burning obsession—an obsession that finally seemed back on track to realization. The dream had been thwarted this day, and here she sat, waiting to rescue the idiot responsible.

She wondered how he managed to bungle this one. She wondered what excuses he’d give. She wondered why she was waiting for him at all—why she didn’t let the cops just scoop him up and nail his sorry ass to the cross.

Because, damn it, she needed him. By taking what he wanted, he got her what she wanted. It was a symbiosis, and she needed him to do that which she could not quite manage to do herself.

But where the fuck was he? She couldn’t hang around waiting much longer. Before long they’d be doing sweeps by air, and a van parked on a minimum maintenance road not three miles from that damn auto-shop was sure to set alarm bells ringing.

And then he was there, approaching from within the trees across the road from her at a brisk walk, a thin, bald man in a faded olive jacket, his face dripping with sweat.

Jesus Christ—about goddamn time.

She beckoned impatiently through the open driver’s side window. “Come on, already. We have to move!”

Breaking into a trot as he emerged from the foliage, the thin man rounded the front of the ancient Toyota MasterAce, popped the passenger side door, and slid into the seat. Before the door slammed shut, the woman was already shoving the gearshift into first.

She spared him a withering glance as she goosed the accelerator and let the clutch out, the van shuddering into motion. “What the fuck just happened?”

On to Chapter Ten!