Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Debbie L

Part Three: Come Together, Right Now

Melanie was miserable. Well and truly down in the dumps.

It had been a week or so since the bombshell revelation of AJ’s erroneously-sent text, and the fallout had not been pretty.

Mel had discovered that her twelve-year-old daughter was in a sexual relationship with her twenty-nine-year-old best friend Diane. And it had been going on, in one form or another, for just over eighteen months.

Damn it, Amy was only ten when it got started!

And judging by the string of explicit text messages, and the collection of selfies she’d discovered on Amy’s confiscated phone, her daughter’s fling with Diane had only gotten heavier and hotter over time.

Christ, her underage kid had had more sex in the last eighteen months than she’d experienced in the last five fucking years!

Well, that’s not quite true, is it? Mel reminded herself. Your sex life has perked up and then some in the last few days, courtesy of little Chloe. Aren’t we being a bit hypocritical here?

Mel recalled that fateful day she’d received the accidental text. Amy had crumpled like tissue paper under the stern gaze of her mother, and with tears in her eyes, confessed it all – how she and Diane had begun sending each other racy texts, then even racier photos. How Chloe caught them at it, and then the coup de grace: The plan to bring her and Chloe together. That little minx Chloe… she knew all along!

Getting seduced by Chloe had been a dream come true, but it was still an utter shock to find out about Diane and AJ, and a tough pill to swallow.

“Did she pressure you in any way?” Mel had asked AJ.

“No! I encouraged her,” AJ insisted. “Big time. I wanted it all, Mum.”

“Has Diane ever hurt you, made you do anything you didn’t want to?”

“No, never! I love her like crazy. Don’t do anything bad to her, Mum, please!”

Mel had marched Amy to the car and sped to Diane’s place. Barging past Diane into the house, she’d started yelling things like, “How could you?!” and “She’s just a kid!” along with a string of choice expletives.

The girls beat a hasty retreat to Chloe’s room. This was most definitely a moment for the grownups.

Diane, realising the cat was out of the bag, remained remarkably calm, if a little rattled. She countered Melanie’s outburst in a barely raised voice.

“Don’t give me that sanctimonious, holier-than-thou bullshit, Mel. You wanted Chloe as much as I wanted AJ. I watched you struggle with it, but we both knew it was there.” She let that sink in, then continued. “You could have made your move a lot sooner, like me and AJ. I knew Chloe wanted it, but I also understood that you needed to come to terms with your own feelings. Hell, it’s all down to Chlo that it even happened for you at all, because you sure as hell wouldn’t have made the first move. She greased the fucking wheels.”

Diane lay a hand on Mel’s shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Mel deflated a little, but still wouldn’t make eye contact.

Di made them each a coffee, then told her version of events, including how she’d come to meet Evie and Rose. By the time she’d finished, both women were tearful and exhausted.

Finally, Mel got up to leave. “I just need a little time to process this, Di. Would you mind bringing AJ home later? I’m going to take a drive and clear my head a bit.”

“Of course. Anything you need,” Diane told her, relieved beyond measure that her friend still trusted her enough to leave AJ in her care. “And Mel, babes… I never meant to hurt you. You’re my best mate. I love you to pieces.” She paused for a moment. “It’s just… I love your daughter, too. No, I’m in love with her.”

Mel heaved a sigh. “I know, Di, I know. And Amy loves you, too. She totally had your back all the while I was having a full-blown meltdown. She never faltered, not once.” With that, she kissed Diane’s cheek and made for the front door. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”

Chloe came bounding down the stairs. All need for pretense was gone now, so she flung her arms round Mel and whispered, “It’s gonna be okay, isn’t it? I love you. Please, tell me it’ll be all right, Mel.”

“I hope so, Chlo, I hope so. Love you too, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

Considering she’d just enjoyed five days and nights with her own underage lover, not to mention three years spent lusting after Chloe in the first place, Mel knew she had no right to chastise Diane – or Amy, for that matter. It almost broke her heart to get into her car and drive away.

Over the course of the week, she and Chloe continued texting, phoning and facetiming, as did Amy and Diane. It occurred to Mel that she’d never even considered the possibility that either pair would break up. After all, Diane had more or less served Chloe to her on a platter. Did that mean Diane was an irresponsible parent? Or did she just respect Chloe enough to let the girl make her own decisions? Either way, Mel couldn’t bring herself to end what she had with her twelve-year-old lover.

And she didn’t want to tear Diane and Amy apart, not really. She’d badly overreacted, and now felt a proper fool, guilty even. Mel knew she should go find Diane and tell her so, but she felt like a complete idiot and was too embarrassed to reach out. She desperately missed the near constant presence of her best friend, while also aching to be with her young lover.

Mel wandered aimlessly about the house, but everywhere she looked, there were reminders of those five days. Delicious, sordid memories infiltrated her thoughts – the couch where it all began, the kitchen stool where Chloe had revealed those impossibly cute Disney knickers, Chloe playing with herself on the kitchen counter, the two of them kissing wildly as Mel covered Chloe’s little hand with her own.

She opened the fridge again for the umpteenth time. Reaching into the salad crisper for a raw carrot to nibble, she slammed the door shut again when her eyes happened upon a large cucumber. She felt her pussy twitch as memories of a certain Thursday afternoon and a deliciously sordid act that Chloe had performed on her came flooding back.

Stop it! she quickly admonished herself.

And if that wasn’t enough for Mel to fret about, why the hell did she keep looking at that lewd picture of Amy, the one sent to her by mistake? She knew she should delete it, but couldn’t quite bring herself to. It was her Amy, for God’s sake, her twelve-year-old daughter, but there was just something undeniably sexy about that photo. She could easily see how Diane had fallen under her spell.

For crying out loud, Mel, you daft cow. All this mental anguish you put yourself through. Is it so difficult to admit that Diane might have been right all along?

***

Three miles away, Diane was feeling much the same way – miserable and utterly fed up.

Mel was just so bloody stubborn! Why couldn’t she just admit that this was what they all wanted, that the four of them were all on board with this beautiful thing they’d discovered? She’d practically given her best friend her own daughter as a gift, and Mel hadn’t had a thing to complain about until she discovered AJ was doing exactly the same thing with Diane. Surely, the fact that Di had confessed her love for AJ counted for something.

It was November now. They should’ve all been together, huddled under blankets watching Strictly. It didn’t seem fair to any of them. Mel was probably at home crying into a glass of Chardonnay, beating herself up over everything.

She’d just have to wait it out and hope Mel came to her senses soon. In the meantime, Diane had given Evie a call, and her friend’s advice had been much the same – hold steady and see how the situation plays out. What else could she do?

The girls were feeling their own frustrations, too. They were currently in their rooms, hunched over laptops on a video call, trying to figure out how to bring this sorry mess to a close.

“I’m not letting my mum stew over this forever you know, Chlo,” AJ said. “She’s being totally, uh… Mum-ish about it all. And your mum’s thirtieth birthday is soon, too. I’m not letting her fuck that up, either.”

“I know what you mean, Aje… but look at it from her side, this is all really new to her. I mean, I’ve known about my mum being gay, like, forever. But for yours, it’s a lot to take in.”

“But it was so easy for Di and me. It always felt totally right. We had to scam my mum into finally getting together with you, even though we all knew she was gagging for it.”

Chloe laughed. “You should’ve seen her face that first night. I couldn’t tell if she was horny or terrified. I had to really work hard to get her to touch me, but omigod, when she did, it felt so fucking good! I still can’t believe how hard she made me come the first time. Fuck, your mum has a beautiful pussy. I could lick it all day!”

AJ was starting to squirm. “I’d have been all over you too, in her shoes. Those little PJ’s looked so sexy on you when you tried them on.”

Chloe was feeling that itch too. “Once she realised I wasn’t made of glass, bloody hell. Aje, she fucked me senseless. She’s got a real naughty streak, too.”

“What do you mean by ‘naughty streak’? Do tell.” AJ let a hand drift slowly south toward her aching pussy.

“If you’ve got the nerve sometime, ask her about ‘the salad’, that’s all I’m say— hey, are you wanking? You dirty cow!”

“I can’t help it,” the pretty blonde whimpered. “You look like a younger version of your mum, and I’m horny as hell. Fancy showing me a bit more? I’d love to see your pussy, Chlo. Help me come.”

“Mmmmm, you naughty girl,” Chloe purred. She adjusted her webcam and rolled her chair back, lifting her feet onto the desk. She slipped her knickers off, then let her knees fall apart, displaying her silky smooth pussy to her best friend. She trailed her fingers languidly over the neat folds.

“Oooh, fuck, yes. You are so fucking sexy, Chlo,” AJ cooed, pushing her laptop further down the bed and spreading her lithe legs to give Chloe a wide shot as they both began to openly play with themselves.

Chloe had never realised how much AJ looked like Mel. By now she was getting seriously hot and bothered, aching to see her friend’s pert, exquisite boobs. “Show me your tits, Aje, pleeease?”

AJ slipped off her t-shirt and lay back naked on her pink duvet. “Your turn, Chloe, c’mon.”

Chloe gladly pulled off her oversized tee to reveal two delightful handfuls topped by pretty strawberry nipples.

“Fuck, I love seeing you like that,” AJ squealed approvingly. “Your titties are just like your m-mum’s… Ooh, fuck…”

Chloe stretched out in the chair, lightly teasing her stiff nipples. Her belly pulsed with excitement. She was slippery wet as she stroked her clit.

This was such a turn on. AJ looked so hot, so sexy. Why had they never done this before? Right then, the idea of her best friend as a sex partner couldn’t have been more obvious. She watched as AJ dipped two fingers into herself.

As the two young girls rubbed and teased, stroked and fondled, the seed of an idea began to form in Chloe’s mind. If they could scam one Mum, they could damn well scam both. She’d discuss it with AJ at school tomorrow, but for now, she desperately needed to come. She watched as AJ fucked herself hard and fast, her sexy best friend who reminded her so much of Mel.

***

The next day at school, Chloe outlined her plan over lunch. She and AJ were huddled together, conspiring in hushed tones.

“You know how our mums always say they’ll come running if one of us sends an SOS to the group chat?” Chloe said in between bites of her sandwich.

“I’m listening,” AJ replied, intrigued. “Oi, swap me your cheese and onion for my ready salted!”

Chloe tossed her bag of crisps at AJ with a shrug. “Well… last night was so hot between me and you, I can’t think why we’ve never fucked before. And I know Mum loved it when I caught you both together, and when she watched us kiss.”

AJ was starting to catch on. “Go on.” She opened the bag of crisps and began nibbling.

“On Sundays they always go off and do their shopping and stuff, right? So how about we meet at yours around lunchtime. We can shift the furniture about and get the place ready to have some fun.” Chloe paused.  “Group fun, if you get my meaning. And then we send out an SOS.”

They both munched in silence for a while, letting the plan sink in.

“And I’m assuming this involves us, maybe, putting on a sexy show of some kind?” AJ said. She was starting to get excited by her friend’s idea.

“Spot on! But we don’t go all the way, we just get ’em hot ‘n bothered. Then we say, ‘Time for you two to kiss and make up, or that’s as far as it goes!’ Something like that. Then we leave them to talk it out.”

“Yeah, but what if they don’t, y’know, fancy each other?”

“Oh, c’mon, Aje! Your mum goes all gooey over me, and my mum is crazy for you. Don’t we look like mini versions of them? It’s a no-brainer, they’ll love it.”

Just then, AJ turned and waved at a smiling redhead across the dining hall.

“Who’s that? She looks fun.”

“Oh, I thought you knew her. That’s Debbie, she’s in the year above us. She goes out with Sam, that gorgeous blonde girl I’ve seen you ogling.”

“You little tart! Didn’t realise you even knew them.” Chloe smiled at the other girl and gave a little wave. “Sam is really fucking hot, though. I definitely would! Anyway, what do you think of my idea, Aje?”

AJ was nodding enthusiastically. “I reckon it’s the best plan we’ve got, so let’s give it a whack. We ought to get all dressed up for it, too. Let’s go shopping on Saturday. I’ve got Mum’s emergency credit card. I’m thinking we should hit Primark for new knickers and stuff, but we’ll have to go to Spangles too for what I’ve got in mind. Something really sexy.”

Remembering their face time from the previous night, AJ imagined Chloe in a state of undress. She slipped a hand under the table, giving her friend’s thigh a discreet squeeze, then let her hand slide further up as Chloe parted her legs a little. Her fingertips lightly grazed  her best friend’s panty-covered slit.

“Listen, Chlo,” AJ whispered. “We still got fifteen minutes ‘til the bell. Fancy sneaking to the loo with me?”

The little brunette grinned, dumped the remains of her sandwich and seized her friend’s hand. They made a quick exit, headed for the girls’ toilets

***

Sunday rolled around. Unbeknownst to the girls, their mothers had made plans of their own. Mel called Diane and invited her to go for a Sunday lunchtime drink to talk things through. Diane accepted before Mel even finished speaking.

They talked, they cried, they held hands tightly across the table. A weight had been lifted, and it was as if they’d never fallen out.

Mel was just finishing the last bite of her burger, and was contemplating another drink. “You know, Di, at the end of the day, I’m glad it was you that Amy took for a lover. I know you can be trusted to take care of her.”

“Oh, babe, that means so much to hear you say that. And the same goes for Chloe – I know she’s safe with you. I knew how Chloe felt about you soon after we all met. She told me she had a crush on you. I wouldn’t want her with anyone else. And I know this sounds pervy,” she dropped her voice to a low murmur, “but I bet you two look so fucking hot together.” She trailed her fingers teasingly over Mel’s upturned palm. Melanie sighed happily.

Four pings in quick succession sounded, then both Mel’s and Diane’s phones were vibrating angrily on the pub table.

“What the fuck?” Di said. “SOS? At your place. It says ‘Come quick.’ What the hell is going on?”

“I thought they were both dancing this afternoon, what’re they doing there?”

Mel dumped forty pounds on the table – far more than their lunch and drinks had cost – and grabbed her car keys. “C’mon, we’d better go see. I don’t like the sound of this.”

***

Melanie’s SUV fishtailed onto the driveway of her house, and Diane was out of the car before it had stopped moving. She ran to the front door, the spare key she kept already in her hand.

Mel noticed the lounge curtains were drawn, which didn’t feel at all right, not at 2.30 in the afternoon.

Jamming the key in the lock, Diane wrenched the door open and hastened inside. “Girls? Girls, are you h—”

As they entered the lounge, the sight that greeted the two women stopped them dead in their tracks.

The room was warm, dimmed and bathed in soft lamplight along with a dozen or so tiny LED candles. All the furniture had been cleared to make a large open space, and the floor was covered in duvets, cushions and throws.

On either side of the fireplace stood AJ and Chloe. They were dressed identically in unbuttoned black satin blouses, lacy black knickers, impossibly glossy black holdups and strappy, open-toed dancing shoes. Neither girl wore a bra, not that they needed them.

The trip to Spangles had paid off in a big way. It was rumoured that the owner, an older woman in her sixties, didn’t just supply costumes and supplies for dance and theatre groups, but also had a backroom business supplying risque outfits, lingerie and fetish gear to certain underground filmmakers and photographers.

Chloe’s custom extra-small holdups had cost a pretty penny, but AJ had drawn £300 in cash from her mother’s emergency card for their shopping spree. She still had some money left, so she figured Mum wouldn’t be too upset, not after seeing her and Chloe wearing what they’d bought.

The girls had done each other’s makeup, too, and now they looked breathtakingly sexy, certainly older than their tender years. The heels brought AJ to her mother’s height, while Chloe stood at a ceiling-threatening 5 ft 2.

“Miss Andrews. Miss Baxter,” Chloe said in her best authoritative tone. “Please take a seat.” She indicated the sofa, the only piece of furniture to retain its cushions.

AJ took over. “We, as your lovers and your children, have decided it’s time that you, especially you, Miss Andrews, grow up.”

“But we—” Mel began, but Diane grabbed her wrist, cutting her off.

“You, Mother,” AJ continued, “need to stop this and make up with Diane. You see, we love you both very much.” She walked over to Chloe. “But if you can’t put this behind you, you’ll get no more of this.” And with that, she gave Chloe a slow-burning, sensual kiss.

Mel went to speak, but this time Di silenced her with a pinch. She had a sneaking suspicion as to where this was going, and her excitement was just beginning to mount. “Let the young lady finish, Melanie.”

Diane and Mel sat hand in hand, trembling inside as they watched the two young girls kiss. Mel gasped, awestruck as Chloe twined both arms round AJ’s neck, her tongue darting into her friend’s mouth. After a long, lustful kiss, two pairs of crimson-hued lips slowly parted, glistening with lipgloss and saliva.

Chloe folded to her knees, eyes fixed on her mum and her grownup lover. She began to caress AJ, reaching up to fondle the blonde girl’s petite bare breasts, pinching a stiff nipple with her black painted nails. Then she peppered kisses across AJ’s tummy while her caresses ran down the whole length of the girl’s long, slender legs, all the way to her nylon-encased toes.

AJ looked Mel in the eye, then Diane. “So… If you want more of this, you two need to kiss and make up.”

On the spur of the moment, Chloe decided to go off script. She and AJ had agreed not to take things too far this soon, but she just couldn’t resist kissing the front of her friend’s lacy knickers. She sensually licked AJ’s thigh above her stocking top, making the willowy blonde shudder and draw a sharp breath. Chloe deftly pulled the little black knickers aside. She clasped AJ’s thighs, dragging her tongue over the girl’s moist slit.

Catching Mel and Diane’s astounded looks from the corner of her eye, Chloe smugly eased the gauzy fabric back into place, smoothing it out with her fingertips.

“Oh, my God…” Mel murmured, a tremor in her voice. “That’s so fucking sexy.”

Diane could only watch, enthralled. “So fuckin’ hot,” she breathed huskily.

Chloe stood, wearing a sexy smirk. She slipped an arm around AJ’s waist, resting her head on a shoulder.

“Now it’s your turn to play with each other,” AJ challenged the two stunned women. “C’mon, show us how much you want it, or I’ll just take Chloe upstairs and have her all to myself.”

Melanie and Diane gave each other a thoughtful glance, wondering if it was the right time to cross that particular rubicon. It wasn’t as if they’d never entertained the thought of being together as lovers, even if they were both hesitant to let the other know, much less make that first move.

But Mel was so turned on that she barely registered her hand stroking Diane’s thigh. Diane gave a wicked grin, pulling the older blonde towards her. For the first time since they’d been friends, their lips met.

It began tentatively, mouths still closed, hands and fingers stroking and teasing, testing the waters. After what felt like an eternity, Mel parted her lips, inviting the brunette to enter. Diane accepted, whimpering in pleasure as their tongues met, then moved together. She could taste lipgloss, and a lingering hint of Mel’s wine.

“Fucking hell… yes,” Chloe murmured, her eyes dancing with glee as their mums melted into each other and the kiss deepened. AJ hugged her from behind, kissing the nape of her friend’s neck, fingertips wandering over a taut tummy, then fondling budding breasts.

“Look at them, Chloe,” AJ whispered in the girl’s ear. “They’re beautiful together.” She hooked her fingers into the waistband of Chloe’s underwear, slowly tugging the little black knickers down over her hips.

Mel’s head was swimming. Kissing Diane was new, exciting, but also strangely familiar. She fumbled with the buttons on Diane’s shirt, slipping a hand inside. Her friend had gone without a bra, as usual. Mel cupped a nicely proportioned breast, rolling the nipple under her palm.

Diane whimpered, lost in helpless lust. Needing more, she slid both hands beneath Mel’s blouse to clumsily unclasp her bra, then ran a finger down her friend’s spine. “Ohhh, God, Mel,” she moaned. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Mel slipped Diane’s shirt from her shoulders, running her fingertips over bare skin while they embraced. Di followed suit, sliding Mel’s blouse and bra down her arms. She was already wet enough to have soaked through her knickers, leaving a small damp patch on the front of her skinny jeans.

Mel squeezed her thighs together, desperate to stimulate her throbbing sex. Completely focussed on Diane, she barely registered a presence on the couch behind her until arms encircled her waist, and two warm, soft globes pressed into her back. Not Chloe’s – her breasts were barely more than little bumps. No, these were slightly larger, still deliciously small, but…

Oh, God. Her own daughter was touching her. She felt a warm breath in her ear.

AJ’s voice was thick with arousal. “Open your eyes, Mum.”

Mel opened her eyes to find Chloe embracing her mother the very same way, kissing her neck and shoulders as she hooked one elegant stockinged leg around Diane’s hip. With a trembling hand, Mel reached out to slowly run a trembling hand along the slinky nylon, thrilling at the feel of it beneath her fingers.

The final piece fell into place. Why did Diane’s kisses feel so familiar? Because Chloe kissed exactly the same way. Surely she must have learned how from her mum. They had been lovers, maybe still were. Mother and daughter!

The revelation washed over Mel like a tsunami. She shivered as she felt AJ’s leg slide around her, the girl’s hands dropping to caress her thighs.

“Oh, Amy…” Mel moaned. “Fuck yes.”

“You can have them both, Mum. Diane and Chloe,” AJ purred into her mother’s ear. “And me too, if you want. It can all be yours – ours.” She licked softly around Mel’s ear, moving her hands until she found her mother’s waistband, deftly unbuttoning Mel’s jeans and slipping a hand inside. It never even crossed Mel’s mind to put a stop to things when AJ’s fingertip traced her pulsing sex.

As Diane and Mel’s lips drifted apart, they tilted their heads back, seeking the mouths of their own daughters. Mel had never seen anything so indescribably hot as her young lover kissing her mother. It was loving and so, so sensual, their tongues coupling in a passionate dance.

Mel reached back to slip a hand between AJ’s legs, stroking her silken inner thighs as their kiss grew increasingly heated. Surprised to discover her little girl’s lacy knickers gone, she teased at the sparse peach fuzz she found there, unsure if she should venture further down to explore her daughter’s vagina.

The girls moved like flowing water around their mothers, exchanging short passionate kisses, then moving on to their grownup lovers – hands gliding together, fingers lacing, then drifting apart once more.

AJ folded to her knees in a gesture that was almost submissive, and Diane rose to stand before her. The twelve-year-old unbuttoned the woman’s jeans, rolling them down her shapely legs along with a pair of sodden knickers. Then she slowly peeled Diane’s socks off in turn, kissing each inch of bare foot as it was revealed.

Diane draped one leg over her young lover’s shoulder, and AJ wasted no time in lovingly French-kissing her syrupy cunt while Diane caressed the youngster’s neck and shoulders. Finally, she eased AJ back onto the floor, knees pinning the girl’s shoulders in place as she rode that sweet preteen mouth with total abandon.

AJ and Diane had gained the kind of sexual parity and trust that only comes through a long-term partnership. In particular, AJ had gained a taste for playful, almost rough sex, and gave as good as she got, sinking her fingernails into Diane’s hips as she feasted on her grownup lover.

Mel looked on, awed by her daughter’s emergence as a confident sexual being. AJ’s legs were delightfully spread, her youthful cunt proudly on display as she pleasured Diane with her mouth. What seemed so wrong a few short weeks ago now felt like the most natural thing on Earth.

“Don’t they look hot together?” Chloe cooed as she pressed into Mel. “I can’t tell you how hard it made me come when I got to watch them for the first time.”

Mel smiled, running her fingers through Chloe’s lustrous curls as the young girl settled onto her thighs. Their mouths met in a deep, wet kiss, an intoxicating combination of absence, abstinence, lust and need overwhelming Mel’s senses.

“God, I’ve missed you, baby girl,” Mel murmured. “Yeah, they do look hot. But you’re the one I want right now.” She slipped a hand under the girl’s bum, cupping a cheek in the palm of her hand while the fingertips of the other grazed a smooth, wet slit. She allowed that finger to slip inside, then curled it back and forth. “I want you so much, Chloe. So, so much—”

Chloe placed a black painted nail to her lips. “Shhhh… I know, Mel. Me too, but you’re the only one who’s still wearing knickers, and I really need you to take them off and fuck me.”

As they slid from couch to floor, Mel kicked her Vans away, then wriggled her jeans and drenched undies down her legs. Chloe eagerly finished the job, pulling each piece of clothing away, then tossing them to one side. Deciding to leave Mel’s cute sneaker socks on, Chloe kissed her way up the woman’s toned legs, breathing in a heady mix of citrus body wash and arousal. She ran her fingertips over her lover’s swollen labia, delighted by how warm and wet she was.

Mel reached across to stroke the bare skin of her daughter and best friend as Chloe dipped her tongue into Mel’s heated core, sliding a hand upward to cup a breast. Mel wrapped both legs around the girl’s shoulders, urgently rocking her hips to fuck that perfect little mouth. Trembling uncontrollably, she grasped Diane’s hand.

AJ chose this moment to slip her tongue into Diane’s arse. Di’s orgasm crashed into her like a freight train. “Ohhhh. My. GOD!” she wailed, tightening her grip on Mel’s hand as AJ brought her off. “Shit, shit, shit!” The brunette’s cunt spasmed, and she came uncontrollably over the youngster.

Seconds later, Mel felt a surge of ecstasy so deep and violent that for the first time in her life she found herself gushing. “Ch-Chloeeee! Ahhh! F-f-fuuuck…” Her body stiffened, back arching, thighs shaking. The flow soaked Chloe’s face and neck, that smart blouse now sodden along with those beautiful budding titties. The girl’s hair didn’t quite escape the deluge, either.

A dripping Chloe, thrilled to her youthful core, could only murmur, “Fuck yes,” in triumph as she sat back on her heels grinning, still toying with Mel’s wet, swollen lips. Eager for her own release, she straddled Mel to press their pussies together, then bent down to share the taste of sex with her older lover. Resting both hands on Mel’s boobs, Chloe began to rock back and forth, grinding her clit into the woman’s juicy cunt.

“Oh, M-M-Mel,” the twelve-year-old babbled as she edged closer to the blessed oblivion of orgasm. “F-fuck. M-me. Fuckmefuckmefuckme!”

In the meantime, AJ had clambered onto the couch, and Diane was nestled eagerly between her thighs. She sucked on the girl’s swollen clit, then plunged two fingers into that delectable pussy while easing her thumb into the child’s arse.

Kicking her shoes off, AJ’s legs were outstretched, pretty toes flexing as Diane tipped her over the edge. Knowing she was getting fucked next to her mum and Chloe only added to the thrill of it. She went off like a volcano, the juices glazing Diane’s face, then dripping down her thighs and into the tops of the sexy stockings she wore.

Three down. Little Chloe was the last to crest the wave. She screamed like a wild banshee as her tight pussy ground into Mel’s, wetness flooding between them. Her thighs shook, and even aided by Mel’s loving grip, it was all Chloe could do to hang on. She’d never come so hard in her life.

Once the storm had passed, she slumped forward, cupping Mel’s face, kissing her long, deep and slow, then whispering, “I love you, Mel. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Chlo, my angel.” It surprised Mel to realise just how right, how natural it felt to say those words in the company of AJ and Diane.

***

Day turned to night, unnoticed because of the drawn curtains. The four lovers eventually lost count of their many orgasms, but one by one they fell by the wayside, sated, spent and tender in the most wonderful way.

After that first round, the next half-hour or so was spent resting, sharing secrets. But soon enough, desire made itself known again… and this time Mel and Diane paired off with their daughters.

Mel was somewhat unnerved by the thought of committing incest, but AJ was utterly gorgeous naked, and the girl’s eagerness to fuck couldn’t help but stoke her lust. And when she saw Diane and Chloe swap heated kisses, then arrange themselves in a heated sixty-nine, a surge of arousal roared through her like a flash flood.

Taking AJ in her arms, Mel kissed her like a lover – and just like that, her last trace of resistance was gone. For the next hour, she and her daughter explored every pleasure she’d shared with Chloe.

***

Later, a few minutes after midnight, Mel was nestled in a corner of the couch, cuddling Chloe under a thick plush throw, sharing light, loving kisses. Soon her lustful young lover,  magically transformed back into a little girl, was dozing peacefully.

“Hey, Di,” Mel said, keeping her voice low. “Do you think we should call the school tomorrow, tell them these two are sick?”

Diane and Amy were spooning under a thick duvet on the other end of the couch. Just like her best friend, Amy was fast asleep.

“Oh God, yeah,” Diane replied. “They can’t possibly go in, they’re gonna be knackered. I’m feeling pretty shagged out myself.”

“In more ways than one. Di, I need to thank you. For everything.”

Diane reached across to squeeze her friend’s hand. “Love ya, Mel.”

Mel peered down at her friend. “Di, I’ve been thinking.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Well, if you gave notice on your house tomorrow, we could all be living together here by Christmas. I mean, if you want to, that is. No pressure. The thing is, I love Chloe, I love her so fucking much, and I know how you and Amy feel about each other. It’s a big house. We’ve got plenty of room here.”

Diane kissed her friend on the lips. With a smile, she reached for her phone and began to tap an email to her landlord.

Epilogue : Six Years Later

Mel and Chloe stand on a Florida beach, holding hands as they watch the wedding unfold. In the surf, a barefoot AJ and Diane wear loose-flowing white dresses, their hair wreathed in gardenia flowers. Still in love after six blissful years, they decided to tie the knot on AJ’s eighteenth birthday. Now they exchange vows as the sun begins to set.

Rose and Evie have made the trip, too. Evie gladly accepted the chance to officiate the marriage. Diane is a daughter to her in all but blood, and she’s come to think of Amy the same way.

Melanie, now an elegant forty-one, turns to her girlfriend and smiles. The bond of love between them has only strengthened over time. Chloe has matured into a beautiful, intelligent young woman. Her hair is still as curly as ever, if cut shorter these days, and her eyes are still the same deep pools of brown that enchanted Mel so long ago.

“Chlo,” Mel says. “You’ve made me incredibly happy these last six years, baby. I love you so much.”

Chloe rests her head against her lover’s shoulder. “I love you too, Mel. I always have. Even as a little girl, it always felt so right; you and me together.”

“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you, darling. Before I get any older, I need to ask… Chloe, if you’ll have me, would you do me the honour of—”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish. Chloe throws both arms around the love of her life and kisses her on the mouth. When she pulls away she’s sporting a huge smile. “My God, I thought you were never going to ask. Yes! Yes, I’ll be your wife, Mel. A million times, yes.”

And so, as the sun sinks below the horizon, AJ and Diane kiss in the waves, now Mrs and Mrs Baxter-Andrews. Melanie and Chloe lace their fingers together, kick away their sandals, then wade into the surf to join their friends.

The End

The story thus far: Seeking a missing Texas Ranger, our old acquaintance The Tequila Kid comes across a poor family named Miller. Like many others in the area, this widow Sarah and her two little girls, Amy and Cindy, have been brutalized by a wealthy scoundrel named McCuller, who intends to drive away all the owners of small farms and ranches in the area and take their land. Later, drying off from heavy rain at the local stable, Sheriff Lucas Clay comes in search of The Kid, demanding she surrender her guns. Knowing Clay to be corrupt (and in league with McCuller), The Kid asks to speak with him in private. Moments later at the jail, he threatens her, and she deals him a beat-down, then informs him that she means to arrest McCuller and Tyson Avidite (a banker who is part of the conspiracy) before she leaves.

From the sheriff’s office, she goes to the Silver Slipper, the town’s saloon, gambling house and brothel. There, she encounters a young man named Jud Nelson, who she’d seen Sheriff Clay harass earlier. Recognizing him as a decent sort, she hires him to watch the jail to see if Clay leaves. Then she meets a twelve-year-old girl named Dixie, who does menial work at the Silver Slipper and is bullied by Toots, the brutish bartender. The Kid asks Dixie which girl is the most popular of the whores. Star, the girl replies, and The Kid gives Dixie the money to pay for Star’s services that evening.

Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, The Kid enjoys an intense hour of sex with Star. Afterwards, she asks the prostitute a few questions about the town and its doings. She learns that Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she seeks, disappeared around the same time as Dixie’s older sister Dallas, who was one of the whores at the Silver Slipper. The Kid asks about Ben McCuller, but Star refuses to answer, claiming “it’s too dangerous.” When The Kid goes back downstairs, Jud returns to let her know that Sheriff Clay just left town, riding hard in the direction of McCuller’s place.

Figuring she’s done as much as she can for one night, The Kid decides to join an ongoing card game, where she ends up winning a decent amount of money, as well as a neglected horse, which she takes to the local stable where her own horse is being kept.

The next morning, The Kid is informed by Jud Nelson that Cy Warren, McCuller’s enforcer and dirty-jobs man, has just entered the sheriff’s office, using a key. On their way to confront him, The Kid is taken aback to recognize the horse Cy has hitched up outside as Thunder, who she knows to be the property of Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she is seeking. More determined than ever to get answers from Cy Warren, she boldly strides into the sheriff’s office, a nervous Jud close behind.

The Kid quickly catches Warren in an obvious lie about his having purchased Hansen’s horse, and arrests him on the spot, drawing her gun before he can. Once Cy is locked up, she and Jud set off for banker Tyson Avidite’s office. With the genuine ranch deeds in her possession, she and Jud quickly establish that the ones Avidite is holding for McCuller are obvious forgeries, created in an effort to steal the area’s small ranches from their rightful owners.  Confronted by the evidence, Avidite breaks down and confesses to his role in McCuller’s crooked conspiracy. 

Later that day, The Kid steals onto McCuller’s land while he is away. She encounters his vicious pair of trained dogs, and deploys Indian methods she learned as a young girl to make friends with them. That accomplished, she carefully breaks into his study, where she fiddles with a certain something in the man’s desk drawer before making her escape.

The Kid has one more task to accomplish before turning in. She drops by the Silver Slipper to liberate the young girl Dixie from her menial position. The vicious bartender Toots is intent on stopping The Kid, but she takes him down with a couple of well-placed punches, then helps herself to a large wad of cash from the man’s pocket for Dixie’s back wages. The Kid and the girl then depart, leaving an enraged Toots behind.

The Kid takes Dixie out for a decent meal, buys her a new set of clothes, then gets them a room at a local boarding house. After a bath, The Kid plans to turn in for the night… but Dixie has other ideas, insisting on making love to her benefactor as a way of saying thanks. The Kid finds the sweet young thing impossible to resist. 

The next morning, on her way to the sheriff’s office, The Kid happens upon two men loading a large wagon with food and supplies, and quickly realizes they work for McCuller. When they beat a man for begging for a little flour, she arrests them both, putting them in jail along with Cy Warren. Once they’re locked up, she asks Jud Nelson to return the deeds McCuller stole to the families he took them from — along with a thousand dollars for each family, taken from McCuller’s bank account, and the contents of take the wagon of supplies.

By that time, The Kid is obliged to cut Warren loose, but she refuses to give him back his horse (who belonged to the missing Ranger Hansen), forcing him to walk back to McCuller’s ranch. Needless to say, Cy Warren is quite displeased.

The Kid takes Dixie to the Miller home, asking Sarah if she can take the girl in. Sarah immediately consents. Her daughters Cindy and Amy quickly take a liking to Dixie (whose real name, we learn, is Clara), and agree with their mother. 

That night, The Kid beds down in the Millers’ barn, keeping a lookout. Before turning in, Sarah gives her daughters a bath, along with Clara/Dixie. Later, Sarah pays The Kid a late-night visit, and ends up slipping into The Kid’s bedroll to keep warm. There, she mentions having bathed the girls. The Kid wonders out loud why Sarah’s daughters don’t wash themselves, then gets the young mother to admit that she very much enjoys seeing the girls nude. By then, Sarah is so aroused that The Kid easily seduces her, and they begin to make love.

Meanwhile, Clara is in bed with her new sisters, teaching them some very intimate games. Cindy and Amy have already explored kissing with one another, but Clara gets them to go much further. They all have a lovely time.

Sarah, on the other hand, is so troubled by illicit thoughts of her daughters that she pulls away from The Kid, apologizes and leaves. Returning to the house, she is surprised to find Clara waiting in her bed. Sarah resists, but Clara’s seductive skills are so well-honed that she ends up giving in, allowing the girl to make love to her. One at a time, Any and Cindy are awakened by the sounds of passion, wander to their mother’s room to investigate, and end up joining in the sexual abandon. Sarah gives into her newly discovered desire and makes love to both her children, as well as Clara.

Meanwhile, evil rancher McCuller has assembled an army of rough men to drive the small farmers and ranchers out of the area for good, killing them if need be. He also hires notorious gunman Kid Coley (who widowed Sarah Miller a couple of years earlier when he shot down her husband) to kill the Tequila Kid. 

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

by Purple Les

The Tequila Kid left Sarah Miller’s barn before dawn commenced, leading Button by the reins. The stars sparkled against the moonless sky. Closing the gate behind them, The Kid mounted up and rode off.

An hour later, she dropped in on the prospector’s shack where she’d hidden the banker Tyson Avidite, bringing him food and water. He was going stir crazy, and frantic with worry about his bank, but The Kid told him she expected to have McCuller in custody inside twenty-four hours.

“I should never have involved myself with that man,” Avidite kept saying. “A terrible mistake, a terrible mistake. I let profit blind me to his bad qualities. He took advantage of me too, you know!”

Save it for the goddamn jury, The Kid thought, but held her tongue. As long as McCuller was alive, she needed Avidite to remain docile. Maybe I should take him back home now, let him cool his heels there . Then he’ll be more likely to do as he’s told. 

Sure enough, the banker was beside himself when offered the opportunity to be restored to his home and comforts. “Thank you, thank you,” he babbled. “You won’t be sorry.”

Spying a small heap of tattered clothing in a corner, The Kid bent to rummage through it, coming up with a filthy coat and slouch hat, which she handed to Avidite. “Put these on.” Seeing the banker’s expression of disgust, she added, “You best be wearin’ a disguise. If McCuller finds out you were ridin’ on the back of my horse, your life won’t be worth a plugged nickel.”

Avidite meekly donned the reeking hat and coat. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, so the illusion was complete but for his fancy shoes, and those would be covered with trail dust soon enough.

They mounted Button, then set off. Thankfully, Avidite kept his mouth shut for the entire ride. Once they arrived, The Kid sourly regarded the banker’s luxurious house, then told him, “All right, then. You’re home now, and you best stay put here – don’t even look out the window. Have your wife tell anyone who comes by that you’re out of town on business. And if you so much as set a foot inside that bank, I’ll have your ass in a jail cell. Understand me?” Avidite gave a timid nod, and The Kid rode off without another word.

Glad to be done with that bit of business, The Kid rode over to the livery. “Howdy there, Abner,” The Kid said as she entered with Button in tow. It was warmer indoors, though their breath could still be seen.

“Howdy, Kid,” Abner replied, emerging from the back to take the horse’s reins. “Want her fed and watered, then?”

“Yep. Mind if I leave her here for a few hours?”

“Why sure,” Abner said, patting The Kid’s arm. “Say, I been thinkin’ ‘bout how you beat me there at checkers th’ other night. If you don’t mind, I’d like a rematch.”

“Why, sure. Abner. Got business to attend to right now, but soon’s I get a chance, we’ll play again.” The Kid touched the brim of her hat, then made her exit.

The door to the sheriff office was unlocked, so she walked in after a brief knock. The only light in the room came from the wood stove, where Jud Nelson was setting the coffee pot. Glancing up, he said, “Mornin’, Kid.”

“Howdy there, Jud.” The Kid said, drifting over to the stove. She lifted the lid of the coffee pot, making a face when she sniffed the contents.

Occupied with getting the lamp lit, Jud didn’t notice. “Coffee’ll be ready in a bit. I just put it on.”

Thinking fast, The Kid said, “I best go check up on them prisoners.”

She put her hand on the heavy wooden door that separated the jail and office and slammed it open. Sam and Cookie jumped, startled out of a sound sleep.

“Howdy, boys.” The Kid announced. “Reckon we’ll be turnin’ you loose soon. Like some coffee?”

Nestling back under the blanket, Sam replied, “None for me. I drink tea.”

Cookie sat on the edge of his cot hunched over and rubbing his face. “If it ain’t that shit water Jud makes, I’ll have me a cup.” He shook his head. “Worst damn coffee I ever had.”

The Kid took a quick glance behind her. Jud was busy shaving at a basin on the far side of the office. Speaking softly, she said, “He did make it. Now I’ll tell you somethin’, and you boys better listen good. If you don’t each have a cup of that coffee, I’ll keep you locked up till afternoon. Then you can try his cookin’ too, and have more coffee to wash it down.”

“Cheese and crackers, Kid!” Sam protested. “That ain’t human.”

“It’s fuckin’ Christmas Eve Day, God damn it!” Cookie groaned. “Show some charity to your fellow man, for God’s sake.”

But The Kid stood firm. “You boys heard me. One cup apiece. If you don’t, I’ll have to have me a cup. If that happens, I’ll carve you both up good,” she murmured, patting the Bowie knife on her gunbelt.

“Coffee’s ready.” Jud called out, then entered the cells bearing the pot, which he held using an old rag, two empty tin cups in his other hand.

Grimacing, Cookie and Sam each reached through the bars to take their cups once Jud had filled them. The Kid stood behind Jud to one side, glaring at the prisoners while she slowly ran a finger up and down the handle of her knife.

The two men choked down the hot liquid as quickly as possible, while Jud asked, “Should I rustle up some breakfast?”

Sam and Cookie gulped down the rest of their coffee, nearly choking on the grounds in the bottom of the cup.

“No, no.” Sam said quickly.

“Um, we’ll eat when we get back to the ranch,” Cookie mumbled.

As Jud and The Kid walked back out to the office, Jud gave the coffee pot a slosh. “Reckon there’s just a cup or so left. You can have that… I’ll make some more.”

“Thanks, Jud.” The Kid said. “Go ahead and finish the pot. I’m gonna turn those two loose, then take care of some business.”

Once she’d returned Sam’s and Cookie’s belongings. The Kid put on her coat and walked outside with them. “I took your team of horses to the livery for the night,” she told them. “You boys pay Abner, take your wagon and get gone.” She was pleased to see that the two men didn’t seem to have the starch in them that had been there the day before.

Sam, in particular, was a touch green around the gills. “God damn it, I think I’m ‘bout to puke,” Sam moaned, clutching his stomach. “Fuckin’ coffee.”

The Kid rolled a smoke in the cold, crisp air, watching Cookie and Sam trudge down to the livery. She calmly waited for the explosion that was about to take place, enjoying her smoke. Sure enough, the boys came rolling up to her moments later in their empty wagon, mad as singed cats.

Cookie yelled down at The Kid, “Damn it all, where the hell are our supplies at?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” The Kid calmly replied, flicking her cigarette butt away. Gone to folks who need ‘em, she thought. Go tell your crooked boss he won’t be starvin’ out any more good people round these parts. 

“We had a whole wagon full of supplies here for the bunkhouse boys and Mr. McCuller. They’re gone now!” Cookie bellowed. “Where the fuck are they?”

“Huh.” The Kid said, feigning surprise. “We oughta look into that. Shall we go have a cup of coffee with the sheriff and fill out a stolen property report?”

“You…” Cookie began to speak, then thought better of it.

A white-faced Sam grasped Cookie’s shoulder. “Let’s get a move on.”

“You’ll be hearing from Mr. McCuller when we get back, damn your hide!” Cookie yelled out as the empty wagon rumbled toward the city line.

The Kid returned to the livery stable. Once inside, she asked Abner, “Them fellas pay what they owed?”

“Yep,” Abner answered, “Say, I just cooked up some bacon and eggs. Care for some?”

The Kid eagerly accepted, and sat down to dine, enjoying her breakfast with a decent cup of coffee. Then they sat down at the checkerboard, each taking a swallow from Abner’s applejack jug before they got down to business.

As Abner concentrated on the game The Kid pondered her next move – but right then, her mind wasn’t on the checkerboard. If I get out to McCuller’s, I can maybe nab him and that Cy Warren fella while his crew of toughs is out mindin’ the livestock. But I ain’t sure how to play that out.

She grinned at Abner and, in a mood to tease the man a bit, said, “Sure you wanna move that one?”

The smile vanished from Abner’s face. He took his fingers off the checker and looked at the board grimly. As the old man studied the board, The Kid glanced over at the three horses she’d stabled with Abner. She was pleased to note that the palomino seemed calmer; less shy than before. The horse seemed much healthier, too – it was plain to see that Abner had kept her well fed.

Leaving Abner at the checkerboard, The Kid got up and went over to spend some time with the horses, petting and softly talking to Button, Thunder and the palomino.

“All right, I made my move.” Abner called out after a while.

The Kid took her seat and resumed the game. Her mind kept returning to the situation with McCuller, though, and she couldn’t stay focused. Abner was a genuinely skilled player, and he soon had The Kid at a disadvantage. She put up a good scrap, fighting to save her remaining men, but before long, her last checker was caught in a cul-de-sac.

Slowly nodding, The Kid looked up at a grinning Abner, and extended her hand. “Well, looks like you got me that time. Good game.”

Abner reached out and shook. “You got braggin’ rights too, Kid. No one else in this town ever beat me before. Y’ever care to play again, just say the word.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” The Kid said. Standing up and stretching, she added. “I best head on over to the office. Jud’s waitin’ for me.”

“How’s he holdin’ up as the new sheriff?” asked the old man.

“Good,” The Kid replied. “Growin’ into the job, I’d say. Jud’s got more grit than he knows.”

“Don’t know him that well myself, but I like what I seen so far. He’ll make a better sheriff than our last, I reckon. That Lucas Clay was a son of a bitch and no mistake.”

Clapping the old man’s back, The Kid put her Stetson on. “I’ll be seein’ you later, Ab.”

When she made her exit, the sun was high in the winter sky. The Kid made her way back to the sheriff office, still mulling over her next move with McCuller.

I got all the evidence I need to round him up. But I need to find out a little more about some things I can’t figure out on my own.

Once back in the office, she refused a cup of coffee from Jud, then they jawed about this and that until The Kid asked, “Jud, what can you tell me about this here Santa Claus fella?”

At first Jud was unsure if The Kid was joshing him. She seemed perfectly serious, though. “Er, well… what did you want to know?” he replied, puzzled.

“Well, I hear tell he’s got real strong medicine. Is there a way to get in touch with him? I’d like to ask a few questions.”

“Uh, well… no one really sees Santa,” Jud replied, still confused.

“But everyone knows what he looks like, and how he works, right?” The Kid asked. “I mean he’s real, ain’t he?”

“Uh well, yes, sort of.” He thought for a minute and then asked back, “Who told you about Santa Claus?”

“Well, this little girl, she’s around seven or eight.”

“Oh.” Jud said, suddenly understanding. “See, to a child Santa is as real as you and me are to each other. But once you grow up some, you figure out that he ain’t real at all.”

“He ain’t real? Then it’s a trick you play on young’uns?” The Kid asked.

“No, no,” Jud said back, “I mean it’s not a trick, it’s, uh, I ain’t sure how to explain. I mean, kids like it. Makes ‘em happy.”

“They like to be tricked?”

“No, no, Kid, it ain’t that way at all. I mean…” Jud was stumped, but determined to make sense of it all. “It’s like God. You want to believe in him, and he must be real. Now, you don’t really know for sure that he is, but you still believe. Understand?”

“I reckon,” The Kid said with her brow furrowed. “You mean like how the Indians say all things have a spirit, so they give thanks for all that’s around ‘em. Somethin’ like that?”

“I guess so. To be honest, Kid… it’s kind of makin’ my head hurt, thinking ‘bout all this. What say we go get us a drink? After all, it’s Christmas Eve Day.”

***

When The Kid and Jud entered the Silver Slipper, Belle was at the bar pouring drinks, because Toots had gone to the cellar to fetch a keg of beer. There was a small scrubby pine tree on top of a table in a corner, with old corks that had been painted red attached to it.

Star was at the top of the stairs, and quickly came down when she spied The Kid. Approaching Jud, she kissed him on the mouth and, noticing his pleasantly surprised expression, pointed up at a sprig of mistletoe that was hanging over his head. She moved to The Kid and kissed her, too. Jud blushed a bit at the sight.

Breaking away from The Kid, Star called out, “Belle! Drinks for my friends here, on me.” Turning to The Kid, she said, “That drink’s for getting Dixie out of here. I can’t thank you enough for that, Kid. Where is she now?”

“I put her with a family,” The Kid replied. “A good woman with two young girls. They’ve taken her in like she was one of their own.”

Star nodded. “I’m right glad to hear that. Does my heart good to know Dixie will be spendin’ Christmas with a real family. ” She sighed. “I sure hope Dallas found somethin’ like that. She never really belonged in a low-life cathouse like this.”

“By the way, did you know their names weren’t Dixie and Dallas? They’re really Clara and Ruth.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Star said. “I like those two girls even better now.” Taking The Kid’s hand, she gave it a squeeze, drawing close to whisper. “You stick around, hear? I have a special Christmas present for you… only you have to come upstairs to unwrap it.” She gave The Kid’s ear a playful nip, then made her way over to where several men were waiting for her.

The Kid and Jud bellied up to the bar, where a grinning Belle asked, “What it’ll be?”

“Rye,” Jud answered.

“Mescal for me,” The Kid answered, as Star kissed another man beneath the mistletoe. Kid leaned against the bar, glancing around for a sign of Toots. Best be on the lookout for him, she told herself. He sure won’t be pleased to see me here. I might have to bust him up again. 

Resting his elbow on the bar, Jud said, “So this horse walks into a bar, and the barkeep says, ‘Hey, why the long face?'”

The Kid chuckled. “Heard that before… but it’s still good. Here, I got one. Man walks into a bar and goes ‘OW!’”

Jud thought for a moment, then laughed. “Gotta remember that ‘un.”

It was then that Toots came back up from the basement into the noisy bar, a small keg propped on his shoulder. He carefully set it down, then spotted The Kid. Toots stared for a moment, his lips curling into a snarl. Reaching for a pistol that hung behind the bar, he stomped out onto the barroom floor.

Star saw him raise the gun, cocking the hammer. She screamed, “Kid! Look out!” throwing herself between Toots and The Kid as the barkeeper took aim. An instant later, the gun roared.

Jud never drew faster in his life than at that moment. But once he’d cleared his holster, The Kid had already spun, drawn her left hand gun, crouched and fanned the hammer, putting a bullet dead center in Toots’ forehead.

Jud holstered his gun and moved through the gun smoke to join The Kid, who was kneeling on the floor next to a wounded Star.

Raising Star’s hand to her face, The Kid touched it with her lips, then said, “Just yellin’ was enough, Star. I’d a got him. Why’d you do such a fool thing?”

Star’s eyes sparkled. Her face had a pale radiant beauty to it as she gave The Kid a weak smile. She said, “I…” Then the light slowly left her eyes.

The Kid gently closed Star’s eyelids, then got to her feet.

Mumbling, ”Oh, Lord. Oh, my God,” a chalk-pale Belle seized the cloth from a nearby table, draping it over Star’s upper half.

Turning to Jud with tears in her eyes, The Kid took a handful of money out of her pocket, placed it in his hand and said in a choked voice, “Make sure she gets a proper burial.” Then she walked away.

Jud watched The Kid stagger out of the bar.

***

Back at the stable, The Tequila Kid saddled up Button, mounted her and rode out of town. She was unsure where she was going or why, just needed to be on the move. Poor Star. Saved my sorry life and paid with hers. I’ll ride a spell, try to clear my head, and think what to do. 

She thought of Star’s smiling face, her kindly nature, the warmth of her body. Then there was the sorrow in her eyes that smiles couldn’t fully conceal. The drudgery of her job. The bottle of laudanum.

Damn it, I liked Star. No matter what most folks would think of her, she was a good woman. Better than a lot of preachers I knowed, that’s for damn sure. Star, wherever your spirit ends up, I sure hope it’s a better place than this.

The Kid rode aimlessly, tears freezing on her face.

***

Ben McCuller gathered his hired toughs around him. He was flanked on either side by his dogs.

“Now listen up,” he announced, “you’re all off for the rest of the day. Head into town and have a good time, but take it easy on the drinking.” He looked at them all sternly. “Here’s the plan. We meet back here an hour before dawn. You’ll split up, then ride out. There’s just enough of you for one or two men to hit each sodbuster out there at about the same time. You fire shots and tell ‘em to clear out. Then burn their places down. Any who don’t make tracks, cut them down where they stand.”

The men looked at each other till one said, “But boss… on Christmas morning? That don’t seem right.”

McCuller spat on the ground in disgust. “God damn it, I knew some of you would be big babies when it came down to killing. That’s why I hired Kid Coley to clean up after. If he finds out any of you men didn’t do the job you got paid for…” He drew a finger across his throat.

The men reacted to Coley’s name, giving each other nervous glances. They were well aware of the man’s reputation, and the unspeakable acts the man was capable of.

“Well, Merry Christmas, boys,” McCuller continued. “Just remember: do as I say and there’ll be a nice bonus waiting for you, along with what we agreed on. Mess the job up or show a yellow streak, you’ll end up face down in an unmarked grave. Now get going.”

As the men headed out, McCuller took Cy aside. “Warren, I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself. “Before heading out on the raid, finish off Jud Nelson, and put his badge on. You’ll be my sheriff and do what killing needs to be done.”

Meeting McCuller’s eyes, Cy gave a firm nod. “Yessir.”

Gazing off at his land, McCuller gave a satisfied smile. “I’m building a kingdom here, Warren.” His jaw tightened. “All that good land wasted on those two-bit dirt farmers… No. No more! By tonight that land will be mine, every acre. Not long from now, I’ll be taking a wife, and she’ll give me sons. I’ll build my own army of hard men, the kind this land was made for.” He turned to Cy. “You could be the general of that army, Warren… and it begins with you acting as my sheriff.” Patting the man’s arm, he said, “Off with you, now. Next time we meet, I’ll expect to see that badge on your chest.”

“All right, boss.” Cy said as he mounted up. Throwing McCuller a salute, he rode off at a gallop.

McCuller watched him disappear over the ridge. Reckon I did what I could to light a fire under his ass. We’ll see if he’s got the grit to enforce the law the way I want. If not… well, we’ll be planting his corpse next to what’s left of that Tequila Kid. Coley should be taking care of her soon enough.

***

Kid Coley was on the road, headed for town in search of The Kid. I’ll pay the Miller woman a visit first. She was a fine piece, I recall. Didn’t get the chance to put it to her when I shot her man, but I’ll make up for it now. And them two little girls… bet they’re even prettier than they was then. I’ll show ‘em what it’s like to be with a man afore they die. 

He saw a wagon approach. As they drew closer, Coley recognized the riders as two of McCuller’s men. That fat fella is his cook. I remember him, name of Sam. 

“Howdy, boys,” he announced once they were in earshot. They were clearly nervous, but Kid Coley was used to folks being on edge in his presence. “Where you goin’ so fast with an empty wagon?”

“Wasn’t empty when we last had it,” the tall one grumbled. “That goddamn Tequila Kid, it’s her fuckin’ fault. She run us into jail… then, while we was locked up, she stole Mr. McCuller’s groceries right off the damn wagon! Or she let someone else steal ‘em.”

“However she done it, the boss is gonna be mad enough to spit nails,” Sam said. “We’ll be wearin’ his bootprints on our butts, that’s for damn sure.”

Kid Coley grinned. Somehow it made him look more grotesque than he already was. “If it’ll cheer you boys up any, your boss hired me to take care of that bitch. When you get back, tell McCuller I seen you. I’ll be comin’ by with his dead Ranger for him afore sunset.” With that, he spurred his horse on and rode off.

Soon to come: Chapter Ten!

For a list of the many characters who populate this saga, check out Dramatis Personae.

At Derwold Manor, stark truths are revealed. Elsa has sealed the village off to protect Simon. More than that, she intends to set the stage for a new world order, one where women rule and men are consigned to history. She asks Sadie and Millie to join her, but Sadie refuses. She and Freya arrive back at Beekeeper Cottage only to find Georgia and Millie missing. They are captured by Elsa’s thugs, and reunited with Georgia and Millie, the four of them are imprisoned in the manor. 

Discovering the large rock in the cellar where they are confined is actually an ancient standing stone, Millie manages to tap into its magic, and she and Sadie are transported to an unknown location. 

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

by BlueJean

1

Georgia stood staring at the fallen menhir, hands pressed to her cheeks. When she was finally able to muster up some words, they emerged shrill and panicky. “What the hell just happened? Where did they go?!”

Freya put a hand out to touch the stone but Georgia snatched it back. “Don’t touch it! Where’s Millie? Where’s Sadie?”

“Mum! Calm down!”

“Calm down? Calm down?! I’ve bloody well had enough of this magic crap! I’m putting my foot down, do you hear me? Everyone’s forbidden from doing magic for the foreseeable future. Enough’s enough!”

“They’re probably fine, Mum! It’s the same as when me and Millie went through the stone near Sadie’s house. We came back, didn’t we?”

Georgia breathed out slowly. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. The menhir was still there. Her girlfriend and her youngest daughter still weren’t. This really was turning out to be a shitty day. “Where did they go, Freya?”

Freya shook her head. “I don’t know. If we touch the stone too, maybe we’ll end up wherever they are. We need to try, Mum.”

“Do not touch that rock, Freya! I mean it! Just give me some time to think.”

Assuming Millie and Sadie hadn’t vanished from the universe entirely, where had they ended up? Georgia had only ever half-believed Millie and Freya’s tale of being hurled through time and into prehistory. She’d always had more important things to think about. Things like getting the girls ready for school, tending to bees, or baking bread. Things that kept you sane.

But here was proof positive that people could indeed travel through ancient standing stones. She’d seen it with her own eyes.

When did the world get so fucking complicated?

The door to the basement swung open and Bernie came whistling down the steps with a tray of food in his hands. “Grub’s up, ladies! A nice bit of bacon and eggs’ll take your mind off— eh?” He glanced around the room. “Where’s the other two?”

Georgia rounded on the man. “They just popped out to pick up a newspaper and a loaf of bread. How the hell should I know where they are?! I’d like to know that myself!”

A few short minutes later, Elsa was advancing angrily towards Georgia. “Where are they? Where the fuck are they?!” The furious woman snaked a hand out, and Georgia suddenly realised she couldn’t breathe. “I’ll choke the fucking life out of you, you mother’s cunt! I’ll turn your insides to mush, then burn what’s left! Tell me where they went!”

“They went through the stone, Elsa!” Freya wailed, trying her best to pull Elsa’s hand down. “Don’t hurt Mum, okay?”

Elsa pushed the eleven-year-old away roughly, but that small piece of information was enough to stay her hand, at least for the moment. “The menhir… How could I have been so stupid?! I should’ve known one of them could use it.”

Georgia fell to the ground, gasping for breath. It was like Elsa had sucked all the air out of the room for a moment.

Freya was down on her knees, comforting her mother. She peered up at Elsa with a look of pure loathing. “Why are you doing this to us? I thought you were nice. I thought you were my friend.”

Elsa barely gave her a cursory glance. “I’m nice when people don’t make me angry, child. Right now I’m very angry. I’m only going to ask you this question once, Freya. If you lie to me, I’ll know. If you lie to me, I’ll kill your mother in front of you. Where have Sadie and Millie gone?”

“I don’t know, Elsa! Even Millie and Sadie didn’t know. They went through by accident. Sadie was trying to stop Millie. That’s the truth, I swear!”

There was a long moment when Georgia thought her life had come to an end. Then Elsa, hissing her outrage, turned and stormed off up the steps.

“Kurt! Bernie! Put these two somewhere else, and if either of them escape I’ll scalp the both of you!”

2

Drowning.

Sadie Laine is drowning. Mere seconds away from losing consciousness, and the last thing she thinks is: There’s a tree underwater. An upside down tree trunk.

There’s a baby made of light sitting on the tree. It has webbed hands and feet, and its skin is translucent. She can see its little heart beating through its chest, like a lightbulb flickering on and off. She thinks it might be a kodama. The light-baby/kodama waves to her.

If the tree is upside down, does that mean she’s upside down, too? Or is this the right way up? Hard to make sense of it when your impending death is rushing to meet you.

Then there are things swimming around her. Animals of some kind. They jostle and push her up towards the light. It might be the light of the surface. Or it might be the light people say greets you when you approach the afterlife. Either way, she’s moving towards it, and fast.

When the cool air hits her face, she gasps it in greedily. She’ll never take breathing for granted ever again.

3

Millie sat on the beach in a daze. She remembered the menhir drawing her in, grasping at her like a thousand greedy little hands. Then the cold, salty water had crashed into her like a tidal wave. The next thing she knew she was here, sprawled out on the sand in this unfamiliar place. Sadie was lying next to her, coughing up seawater.

There were naked people congregating around them, keeping a respectful distance but watching intently. And there were seals too, and creatures that looked like both people and seals, their upper halves human, their lower halves resembling flippers.

“Mermaids…” Millie murmured in astonishment.

Sadie sat up and peered around her. “Not mermaids, Millie,” she told her apprentice. “Selkie.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?” Sadie asked, pushing the child’s wet hair back from her face.

Millie offered a small nod. “Where are we?”

Sadie stood on unsteady feet, cleared her throat, then addressed the strange congregation in a language Millie had never heard before. “G’nai juwetū mai aggat. Moghū juwetū wedū me qoi weje… uh, m-mūit? mūin?”

The Selkie broke out into laughter. Even those in full seal forms seemed to find Sadie’s bastardisation of their language highly amusing.

One of the Selkie in human form broke away from the small group and approached them tentatively. Sadie thought he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His skin was a dark bronze, his eyes a piercing blue colour. Dark ringlets of tightly wound hair trailed down his back. And he was naked as the day he was born.

She’d read enough about the Selkie to know they projected some kind of glamour, and was quick to put up her mental defenses.

“You speak our jib-jab bad,” the selkie said.

“I was trying to say ‘thank you for helping us’,” Sadie explained, “and then ask where we are.”

The dark-skinned selkie shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “No. You say: ‘Fudge you plenty much’. And then you say: ‘Where is my haggis?'”

The other Selkie fell about laughing again. Millie began to join in until Sadie gave her a nudge. “Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“My haggis?” the child piped, her eyes twinkling.

Pausing to straighten her sopping wet cardigan, Sadie tried to project a modicum of dignity. “Well, everyone has to start somewhere,” she said haughtily. “I’ve studied various dialects of the Tuatha, but they were mostly conjecture on the part of the authors. We know they share some similarities with the Proto Indo-European and Celtic languages. Where did you learn English?”

The selkie swept a hand to encompass his people. “We understand your jib-jab, but few can speak it. Our Deu-Kanō… uh, what will I say… bearers? Our bearers speak it well. But the bearers are no more. Reeta was the last.”

Sadie assumed by ‘bearer’, the selkie meant a messenger or representative of some kind. When she glanced down at Millie, the eight-year-old was staring at his penis. She discreetly lifted the girl’s chin, then turned her attention back to the selkie. “We travelled through a menhir by accident. Are we still in Britain? Do you know what year it is? Is that an underwater henge we came through? It looked like a tree trunk.”

The selkie didn’t seem to have much interest in answering any of her questions, if he understood what she was asking at all. Sadie changed tack.

“We need to get back to our village. My friend and her daughter are in serious trouble. Can you help us?”

The selkie shook his head. “We cannot help. We see you breach the henge, so you must be wikkā, but still we cannot help. Reeta trusted humans, but your people stole her.”

Millie stuck her hand out. “Hi, I’m Millie. And this is my teacher, Sadie.”

For one awful moment Sadie thought the eight-year-old was going to grab the fellow’s rather substantial member and give it a good shake.

The selkie took the child’s hand apprehensively. “I am Karnu.”

“Who’s Reeta?” Millie asked, making a heroic effort to imitate Karnu’s mellifluous pronunciation, the rolling ‘Rs’ making her sound like a little motorboat. “And why did they steal her?”

“Reeta… she was our Deu-Kanō. But… no more.”

“If we help Reeta get free, will she help us?” Sadie asked.

There were murmurs amongst the other selkie. Karnu regarded his people for a long moment, perhaps expecting some kind of support from them. When none came he turned back to Sadie and Millie with a deep sigh. “They already give Reeta back, but I do not think she can help. She is… she is Reeta no more.”

That didn’t make much sense to Sadie. Was Karnu trying to say Reeta had abandoned the other Selkie? Or that she had died, perhaps? “Well, where is she?” she said. “Maybe we can ask her ourselves.”

Karnu pointed up past the cliffs. There was a lighthouse up there, maybe half a mile away.

“The lighthouse? Reeta lives in the lighthouse?”

Karnu put his hands to his head. He growled something in his own language, and Sadie thought it might have been something like, ‘We should have let them drown’.

“It is not good for you to go there. Dangerous. Reeta goes through the change. When her cycle is complete, Selkie must be far away. You must be far away. We try to explain to Hailey, but she not listen. Hailey think Reeta still Reeta. You understand?”

“No. Not really,” Sadie said. “Who’s Hailey?”

Karnu shook his head, then shook his finger as well, to better emphasise whatever point he was trying to make. “We already help. You must ask no more of us.” He gestured to his people again. “This is what we have. Our elders are gone, our Deu-Kanō are gone, our teachers are gone. Each cycle fewer pups are born. The Finfolk took our home, your people would take what is left. Now we are just this. Do you see?”

Sadie understood. And with that understanding came an immense sorrow. Were these few the last of the Selkie, then? Was Astris also the last of her kind? The tragedy of it was immeasurable.

“I’m so sorry, Karnu. If my people played a part in your misfortunes, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But my friends are in great danger right now, and I must put everything else aside if I’m to help them.”

“I understand,” Karnu said. “Go then. I wish you well.” The selkie’s mouth turned up into a faint smile. “I hope you find your haggis.”

Sadie turned to find Millie amongst the small congregation of Selkie. Some of their children were reaching out to touch her hair, laughing gleefully as if it were the greatest of dares.

“Millie, we need to go.”

“Just a minute!” Millie hollered back. “Do you know about dryads?” she asked the Selkie. “Hmm? Hands up who knows about dryads.”

Some of the Selkie raised their hands tentatively. A few flippers reached skyward too.

“What other ‘Before People’ do you know about? Hmm?”

An older selkie in hybrid form raised her hands high above her head. “Fathnach,” she said. “Fathnach.”

“You don’t need to put your hands up for this bit,” Millie said. “You can just shout out.”

“She say ‘Giant’,” Karnu told Millie. “Our Elders taught us the names of the other Tuatha but most have forgotten.”

“Seelie,” said another, then followed that with, “Unseelie.”

“Faeries,” Sadie translated.

Karnu nodded approvingly.

“Who else knows some names?” Millie continued. “Don’t be shy!”

Sadie put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Millie, we don’t have time for this.”

“It’s important, Sadie. I can’t say exactly why, but it is.”

“Maybe it is, but it’ll have to wait. Freya and your mum need us.”

Millie let out a big sigh. “I’ll come back to see you one day, okay?” she told the Selkie. “I think you need to be connected to the other Tuatha. It’s like a broken chain or something.”

Karnu spoke low in Sadie’s ear. “The pup is Old Blood. You know?”

Sadie nodded. “I’ve heard her called that before, yes. How did you know?”

“Selkie see… what will I say… owirā?”

“Aura?”

“Aura, yes. Her aura is strange. We saw one like her, long ago. They… change things. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. But always change.”

Sadie regarded Millie thoughtfully for a moment before turning back to Karnu. “We must go. Thank you for taking the time to speak with us.”

Karnu nodded gravely, then barked a command to his clan. “Weje snāmi!” We swim!

And with that, the last of the Selkie assumed their seal forms and disappeared into the water.

Millie watched them go with a mournful regard.

“Maybe we’ll see them again,” Sadie told her.

“Mmm.”

“Let’s go.”

“Where?” Millie asked, and Sadie pointed to the line of cliffs in the distance.

“To the lighthouse.”

4

Kurt and Bernie took Georgia and Freya from the basement and put them in a room on the second floor of the manor. Georgia thought it was a pretty decent upgrade – it had an old sofa covered with a dust sheet, and a nice view of the garden – but it scored maximum points for weirdness.

They weren’t the only residents here. The room was a taxidermist’s wet dream, stuffed animals occupying just about every lick of space. Moose, rhino, deer, buffalo and crocodile heads were mounted on walls, exotic birds were displayed in cages, lizards and small mammals occupied tables and pedestals.

“Well, someone’s a collector,” Georgia said morosely.

Freya swallowed the mouthful of bacon she’d been chewing. “They’re horrible.”

Georgia made for the window. Her heart sank when she saw it was not only locked, but had iron bars on the outside. “They weren’t taking any chances, either. As if someone would burgle stuffed animals. Would they?”

“I dunno,” Freya said, flopping down onto the dusty couch. “S’pose some of them might be worth something.”

“Budge up,” Georgia told her, and Freya slid towards one end of the sofa to make room for her mum. Georgia put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, you know. Sadie’ll come back. She’ll bring the police with her.”

Freya nibbled at her lower lip. “She can’t call the police, Mum.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I… I kind of told Elsa about the things we’ve been doing together.”

Georgia stared open mouthed. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m an idiot! Because I thought Elsa was my friend! Because I wanted something that didn’t have anything to do with Sadie and Millie and their stupid witch stuff, something that was mine, something that belonged to just me.”

“Oh, Freya.” Georgia kissed her on the cheek. “Why didn’t you say something? You should’ve told us how you feel.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you. It was hard to figure it out in my head. Everything seems to be about Millie these days, and you and Sadie are too busy being a couple to notice me. I just kind of felt you’d all forgotten about me.”

“It’s my fault,” Georgia said. “I should’ve noticed you weren’t happy. I did notice, but I just thought you were going through a phase. I’ve been so preoccupied with Millie and her issues, I didn’t stop to think that you might be going through a hard time, too. I’m so sorry, Freya.”

Freya gave a shrug, then managed the smallest of smiles. “It’s okay. It doesn’t seem that important now we’ve been kidnapped and Sadie and Millie have disappeared into a big rock.”

“I just hope they’re not trapped somewhere in the past. Is that possible, do you think?”

Freya thought about it, then shook her head. “It didn’t really feel like we were there last time. It was almost like we only went halfway, like we were looking through a window. I always wondered if our bodies were still in the barley field that whole time, but I s’pose we know the answer to that question now.”

“Yeah.” Now it was Georgia’s turn to bite down on her lip. There was another question that needed answering, but some tact was required. “Um… Freya. You’ve been hanging out with Elsa for a while now. Have you and her been doing… you know… stuff together?”

Freya rolled her eyes. “You can say ‘sex’, Mum.”

“Okay. Have you and Elsa been having sex?”

Freya looked at her mum defiantly. “Yes, we have. And don’t even think about telling me off. Not after what the four of us have been doing together.”

Georgia had to fight back her maternal instinct. “I’m not going to tell you off. But it wasn’t a very smart thing to do, was it?”

“What’s that thing they say when you look back on something you’ve done and see it wasn’t a good idea, even though you didn’t see it at the time?”

“‘Hindsight’s a wonderful thing’.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“Fair enough. Doesn’t sex with us interest you anymore? Or do you think what we’re doing is wrong?”

“I don’t think it’s wrong, and I still like doing it with you. But sometimes I just want to do my own thing, you know?”

“I get it. But no more sex with strange people, please. I know that might sound hypocritical of me, but I just need to know that you’re safe, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Give me a hug.“

The two of them held each other closely.

5

When the light had almost faded from the sky outside, Elsa came to them with blankets and a pillow. She was all smiles, as if nearly choking Georgia to death had been of little consequence.

“This is nicer than that dusty old cellar, isn’t it?” she said. “I won’t bother you again tonight. Let’s all get a good night’s sleep, then we can figure out what to do about this mess tomorrow.” Elsa regarded Georgia and Freya thoughtfully. “It might be a bit of a squeeze on that couch… You’re welcome to join me in my room, Freya. Or perhaps the three of us could have some fun together…?”

“I’m staying here, thank you, Elsa,” Georgia said. “And Freya’s not leaving my sight.”

Elsa’s smile had a devious edge to it. “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of a mother and her child. I think what you have together is wonderful. In the new world I envision, there would be no laws against such a thing. No stigma, no judgement. The world is not kind to people like us, Georgia. Do you not long for change?”

“I’m just a regular girl,” Georgia said. “I tend to my bees, I bring up my girls to the best of my ability, I enjoy a glass of wine in the evening. I don’t care much about witchcraft or world domination, you know? I’m old fashioned like that.”

Elsa looked at her with unconcealed contempt. “How shortsighted.”

When she turned to leave again, Georgia called after her. “Sadie’s coming for us, Elsa.”

Elsa wiggled her fingers dramatically. “Ooh, scary! I shan’t be getting any sleep tonight! Face it, Georgia, Sadie ran away. She took Millie and left you and Freya all alone. She’s not coming back to save you.”

Georgia shook her head. It wouldn’t do to provoke this madwoman, but the need to convince herself  Sadie hadn’t given up on them wouldn’t be silenced. “You’re so wrong. You don’t know Sadie like I do. She’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. You caught her off guard, but she’ll be back, and when she comes she won’t be alone. She knows people, powerful people.“ It wasn’t exactly true, of course, but a few embellishments wouldn’t hurt. “And she won’t stop. See, that’s the thing about Sadie – she never stops. She never ever stops.”

6

“Stop!” Sadie wailed. “I need to s-stop!”

The schoolteacher stood hunched over with her hands on her knees, her breath coming in short, laboured bursts. “I’m bloody knackered! Who the hell builds a town on a cliff side?!”

“Come on, Sadie!” Millie trilled, apparently unconcerned with the steep gradient of the hill they were traversing. “We’re nearly there!”

The two of them were halfway up the winding cobbled street that presumably led to the lighthouse. The houses on either side of them were painted in bright colours, but any illumination from the windows was few and far between, which seemed odd, considering the light had almost faded from the day.

“Oh, God, this must be what dying feels like…” Sadie gasped. “What is wrong with these people? They must have legs like bodybuilders!”

Millie took hold of her teacher’s arm and tugged.

The registration plates on the small handful of cars that sat parked along the road had answered two questions, at least: They were still in the UK, and it was still 2022. Sadie thought she recognised the coastal town but couldn’t put a name to it. With its colourful houses and unusual cliff layout, it’d surely have featured on some mid-afternoon TV program or graced the pages of lifestyle magazines.

But it was so quiet. A picturesque place like this would’ve attracted throngs of tourists in the summer months. Instead, it felt like a ghost town. They’d seen little in the way of human habitation down by the harbour, and just as little the further up they travelled, except for a young blonde-haired man leaning out a bedroom window smoking a cigarette, watching them with interest as they walked by. Sadie considered asking him if he knew Reeta, but when she turned back, he was gone, and the window closed.

They came to another curve in the road. It continued on round to the right, heading to some other part of town, then presumably back down towards the harbour. The road leading up to the lighthouse was a simple dirt track, precarious chalk and sandstone cliffs on either side that had given way to landslides in several places. There were two signs here. One read:

Danger! Unstable cliffs. Keep clear.

The other sign was rusty and almost illegible. It read:

Rita’s Motors.

“Is it the same Rita that lives in the lighthouse, do you think?” Millie asked.

“Could be,” said Sadie. “I never heard of a selkie fixing cars, though. Maybe someone just used her name. Let’s keep going.”

Millie was already heading up the steep track towards the lighthouse.

Sadie mustered herself for another climb. “Be careful, Millie! The ground isn’t safe around here.”

7

Freya lay on the couch in the dark, her mother’s breasts pressing into her back. She was tired, exhausted really, but sleep wouldn’t come.

There were no curtains in the window, the moonlight making strange shadows of the creatures that shared the room with them, light glinting off glass eyes, making it seem as if they were staring at her, judging her.

And why shouldn’t they? She was the author of her family’s misfortunes, after all. Her stupid, immature naïveté had got them all into this mess. If she hadn’t told Elsa all their secrets, she and her mum wouldn’t be shut up with a menagerie of stuffed animals, and Sadie and Millie wouldn’t be… well, wherever the hell they were.

Maybe Elsa would just let them go. What use were they to her now, anyway? Sadie and Millie were the ones with magical abilities, after all. And where would the harm be in letting them go? Elsa knew Georgia could never risk calling the police, lest their own activities be exposed.

Or was all of that just wishful thinking? Would it be easier for Elsa to kill them and be done with it? Was she even capable of that?

Her mother’s voice made her start. “Can’t sleep?”

“No. How about you?”

“Well, I’m awake, aren’t I?”

“Ha ha.”

Georgia reached round and encircled Freya’s waist. “You smell nice.”

“Do I? Like what?”

“Like my little girl.”

“I’m not little.”

“You’ll always be little to me. Didn’t I tell you that before?”

“Yeah. That night I came to you in your bedroom. The night we had sex properly for the first time.”

“I miss that,” Georgia murmured, snaking a hand beneath Freya’s crop top. “When all this is over, how about we have some secret nights together, just you and me?”

“What about Millie and Sadie?”

“They don’t need to be part of it. They have their little witchy thing. We can make our own kind of magic.”

“Sounds nice… Put a hand down my leggings, Mum.”

Georgia trailed a hand down to Freya’s flat belly, then inched beneath the elastic of her leggings and knickers. This was neither the time nor the place to be doing such things, she knew that, but that most basic of needs cared nothing for kidnappings or missing loved ones. Indeed, the unfamiliarity of this place and the stress of their situation had honed Georgia’s arousal to a fine edge, as if her body was willing to accept sex in place of sleep as a way to cope with the trauma.

And the way Freya moved her hips against her mother’s fingers, she clearly felt much the same way. The beekeeper’s daughter was wet and warm. Georgia allowed her middle finger to slip inside the girl’s cunt, then introduced a second digit, pumping them back and forth.

No, not so little anymore, Georgia mused. Big enough to take two of Mummy’s fingers. How quickly they grow up.

Freya fumbled behind her, trying to undo Georgia’s trousers.

“Let’s just take them off,” Georgia whispered, and the two of them slipped out of their bottoms and panties, leaving them both naked from the waist down.

“Shall we do a sixty-nine?” Freya said. “Then we can make each other feel good.”

And so, under the ever watchful menagerie of strange, silent creatures, mother and daughter shifted on the couch, Georgia lying on her back while Freya climbed over her. The eleven-year-old smelled musky and delicious, and Georgia wished she were able to see what her mouth was tasting. She pushed a single digit into the girl’s pussy, fucking her with it while she flicked her tongue over the sliver of clitoris that protruded below.

Freya dipped her head between her mother’s legs, lapping at the tart liquor of her cunt. She prised the fleshy lips apart and let her tongue probe as deep as it would go. She liked the earthy taste, the way it clung to her tongue like spiced honey.

Georgia sucked on her daughter’s clit, the tempo of both tongue and finger increasing. The liquid sounds of  lovemaking gave them away in the dark of the room.

They worked each other expertly, intuitively knowing when the other was close to orgasm, pulling back or racing forward as need demanded. And when finally they came, they came together as one.

When they were done making love that way, Freya climbed atop her mother and the two of them pressed their pussies together. There was less urgency this time, so they allowed themselves to savour their joining, gently rubbing against one another until they came again.

“You’ll always be my first born,” Georgia murmured. “Nothing will ever change that.”

“Love you, Mum…”

Sated, they drew the blanket across themselves and drifted into sleep.

8

It was full dark by the time Sadie and Millie reached the top of the cliff. They found themselves in a yard illuminated by a floodlight mounted on an old garage. There was a rusty car chassis lying to one side, but if this place had ever been a workshop, Sadie was sure those days were long gone.

To their surprise, they found a house a few yards away, an old stucco cottage with white walls that must have served as lodgings for generations of lighthouse keepers. And unlike most of the houses in town, this one showed signs of life. Sadie could see light behind closed curtains, and someone was making a heroic effort to sing along with “Ride Of The Valkyries”. The lighthouse itself was dark, perhaps as obsolete as the mechanics yard it neighboured.

“Should we knock on the door first?” Millie said, gesturing to the cottage. “Rita probably lives there, not the lighthouse.”

Sadie wondered if that was a good idea. It wouldn’t be easy trying to explain why a young woman and a child wearing damp clothes were knocking on doors at this hour. She could probably improvise if there was a need, but better to weigh up their options.

“Let’s try the lighthouse first,” she said. “If it’s locked, we’ll come back here and ask if Rita’s home. I’m not sure why a selkie would choose to live so far from the water. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“When Karnu said Rita was going through the change, what did he mean?”

“It’s called the menopause,” Sadie explained. “It happens to women later in life and can be very unpleasant. It’s not something you and I need to worry about for a long while, though. I’ll explain it better another time.”

They made their way over to the lighthouse. Sadie’s concern that the door would be locked proved to be unfounded, and it creaked open.

Another ominous half-open door. The last two led me into bad situations. Am I really stupid enough to fall for it a third time? I guess I am.

If there had been a safe place for Millie to wait, Sadie would have left her behind, but who knew what kind of people lived in that house?

“Stay close behind me,” she told Millie, then stepped across the threshold. She fumbled around on the wall until her fingers settled on something that might have been a switch. When a dim light filled the interior she breathed a sigh of relief. Climbing a seemingly abandoned lighthouse at night was bad enough, but climbing one in the pitch dark was guaranteed brown trouser time.

There were no windows in the lighthouse, so their trespass would hopefully go unnoticed from the nearby cottage. A metal staircase spiralled upwards and out of sight. Sadie gave a frustrated groan, then resigned herself to yet another climb. “Up again. Always up.”

So up they went.

9

When they reached the top of the staircase, even Millie was tuckered out. Sadie parked herself on the last step to get her breath back and rub her burning calves.

A smaller set of steps led up to the light chamber.

“Wait here,” Sadie told Millie and climbed up.

The chamber was darker than the staircase, the only light coming from the hatch Sadie emerged from and the moon shining through the glass canopy overhead. She wasn’t going to risk giving herself away by turning on lights up here.

Still, there was enough light to make out the shape on the floor, round the other side of the central bulb housing, although Sadie couldn’t say exactly what it was. It looked like a large chrysalis of some kind, a greyish-brown cyst that seemed to pulse with life. It reminded her of the humanoid-shaped growth that had marked the old oak back in Derwold, before Astris had abandoned the ancient tree for the seclusion of the forest.

She heard footsteps on the ladder behind her, and turned to find Millie climbing into the chamber. “I told you to wait down there,” she said without much rancour.

“I want to see,” Millie replied. “Wow. I’ve never been inside a lighthouse before.”

“I don’t think this one gets used much, by the look of it.”

“What’s that over there?” Millie said, moving round to where Sadie stood. There was something big and icky on the floor. “Sadie, what is it?”

“That,” said a voice behind them, “is my Aunt Rita.”

Soon to come: Chapter Nine!

A Note From the Author

Hello once again! Welcome to this, my third long-form story for Juicy Secrets. I’m honored and humbled at the number of people who have so graciously expressed enthusiasm for my previous work, and excitement at the prospect of the tale you’re about to read, which merges the casts of the two prior stories.

If you’ve read the novellas “Strange Brew” and “Pages From a Diary,” you already know the two exist in the same universe and share some of the same cast. There was even a taste of reunion when the Hanson family attended the funeral for Nettie Hasting’s father in “Strange Brew.” Well, in this one we’re just bringing everyone together!

Like “Pages…” and “Strange Brew,” this is a story in which sex is not the main focus. There certainly is a lot of it, much more than a typical novel would feature, but there will, at times, be entire chapters with no sexual activity. Those familiar with my work will already be aware of this, but I thought I should throw it out there. If you’re looking for a straight-up stroke story, this probably isn’t for you.

One more small warning: there are a very few instances of strictly off camera heterosexual activity. Like, a male and female character will go off somewhere and have sex. I won’t be detailing the sex, but it’ll be hinted at. Sometimes, it might involve a female character you wouldn’t expect. Hopefully not too many people will find this a showstopper. This is a story with male characters that are of importance to the plot, and men get laid too—at least so I’m told.

You will note that every chapter is prefaced with some song lyrics. Each is chosen in an attempt to highlight the themes and overall feel of a given chapter. Given the importance Nettie Hastings attaches to her beloved heavy metal as one of the lifelines she clings to when her traumatic past comes back to haunt her, it seemed apropos. However, if I were to pick an overall theme song for this story, it would be Halford’s “Silent Screams.” From the very early phases of my work on “Strange Brew,” when Nettie’s character was slowly unfolding itself in my mind, I’ve thought of it as “Nettie’s Song.” When I need to put myself in her head, I go back and listen to that.

Before I shut up and let you get to the story, I do feel the need to express my undying gratitude to Jetboy, whose truly righteous editorial work has greatly enhanced my stories. I can’t possibly say enough good things about our working relationship. Thank you so much, my friend! Also, thanks are in order for the rest of the staff at Juicy Secrets: the work you do to keep this site up and running is truly appreciated by all.

And now, it’s time to join your favorite characters from both “Strange Brew,” and “Pages From a Diary,” in this brand-new adventure. May the joy you take in reading be as great as the pleasure it gave me to write it!

Big hugs and kisses, Rachael Yukey

***

A (brief) note from JetBoy: This being a sequel to two previously posted novellas, we consider it our duty to inform you that if you have yet to read those, you may find this new story hard to comprehend in places. Also, you are guaranteed to encounter a veritable mountain of spoilers. Besides, the earlier works are great and you should read them, damn it. 

***

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

***

by Rachael Yukey

Foreword

I had such plans for the summer! Mostly to do nothing at all. It was the spring of ‘22, the ink was still drying on my hard-won PhD, and I was back in my hometown for a few months. I’m Mallory Kalvornek, by the way—some of you might have read the diary I kept back when I was in the 6th grade.

Julie and I were returning to our old stomping ground, making the trek from our home in Boulder, Colorado by car. Historically we’ve always caught a flight when returning to Minnesota, but we were planning to be there for the entire summer, and figured we’d be better off with our own set of wheels. We took turns driving, the one in the passenger seat either napping or reading to the other. That’s how our friendship started, you know: through a shared love of fantasy novels. The material has changed a bit—we’re doing hard science fiction these days—but sixteen years down the track, our favorite together activity is still reading to each other. Not counting, of course, our exploits in bed!

I’d finished grading finals a week earlier, signing off on the last of the senior recitals the day before we left. And for the first time since I was twelve, I didn’t have a summer concert schedule. Julie took a three-month sabbatical from her engineering job, and just like that, we were homeward bound.

I had it in mind to wander the family farm, and finally make the decisions I’d been putting off since Dad died two years before. We’d also meet up with old friends; maybe even have a reunion of the Pussy Posse. Julie wanted to get in some bass fishing with her dad and spend some time with her kid sister, whom we haven’t seen nearly enough of the past few years. To cap it all off, my first band had plans to converge on the old hometown and play a show in August.

As it turned out, our summer wasn’t quite as simple as that. We did get time to do the things we came to do, but don’t they say that life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans? I don’t think anyone could have predicted the sequence of events that brought Julie’s cousin Nettie face-to-face with her troubled past, carrying the rest of us along for the ride. Or that yours truly would end up with the job of compiling everyone’s stories and experiences, putting them into a comprehensible format an outsider can make sense of. Someone had to do it—this is a story worth telling.

Some of what you’re about to read I was there for, but much of it I’m relating second-hand. I had to extrapolate a lot of details from police reports and files from several federal agencies, the latter passed along to me by someone who had no business doing so, bless her delightfully wicked heart.

Come now; let me spin you a tale…

Chapter 1 

 

The evil that men do… lives on and on. 
Iron Maiden, 1988

No movement stirs the shadows beneath the glow of the few streetlamps that continue to function. No sound permeates the predawn air but the rustle of a light breeze through the surrounding pines. This is the trailer park that time forgot, a ramshackle collection of mobile homes long past their intended lifespans, many unoccupied.

Better times, the days of the bustling iron range with its attendant support industry, are now a good half century in the past. Few remain but downtrodden retirees, single moms on welfare, couples too tapped out to afford even a cheap apartment, the occasional indigent bachelor. The most exciting thing to hit this park in recent years was the taking of a trophy northern from Keenan Lake two years gone; the scariest thing the not-so-occasional pile of bear shit on someone’s lawn in the morning.

If you were to take a wrong turn off of Highway Seven onto Keenan Lake Road at this still, dark hour, you’d drive once around the outside edge of the park, see nothing to elicit interest or concern, and return posthaste the way you came.

But you would be wrong. Something malignant haunts the forest this night, as it has every night for more than a week. A sick, twisted mind has been denied what it craves for far too long, and is now biding its time, ready to seize opportunity when it strikes. Watching. Waiting. Yearning.

***

“Heather—there’s someone out there again. Heather, wake up!”

“Go ‘way, Gina.” Heather Dulcey pulled the blanket over her head and curled up tightly, trying to keep the warmth in. Mom was keeping the thermostat at sixty-four to keep the gas bill down.

“Heather, there was a man out there!” A small hand pulled the blanket down despite Heather’s too-late grab to claw it back, revealing Gina’s anxious face peering up over the edge of the top bunk, the eleven-year-old’s features just barely visible in the illumination cast by the Mickey Mouse nightlight. She was pointing urgently at the window.

The girls had the back bedroom of the two-bedroom trailer they shared with their mother and her never-ending parade of boyfriends. The trailer was backed up to the very edge of the forest, the window in question less than three feet from the encroaching pine boughs.

Heather sighed heavily. “You thought you saw someone last night, too. It’s just the bear again, Gina. Go back to sleep.”

“Bears don’t wear clothes, Heather!”

“Ugh!” Heather yanked the covers back over her head. She didn’t want to hear about some fairy-tale stalker, she wanted to sleep. The sooner she was back in dreamland, the sooner yesterday’s humiliating twelfth birthday party would cease to replay in her head, visions of unwrapping Mom’s gift while her school friends looked on—a pair of scuffed and faded thrift store pumps. The “cake” had been a box of stale day-old donuts from the Hasty Tasty in Virginia.

Tomorrow might be a little better; Mom was working at the C-store. Nominally she and Gina would be watched by Mrs. Amundson down the street, but that lady didn’t give a hoot in hell what they did or didn’t do. In the evening, though, they’d be stuck with the fat babysitter who smelled of pot and always sent them to their room so she could watch dirty stuff on her phone. Meanwhile, Mom would be out hitting the little country bars, looking for some trashy guy to keep her bed warm for the next little while. The very idea of doing it with some sleazeball you picked up in a honky-tonk gave Heather the creeps. The sooner she could go back to sleep, the sooner she could stop thinking about that stuff.

But Gina wasn’t done being a pest. “Heather, come on!”

With an annoyed groan, Heather threw the covers off and clambered down from her bunk, wincing as her feet hit the icy floor, then padded over to the window. Placing both hands against the glass, she peered out.

Nothing. No movement, save for the rustling of the pines in a light spring breeze.

Turning back to her sister, she shook her head. “There’s nothing out there, Gina. Not even the silly damn bear. Now stop being a spaz and go back to sleep.” Climbing back into her bunk with more grunts of effort than were strictly necessary, Heather resolutely pulled the covers back over her head.

***

“Thanks, doctor.” Paramedic Antoinette Hastings was speaking into her phone. ”We’ll terminate the resuscitation.”

Her eyes swept the cramped second-floor bedroom, encompassing a visibly nervous cop, an ancient four-poster bed and, finally, the woman on the floor. All skin and bones, wisps of snow-white hair, the Lucas compression machine pumping inexorably on her chest. Nettie’s EMT partner Darren knelt at the woman’s head, using a bulbous bag valve device to do the breathing for her.

They’d been in this farmhouse bedroom for over half an hour, and had even got pulses back for a few minutes. But before they could package the old lady up to carry her down the stairs and to the ambulance, her heart had stopped again.

“Sounds good,” Dr. Murphy replied. “Drop by the emergency room when you get back to town and I’ll give you your signatures.”

Tucking her phone back into the left front pocket of her navy blue tactical pants, Nettie turned to her partner. “All right,” she said, “we’re done here. Kill the Lucas, and check pulses one more time.”

As Darren hit the pause button on the compression machine, Nettie dropped to her knees, resting a hand on Denise Lawson’s thigh. She’d been to this house a half dozen times over the last year, as emphysema had rendered the lady increasingly infirm. Nettie admitted to herself that she’d grown rather fond of the acerbic, quick-witted old bird.

Darren was pressing two fingers against the emaciated neck. His eyes widened. “Uh… Nettie?”

Nettie’s mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. She’s back. Guess we’d better haul ass, huh?”

Two minutes later they were bolting through the kitchen with their charge, Darren carrying the foot end of the longboard, Nettie and the brown-clad policeman at the head. Denise’s husband Harold, sitting at the table with his head bowed and tears on his cheeks, looked up, startled. He’d already resigned himself to his wife’s passing.

“We got pulses back,” Nettie tossed off without breaking stride. “We’re taking her to the hospital.”

“P-pulses?” the elderly gentleman stammered. Nettie kept right on going. As they strode across the lawn in the chilly Minnesota moonlight, she glanced at the monitor, propped between the withered twigs masquerading as legs.

“Get a load of her pressure,” she said.

“I saw that,” said Darren. “One twenty-seven over seventy-three. Rate looks good, too. Think we actually have a shot here?”

“She hasn’t so much as twitched,” Nettie replied as they reached the ambulance. “She’s not trying to breathe under her own power, either. I still don’t think we’re getting a good outcome.”

The comatose woman was shoved into the rig through the back doors, Darren hauling himself in right behind. Nettie turned to the sheriff’s deputy. “Any chance you could drive?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Nettie. I’m flying solo tonight. Can’t leave my squad behind.”

“Shit,” Nettie muttered. “All right, then, do me a favor. Go back upstairs, pick up all the crap we left behind, including the garbage, and bring it to Pinewood. I don’t wanna waste time here retrieving it.”

“That I can do.”

Nettie nodded once, then hoisted herself in through the back doors, slamming them behind.

“No driver?” Darren asked, not taking his eyes from the pressure bag he was pumping up over a fresh bag of saline.

“No, but he’s gonna bring our stuff to the hospital.” Nettie’s eyes roved across the monitor, the bag valve bubble that Darren was still squeezing every six seconds, and the Lucas machine secured across the old woman’s chest.

“I think you’re pretty set back here,” Darren replied. “I spiked you a new bag, and powered up the vent. Everything is where you can reach it from the bench.”

Nettie turned her attention to the ventilator, punching a couple of buttons and adjusting a dial. Then she handed the end of the vent tubing to Darren. “Go ahead and hook her up to this, then get us moving. It’s twenty minutes back to civilization.” She took her place, ass hitting the bench seat with an audible plop. Darren stripped off his gloves, dropping them into the trash as he exited through the side door.

Reaching across the patient, Nettie plucked the radio mic from its clip as the ambulance eased into motion. “Thormleton 3520 to Pinewood.”

“Pinewood hospital, go ahead.”

Nettie gave a rapid-fire account of everything that had transpired since her phone conversation with the doctor, pausing only to instruct her partner up front to hold off on the siren until she was done with her report. It wasn’t like anyone was out cruising these back-country roads at the shank of the morning, anyway.

“We’ll be there in about twenty minutes,” she finished, “so you have time to call in the cavalry.”

“Most of the on-call people are already here,” the deep male voice of Nettie’s favorite ED nurse rumbled. “We have a sick anesthetist, but the new anesthesiology resident is coming in. We’re ready for you, Nettie.”

Nettie hung the mic up, eyes continuing to rove the equipment, absently noting the siren beginning to howl. Her mind was racing, trying to think of anything she could do to improve the odds. The monitor began a strident wailing. She fastened her eyes upon the device. A series of tall, wide, regular humps chased each other across the screen, replaced a moment later by a chaotic, disorganized waveform.

“Fuck!” Nettie felt around for a carotid pulse, fingers rapidly confirming what she already knew. But for the first time since they’d squeezed their way into that tiny farmhouse bedroom, she had a shockable rhythm.

She hit the charge button on the monitor, pressing the start control on the Lucas with the other hand. The siren cut out. “Need help back there, Nettie?” Darren called from the driver’s seat.

“No, keep going. She just went into vfib, but I’ve got this.” The siren sounded again. The monitor let out a loud beep as it reached full charge. Nettie paused the Lucas, feeling slightly foolish at the urge to yell ‘clear’. No one back here but you, dumbass. She hit the shock button, watching the patient’s body convulse. Not waiting to see how the rhythm reorganized, she fired up the Lucas again.

Pausing the machine two minutes later, she focused her gaze on the monitor. Back to a normal rhythm. Probing fingers located a strong carotid pulse, but there was still no sign of neurological response. Nettie shone a penlight into the eyes; first left, then right. Fixed and dilated. Shit. 

She felt the ambulance slow, turn left and accelerate smoothly as Darren pulled them out onto state highway 37, just two miles shy of Johnstown. It’s really true; time flies when you’re having this much goddamn fun. 

***

Five minutes later, Nettie was just rising from the bench when the back doors popped open from the outside. The garage door had yet to roll down, and Darren hadn’t even had time to get out of the cab. The portly, bushy-bearded nurse Nettie had spoken to on the radio stood waiting for her.

“Santa comes early,” she quipped as she hauled her tired ass towards the open doors.

‘Santa Claus Sam’, as Samuel Harvey (RN, BSN) was known to almost everyone, uttered a deep belly laugh that reverberated even over the racket of the garage door trundling down on rickety tracks. Nettie dropped to the poured concrete garage floor just as the front door of the ambulance slammed. Darren rounded the back of the rig at a fast walk.

“She coded again about ten minutes after I last talked to you,” Nettie reported as they pulled the cot out. “Vfib arrest, so I shocked her for the first time in the whole goddamn code. Got her back on the first try.”

By this time they were power-walking the cot through the double doors into the emergency department, making haste for the large stabilization room near the nurses station at the end of the hall. A small army of on-call personnel were waiting for them there. The monitor wailed again, and three sets of eyes fixed on its screen.

“Christ,” said Nettie, feeling for a pulse as Sam and Darren continued to push the cot down the hall, “she’s down again, and the rhythm isn’t shockable.” She started up the Lucas for the last time that night.

Dr. Murphy was at the forefront of the horde waiting for them outside of the stabe room. “She just coded again,” Nettie informed her en passant, as they wheeled the cot through the door. “I lost her in the ambulance ten minutes ago, had vfib, shocked once, got ROSC. But now we’re in asystole.”

Dr. Murphy’s lips twisted. “Just bring the ultrasound straight in,” she called out.

A minute with the ultrasound confirmed what they all suspected… no cardiac activity. “You’ve been working this for what, an hour now?” Dr. Murphy wanted to know.

Nettie nodded weakly from where she leaned against the door jam, suddenly exhausted now that her part in this was done. “About that.”

“All right,” said the doctor, “Let’s get the anesthesiologist in here to verify device placement. I’m sorry, what’s her name… Dr. Fletcher?” Something about that twigged at Nettie, but her weary brain failed to assimilate it, and she barely even registered the brisk young woman who brushed past her.

The curvy form bent over the emaciated figure that had yet to be removed from the ambulance cot. Something about the movement of the scrubs-clad body caught Nettie’s attention, and she straightened.

“Tube’s good, IO is good,” the compact, curvy redheaded woman in pink scrubs proclaimed. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.” At the sound of that voice, Nettie found herself breaking into a grin, despite the unfortunate circumstances. The pink scrubs pivoted to face the door, and the corners of Hannah Fletcher’s mouth twitched upwards. “Sounds to me like the whole thing has been handled perfectly. Not that I’m surprised.”

Nettie suppressed the smile that threatened to consume her entire face, but her eyes were shining.

The entire exchange seemed to go right over Dr. Murphy’s head. “Can anyone think of a reason to not call it?” she wanted to know. Her eyes roved the tired faces; nurses, ED techs, a respiratory therapist. A few heads shook. Nobody spoke.

“All right then,” said Doctor Murphy, stripping off her gloves. “Time of death two twenty-eight. And very well done to the ambulance crew.”

Nettie ducked into the hallway, knowing that it would be a few minutes before they could start retrieving their equipment, and hardly able to contain herself. Moments later the lithe pink-scrubbed redhead glided through the door, stopping in front of Nettie and gripping her arms.

“Hannah!” Nettie exclaimed, eyes dancing at the sight of her lover. “What the hell are you doing here?”

***

“She was a cantankerous old bitch, but I liked her,” said Nettie, taking a cautious sip of steaming coffee.

Hannah shook her head. “I learned while I was shadowing the ER in medical school that emergency medicine isn’t for me. You tried to save her for an hour, got her back three times, lost her anyway—and then you were like ‘okay, back to work’. On a patient you knew and liked. I’m not wired that way.”

Nettie took another sip, then tilted her head back to gaze at the ceiling. “You hit a point where losing someone as old and sick as she was doesn’t bother you too much. It’s a little sad, ’cause I knew her, but it’s pretty easy to shrug off. Little kids are the worst. I couldn’t do what you did in Minneapolis, working with sick children every day.”

“It’s different in anesthesiology,” said Hannah. “Most patients, I’m with them for only a few minutes, and then one of my CRNAs takes over. There’s a certain detachment, and I’m not the one running the code if things go wrong. Hell, I haven’t run a code since I was an intern. When I renew my ACLS every two years, I’m learning everything all over again. My level of care is higher than yours, but I can’t do what you do. Come to think of it, don’t you teach ACLS?”

“Yeah,” said Nettie with a shaky laugh. She leaned forward across the narrow table. “Forget about that—what are you doing here, anyway?”

The two women were seated at the kitchen table in Hannah’s two-bedroom apartment in Johnstown. Unpacked boxes decorated the living room, which at the moment sported a sofa as its only piece of furniture. It was just after seven-thirty this foggy Saturday morning.

“Well,” Hannah said with an easy grin, “Bethany has been pestering me for a couple of years to get us out of the city. Says she wants to live closer to nature. Then there’s us—I hope I’m not being too forward, but I think you and I are right on the edge of something really special, and we’ll never find out if our relationship has legs while we’re living three hours apart. Besides, my fellowship is up at Children’s.”

She sipped at her coffee, then gave a long sigh. “They offered to renew my contract, with a path towards attending. The problem is that there are a finite number of permanent positions, and they’re full for the foreseeable future. Nobody is getting an attending anesthesiology job at Children’s until someone retires or dies, and that’s likely to be decades down the road. So when I saw there was a residency close to where you live, I jumped on it.”

“Wait a minute.” Nettie leaned back in her chair, brow furrowing. “Since when did Pinewood keep anesthesiologists on staff? It’s always been nurse anesthetists, and they get their oversight remotely from larger facilities.”

“New thing,” said Hannah, her smile brightening the room. “Pinewood is looking to expand their surgical capabilities. Historically they’ve only done general surgery, but they’re getting set up to branch into ortho, then more if it goes well. If they’re going to do that and meet state requirements, they need an anesthesiologist in-house. They’re calling it a residency for now because they don’t know how it’s going to go, but I’m in charge of anesthesia for this hospital as of yesterday morning. If the program seems to be working out in twelve months, and I decide I want to stay, the position becomes permanent.”

Almost of its own volition, Nettie’s hand darted across the table, capturing Hannah’s in a vise grip. “Hannah, that’s great! Why didn’t you tell me, damn it?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Guess I managed it—just not the way I had in mind.” She lowered her gaze for a moment, then raised her eyes to meet Nettie’s. “I’m not jumping the gun here, am I? I mean, where you and I are concerned?”

Nettie found herself fighting tears. “Christ, no. Hannah—I’ve been agonizing over this for weeks. How we’re going to find out if we have what I think we do. You just solved it for me. But this—is it really what you want? It has to be a pay downgrade, for one thing.”

Hannah shrugged. “It is, but I’m an anesthesiologist. It’s not like I’m getting paid crap, and housing costs less here. A lot less. Besides, working here, I’m in charge. At a big city hospital, I’d be looking at decades of work and a lot of office politics before that happened. It’s a reasonable trade-off, especially if it means being close to you.”

Nettie sniffled, wiped a bit of moisture from the corners of her eyes, then gripped her cup again. “You don’t know what it means to me, that you would do this. I’m gonna make you so happy you never want to leave.”

Hannah chuckled. “You fucking better.” She reached across the table, prying loose Nettie’s coffee cup hand, squeezing both extremities tightly.

“So,” Nettie went on, doing her best to get a handle on her emotions, “when is Bethany getting here?”

“Her dad took a couple weeks vacation to come up and stay with her while she finishes the school year,” Hannah replied. “Then she’ll be going to Iowa with him. She stays with him for the first few weeks of every summer vacation anyway. She’ll be here at the end of the month. She’s excited. Much as she loves spending time with her dad, I think she’s a little frustrated to not be coming here with me straight away.”

“What about your house?”

“I’m renting it to a college friend of mine. It’s for the cost of mortgage and taxes, so I’m just breaking even, but it gives her a decent place to live while she starts her new job, and it buys me a little time in case I end up back in the metro. Let’s talk about you. How’s the DEA thing going?”

“Very part-time, for the moment,” said Nettie. “I’m mostly analyzing data, going through evidence and picking out clues. The agent who recruited me was right; I’m pretty good at it. I told them I’d like to ease my way in—I’m not sure when I’m going to be ready to transition out of EMS, or if I even want to. Right now, Bridgette Ramscone is just sending me stuff her agents on the ground are batting zero with.”

Extricating one of her hands, Nettie took a long sip of coffee. “Look, Hannah—I can’t stay. I’m on call for Bronning from nine to two and besides, I have to help set up for a party. Terry Wilder officially takes over as Bronning Ambulance director on Monday, and we’re throwing a… retirement thing for Robbie Wachinsky this afternoon.”

Hannah grimaced. “It’s what—a thirty minute drive home?”

“Closer to forty. That’s why I mostly work consecutive shifts.”

“I do not understand how you manage that.”

Nettie shrugged. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. We’re in Johnstown, not Minneapolis. It’s not that busy. Last night was a shitshow, but if I was on today, I’d just sleep until the next call went out. I’d probably get more sleep if I was staying onshift, because right now I have to go back to Bronning and help get this goddamn party set up.”

“Damn,” Hannah said with a grin. “I was going to offer to let you crash here, with a little climax therapy as a sleep aid.”

Nettie laughed out loud. “Well—it’s Saturday morning. Are you off for the weekend?”

“I’m covering for a sick on–call anesthetist until noon.”

“Perfect,” said Nettie, getting up and shrugging into her jacket. “The party starts at four. Food, cake, the usual bullshit. Why don’t you come as my guest? And spend tonight at my place. Climax therapy can work both ways, you know.”

“Sounds great.” Hannah saw Nettie to the door, standing on tiptoes to kiss the much taller woman.

“Whoa,” said Nettie, leaning backwards. “I can’t promise what my breath is gonna smell like.”

“As if I care,” Hannah growled, looping hands around her lover’s neck and pulling her down by main force. Lips engaged, tongues danced. Finally, reluctantly, they separated.

“I’ll see you this afternoon,” Nettie breathed.

“Count on it,” Hannah got out. “God, I so want to shove my hand down the front of your pants right now.”

“Save that thought,” Nettie replied. It took all the willpower she possessed to walk out the door.

***

Terrance Wilder sat in his home office, staring at a blank computer screen.

It hadn’t been blank two minutes before, but he’d just wiped the document and started over. Not that it was gone forever, mind you. It was lurking somewhere in the bowels of his PC, patiently awaiting its moment in the sun.

Oughta just scrub the goddamn thing, he mused. It’s shitty word salad that’s best relegated to somebody’s compost heap. 

Writer’s block, he’d always thought, was something that happened to other people. He’d never had the slightest problem coming up with ideas, or stringing those ideas out into words. Ever since he’d first tried his hand at fiction at the tender age of seven, it had been easy. It was easy until his life got turned upside down.

So what if you haven’t finished a novel in four years, or sold a script in almost three? The practical part of his mind insisted. It’s not like you need the money there, stud.

Except, of course, it wasn’t about the money anymore. The work came to define you. Your identity got wrapped up in it, to say nothing of your pride.

Impatiently shoving his chair back from the desk, Terry stood, laced his fingers behind his head, and stretched. Sounds filtered into his consciousness, the ever-present resonations of daily life. A car driving by outside the palatial 19th-century home he’d bought four years previously. Little-girl babble emanating from the living room, those of his youngest two daughters mingled with their friend Allison from across the street. The tapping of keys on a laptop; that would be his eldest daughter Halee.

His ever-alert mind wondered momentarily why he couldn’t hear anything of Naomi, his second-eldest. A twinge of panic set in, and was ruthlessly suppressed. He recognized the incipient signs of PTSD, the lingering after-effect of having almost lost Halee to armed thugs almost two months before. Naomi is at her friend Chelsey’s house, moron. She’s fine. Don’t borrow trouble.

It was easier said than done; Terry was self-aware enough to know that he had a problem here. He redirected the way he always did, forcing his mind to the immediate task at hand. Two days hence he’d be officially taking over as the head of the Bronning ambulance squad. There was no particular distinction in holding administrative dominion over a dippy small-town EMS service, but for him, there was a certain symbolism involved. It was one thing to be a volunteer EMT in a town to which he had only the most tenuous connection; quite another to accept a leadership role that would involve active participation in city politics. It made he and his kids a part of Bronning, in a way that nothing else thus far had.

In the meantime, there was the retirement party for his predecessor, just hours ahead. He was expected to give a speech, and was ready for it. At least THAT was easy to write, he thought with bitter irony. He gave silent thanks that he wasn’t expected to oversee the party prep; that was being handled by long–time EMT volunteer and city council member Lori Henderson, who had championed him for the director’s position.

Shaking off the vapors, he stepped out into the hallway, the ancient solid-wood door thudding shut behind him. A few steps down the hall brought him into the living room, where three little girls briefly glanced up at his arrival. Halee, seated at the dining nook table, gave him a small wave without glancing up from her laptop. The two dogs were curled up together on the couch, Halee’s little Boston terrier dwarfed by the hirsute bulk of the family golden retriever.

Picking his way cautiously through a deadly scattering of Legos across the floor, Terry made his way to his record library. He selected a Barto recording of 18th century lute music, carefully settled it onto the turntable, placed the needle on the record and turned the stereo up.

As he settled into his recliner, the animated chatter of three small creatures hard at work on new Lego creations combined with the classical music to soothe his jangled nerves. Even the rattle-clack of Halee’s assault on her laptop keyboard took on a comfortable sort of logic. He thought again of his deepening ties to this place he now called home, and his inability to generate new fiction seemed less important than it had ten minutes before.

Things could be worse, he thought, as he closed his eyes and let the music take over.

***

The malignance is a denizen of darkness, a creature that lays plans and does its work in the murky depths of the night. In the day, it slumbers, undisturbed by dreams. And two girls have a tea party on the lawn using a plastic service so ancient the colors have washed and faded, mere yards from where the creature lurked only hours before. Under the rays of the late spring sun, even Gina has become convinced that what she thought she’d seen amongst the pines was nothing more than the residue of a nightmare.

Soon to come: Chapter Two!

by Debbie L

Part Two: Secrets and Lies

Diane Baxter was a woman of many secrets, and a chequered history to go with them.

She’d always known she was bisexual, with a heavy leaning toward females. Her curiosity towards other girls had manifested itself from a very young age. At school, she had massive crushes on older female teachers, and often tried to steal glances up girls’ skirts to get a peek at their knickers.

When a teacher caught Diane playing I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours with a pretty little friend in the Wendy House, it came as quite a shock to learn that such behaviour was frowned upon.

The teacher had taken young Diane aside and explained that it simply wasn’t the kind of thing good little girls do, especially at school. From that day forth, Diane knew to keep her desires a secret.

Home life wasn’t much better. Her father could only be described as aggressively conservative in his thinking, and her mother had always been obsessed with keeping up precious middle-class appearances. By the time she’d reached thirteen, Diane had buried herself so far back in the closet she was practically in Narnia. Sure, she’d had pretend boyfriends at school to keep up the act, but her true passion was for other girls, or attractive older women.

At seventeen, a careless incident led to Diane’s hasty departure. She’d just discovered she was pregnant with Chloe, and despite her tender years, this development was much to her parents’ delight. They thought their daughter had finally grown out of her ‘strange teen phases,’ as her father put it, and was ready to live life as a normal young woman.

Her so-called boyfriend was less than thrilled by the prospect of impending fatherhood, but those reservations paled in comparison to the utter shock of returning home from work one Saturday to discover Diane, sweaty and naked, frantically scissoring with his sweet, innocent, and apparently wholly enthusiastic thirteen-year-old sister on her Backstreet Boys duvet.

To buy his silence, Diane was forced to promise she wouldn’t make any claims for child support. He, in turn, would not be expected to have any part of Chloe’s life, which suited him just fine.

It was a scared, tearful Diane who went home and told her mum and dad she was in need of a change, and wanted to strike out on her own. So she packed her bags and went to stay with her aunt and uncle in Bristol.

Over the next few years, during Chloe’s infancy, Diane gradually worked her way South East, scrimping, saving, struggling, working shitty low-income jobs and relying on the kindness of friends. She eventually found herself working two jobs to manage the rent on a modest two-bedroom property. Her parents helped where they could, but Diane made an effort not to rely on them too often. It was a constant struggle, but she was keeping her head above water. Mostly.

Then the clouds finally lifted, and the bright, bright sun that shone down illuminated Diane’s life in ways she could never have imagined.

The day she’d walked into that dance studio, little Chloe’s hand in hers. The day she’d spied that pretty thirty-something blonde and her beautiful, vivacious nine-year-old daughter. She never dreamed she would find such special friends, or such a willing, adventurous, sexually daring young playmate.

Diane shared none of Mel’s guilt at the prospect of seducing AJ. Having had plenty of female lovers over the years, both young and old, she’d instantly recognised the attraction Mel felt toward Chloe. Diane had never tried to hide who she was from her daughter, and had long ago decided that Chloe was free to explore her own sexuality, a luxury she’d never known at that tender age.

***

AJ, as it happened, had practically invited Diane to seduce her. She was ten by this point, and one evening during a movie, she’d decided to snuggle with Diane under a shared blanket. She liked having her mum’s friend’s soft, warm body pressed up against hers, and the subtle fragrance of the woman’s natural scent made her feel… tingly.

They were cuddling in a large recliner, as were Mel and Chloe on the adjacent sofa. AJ had one lithe leg thrown over Diane, and was perfectly content to feel a soft hand trail lightly down her side, then lower still over hip and thigh. She mewled with delight when Diane delved underneath her t-shirt, finding and stroking a tiny nipple. A shudder of lust and excitement ran through AJ’s body as Diane rolled the stiff treat between thumb and forefinger.

With a blissful sigh, AJ gave Diane a knowing, secretive smile, an unmistakable green light for the woman to continue. She was enjoying the sensations coursing through her young body, and found herself eager for more.

“Is this okay, poppet?” Diane whispered, the words inaudible to Chloe and Mel beneath the noisy soundtrack of Tangled.

“Uh-huh,” AJ murmured sweetly, nestling closer as Diane’s hand slid back down and over her thigh, pausing to cup a delightful bottom that was clad only in tight shorty knickers.

She gave AJ’s bum a squeeze, then allowed her finger to stray beneath to lightly stroke the little girl’s camel-toe. Diane’s breath nearly caught in her throat as a surge of helpless lust washed over her. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for release.

AJ lifted a knee, enabling Mum’s friend to trail a hand over her warm, tingling kitty. Bringing her mouth to Di’s ear, the ten-year-old whispered, “I touch myself there like all the time, but it feels lots better when you do it.”

Cuddled up on the couch opposite, Mel and Chloe were munching popcorn and laughing at the movie, completely oblivious to the sexy shenanigans going on just a few feet away. Mel was still trying to convince herself that she really fancied her friend, not her friend’s underage daughter.

“Shall I carry on then, sweetheart?” Diane whispered to AJ. “Do you want me to?”

“Mmm, yes, please. Don’t stop.”

Then the ten-year-old stunned Diane completely by reaching under the blanket to push the back of her canary yellow shorties down over her delectable little arse, allowing Diane free, unrestricted access.

“You got fleas or something, Amy?” said Mel with a chuckle, noticing her daughter’s movements. “If she’s annoying you, Di, just push her off. She’s a proper pain in the bum when she gets fidgety.”

“N-no, she’s fine, honestly. Just having herself a stretch, aren’t you, poppet? Don’t listen to mean old Mum.”

AJ smirked, then followed that with a covert wink.

Christ, she really does want me to touch her, an astonished Diane mused. Go easy, though, Di. Don’t fuck this up, ‘cause you probably won’t get another chance.

It had been ages since Diane had touched a girl so young, and she had to suppress a whimper as her fingers found AJ’s moist, impossibly smooth slit. She explored the little girl with slow, easy strokes, coating her fingers in a sheen of wetness. AJ rocked her hips as discreetly as possible, biting down on her bottom lip as the older woman slipped the tip of a finger inside. Diane cupped the child’s bum with her free hand as she gently finger-fucked the pretty ten-year-old.

AJ placed a hand on one of Diane’s pert breasts and began to knead it. She desperately wanted to touch between the woman’s legs, but Diane was wearing a tight pair of jeans and she didn’t want to give this wonderful new game away by attracting her mum’s attention.

Much to the disappointment of AJ and Diane, their intimate moment was brought to an abrupt end when Chloe announced, “I need to pee. Can we pause it, please?”

Diane hastily withdrew her finger from AJ’s cunt as Mel found her feet and said, “I’m gonna make a quick cuppa.” She padded into the kitchen, leaving AJ and Diane alone.

AJ seized the opportunity to hike her shorts back up, wearing a conspiratorial grin. Diane smiled back, then licked her fingers clean of the little girl’s essence, savouring the exquisite musky flavour. AJ’s eyes went wide at that. “Whoa,” she breathed.

“That was so good, poppet,” Di cooed. “Thank you so much. You’re just so beautiful and sexy.”

“Mmm, I loved it, too,” AJ agreed. “You can touch me anytime you want, Diane. I mean it. Oh, and we can think of lots of other things to do, as well. Uh… if you want to, that is. I definitely want to.”

“Oh, baby girl, that sounds wonderful.” Diane took a quick look to be sure the coast was clear, then leaned in to kiss AJ for the first time. “You can’t ever tell your mum or Chloe about this, though. It has to be our secret. Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” whispered AJ earnestly, scribing a large X across her chest for good measure.

***

After that first episode, Diane and AJ were off to the races. Any chance the pair got, they were at it, kissing and touching at every sneaky opportunity, fucking when time allowed.

AJ was an apt pupil, every bit as willing to give as she was to receive. She took to lesbian sex like a duck to water, and on numerous occasions Di called in sick while AJ feigned illness from school, so they could spend a few torrid hours in bed together. On one occasion, AJ licked and fingered Diane to orgasm in the ladies loo of a Marks & Spencer. Diane stuffed her knickers in her mouth to stifle the moans.

The ten-year-old was insatiable, and Diane was more than happy to oblige. Nothing was off limits; every curiosity indulged, explored and satisfied.

That is, until one fateful day at Diane’s house when, in their haste for a quickie, they foolishly forgot to lock the bathroom door.

The four of them were enjoying another movie night. Diane had made some excuse to go upstairs. Not long after that, AJ claimed she needed the toilet. Mel had been too engrossed in her phone to think much of it, but after several long minutes had passed without either Diane or AJ reappearing, Chloe had grown suspicious. Telling Mel she was going for a pee, she promptly set off upstairs to investigate.

Upon opening the bathroom door, she was shocked to discover her mum pressing AJ up against the counter. The two of them were deep in the throes of passion, their tongues sparring, each with a hand buried in the other’s knickers.

Chloe had long harboured suspicions, and now they were confirmed – Her best friend and her own mother were lovers! But far from being appalled, Chloe found the idea thrilling. She savoured the sight, marvelling at how utterly sexy they looked together. “I knew it!” she gasped. “I bloody knew it!”

Chloe was no stranger to watching her mother have sex. Before they’d met Mel and AJ, Diane frequently had a work friend over for dinner, an attractive woman in her early forties named Jane who Choe had always liked.

That first time, after she’d been sent off to bed, Chloe had tiptoed to the top of the stairs, peeking through the banister rails. She’d watched, rapt, as the two women kissed, undressed one another and then fucked right there on the couch. She loved how hot they looked together, and the wet sounds of sex, accompanied by their lustful moans, thrilled her to the core. She couldn’t help but touch herself as she peered down, unable to tear her eyes away from the lewd spectacle.

Consequently, Chloe had developed a taste for lesbian love, voyeurism, and older women. Needless to say, Diane was well aware of her daughter’s crush on Mel.

Chloe boldly walked into the bathroom, ignoring the looks of shock and panic on her mum’s and AJ’s faces. Drawing close to the two lovers, she grasped AJ’s arse, kneading her firm buttocks. Despite nearly three years of sleepovers, the two girls had never so much as kissed, so AJ was understandably confused.

“Well,” said Chloe. “Seeing as you two are getting off with each other, I think it’s only fair I have some fun with your mum, AJ. But right now…” She thrust her tongue into AJ’s mouth before her friend could object, kissing her hungrily. AJ briefly froze, then melted into the exchange, returning the kiss with equal fervour, her tongue dancing with Chloe’s.

A surge of renewed lust snapped Diane out of her stupor. She was getting incredibly turned on at the sight of the two pre-teens making out so passionately. Since her hand was still buried in AJ’s knickers, she returned to jilling the young blonde. In the meantime, Diane continued to rock her own aching cunt on the girl’s busy fingers.

“You two have fun,” Chloe purred as she broke the kiss, trailing her fingers down AJ’s arm. And with that, she strutted from the bathroom and made her way back downstairs. Perfect! she thought, all kinds of naughty ideas forming in her head.

This little discovery would pave the way for Chloe to get exactly what she wanted – AJ’s mum. And about time! Now she, along with Diane and AJ, needed to lay  plans for a pre-emptive strike. If they timed it right, Mel would be hers before long.

It was pure serendipity that sent Diane on a course so close to AJ’s grandparents’ home during the half-term week, and as predicted, Mel asked if AJ could travel home with her. Diane agreed, but the next stage of the plan would require an overnight stay that Mel was not yet aware of.

***

Back in the here and now, Mel found herself being awakened from a light sleep in the most delightful way. Chloe was caressing her skin and peppering her face with soft, fluttering kisses.

The two of them were still tangled together on the couch, basking in the aftermath of their first lovemaking session.

“Hey, pretty baby,” Mel murmured with a lazy smile. “What time is it?” She pulled a sleep-tousled Chloe close and kissed her deeply, grabbing a handful of the girl’s lustrous, tumbling curls.

“Almost midnight,” Chloe replied. “I’ve been trying to wake you up for a while so we can go to bed – it’s not very comfortable on this sofa. And I really need to pee.”

Mel stretched her arms out in a yawn. “C’mon then, let’s turn in.” She gave the twelve-year-old a wry grin. “I don’t think you’ll be needing AJ’s room, do you?”

Chloe shook her head. “I want to spend the night with you, Mel.”

They shared the bathroom with no awkwardness or shyness. Melanie was surprised to discover that watching Chloe pee was one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen, and made a mental note to explore that particular kink further. They swapped playful kisses with mouthfuls of foaming toothpaste, laughing and blissfully happy.

Moments later, In the soft lamplight of the bedroom, Mel lay naked waiting for her little lover. Her pulse began to race as the girl entered the room. Yes, Chloe was a child, but there was little in the way of innocence about her. She was already as skilled a lover as many women two or three times her age. Now Mel was about to claim her prize – the girl she’d yearned for.

Chloe padded catlike over to the foot of the bed, climbing agilely onto the soft mattress. Her eyes locked on to Mel’s as she began kissing her way up the woman’s leg, paying careful attention to the sweet spots behind her knees and silken inner thighs. She could smell the rich, musky scent of her older lover’s arousal. It made her mouth water, her pussy throbbing with anticipation.

Mel draped a leg over Chloe’s shoulder and raised her hips, offering what she had to the beautiful little girl, desperate to be pleasured.

Chloe began to pepper Mel’s dripping pussy in tender kisses, coating her lips in the thick, warm juices. A blissful sigh escaped her lips as she slipped her tongue between those soft petals, treating Mel’s sex to a long, luxurious French kiss. Slipping both hands under Mel’s thighs, Chloe pressed her mouth tightly against her lover’s cunt.

Mel twined her fingers through the child’s hair, a breathless, orgasmic cry escaping her lips.

***

As the October sun began to rise, Mel awoke, her arms still twined around the sleeping twelve-year-old. She kissed the child’s brow, breathing in her unique scent. That familiar, delicious warmth began to smoulder between her thighs once more, her stomach filling with excited butterflies.

Chloe began to stir, too. Flipping the duvet to one side, Mel began to nuzzle the girl’s hips and thighs before seeking out her beautiful silken pussy. Chloe effortlessly slipped beneath her older lover, burying her face in Mel’s wet, swollen sex.

Yet again, Mel was gobsmacked. How had this child learned her skills as a lover? She had no idea, and wasn’t sure she wanted to know. All that mattered was that they were here now, enjoying a delightfully sweaty, naughty morning frolic.

Afterward, the scent of sex hung thick in the air. Mel could’ve easily lounged in bed with Chloe for the rest of the day, but she finally decided it was time to get her arse in gear.

“I’m going to take a shower, baby, then how do you fancy eggs and bacon, followed by some retail therapy?”

“Sounds like the perfect day to me, as long as I’m with you,” Chloe replied, stretching languidly.

Twenty minutes later Mel was at the stove, dancing barefoot to the radio in nothing but an old AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of skimpy pink knickers.

Chloe came downstairs freshly showered, damp hair hanging down her back. She hopped up onto a barstool. “Hey, Mel. I thought you might like to peel these off me later. You seemed to rather like them, if I remember right.”

“Peel what?” Mel turned, then promptly dropped her spatula, which clattered on the kitchen floor. Chloe was brazenly spreading her legs apart, a familiar pair of Little Mermaid knickers pulled tightly over her puffy mound.

“I brought Snow White, Sleeping Beauty and Rapunzel with me, too,” Chloe smirked.

Mel turned the hob off. The bacon could wait. She advanced towards the saucy little minx. “Fuck… you sexy, delicious little girl. C’mere.”

This was going to be an epic few days. Mel just knew it.

***

You’ll never find The Wayfarer Hotel in the phonebook, or any of the travel sites, for that matter. There’s not even a sign outside to indicate its existence. It’s a modest twelve room affair, and if you ever passed it on the street, you’d be forgiven for assuming it was just another apartment building. It caters to a very select, exclusively female clientele, and in the correct circles is known to be very “family and child friendly”.

Diane had been introduced to Evangeline and Rose MacGregor, the hotel owners, when she was nineteen. A friend of Diane’s aunt had taken a shine to the girl and whisked her, along with eighteen-month-old Chloe, down to the South Coast for a dirty weekend.

Diane had wound up staying with the two lovely Scottish ‘spinsters’ for the next two years, lovingly referring to them as Mum and Ma. She worked for them in return for food, a roof over her head and childcare for Chloe, plus a modest wage.

Even now, her bond with the two mature lesbians was strong as ever, so it was there that Diane decided to bring AJ for a night of debauchery.

As planned, Amy’s grandfather had dropped her off in front of the hotel at midday, and a beaming Diane ran out to greet her. AJ, despite only being twelve, already stood head to head with Diane at 5 ft 2, and with her stylish biker jacket, sunglasses and tousled blonde hair, she could easily pass for sixteen if you didn’t look too closely.

The two of them didn’t even attract a second glance as they hugged outside the hotel lobby. They decided to grab lunch before heading back to The Wayfarer for stage two of their plan, which would result in a much longed-for night, just the two of them.

“Have you heard from Chlo and Mum?” AJ asked as she and Diane walked hand in hand to the closest eatery. “Any idea what they’re up to?”

“At it like crazy, if Chloe’s texts are anything to go by,” Diane told her. “She’s fancied your mum for ages. By the sounds of it, she’s not been disappointed.”

“Yeah, I got the same impression when she texted me,” AJ agreed. “I’m so pleased for Mum. It’s about time they finally did it. God, all those pictures they’ve sent each other! I never would’ve guessed Mum’s a smoothie. Looks sexy as hell on her, too.”

Diane smiled. “Looks like Chloe isn’t the only one who fancies your mum…”

“Are you joking?” AJ exclaimed, going into a mock-swoon. “I’ve wanted to fuck her ever since I figured out I liked girls. It’ll never happen, but it’s fun to dream.” She flashed her older lover a smile. “Let’s go get our room. I feel like letting you have your way with me.”

When they returned to the hotel, Evangeline, Evie to her friends, was overjoyed to see Diane.

“Diane, ma wee bonny lassy, it’s been tae long!” Evie exclaimed as she pulled the petite brunette in for a long motherly hug.

Evie was a curvy lady in her early fifties. Her face was etched with laughter lines, her hair dyed shocking pink.

Diane hugged her back, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes. “Hiya, Ma. It’s so good to see you again.”

“And who’s this wee beauty?” Evie gushed, inspecting AJ as if she were a fine work of art. “Oh, Diane, ya lucky bitch. She’s gorgeous, and och, such beautiful little titties, too.”

AJ blushed furiously at the older woman’s unashamed admiration.

“This is Amy,” Diane said. She smiled down at the pretty twelve-year-old, who beamed right back at her. “My girlfriend.”

Diane had never used that term to describe AJ before. It felt so good to finally say it out loud.

“It’s just ‘AJ,’ really,” the twelve-year-old said. She offered the woman a polite handshake, but was instantly drawn into a rough hug. She decided she liked Evie.

Evie knitted her brow in mock disapproval. “Ye’ll be Amy while yer here, young missy,” she insisted with a grin. “And expect plenty of cuddles from Rose too, when the daft cow gets back from Tesco’s.” She turned back to Di. “And how’s ma wee Chloe? I bet she’s grown into a real beauty too, just like her mum.”

“She’s back home with my best mate Mel,” Diane told her.

“Mel’s my mum,” AJ interjected with a grin. “And Chlo is my bestie.”

“Ohhhh,” Evie hummed, realisation lighting up her eyes. “Are they…” she made an obscene finger gesture. “And does Mel know about the two of yous?”

Diane laughed. “Yes to your first question. But no, not yet, to the second. We’re trying to figure that conundrum out. Which room are we in, Ma? My old one?”

“Sneakin’ around, eh? That’s half the fun. Aye, pet, ye know where to go. But first…” Evie held out a hand, a wicked glint in her eye. “Hand ’em over. You’ve nae forgot, have ye?”

“You know me better than that.” Diane reached into her handbag and pulled out a small plastic ziplock bag. Evie unzipped it, then drew out the contents – a silky pair of white knickers. The woman brought them unashamedly to her face, breathing in their scent. AJ’s eyes went wide.

“Ah, still damp, too…” Evie crooned. “Ya naughty wee hussy. How long ya been wearin’ em, darlin’?”

“Four nights, then again this morning,” Diane told her with a smile. She pulled AJ towards her. “Constantly thinking of this cutie left them extra special.”

Pressing the soiled treasure to her nose, Evie inhaled deeply once more, “Ahhh, fuckin’ divine. Now go get settled in while I put these somewhere safe. Off ye toddle now, before I have ye both right here on the rug!”

Diane kissed Evie on the lips, then took AJ’s hand and led her up to Room 6. She paused on the landing to claim the twelve-year-old’s mouth in a long, heated kiss. AJ responded in kind, eagerly twirling her tongue with Diane’s.

“Ready to win an Oscar, babe?” Diane asked.

AJ nodded. “Let’s do it. Then you can fuck me silly.” She took her phone into the en-suite bathroom. Punching in the number, she waited for her mother to answer.

“Hi, Mum… yeah… Huh? No… No, I’m not feeling well. Actually, I feel awful… I think it was the seafood linguine. I remember it tasted a bit strange. Yeah… I don’t think I can travel, I keep being sick. Mmm… No… Ohhh, oh God. Here, talk to Diane, I think I’m gonna chuck up again.” Moving the phone away from her mouth, AJ produced the most apocalyptic barfing sound imaginable.

Diane had to suppress giggles as she took the phone from AJ. Kicking off her shoes, she stretched out on the bed. “Hi, babes! Yeah, she started feeling crap about an hour ago… I know, right? Cheap Italian cuisine – it’s wrong every fucking time… No, I don’t think it’s a great idea to travel right now. But it’s not a problem, I pulled some strings and work stumped up for another night… Really, Mel, it’s no trouble. Better than puking on a train all the way home, right? We’ll get the 2.00 pm back tomorrow. Should be home by five… Sure, I’ll tell her… Give Chlo a cuddle for me and tell her I love her loads… Love ya too! Byeeee!”

As soon as Mel rang off, AJ appeared in the bathroom doorway wearing nothing but a pair of tiny red hipster knickers and sunglasses.

The willowy twelve-year-old blonde leaned seductively against the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other. She’d fluffed her hair up, then pinched her perky nipples giving them a rosy tinge. “Well, Miss Baxter?” she said huskily. “Did my dear mother fall for it?”

Diane regarded her little lover with greedy eyes. “Hook, line and sinker, baby girl. She sends her love. I bet she’s already got her knickers off for Chloe.” The mental image that conjured up made her shiver with lust. She loved seeing her own daughter naked, and was equally enamoured of Mel’s lithe body.

With a whoop of triumph, Amy tossed her sunnies aside and practically leapt on Diane, claiming her mouth in a hungry kiss as she frantically fumbled for the catch on the women’s jeans. Wrenching them open, she thrust a hand into Diane’s damp knickers and eased two fingers into her cunt. She hooked the digits upward, massaging Di’s clit with the palm of her hand.

Diane lifted her hips clear of the bed as she pulled AJ in for another wet kiss. “Ooooh, fuck, Amy!” she moaned, the youngster’s fingers wriggling exquisitely. She managed to separate herself from her shirt as Amy fucked her with gusto.

“You’re mine now, li’l girl,” Di hissed, clumsily shucking her jeans down her legs, then kicking them free. Her knickers came next, but AJ paused to deal with those herself, yanking them off with such urgency she ended up tearing the flimsy material.

Now Di was naked but for her socks. AJ spread her lover’s legs apart, straddled the freshly shaven vulva, then eagerly ground her knicker-clad sex against Diane’s cunt. Di held AJ tightly, kissing the child with reckless abandon as she pawed and caressed her pert bottom with a free hand. “Fuck, I love you so much, baby,” she groaned as she drew breath.

AJ was humping away as if her life depended on it. “L-love you t-too. Now, please… fuck me!”

The child rode Diane hard, sliding a hand under the older woman’s arse to press them firmly together. Sitting back on her heels, she positioned one of Diane’s legs between them, peeled a pink sock off, then kissed the arch of her foot as they fucked.

Orgasms soon came hard and fast, the pair of lovers locked in an embrace worthy of a Rodin sculpture as they rocked and spasmed through the tumultuous storm. Amy drenched her cute knickers, and Diane added her own fluids to the red material.

As AJ rolled onto her back, breathless and glazed with perspiration, Diane crawled between her thighs, kissing the dimples on the child’s hips before slowly teasing the sticky undies from Amy’s spent pussy and down her legs, finally pulling them free.

It didn’t matter how many times Di viewed, touched or licked AJ’s pussy, each time thrilled her like the first. She just couldn’t get enough of her underage girlfriend.

“Careful with those,” AJ said as she eyed the knickers in Diane’s hand. “They’re a gift for someone.”

Diane suspected who the lucky recipient might be, and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fuck, could you be any more perfect?” She got down on her tummy to admire AJ’s blushing, swollen slit. Gently prying the youngster’s outer labia apart with her thumbs, she took a moment to marvel at the bright pink glistening centre before dipping her head to take a taste.

Diane bathed her young lover’s pussy in long luxurious licks and kisses, then sank a finger inside, pumping it back and forth. When she began to rapidly flick her tongue over the engorged clit, Amy wailed loudly, hunched over in exquisite rapture, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as she climaxed yet again.

At some point, hunger and thirst won out, and they ordered a huge takeaway pizza to share with Evie and Rose, choosing to remain unashamedly naked as they chatted with the two older women.

AJ had never been shy about her body – she’d been naked around enough dancers to feel comfortable – and actually found herself enjoying Evie and Rose’s admiring appraisal (and the odd blatant leer at her puffy pussy with its sparse dusting of blonde fuzz). She hadn’t even minded when Rose tenderly caressed her inner thigh.

Alone again later, AJ and Diane made love once more, this time slower, gentler. They’d fucked plenty, but now was the time for intimacy, for feelings of a deeper nature. Eventually they slept, wrapped in a loving embrace, neither wanting to let go of the other.

On Saturday morning they shared a late breakfast with Evie and Rose before their driver returned to take them to the station. Amy, thanks to a lack of sleep, looked very much like a kid who’d been up all night with her head down the toilet. Diane didn’t fare much better, though they both wore blissful smiles.

Diane shared tearful goodbye hugs and kisses with her Scottish ‘mums’ amid promises of “We’ll be back soon!” and “I won’t leave it so long next time!”

As AJ cuddled Evie, she pressed a tiny red wad of cotton into her hand and whispered “These are for you, Ma, ‘till I see you again.”

Evie looked like she’d won the lottery. “Oh, ye sexy wee thing! Ye ken just what I like!” She pulled the girl in for a rough hug. “Come back anytime. And when ye do, bring wee Chloe with yous.” She kissed the grinning twelve-year-old, who purred in delight as Evie brought her tongue into play. If there was one thing Amy loved, it was being kissed, and she gladly engaged the older woman’s tongue with hers.

“Soon, ya hear me?” Evie gave the girl’s bum a grope for good measure.

***

It was just before 5.00 pm when Diane paid the taxi fare, then she and AJ stepped into Mel’s hallway, dumping their bags on the floor. Diane couldn’t help but notice a certain glow about her friend, as well as a knowing smirk from Chloe, who looked exceptionally pleased with herself.

When Mel saw AJ, Mum Mode promptly kicked in. She hugged her daughter, held her at arms length to give her the once-over and proclaimed, “You – bath and bed, now. You look bloody awful. How many times have I warned you – never order the seafood. One dodgy prawn’s all it takes. I’ll bring you some soup later.”

With a wan smile, AJ murmured, “Thanks, Mum. Love you.” She hugged Di goodnight, daring to give her earlobe a playful nip as they embraced, then trudged upstairs. Chloe followed, eager to compare notes, having just greeted her own mum with a kiss and a hug.

Mel poured wine for her and Diane in the kitchen. “You look as exhausted as Amy,” she said.

“Well, we didn’t sleep much,” Diane told her. “I was up half the night looking after her. But she seems a lot better today. Rest and plenty of fluids will see her right, I’m sure. How was your week?”

A hint of colour infiltrated Mel’s cheeks. “Oh, Chloe’s a joy to have around. She can bunk with me anytime. And thanks so much for taking care of Amy. You staying the night? I’ll order curry if you are.”

Each had an inkling that the other had more to tell, but the two mums drew a line under their little flurry of lies and half-truths and settled in for a quiet, restful evening.

***

For the next week, the two couples danced around each other, sneaking kisses and touches where they could, sending intimate messages, each thinking the other pair was blissfully ignorant.

On Halloween, the girls planned to dress up as witches and go trick-or-treating. AJ was alone in her room when a spontaneous naughty thought occurred to her. She reached under her black witch’s dress, slipped her knickers off, then perched her phone on the bed. She timed a pic of herself grinning at the camera, skirt up, legs spread, pussy framed by striped witchy stockings. She captioned it Trick-or-treat, my love?

She pulled up the share icon, found Diane’s name in her chat list, quickly hit SEND, and then—

Wait, was that Mum’s phone that just pinged downstairs? Oh… Oh! Oh, fuck, please no! No no no no no! Noooooooooo!

AJ fumbled for the phone in a blind panic. In her haste to send the lewd snap to Diane, she’d misread the recipient and sent it to one of their numerous group chats. It didn’t just say Diane – it was Diane, Chlo and Mum.

Oh, God, I’m so dead! This isn’t how Mum’s meant to find out about us! Not like this! 

The phone slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the floor. AJ’s blood ran cold as she heard feet pounding up the stairs.

“Amy Jane Andrews! Get your arse out here. Now!”

On to Part Three!

The story thus far: Seeking a missing Texas Ranger, our old acquaintance The Tequila Kid comes across a poor family named Miller. Like many others in the area, this widow Sarah and her two little girls, Amy and Cindy, have been brutalized by a wealthy scoundrel named McCuller, who intends to drive away all the owners of small farms and ranches in the area and take their land. Later, drying off from heavy rain at the local stable, Sheriff Lucas Clay comes in search of The Kid, demanding she surrender her guns. Knowing Clay to be corrupt (and in league with McCuller), The Kid asks to speak with him in private. Moments later at the jail, he threatens her, and she deals him a beat-down, then informs him that she means to arrest McCuller and Tyson Avidite (a banker who is part of the conspiracy) before she leaves.

From the sheriff’s office, she goes to the Silver Slipper, the town’s saloon, gambling house and brothel. There, she encounters a young man named Jud Nelson, who she’d seen Sheriff Clay harass earlier. Recognizing him as a decent sort, she hires him to watch the jail to see if Clay leaves. Then she meets a twelve-year-old girl named Dixie, who does menial work at the Silver Slipper and is bullied by Toots, the brutish bartender. The Kid asks Dixie which girl is the most popular of the whores. Star, the girl replies, and The Kid gives Dixie the money to pay for Star’s services that evening.

Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, The Kid enjoys an intense hour of sex with Star. Afterwards, she asks the prostitute a few questions about the town and its doings. She learns that Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she seeks, disappeared around the same time as Dixie’s older sister Dallas, who was one of the whores at the Silver Slipper. The Kid asks about Ben McCuller, but Star refuses to answer, claiming “it’s too dangerous.” When The Kid goes back downstairs, Jud returns to let her know that Sheriff Clay just left town, riding hard in the direction of McCuller’s place.

Figuring she’s done as much as she can for one night, The Kid decides to join an ongoing card game, where she ends up winning a decent amount of money, as well as a neglected horse, which she takes to the local stable where her own horse is being kept.

The next morning, The Kid is informed by Jud Nelson that Cy Warren, McCuller’s enforcer and dirty-jobs man, has just entered the sheriff’s office, using a key. On their way to confront him, The Kid is taken aback to recognize the horse Cy has hitched up outside as Thunder, who she knows to be the property of Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she is seeking. More determined than ever to get answers from Cy Warren, she boldly strides into the sheriff’s office, a nervous Jud close behind.

The Kid quickly catches Warren in an obvious lie about his having purchased Hansen’s horse, and arrests him on the spot, drawing her gun before he can. Once Cy is locked up, she and Jud set off for banker Tyson Avidite’s office. With the genuine ranch deeds in her possession, she and Jud quickly establish that the ones Avidite is holding for McCuller are obvious forgeries, created in an effort to steal the area’s small ranches from their rightful owners.  Confronted by the evidence, Avidite breaks down and confesses to his role in McCuller’s crooked conspiracy. 

Later that day, The Kid steals onto McCuller’s land while he is away. She encounters his vicious pair of trained dogs, and deploys Indian methods she learned as a young girl to make friends with them. That accomplished, she carefully breaks into his study, where she fiddles with a certain something in the man’s desk drawer before making her escape.

The Kid has one more task to accomplish before turning in. She drops by the Silver Slipper to liberate the young girl Dixie from her menial position. The vicious bartender Toots is intent on stopping The Kid, but she takes him down with a couple of well-placed punches, then helps herself to a large wad of cash from the man’s pocket for Dixie’s back wages. The Kid and the girl then depart, leaving an enraged Toots behind.

The Kid takes Dixie out for a decent meal, buys her a new set of clothes, then gets them a room at a local boarding house. After a bath, The Kid plans to turn in for the night… but Dixie has other ideas, insisting on making love to her benefactor as a way of saying thanks. The Kid finds the sweet young thing impossible to resist. 

The next morning, on her way to the sheriff’s office, The Kid happens upon two men loading a large wagon with food and supplies, and quickly realizes they work for McCuller. When they beat a man for begging for a little flour, she arrests them both, putting them in jail along with Cy Warren. Once they’re locked up, she asks Jud Nelson to return the deeds McCuller stole to the families he took them from — along with a thousand dollars for each family, taken from McCuller’s bank account, and the contents of take the wagon of supplies.

By that time, The Kid is obliged to cut Warren loose, but she refuses to give him back his horse (who belonged to the missing Ranger Hansen), forcing him to walk back to McCuller’s ranch. Needless to say, Cy Warren is quite displeased.

The Kid takes Dixie to the Miller home, asking Sarah if she can take the girl in. Sarah immediately consents. Her daughters Cindy and Amy quickly take a liking to Dixie (whose real name, we learn, is Clara), and agree with their mother. 

That night, The Kid beds down in the Millers’ barn, keeping a lookout. Before turning in, Sarah gives her daughters a bath, along with Clara/Dixie. Later, Sarah pays The Kid a late-night visit, and ends up slipping into The Kid’s bedroll to keep warm. There, she mentions having bathed the girls. The Kid wonders out loud why Sarah’s daughters don’t wash themselves, then gets the young mother to admit that she very much enjoys seeing the girls nude. By then, Sarah is so aroused that The Kid easily seduces her, and they begin to make love.

Meanwhile, Clara is in bed with her new sisters, teaching them some very intimate games. Cindy and Amy have already explored kissing with one another, but Clara gets them to go much further. They all have a lovely time while their mother is in the barn with The Kid.

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

by Purple Les

The Tequila Kid and Sarah lay on their sides, facing each other. The hayloft was icy cold at that time of night, but the two women were warm in The Kid’s bedroll.

Sarah’s dress was hoisted up around her waist with The Kid’s hand in her drawers, two fingers plunging in and out of her dripping cunt. All the while, they continued to share deep, impassioned kisses.

It felt lovely, but Sarah’s mind was awash in confusion. She was reveling in carnal pleasure, all the while struggling with notions of right and wrong. Was it a sin for a woman to lie with another woman? She couldn’t remember any mention of that in the Bible.

And now The Kid had Sarah brooding on the satisfaction she’d always taken in bathing her daughters, how it made her feel warm and tingly inside to see them naked, to wash their glistening bodies. She’d always thought of the pleasure she took from bath night as perfectly innocent… was it, though?

As she pictured her little girls undressing, then standing before her in all their glory, a twinge of arousal flickered through Sarah. The Kid’s words and caresses seemed to give her daughters’ nudity a whole new meaning, one that had Sarah uneasy.

Then she thought of Clara, the twelve-year-old who was now part of her family. Watching the girl undress. Marveling at her bare beauty. Lovingly soaping, then rinsing her body. The girls noticed her too; kept stealing looks at her. Did the sight of Clara naked give them those same warm, secret feelings?

As The Kid continued to pleasure her, Sarah thought about the things the young woman said about her daughters. She understands how it is, seeing your children and finding them beautiful. The Kid’s fingers probed even deeper into Sarah’s throbbing vagina. Oh, Lord, this is so good. No one ever touched me this way before. 

Out of nowhere, an unexpected image popped into Sarah’s head: Cindy and Amy were standing in the tub, their bodies clean and gleaming from the warm water. She was kneeling before the girls, caressing them between their legs – just as The Kid had touched her moments earlier. In her fantasy, she fondled Amy’s smooth slit with her left hand, using the right to stroke Cindy’s lightly-downed sex.

A violent shudder raced through her, a jumbled mixture of pleasure, excitement, confusion and shock. Not my children, not my children. 

Yet in some twisted way, the idea appealed to her. Isn’t it all love? Sarah asked herself. Couldn’t it bring us even closer? Is it really that different from how I usually touch them on bath night?

No! her conscience thundered. You’re their mother, they’re your daughters, it’s wrong.

But as Sarah fought to thrust that vision of incest from her mind, another image made itself known. This time she was nude along with the girls, only now they were touching her. Everywhere. And Clara was with them. In fact, in Sarah’s imagination it was the twelve-year-old’s fingers that plunged in and out, in and out of her body.

It was too much to take. She tottered on the precipice of going off in what would be the first climax she’d enjoyed since her husband’s passing… but it was completely snarled up in these wicked notions involving the girls. I can’t do this.

“P-please,” begged Sarah, clutching The Kid’s wrist. “Please stop.”

The Kid promptly did as she asked, then gently enfolded Sarah in her arms as the older woman began to weep.

“Hush, now,” The Kid murmured, “Don’t you cry.”

After a moment, Sarah managed to get a grip on her emotions. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to meet The Kid’s eyes. “Reckon I better get back to the girls.” Slowly getting to her feet, she smoothed out her clothes and buttoned her coat. “Goodnight, Kid.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” The Kid said quietly, rising to take the lantern down from the peg. Carrying it in her left hand, she followed Sarah down the ladder. Sarah opened the barn door, then she and The Kid walked in silence toward the house. Side by side, they mounted the porch, then Sarah took the lantern, still not knowing what to say to the young woman who had given her such exquisite feelings, but also put some very troubling ideas in her head. In the end, she chose not to speak.

The Kid gave the woman a tender kiss on the mouth, then took both her hands. “Maybe it ain’t for me to say, Sarah… but I figure if love is true and unselfish, it can’t be no ways wrong.” Nodding her head, she added, “Goodnight,” then turned to leave.

Sarah said, “Goodnight,” watching as The Kid made her way back to the barn. With a wistful sigh, she glanced up at the clear evening sky, then wandered into the house.

Before pulling the barn door shut, The Tequila Kid also took a moment to peer up at the stars, fingering the gold ring on its chain beneath her shirt.

Once back in the house Sarah bolted the door, wishing she’d saved a log to put in the fireplace. Funny, she thought, when it was sweltering last summer I prayed for cool weather. Now I’d give anything to have summer back.

That throbbing sensation could still be felt between her thighs, and Sarah found herself longing to go back to the barn and finish what she’d started with The Kid. Lord knows, I still want to lie with her, even if it is a sin. She was so good to me. But what if I took fright and ran away again? I’d be forever mortified.

Glancing into the children’s bedroom, she could make out sleeping forms under the blanket. Good; they didn’t stay up too late. She carried the lantern to her own room, set it down and undressed. Now nude, she turned to pick her nightgown up from the bed, where she’d left it, but froze when she saw Clara, smiling at her from beneath the covers.

“You sure are pretty, Sarah,” Clara said.

Sarah tried as best she could to conceal herself with her arms and hands. “You scared me to death, child!” she breathlessly exclaimed. “Hand me my nightgown, please.”

Clara passed the garment to Sarah, pouting a bit. “Here you are… but I wish you would leave it off for a little while. I sure do like seeing you with no clothes on.”

Holding the gown in front of her, Sarah fixed the girl with a stern gaze. “Why are you in my bed, Clara? Why didn’t you say something before I got undressed?”

“That other bed ain’t big enough for the three of us,” Clara said. “Besides, I’d rather sleep with you. Matter of fact, I thought maybe I could share your bed every night.” She paused. “I didn’t say I was here, ‘cause I wanted to see you naked. You’ve seen me, after all. It’s only fair.”

“That… that’s very different. I’m a mother, and you’re a child. It’s natural for me to see you nude.”

“Aw,” Clara said back, “I’ve seen lots of grown women with their clothes off. Not many of ‘em were as good lookin’ as you, though.”

“I’m not used to getting dressed in front of others,” Sarah protested. “Please close your eyes, young lady… or at least turn round so I can put on my nightgown.”

“Do I have to? It’s just us,” said the girl. “Besides… I’m naked too!” To prove her words, Clara shoved the blanket down, completely revealing her bare body.

Sarah stared at the nude girl, then gasped when she saw Clara touch herself between her legs with the other hand, tracing the cleft of her slit with two fingers.

In the dim light Clara saw Sarah watching her, rooted to the spot, uncertain of her next move. “Please get into bed with me, Sarah,” she said. “I’d like to thank you proper for takin’ me in.”

“Th-thank me?”

Never breaking her gaze, Clara shifted over a bit to make room, patting the bed beside her. “Come lie down. It’s a lot nicer with two.”

Somehow Sarah found herself taking a step forward, still covering herself with the nightie. Reaching up, Clara grasped the gown, giving it a gentle tug. It came loose from Sarah’s fingers. Clara took the garment in both hands, briefly burying her face in it, then laying it aside. “I love how you smell,” the girl cooed.

Sarah stood naked, hands at her sides. The desire in Clara’s eyes was plain to see, renewing and stoking the excitement she’d felt earlier with The Kid. Her heart pounded as Clara drank in the view of her bare body, clearly liking what she saw. Unable to resist, Sarah did the same, openly studying the young girl’s nudity. My Lord, she’s beautiful.

“Come keep me company,” Clara whispered. “Pretty please?”

The passion, the hunger ran deep in Sarah, just as it had with Eric Jax when they first became lovers eleven years earlier, not long before they married. She’d loved him with all her heart, but the hunger she felt now was even stronger.

Could I love women more? she asked herself. And could I have those same feelings for girls? Right then, standing unclothed before a lovely naked child, anything seemed possible.

It seems so wrong, Sarah mused. Maybe that’s why it thrills me so much. The Kid was right – I do enjoy seeing Cindy and Amy when I give them their bath. I always reckoned it was just a mother’s love for her children… now, I’m thinking it just might be something more. 

My God, the way Clara is looking at me! And I like it. Looking at me with nothing on, like I’m a piece of candy she’s waiting to taste. She’s only twelve, but somehow I know Clara wants us to make love, just like I was doing with The Kid – and damn it all, that’s what I want, too.

Maybe it’s a mortal sin, havin’ these wicked notions… but if God intends to punish me for the thought, he might as well do the same for the deed. This once, anyhow. I’ve gone without love too long…

Her pulse racing, Sarah lay down on her back on the bed next to Clara. She remained still, unsure how to make the first move.

“It’s all right, Sarah,” Clara said. “I guess you ain’t done nothin’ like this before… but you’ll like it a lot, I promise.” She nuzzled Sarah’s cheek, then got up on her knees, pausing for one more look. “You’re so good lookin’ with your clothes off.” Placing the tips of two fingers between Sarah’s breasts, Clara slowly trailed them down her body until they found, then delved into the woman’s vagina.

“Ohhh…” Sarah moaned, rolling her eyes.

“You’re mighty wet,” Clara said, working her fingers into Sarah’s cunt. “And so, so hot inside. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes!” gasped Sarah.

Climbing on top of Sarah, the twelve-year-old claimed the older woman’s mouth in a tender kiss, but it didn’t take long for their passion to strike fire. Clara soon began to use her tongue, and Sarah was quick to respond.

As their ardor mounted, Sarah began to run her hands up and down the girl’s back, gradually moving lower until she was shyly cupping Clara’s bare bottom. So soft, so perfect, she thought.

One note of discord continued to sound in Sarah’s consciousness: as she caressed Clara, images of her naked daughters continued to appear like flashes of summer lightning. It troubled her, but finally she shrugged, still swapping kisses with the girl. She recalled The Kid’s words: If love is true and unselfish, it can’t be no ways wrong.

Caught up in a blissful haze of lust, Sarah surrendered herself completely, letting Clara do whatever she wished. As the child made love to her with hands, fingers, mouth, and tongue, Sarah hugged herself tightly, reveling in sensual delights she assumed she’d never experience again… and some that were completely new to her.

She remained passive as long as she was able, but soon found herself eager to explore the body of her new lover. Sarah allowed her hands to roam freely over Clara’s soft, supple skin, touching the girl’s arms, shoulders, back; then more intimate areas – her budding breasts, the pert globes of her rump, finally slipping between Clara’s thin thighs to cup her mound.

But soon as Sarah’s fingers encountered wetness, Clara squirmed away. “I’m gonna make you spend now,” she declared. Spreading the woman’s legs wide apart, she pressed a deep, open-mouthed kiss into the matted thatch of Sarah’s pubes.

“Oh, my sweet Lord,” Sarah cried, then hastily covered her mouth, not wanting to rouse the girls. She couldn’t believe that the twelve-year-old girl she’d just brought into the family was licking her most intimate place… or, indeed, that people actually did such things. It felt perfectly wonderful, even nicer than Clara’s fingers.

Those sensations continued to grow stronger, too. Sarah knew she was about to “go over the hill,” as she liked to think of it, and braced herself for the sweet, intense release. She opened her eyes, wanting to look at Clara when she came. The girl clearly loved what she was doing, and knowing that warmed Sarah from head to toe. Such a kind, caring child, she thought.

Looking past Clara, Sarah froze, eyes widening in alarm. Her little girl Amy was standing in the doorway, watching.

When she felt Sarah’s body go tense. Clara paused in her licking to glance back. Spying Amy, she gave the seven-year-old a welcoming smile. “Come on in, Amy.”

A stricken Sarah could only stare, wondering how she was going to explain something like this to her little.girl. How can I, when I barely understand it myself?

Amy hesitantly entered the room and drifted toward the bed, wearing a timid smile. Sarah was relieved to see that her child didn’t seem upset, at least.

“Ever seen your Ma naked before?” Clara asked Amy already knowing she had. The child nodded her head ‘yes’. “D’you like seein’ her now?”

“Yes,” Amy whispered. Meeting her mother’s eyes, she added, “You’re pretty with no clothes on, Ma.”

Sitting up, Clara pointed at Amy’s nightie. “Why don’t you take that off and get in bed with us?”

Sarah’s head swam as she watched her youngest tug the nightgown she wore up and off, then cast it aside.

Now nude, Amy sat down next to her mother, but for the moment, her attention was centered on Clara. “What were you doing to Ma? You were licking her girl parts, huh?” Turning to a shocked Sarah, she said. “Isn’t it nice? She just did that to me and Cindy. We loved it!”

Sarah struggled to make sense of all this. So… while I was up in the hayloft with The Kid, Clara was making love to the girls? I wonder if I should be angry with her…

Mulling the idea over, she decided against it. I can’t see as it did them any harm. Young girls bein’ close, that’s all it is. I recall Katie Randolph, how me and her used to play kissing games when we were about Clara’s age. Funny; I’ve not thought about that in years. We even felt each other’s titties that one time. 

I reckon I was in love with her, at least a little. It made us happy, being close like that. Why shouldn’t the girls get to enjoy themselves the same way if they want? 

By then, Clara was lying between Sarah’s legs again, her mouth buried in the woman’s fur.

As the fire beneath Sarah’s belly began to smolder anew, she gazed adoringly at her littlest child, her heart swelling with love. Oh, Amy… since your daddy got taken from us, the days have been so hard, so empty of joy. Now we have a chance for happiness… and you have a new big sister who wants to share love with all of us. 

Surely this can’t be wrong for us to do. It’s a blessing from the Lord, his name be praised.

Amy was bent over Sarah, studying her mother’s face. “D’you like it, Ma? The way Clara’s usin’ her mouth on you?”  

“Mmmm, yes. She’s making me feel wonderful.” Suddenly longing to feel little Amy’s bare body against hers, she reached out for her daughter. “Come lay with me, honeybunch.”

Amy crawled into her mother’s arms, and they nestled together. But Sarah’s mounting pleasure made it hard for her to remain still. Her hands wanted to touch, to caress. She began to stroke her daughter, the same way she’d touched Clara moments earlier. Her hand lingered on Amy’s rear.

Sighing happily, Amy began to nuzzle her mother’s face, neck and ears, wondering if Ma might give her one of those special kisses she liked so much. It was an idea that had occurred to her before, after she and her big sister Cindy learned to enjoy kissing each other.

Their mouths met – and after a gentle peck, they came together again, Amy allowing the kiss to linger before they slowly drew apart. A shiver flickered through Sarah as she read and recognized the need in her daughter’s eyes.

This time Sarah was the one who initiated the kiss – but Amy was quick to respond, licking around her mother’s mouth. Without a second thought, Sarah parted her lips to accept the child’s tongue.

As mother and daughter engaged in a kiss of lovers, Sarah began to touch her little girl in a more intimate way. She fondled Amy’s bottom, then allowed two fingers to delve between the seven-year-old’s thighs, lightly toying with her smooth slit. Then she felt Amy’s little hand cover her breast.

A gift from God. Yes, that’s what it is. 

Sarah’s train of thought jumped the tracks when, down below, Clara began to nibble her clitoris. She gasped into her child’s mouth, then an instant later she was coming.

She’d never had an orgasm that intense. Her body shook helplessly, each twitch a jolt of purest pleasure. Sarah hugged Amy tightly, holding the child’s face to her heaving breasts. Her ecstasy surged to an unimaginable peak when her daughter’s mouth sought out, then found a nipple. She cried out, then went completely limp, gasping for breath.

Those wonderful feelings were suddenly too much for her to take, but Clara seemed to know that. Drifting through a warm, comforting haze, despite the coldness of the room, Sarah could feel the twelve-year-old adorning her mound and inner thighs with feather-light kisses.

Amy’s lips brushed her ear. “I love you, Ma,” she whispered.

“I love you too, darling,” Sarah replied, cradling her child as she settled into a profound sense of peace. Closing her eyes, she gave a silent prayer of thanks.

When Amy began to shift about a bit, Sarah didn’t think anything of it. Then she realized with a start  that the child’s warm, wet slit was moving against her leg.

***

McCuller stomped back into the office, followed by a tall, reed-thin man who was shrugging out of a battered old duster. Cy Warren’s heart sank at the sight. Just who I figured. Shit.

“I think you two already know one another,” McCuller said, glancing from one man to the other. “Warren, you remember Kid Coley?”

I sure do, Cy thought. And I hoped never to clap eyes on him again.

Precious few men had the ability to rattle Cy Warren, and Kid Coley was one of them. Killin’ men is just a job to me. Don’t take no particular pleasure in takin’ a man’s life, unless he done me wrong. Coley ain’t like that. Nothin’ makes him happier than puttin’ folks in the ground. Men, women, children, he’ll kill ‘em all and do a clog dance over the corpse.

Grateful to still have a dram of whiskey left in his glass, Cy murmured, “Howdy,” then took a sip to steady his nerves.

Kid Coley stared at the seated man without speaking. A startled Cy finally managed to tear his gaze away, looking down into his glass. With an icy smile, Coley slowly took a seat.

Ben McCuller indirectly studied the gunman as he poured himself a drink, taking him in. Kid Coley was somewhere in his early twenties, his hair a blonde that was almost white. It was his eyes that made the deepest impression. A dark blue that verged on black, they were too far apart on either side of his face, giving him a snake-like appearance. His thin, tight lips only added to the illusion.

Handing him a drink, McCuller said, “Good to see you, Coley.”

“I doubt that,” Coley replied. “But you need somethin’ shifty done, and the pay is right, so here I am. Let’s stop dancin’ around and get to the point. What’s the job?”

McCuller smiled. “You haven’t changed a bit, Coley.” Rubbing his hands together, he said, “Fair enough. Here’s how it is. I hired some toughs to take care of those damned sodbusters, drive them out for good.”

“Why d’ye need me, then?” the gunman said, then took a slug of whiskey.

“Well, the truth is… when it comes time for them to do the killing, I’m not sure I can count on all my men. They get squeamish about shooting women and children.” He shook his head. “Makes no sense to me. These dirt-scrabblers are vermin, pure and simple, and they’ve infested my land. What I want you to do is pay a visit to each of those farms afterward; make sure the houses are all burnt down and no one left alive. And if you find out any of my men backed down or didn’t hold up his end, he gets a bullet in the head.”

Kid Coley sipped his whiskey, then said, “Same fee as before?”

“Yes,” Ben answered. “Six hundred. Three up front, the rest when the job’s done.”

Kid Coley gave a brief nod. “Fine.” Taking another sip, he said, “These folks you want me to help run off… is Eric Jax’s family one of ‘em?” He thought for a moment, then added, “Miller. That’s the name he was goin’ by.”

“I believe so,” McCuller replied. “Yes, they’re still there. Why do you ask?”

Instead of answering, Coley took out a gold pocket watch and opened it. There was a small photo stuck on the inside cover, a pretty young woman with two little girls.

He gave a thoughtful nod. Eric Jax’s wife and kids. He was the fastest draw that ever was, and I killed him easy as snuffin’ a candle. Took his life and his watch, and I would’ve had his woman and them little girls, but there wasn’t time. Looks like I’ll be gettin’ a second chance. 

Kid Coley closed the watch with a hard click, then tucked it back into his vest pocket. “Let’s just say I got unfinished business with the Millers.” I’ll pay a visit the day before the raid; take care of ‘em myself. Make the girls watch while I have my way with their momma, then she gets to see me ride her daughters. Kill all three of ‘em when I’m done. He felt that familiar buzz of anticipation that always seemed to appear when there was fun to be had.

“There’s something else that’s come up,” McCuller was saying. “I’ll also need you to take out some Texas Ranger called the Tequila Kid.”

Coley arched an eyebrow. “Huh. Not my usual line of work. What’s your beef with her?”

McCuller scowled. “Never even met her, to tell the truth, but that woman has become a serious pain in my neck. She’s running around making trouble, interfering in my business. She scared my sheriff right out of town, she threw Cy here in jail last night… now, she has my damned cooks in a cell. It’s too much. I need her dealt with. Interested?”

Presenting his empty glass to McCuller, Coley said, “If you want her dead, that’s a thousand more.”

McCuller stiffened for a moment, then carefully poured the whiskey. “She’s that much trouble?”

Coley offered one of his thin-lipped smiles, but said nothing. McCuller glanced at Cy, who said, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, boss. She’s that much trouble.”

“Fine,” McCuller growled, then told Cy, “Get out.”

When Cy had closed the door behind him, Kid Coley said, “The deal’s the same. Half up front.”

Opening his safe, McCuller withdrew the cash. “Here you are,” he murmured, placing eight hundred-dollar bills in Kid Coley’s outstretched palm. “Oh, and I’ll want to see the Tequila Kid’s body when the deed’s done. Already got her grave dug. No doubt it’s foolish of me, but I like the idea of having that bitch buried in an unmarked hole on my property.”

Coley calmly tucked the money in his pocket. “I’ll have the Ranger for you by Christmas day.” He gulped the rest of his drink down, then stood. “If not sooner.”

“Sooner is better. Here’s my plan,” Ben said. “Early morning Christmas day while it’s still dark, I’ll have my men spread out and I’ll have two men to burn up each ranch, with you following up. If you take out the Ranger on Christmas eve, she won’t be in the way. Meantime, I’ll have Cy kill the new sheriff and take the badge for himself.”

“Sheriff Cy Warren, eh?” Coley murmured, arching an eyebrow. “I got the idea you weren’t too pleased with him right now.”

“Warren has proven something of a disappointment,” McCuller admitted, “but I believe he is still of use to me. He’ll certainly be an improvement on the last man I had in the position, by God. You recall Lucas Clay?”

“Barely. What became of him?”

“Turned yellow, that’s what,” McCuller growled. “Soon as that Tequila Kid showed her face, he turned tail and ran.” He gave a brief bark of laughter. “Tried to, anyhow.”

“I won’t ask,” Coley snickered. Setting the empty glass down on McCuller’s desk, he got to his feet. “I’ll be goin’, then,” he said. “Show myself out. Thanks for the whiskey.”

When Kid Coley closed the door behind him, McCuller refilled his glass, thinking, What’s with these damn gunfighters anyway? All of them calling themselves Kid this or Kid that, as if they don’t want to grow up. 

Well, the Tequila Kid will be known as the Dead Kid soon enough. He chuckled, then took a generous swallow of whiskey.

***

I woke up when I thought I heard my sister moan. I reached over to touch Amy to stop her bad dream, but she wasn’t there, nor was Clara. Instead of falling back asleep, I began to puzzle over where they could of gone. I heard another moan, and this time it sounded like Ma. Maybe she was sick, and Amy and Clara were seeing to her.

I was awake enough now to figure I’d best see what was going on. I didn’t bother with my slippers or a robe, I just walked over to Ma’s room in my nightie, yawning and scratching my behind. Well, I froze at what I saw as I stood in Ma’s doorway, and then I was for sure wide awake, though what I saw looked a lot like a dream.

There was Ma on her bed, naked as a bluejay. Clara was on her knees by Ma, also bare naked, and sucking on one of Ma’s titties like she was a nursing baby.

There laying between Ma’s wide spread open legs lay Amy. Yep, she was naked too. She was on her tummy. I could see her bare behind and it gave me that tingle down there like always.

And Amy was doing to Ma the same thing Clara did to me and Amy before. My little sister was licking Ma’s girl parts and seemed to be loving it. Like she was licking the dish after finishing a plate of apple brown betty.

I didn’t even notice myself moving, but there I was walking into the room to get a better look, specially at Ma. I don’t remember ever seeing her with no clothes on, and I wanted to see everything. Oh my goodness, she was beautiful. Her titties were round and full, and she had a patch of brown hair between her legs where Amy’s mouth was buried. I kept telling myself I wasn’t dreaming, that this was for real.

I was getting that hot crazy feeling again, so I put a hand under the nightie I was wearing and touched my girl parts. That was when Ma opened her eyes and gave a little gasp when she saw me. Then Clara and Amy looked up.

Just like this happened every day, Amy said, ‘Take your nightgown off and come play with us, Cindy,’ then giggled. 

Clara said, ‘Yeah, Cindy. Get undressed.’

But it was Ma who told me, ‘Cindy, I’d sure love you to join us if you’ve a mind to.’ Amy and Clara was begging me to be naked with them, but Ma told them to hush up, it should be for me to decide.

And I said I wanted to. I did want to, real bad. So Clara helped me off with my nightgown and Ma was looking at me up and down, telling me how pretty I am. Then she laid back down and Amy started to lick her some more. 

Clara took my hand and led me up on the bed, where she got me to kneel over Ma’s face so my legs were on either side of her head. I wasn’t sure what Clara was up to until she had me squat down lower, until my girl parts were just over Ma’s mouth. That’s when I knew what was going to happen, but couldn’t believe it.

And then my mother was licking me there, just like Clara did to me and Amy before, and it felt every bit as good. I was watching Amy doing the same to Ma like it was the most fun she ever had in her life. 

Clara was moving around doing things to all of us. First she gave me a special kiss, pushing her tongue into my mouth, so I kissed her back the same way. I wanted to touch between her legs, so I did, and she really seemed to enjoy it. Then she pulled away, kneeled down next to Ma and started rubbing and kissing her titties. 

I guess it was Amy’s turn next, cause then Clara went to stand at the foot of the bed, where she put her hands on my little sister’s bottom. I could tell she thought it was as beautiful, just like I do. But then she surprised me. Clara got down on the floor, pushed Amy’s legs wide apart, then began to lick her slit from behind. It was something to see. I couldn’t decide which I wanted to watch more, Amy using her mouth on Ma, Clara licking Amy, or Ma doing it to me. 

Ma had both hands on my backside, pulling my girl parts hard against her mouth, working hard to make me feel good. And this time it was stronger than before. 

I knew what it was like to have those deep kinds of feelings. Those times when I kissed Amy or touched her behind, or when I used to lie on Maude Fletcher when we was down by the creek, sometimes when Ma soaped me up on bath night, or when I’d been naked and sharing joy with Clara and Amy an hour or two ago. 

But this was more than all that. I felt like God himself had lifted me up into heaven and showed me just how good it is to be one of His angels. And then we was all just laying on the bed together.

Ma kissed me. Not like she mostly kissed me, but like Clara, using her tongue. And we all of us talked and kissed and touched, and I couldn’t of been more happy. And I fell asleep feeling good and warm and loving everything.

When I woke up in the morning, we was all naked under the covers, a little shy about the things we did the night before. But Clara gave us each a special kiss, and that brought those excited feelings back so we wanted more. 

I’m not even sure how it happened, but I licked Amy’s slit, while Ma and Clara did that to each other at the same time. That really looked like fun! Amy had her come, for Clara told us that’s what that good, good feeling was called, then we watched our mother and Clara get theirs. 

That left me the only one to not yet have a come, so Ma, Clara and Amy all got me up on my hands and knees and gave me special feelings together. What a time I had! Ma gave me lovely tongue kisses while she rubbed my titties, Amy scooted underneath to lick my cunt, which is what Clara says is the proper name for our girl parts. 

I couldn’t believe what she did next. She got behind me and put her tongue in my bottom hole! I was shocked, but it felt so nice I had to let her do it. Then I got my come, and after that we rested.

Ma told us we could keep doing these things, but it was just between the four of us. She also said we should only make love after dark cause you never knew who might come by during the day. That’s what she called it, making love. I thought that was a real sweet name for it.

We got up and dressed, though we sure hated to put clothes on cause we liked seeing each other naked so much. Ma started breakfast and told me to go get eggs from the barn. And to tell The Kid to get herself up and have breakfast with us.

But when I got to the barn, she and Button were gone.

On to Chapter Nine!

For a list of the many characters who populate this saga, check out Dramatis Personae.

Astris tells Sadie that Elsa is the one who has sealed off the village, though for what purpose she doesn’t know. The dryad also hints that Elsa is a witch, and that she harbours great power. Sadie researches the Derwold family and discovers they have a troubled history. She also discovers Elsa changed her name to conceal her past, and is inexplicably older than she seems. 

At the post office, Sally Jeffries tells Sadie a disturbing childhood story, in which an eight-year-old Simon tortured and killed his pet dog. Suspecting the vicar’s murder may have been Simon’s doing, Sadie hastens to Beekeeper Cottage to make sure everyone’s safe, but Freya has already gone to the manor to meet with Elsa. Sadie races to retrieve her.

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

by BlueJean

1

Elsa stood on the floor and rubbed her cunt up and down the bedpost while Freya watched.

The eleven-year-old found herself mesmerised by the way Elsa’s red pubes parted like a curtain, the fleshy lips of her pussy dividing to accommodate the smooth finial, almost as if they were grasping at the polished wood. Elsa ground herself against it without a hint of inhibition, her eyes never leaving Freya. She was dressed in antique-style red lingerie, stockings held up by thick suspenders. Her creamy pale breasts had spilled free of her lacy bra.

Whilst trawling through the seemingly bottomless reservoir of internet pornography, Freya sometimes stumbled on older clips that usually fell under the banner of vintage. Elsa reminded her of one of those porn stars of old, before tattoos and shaved nether-regions became the norm.  

Freya was naked but for her socks and pumps, just the way Elsa liked her. She toyed with her clit while she watched Elsa going at the bedpost like an animal in heat.

“This post and I are intimately acquainted,” Elsa said conversationally. “I’ve climaxed over it so many times, I’ve lost count. When I’m feeling particularly filthy, I like to sink down onto it and fuck myself. I like the feeling of it filling me up.“

Freya thought that would be quite a thing to see.

Elsa thrust herself at the bedpost with a snarl, almost slapping against it. “Bend your knees into a squat, darling girl,” she told Freya with greedy eyes. “Now strum that little pearl for all it’s worth. Yes, just like that. Oh, my word…”

Freya realised her red-haired friend was coming. Elsa humped the bedpost until her throes had petered out to an occasional twitch. “What a frightful mess I’ve made,” she crooned, a finger trailing through the sticky glaze coating the wood.

Not for the first time, Freya was struck by the impression that Elsa didn’t belong in the 21st century, that her mannerisms and speech derived from a different era, some place in the past. It was reflected in her attire, too. Elsa’s style was certainly smart and elegant, but it was also decidedly retro.

“Come and lick it,” Elsa demanded, gesturing at the bedpost.

Freya leaned forward and ran her tongue over the wet wood.

Elsa pushed the eleven-year-old’s hair back and held it in place. “Yes, that’s it. My, how depraved. Can you smell my cunt, little girl?“

Freya didn’t much like being called a little girl, but she nodded anyway. Elsa’s earthy musk perfumed the air, thick and intoxicating.

Elsa let her fingers glide through her folds, then smeared the resulting wetness over one of her pendulous breasts. She offered it to Freya. “Lick.”

Freya latched onto the moist nipple and suckled.

“Good,” Elsa crooned approvingly. “Now climb up onto the bed and bend over with your arse in the air. I should very much like to taste you now.“

Freya did as she was told. Elsa lay back on the bed and buried her head between the eleven-year-old’s open thighs. Freya clutched at a cushion, basking in the feel of her older friend’s tongue as it probed the folds of her sex and flicked over the sensitive nub of her clitoris. “Oh, shit,” she murmured.

Elsa caught Freya’s clit between her teeth and stretched it out, making the girl start.

“Ow!“

The woman gave a chuckle. “Don’t like the rough stuff, eh? That’s all right. My mother used to enjoy twisting my nipples.“

Freya sat up on her heels and peered back at Elsa. “You used to have sex with your mum, too?“

“Oh, no. There was no sexual element to our relationship. But there was certainly pain and pleasure. My pain, her pleasure.“

Freya wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I’m… I’m sorry.“

“I don’t need your pity,” Elsa said with flashing eyes. “What I need is for you to spread your legs so I can press my cunt against yours. Yes, that’s the ticket.“

Elsa joined her pussy to Freya’s, the two of them sitting opposite one another with their legs splayed. Elsa’s sex was hot and moist against Freya’s smooth mound, her coppery thatch brushing exquisitely to and fro.

“I’m glad you’re my friend,” Freya panted as they ground against one another.

“Are we truly friends, I wonder?“ Elsa said. “Have we known each other long enough to call it friendship? I’m old enough to be your grandmother, you know.“

Freya gave a snort. “Hardly.“

“Perhaps I’m just a dirty old lady who likes rubbing herself on young girls’ sweet, adolescent bodies. Perhaps I’ll simply discard you when your titties grow out and that delectable vagina sprouts just a few too many hairs for my liking.”

Freya felt a brief stab of worry. Then she grinned. “You’re teasing me. You wouldn’t do that.”

Elsa suddenly stopped grinding.

“What’s the matter?“ Freya asked.

“Someone’s just pulled up in the forecourt.“

2

The manor had almost been restored to its former glory. The scaffolding that had surrounded much of the building was gone, and the previously mutinous gardens had been restored to some semblance of order. Sadie parked on the gravel forecourt, next to Elsa’s Porsche and a crimson Rolls Royce that presumably belonged to Simon. So they were both at home. Not good.

She mounted the stone steps of the main entrance. The imposing oak doors were slightly ajar, but she rang the doorbell anyway. When there was no answer she rang a second time, then a third.

Shouldn’t there have been staff to answer doors? Come to think of it, the only people that would remotely qualify as staff were the two burly gentlemen she’d seen around the village from time to time. Burt and Ernie, was it? Somehow, Sadie couldn’t picture either of them in the role of butler, cook or maid. Maybe the Derwolds had yet to finalise their staff roster.

And if the manor was just a little too much like Castle Dracula for comfort, eerily empty and devoid of life, that was surely just her imagination running away with her, wasn’t it?

It’s just an open door, for Christ’s sake, Sadie told herself. Everything will be fine as long as I don’t lose my cool. Except if the fucking thing creaks when I push it open. If that happens, all bets are off.

She pushed open the door. It did not creak. Peering inside, she gave a hesitant, “Hello?”

Sadie had never been inside the manor, not even its previously dilapidated incarnation. The Great Hall was a sight to behold, the newly refurbished central staircase waxed and polished to a high sheen. The landing above was dominated by a huge oil painting of Elsa and Simon, and Sadie paused to study it for a moment. Strange that Elsa was the one sitting in the throne-like chair and not Simon, despite the fact that it was he who was heir to the Derwold estate. Instead, he was relegated to a standing position behind his wife, a hand poised upon her shoulder.

Sadie walked across the tiled mosaic floor. Her footfalls seemed far too loud to her own ears. There were six doors leading off from the hall. She supposed there was no choice but to steel herself and pick one. “Hello? Freya? Elsa?”

Suddenly, Elsa’s voice echoed through the Great Hall. “Hello, Miss Laine.”

Startled, Sadie peered up. Elsa stood at the top of the staircase with an arm around Freya’s waist.

“The door was open,” Sadie said. “I rang the bell but no one answered, so I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Elsa replied amicably. “The manor welcomes all. The problem is, it doesn’t always want to give them back again.”

Sadie’s brow darkened.

“Forgive me,” Elsa chuckled. “One of Simon’s little jokes.”

“I’ve come to pick Freya up.”

“Elsa can give me a lift back later,” Freya said as she and Elsa descended the stairs.

“Not today, Freya,” Sadie told the girl, her gaze never leaving Elsa. “Dinner’s on the table. Your mum asked me to come get you.”

Elsa was all smiles, but none of them had quite reached her eyes. She sauntered towards Sadie until the two women were mere inches apart.

“Is everything all right, Miss Laine? You seem rather strained.”

Sadie held her nerve. “I’m fine. It’s just been a hectic day. My cat was ill.”

Brilliant. Sadie Laine, the great improviser.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Sadie. May I call you Sadie?”

“Yes, of course.”

Elsa inched closer still. She flashed her eyes. “Pretty Sadie…”

“Get in the car, Freya,” Sadie said.

“I told you, Elsa can—”

“Get in the car. Now.”

Something in Sadie’s tone must have convinced the eleven-year-old. She made her way towards the open door, peered back at the two women briefly, then stepped outside.

Sadie watched her go, then turned back to Elsa. The two women eyed one another up in silence. It was Elsa who spoke first.

“It’s all right, I know what you are. Sister.”

“I’m not your sister.”

“Why the hostility? We have so much to offer each other. I’m of the Wicca, same as you.”

“Why have you sealed the village off?”

Elsa could have denied it. She didn’t bother. “I’m afraid it was necessary. There have been some… complications.”

“I think your husband killed the vicar. Did you know?”

Elsa gave an amused wince, as if Sadie had told her Simon had been seen prancing round the golf course with his underpants on his head. “You have been a busy little bee, haven’t you? Yes, that was the complication I mentioned. I’m afraid Simon can be rather impulsive.”

Of course, now it made sense. Elsa had shut the village off to protect Simon.

“Impulsive? Jesus Christ, Elsa, he’s a fucking psycho. He needs locking up and you know it. What if he turns on you next? Help me dispel this barrier so we can let the police deal with him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Elsa, listen to me. You can’t keep Derwold isolated forever. Sooner or later the barrier comes down, and when it does, I have no choice but to call the police. If you had no part in the killing, then you have no reason to fear—”

“And what will the police say when I tell them you and Georgia have been molesting her two pre-teen children?”

The blood drained from Sadie’s face. “Wh-what?”

“Oh, come now. No need to be coy, Sadie. Freya’s told me everything. And I do mean everything.”

“It’s not molestation,” Sadie said in a small voice. “We’re not molesting them. It’s… you wouldn’t understand.”

“I do understand. I understand completely, and believe me when I say I have no objections whatsoever. But nobody else would understand. They wouldn’t understand about Simon, either. And so you won’t go to the police, will you? Because you can’t.”

“Simon’s a monster, Elsa.”

“It was a mistake. I have a tighter leash on him now.”

“You make it sound as if you’re in control.”

Elsa gave an amicable smile. Sadie didn’t trust it one jot. “I’d like to show you something, if you have five minutes.”

“I need to get Freya back.”

“Freya can wait. It won’t take long. Humor me.”

Sadie glanced back at the half open main doors. What would Elsa do if she simply walked out? Let her go? Try to stop her? Maybe it was safer to play along for now. There was still the chance Elsa was just another victim of Simon’s brutality, protecting her husband out of some misguided sense of loyalty. Perhaps she could still talk some sense into her.

“All right, Elsa. What is it you want me to see?”

3

Elsa led them up the grand staircase and along a corridor. The paintings on the walls were predominantly occultic, so overtly satanic they seemed almost tacky, like something you’d pick up in a bric-a-brac shop. Simon’s choice of artwork, no doubt. Sadie wondered if any of them had hung here when his father had been Lord of the Manor.

She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. “Elsa, where’s Simon?”

Elsa took Sadie’s hand, as if the two of them were best of friends. “Relax, sister. Simon’s safe and sound in his romper room. I’ve locked him in.”

What the hell is a ‘romper room’?

Elsa opened the door to a bedroom and gestured for Sadie to enter. Sadie didn’t move.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Sadie, I’m not going to smother you with a pillow, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sadie reluctantly entered the room. It stank of sex, and she was quick to notice Freya’s cardigan draped across the footboard of the bed. The question of what Freya and her red-headed friend had been getting up to these past couple of weeks seemed to have been answered. Sadie wanted to slap the woman.

But what Elsa had to show her was so bizarre, so utterly shocking, her mind had no room for other concerns.

On the bedside table was a baby monitor, which Elsa switched on. Strange sucking noises issued from its speaker. Elsa gestured towards it. “Take a look.”

Sadie leaned across and inspected the small screen. The camera captured a room filled with soft toys of all sizes and descriptions. Stretched out amongst them was none other than Simon Derwold himself. The Lord of the Manor wore nothing but a man-nappy. He paddled his arms and legs in the air, then spat free the huge dummy that’d been lodged in his mouth.

“Elll-saa! Ellll-sssaaaa! Simon hungwy! Simon need booby milk! Elll-saaaaa!”

Sadie flopped down onto the edge of the bed, stunned. She squinted at the baby monitor, trying to clarify the bizarre scene. “What in the name of holy fuck am I watching, please?”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” Elsa said, taking a place next to Sadie. “The great Simon Derwold. Heir to the Derwold legacy.”

“What is this, like a fetish or something? His way of winding down after a busy day at the office?”

“I’m afraid it’s rather more severe than that. Simon’s an incredibly damaged human being. His father saw to that. Oh, he still can maintain some semblance of normality when the occasion calls for it, in the boardroom or hosting some event or other, and he has a quite brilliant mind when it comes to business. But this is the real Simon Derwold – a broken man-baby. Did you know your vicar sexually abused him when he was a small boy?”

And there was the motive for murder. Revenge. As simple as that.

Simon was off with his rambling again. “Praise Satan! Satan knows Simon’s a bad boy! Simon do poopoo in his shoe-shoe!” He leapt to his feet, brandishing a stuffed tiger like a weapon. “Mother, the Zulu are attacking! Man the walls!”

“I’m gonna be completely honest with you, Elsa. That man is not a catch.”

Elsa threw her head back and laughed. “No, he is not. But he is very rich. And everything he owns belongs to me. Including himself.”

Sadie gave the woman an incredulous look. “That’s what this is about? Money? You’re a gold digger? Where’s your self-respect?”

The blow connected before Sadie had time to register it. Her hand instinctively went to the cheek where Elsa had slapped her.

“No need to be rude, Miss Laine. I was hoping you and I could be friends. I’m counting on it, in fact.”

Sadie found her feet and made for the door. “Fuck you, Elsa. I’m leaving.”

She felt something pass through her, then Elsa was there in a heartbeat, her back against the closed door.

Teleportation? The bitch can teleport?!

Sadie had always been skeptical of the accounts she’d read. Even during the golden age of witchcraft such skill had been incredibly rare, perhaps only inherent in those touched by the Tuatha, if what Astris said was true.

“I’m not your enemy, Sadie. A new age is dawning and it begins here, in Derwold. I want you by my side. Millie too.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“A female revolution! A world governed by women. I planned to bide my time, prepare things meticulously, but events have forced my hand. It’s already begun, Sadie. Derwold is mine. Nobody has a clue what’s happening right under their noses. This is where the coup begins.”

Sadie backed away slowly. “You’re insane…”

“Am I? Look at the power we wield. How long have we hidden in the shadows like rats? For thousands of years we’ve had the means to take control, to twist men’s minds, to bend them to our will. And what have we done with that power? Brewed potions. Acted as midwives and medics. Told rich men where best to dig their wells. And what was our reward? Burnt at the stake! Drowned in ponds! Hung from trees! Yes, I know what happened to Isabel. What was her crime? To have a child out of wedlock, to use her skills to heal the sick. No more!”

“That happened centuries ago, Elsa!”

“You think it’s not happening still? I could tell you some quite horrific stories about witches in Africa.”

“You can’t take over the world single-handedly, Elsa! It’s ridiculous!”

“I’m building a foundation others of our kind can follow. If a lone witch can control an entire village, imagine what twenty can do, fifty, a hundred! They won’t even realise it’s happening, Sadie! Don’t you see how things have changed? A few hundred years ago any woman could be accused of witchcraft for the most spurious of reasons. Most of the women that ended up on those pyres weren’t even witches. Now I can place a weavewall around Derwold, and play havoc with the minds of anyone who tries to enter, and they’ll come up with a hundred plausible reasons for what’s happening to them. But they’ll never entertain the notion that it’s a woman using witchcraft on them! That’s not the world we live in any more, is it? We’ll hide in plain sight. We’ll take this country village by village, town by town, city by city. By the time they realise what’s happening, it’ll be too late.”

With breathtaking clarity Sadie realised Elsa and Simon were in fact a perfect match. They were both as insane as each other.

“And this new world of yours. What part do men play in it?”

Elsa shrugged. “They’re surplus to requirements. The age of masculinity is coming to an end. The world has begun to turn against men and their poison. You only have to switch on the TV to see that.”

“Uh… you may have skipped school when they were giving biology lessons. Guys provide some fairly important services in the field of reproduction.”

“Don’t patronise me, you fucking Barbie doll,” Elsa snarled. “Never heard of sperm banks? We’ll keep enough men around to harvest what we need. In the short term, at least. I have something much more permanent in mind eventually, something that will eliminate the need for males altogether.”

“So the fate of anyone born male is to either be used as sperm cattle or quietly euthanased? You’re sick in the head.”

“There are some difficult decisions to be made. I take no pleasure in it, but for a world free of male aggression and domination I’m willing to do what needs to be done. The human race has a few hundred years at most before it implodes under the current regime. How long before there’s another world war? It’s inevitable. And it’s unlikely we’ll survive the next one. Can you honestly tell me you don’t believe women will make for wiser leaders?”

“You’re not making a particularly good case for wise, benevolent females right now, Elsa.”

“Touché, Miss Laine,” Elsa said with a thin smile. “I realise how crazy this all sounds, but my whole life has been leading up to this moment. What I’m telling you is well within the realms of possibility, if only we have the courage to make it happen. It’s monumental, almost unfathomable, and make no mistake, it’s going to get ugly. But I truly believe there’s a better world at the end of it all.”

Elsa stepped towards Sadie. She took the young teacher’s face in her hands and kissed her three times, once on each cheek, then a final kiss upon her brow. “I need you, sister. I need Millie. Will you join me?”

Sadie thrust Elsa’s hands away. “No, Elsa. Of course I’m not going to join you. We were meant to use our power for the greater good, not wage a war against men. You need help, but it’s not the kind I can give you. I’d like to leave now. Will you let me go, please? Or are you going to kill me?”

Elsa stood stock-still for a long moment, simply staring at Sadie with a kind of weary disappointment. Sadie would fight if it came down to that, though how, she couldn’t say.

If Astris has reason to fear Elsa, what chance do I have against the woman?

But Elsa simply opened the bedroom door and gestured for Sadie to pass. “There’s no need for melodrama. Go home and have a think about what I’ve said. If not for your sake, then for Georgia and her children’s. When things pass the point of no return, you’ll wish you’d picked the right side.”

Sadie hurried from the manor and climbed behind the wheel of her car.

Freya looked forlornly at her from the passenger seat. “Did you and Elsa have an argument?”

Sadie fired the engine up and sped away from the house. “You could say that, yes.”

“Because of me?”

“Elsa’s not the person you think she is, Freya. She used you to get to me, and now we’re all in a spot of bother.”

Freya shook her head. “No, Elsa’s not like that. I trust her.”

“You told her everything! How could you be so stupid?”

“I’ve been having sex with her! She couldn’t get us into trouble without getting herself into trouble.”

“Well, we are in trouble. Big trouble. We need to pick Georgia and Millie up, then find some way out of Derwold.”

“What do you mean ‘find some way out of Derwold’? I don’t understand what’s going on, Sadie.”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

4

Elsa took a key from her pocket, then inserted it into the romper room door. She found Simon asleep amongst his soft toys, buried so completely beneath the menagerie that only his dummy and a pair of hairy feet were visible.

She booted toys out of her way as she came. “Simon. Wakey wakey.”

Simon didn’t stir. A quick kick to the feet would have done the trick, but there were subtler ways to wake a person. Of all the people Elsa needed to keep on side, Simon was the most important, at least for now. He had the money. He had the connections. He also held a seat of power. Scant power, admittedly – he was a minor lord in a country that had gone to rot – but it was something to start with. A foundation.

So she planted a small horror in his sleeping mind. A thing of blood and bone and agony, something drawn from the imagery of the ridiculous satanic religion he clung to with such fervour.

Simon exploded from the mountain of toys with a muffled wail. “Mwoooo!”

Elsa was there by his side. She pulled the dummy from his mouth.

“Nooooo!”

“Aww, did my little man have a bad dream?”

“Bloody hell, it was horrible! What time is it?”

“Almost 5pm, darling.”

“Right. It’s about time for a brandy and a hot bath, I think. Where’s Kurt and Bernie?”

“I’ve sent them on a little errand. But you’re not going anywhere just yet, young man.”

“I’m not?”

Elsa brandished the large black strap-on she’d brought with her. “You’ve caused me no end of problems. I really am quite disappointed in you.”

Simon eyed the plastic phallus with some alarm. “Oh, come now, Elsa. I’ve already said I’m sorry. Surely there’s no need for this, is there?”

Elsa began strapping the apparatus to her waist. “I’m afraid there is, Simon. Now… nappy off. Then we’ll have you on all fours, if you don’t mind.”

Simon was still protesting even as he pulled his giant nappy away and assumed the position. But when he peered back across his shoulder, there was a delighted grin alighting his face.

As Elsa thrust into him, the Lord of the Manor flipped off a salute, then broke into an enthusiastic rendition of “Land of Hope and Glory”.

5

Sadie pulled her car in next to Georgia’s Volkswagen Bug. She switched the engine off, then rested her head upon the steering wheel.

“What’re you doing?” Freya asked her.

“Thinking,” Sadie replied.

Another few hours and they would lose the daylight, but as Sadie saw it, the four of them had no option but to head straight into the woods and find Astris. Between herself, Millie and the dryad, perhaps they could unravel the weavewall and get out of Derwold.

But what then? Run and hide? Hope that they were insignificant enough to Elsa’s plans that she would simply forget about them?

Isn’t it my job to stop Elsa? If not me, then who?

Isabel had been Sadie’s problem to deal with, and really, wasn’t it much the same with Elsa? ‘Sister’ the dark witch had called her, and Sadie had balked at the notion. But that’s what they were, wasn’t it? Sisters bound in magic, born of the same legacy. And just as with Isabel, Elsa was surely her responsibility, her mess to clean up.

When the wall was down she would get Georgia and the girls to safety, then come back to finish the job with Astris. She’d never killed a person before, but there was no getting away from the possibility that it might come down to that. Elsa’s death. Or hers.

When they approached the cottage, Sadie noticed the back door was ajar. Bee came running from the direction of the nearby fields, clearly in an agitated state. Sadie’s heart sank.

Freya got down on her haunches to calm the dog. “What’re you doing running around out here on your own, hmm?”

Sadie entered the cottage. “Georgia, are you here? Millie?”

There was broken glass on the kitchen floor, along with several pans and a rolling pin. Undoubtedly, there’d been a struggle.

“Georgia?”

Bee was barking frantically outside. When Sadie turned to check the rest of the house, she gave a start. One of Simon’s stooges – or more likely Elsa’s, now that she thought about it – was standing in the kitchen doorway pointing a gun at her. Burt. Or Ernie. Possibly none of the above.

“Gonna have to ask you to come with me, Miss Laine.”

“What’ve you done with Georgia and Millie? If you’ve hurt them, you’ll be sorry.”

Burt or Ernie laughed at that. “What’re you gonna do, give me detention? You’ll see them soon enough, if you do like I say.” He jiggled the gun at her. It was the smallest gun Sadie had ever seen. She considered asking him if he’d found it inside a Christmas cracker, then thought better of it. “Go outside,” the man said.

Outside in the yard, the other thug held Freya’s arms tightly against her body. Bee harried the man’s ankles, snarling and dipping in for a series of small bites.

The man kicked half-heartedly at the dog. “Oi, stop it! Nice dog! Nice dog!”

The first man – Sadie decided he was Burt – pushed Sadie towards Freya, then aimed the gun at Bee.

“Don’t hurt her!” Freya cried, struggling in Ernie’s arms. “Please don’t!”

“Tell it to stop biting my mate, then.”

“Bee, go play! Go find Mum and Millie!”

Sadie mustered up all the mental energy she could and directed it at the dog. Bee wasn’t as receptive as Billy, and the Hungarian Vizsla would never make a suitable familiar, but she hoped it would be enough to convey the message.

Bee. Danger! Run! I’ll protect them. Go! Go!

Bee pricked her ears at Sadie, then slowly backed away. With a final bark she turned and ran.

“Aww, thank goodness for that!” Ernie sighed. “I would’ve hated to see it hurt. I love dogs, I do.”

“Shut it, you numpty,” Bert told him, then wiggled the tiny gun in Sadie and Freya’s direction. “Move.”

Bert and Ernie’s van was parked up a dirt track leading to the neighboring farm. When the rear doors were opened, Sadie breathed a sigh of relief. Georgia and Millie were in the back, apparently unhurt.

“I’ll have them phones,” Bert said, looking from Sadie to Freya.

They handed the devices over, then the man pushed them inside and slammed the doors closed. A moment later, the van was on the move.

“Now what’ve you done?” A furious Georgia demanded of Sadie.

“Me?” Sadie said, gesturing to herself. “Why do you assume it’s my fault?”

“Because it’s always your bloody fault! Deranged ancestors, weird time travelling rocks, dodgy potions – yes, I know about that, by the way. Chances are you’ll be involved somehow. What is it this time, a moonlit sacrifice? Or is this just a regular kidnapping?”

“Well…” Sadie began. “Elsa’s a dark witch who wants to take over the world, if you must know. And Simon murdered the vicar. But I didn’t start it!”

“Oh, that’s alright, then,” Georgia said sarcastically. “For a moment there I thought it was something serious.”

“Will you please stop fighting,” Freya said forlornly.

“Where’s Bee?” Millie asked.

Sadie pushed the eight-year-old’s hair back behind her ears. “She’s safe, Millie, don’t worry.”

“Is the vicar really dead?” Georgia asked. “What do Elsa and Simon want with us?”

Sadie told her what she knew. Georgia put her face in her hands. “What the hell is wrong with this place? I should’ve stayed in the city.”

6

When the van came to a sudden stop, Sadie briefly wondered if they’d been driven to some isolated location, destined to end their days in a shallow grave or at the bottom of a river. But when the rear doors of the van were opened up, they found themselves back at the manor.

The two thugs manhandled them out of the vehicle, then inside the property. They were marshaled through a door behind the central staircase and down a flight of steps. The overhead bulbs lighting the way were dim, but it was obvious this damp, dark space was either a basement or a wine cellar, though if it had ever been stocked with bottles of fine vintage, they were long gone now. Apart from what appeared to be a large rock that’d toppled over in the center of the floor, the room was entirely empty.

The four of them were pushed inside, then Burt and Ernie were back up the stairs and gone. At least they’d left the lights on, which was some small comfort.

Sadie climbed the stairs and tried the door. “Locked.”

“Obviously,” Georgia grumped. Her and the girls perched themselves on the rock. Sadie paced the dusty floor, looking for something, anything, that could help them escape.

“Why’s Elsa doing this to us?” Freya said. “I thought she was nice.”

Georgia put an arm around her oldest daughter. “Elsa’s not well, Freya. You mustn’t take this personally. She had everyone fooled, not just you.”

“Can she really take over the world, Sadie?” Millie asked.

Sadie considered that. Could she? Did Elsa have enough support to take control of the British Isles, let alone the rest of the world? Were there even that many witches left anymore? It seemed unlikely. Sadie had spent years trying to track down any remaining operating covens, but her search had been fruitless. And if Elsa could take control of the country, what systems would she have in place to govern? Where were her potential politicians? Her military? No. The whole thing was pure folly, the product of a damaged mind. Elsa couldn’t take over the world. But by the gods, she would cause carnage trying.

“No, Millie. Your mum’s right – Elsa’s crazy.”

“Can’t you create a portal out of here or something?” Georgia said.

Sadie gave her a tired look. “I’m not Mary Poppins, Georgia.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Georgia muttered.

“Is there a reason you’re being so mean?”

Georgia leapt to her feet. She counted off the fingers on one hand. “Let’s see. My youngest daughter nearly died getting sucked into a tree because of your ancestor. My eldest daughter ends up getting used by a madwoman and her murderer husband so they could get to you. And now here we are locked in a basement. Because of you!”

“That’s unfair. I didn’t cause any of this, and I’m doing my best to put it right.”

“But you’re always at the center of it, aren’t you? I have two children to think about, Sadie. I really don’t need all this magic bullshit.“ She turned away from Sadie. “I sometimes wonder if we should’ve just stayed friends.”

“Oh. That’s nice. Thank you.”

“Well, you were never fully committed, were you? You didn’t even want to move in with us properly.”

“I told you, I like my house! That doesn’t mean I don’t love you and the girls. I asked you to move in with me, didn’t I?”

“Your house only has one bedroom, for God’s sake!”

“Will you both shut up!” Freya snapped.

Millie was running her hand over the rock, brow furrowed in deep concentration.

“What’s wrong, Millie?” Sadie asked the eight-year-old.

But before Millie could answer, the door to the basement swung open and Elsa waltzed down the stairs with Burt and Ernie in tow. Georgia noticed something perched on the woman’s shoulder. On closer inspection she could see it was a magpie.

“Good evening everyone,” Elsa said in good natured tones. “I hope Kurt and Bernie weren’t too rough with you.”

“Kurt and Bernie!” Georgia and Sadie said together.

“I knew it was something like that!” Georgia said.

Sadie nodded in agreement. “I know, right? I kept calling them Burt and Ernie!”

“Me too!” Georgia said. “That’s so funny…”

Elsa stood patiently, hands folded across her chest. “When you’re quite finished.” She glanced toward Freya, who turned her head away in disgust.

Georgia sidled up to their captor. “Elsa, this is really silly,” she said, keeping her voice low enough that Kurt and Bernie couldn’t make out the words. “If you want to take over the world, good luck to you, nothing wrong with a bit of ambition, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me and my kids. Let’s all just take a step back and have a good long think about what we’ve got ourselves into. Let us go and we’ll say no more about it. No hard feelings, eh? Nice bird, by the way!”

Elsa ignored Georgia, turning to Sadie instead. “Tell me where the dryad is, Sadie.”

“The dryad? I don’t know where she is, and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”

“You know where she is. Minerva can smell her on you.” Sadie assumed Minerva was the magpie. “Tell me where she is and I’ll let Georgia and Freya go.”

“I’m not leaving without my girlfriend and both my daughters,” Georgia said resolutely.

“What do you want with the dryad?” Sadie asked.

“I believe she holds the key to asexual reproduction.”

“Uh… what?”

“It’s called parthenogenesis. When females reproduce independently of males.” Elsa added sarcastically, “Were you not paying attention in biology class, Miss Laine?”

Touché, Elsa, Sadie thought. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, but it is. It already exists in other species. Did you know the Dryad are exclusively female? Did the nymph not tell you why people like Millie and I crop up from time to time?”

Sadie could only shake her head.

“Good lord, Sadie. And you call yourself a witch. You’ll be telling me next you learnt everything you know from Agnes Munt’s Witchcraft for Beginners.”

Sadie cleared her throat and looked off into the middle distance. Her poker face had never been particularly convincing.

Elsa threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, dear! That’s hilarious! Poor Sadie.” The bird on her shoulder fluttered its wings and croaked out a mocking cackle of its own.

“I’ve read other books,” Sadie said defensively.

Elsa nodded sympathetically. “Simon’s connections have given me access to many forbidden archives. Some of the original Wiccan texts still exist, recovered or stolen from the covens when they were abandoned. I’ve learnt much.” She stepped closer to Sadie. “The Dryad bred with our ancestors, Sadie! Planted children in their wombs! Female to female procreation. Those genetic traits manifest themselves on rare occasions. In me. In Millie.”

Sadie shook her head. “Even if that’s true, Astris would never help you.”

“Astris? I never imagined you were on first name terms with the dryad. All the better. And why wouldn’t Astris help me? Wasn’t it men who slaughtered her kind? Do you think it a coincidence that those born with the power of the Tuatha are all female?”

“Vengeance isn’t their way, Elsa. Astris has no interest in our petty concerns, other than the fact that you’ve crapped in her backyard. You might come to regret that decision.”

“Well, I don’t see her anywhere,” Elsa said, peering mockingly this way and that. “If she was going to give me a slap on the wrist, I’m sure she would have done it by now. Tell me where she is, Sadie.”

“No.”

Elsa hunkered down next to Millie. Georgia moved to block her, but the thug with the tiny gun stepped forward muttering, “Move back, you.”

“I’ll move back when this mad bitch gets away from my daughter.”

“We’re just talking, Georgia!” Elsa said, as if she were somehow the most reasonable person in the room. “Why’s everyone so uptight?”

Georgia reluctantly moved back a step or two.

Elsa offered Millie a smile. “You and I are the same, Millie. Did you know that? They used to call us ‘Old Blood’.”

Millie glared at Elsa, hands folded across her chest. “No, I’m not the same as you, ‘cos you’re a skanky old cow.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re rude.”

“Will you tell me where Astris lives? I bet you’re good friends with her. I’d love to meet her.”

“She lives in a tree.”

“Which tree?”

Millie shrugged. “Dunno, they all look the same.”

“Millie, you’re trying my patience.”

“You’re trying your patience.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You don’t make sense.”

“Millie, stop it.”

“You stop it.”

Elsa regarded Millie cooly. She found her feet and adjusted her tweed jacket. “Well, none of you are going anywhere until I know where the dryad is. I’ll find her myself, eventually. But if you don’t cooperate I’ll leave you all here to rot. Have a good think about that.”

With that, she gestured to Kurt and Bernie, and the three of them disappeared up the stairs.

When they were alone again, Georgia spoke low in Sadie’s ear. “If it comes down to it, you’ll have to tell her where the dryad is.”

“Elsa might kill her, Georgia.”

“She might kill us. Your green friend will have to look out for herself. My kids are more important.”

“Maybe I can talk to Elsa,” Freya said. “Persuade her to let us go.”

Georgia shook her head. “I don’t want you talking to her.”

“Why?”

“Because I say so, that’s why.”

“Oh, thanks for trusting me. As usual.”

“Not now, Freya.”

Sadie left Georgia and Freya to bicker. She’d never felt it was her place to intervene in their domestic spats. Trying to take on the role of surrogate father seemed wrong somehow. That wasn’t a space she had any intention of filling.

Millie’s attention was once again focused on the stone. She ran a hand over its rough surface.

Sadie hunkered down next to her. “What’ve you found?”

“Runes,” Millie replied. “Just like the ones on the menhir near your house.”

Sadie spat on a hand, then rubbed it over a section of the writing. They were runes, no doubt about that. “It’s another menhir,” she said in astonishment.

“What’s it doing here?”

The idea that anyone had managed to move several tons of stone through doors and down a flight of steps seemed highly unlikely. Sadie brought up a mental map of the other known standing stones dotted around the village. Derwold Manor stood on the outskirts. The stone here would fit perfectly into the greater circle, wouldn’t it?

“It’s always been here,” Sadie decided. “The Derwolds must have built the manor around it all those centuries ago.”

“I don’t like it here, Sadie,” Millie said in a quiet voice. “I can hear dead people.”

Sadie sat on the fallen menhir and put her arms around the eight-year-old. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. I came to the rescue when you were in trouble at the tree, didn’t I?”

“Mmm.”

“And I’ll save the day this time, too. What is it I like to say?”

Millie gave a little smile. “Trust me, I’m a witch.”

Sadie nodded. “Trust me, I’m a witch.”

7

Sadie woke some time later, her limbs complaining about the dusty, hard floor she’d been forced to sleep on. Bernie – the least thuggish of the two thugs – had returned briefly to bring them food and blankets, apologising for the inconvenience and complaining this wasn’t what he had signed up for.

When Georgia suggested he make amends by letting them go, the man quickly shook his head. “Sorry, but I ain’t goin’ against her. Don’t know exactly what she’d do to me, but I don’t plan on findin’ out,” he mumbled before making a hasty exit. His fear was plain to see, and Sadie thought she could work with that, given time.

Sadie caught movement over by the menhir. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and slowly made sense of the shadows there. “Millie?”

Millie was crouched down by the stone. The fingers of a hand traced the worn shapes of the runes. When she turned to Sadie, her eyes were distant and unfocused. “It’s calling to me. Tar, trasnaigh crann an ama.”

“Come, traverse thy tree of time?“ Sadie translated. “What does that mean?”

At the sound of voices, Georgia and Freya stirred from their own uneasy slumber. “What’s happening?” Georgia groaned.

“I understand now,” Millie was saying in a faraway voice. “You don’t move to a place. You bring it to you.”

Alarmed, Sadie held a hand out to the girl. “Millie, take your hand off the stone. Don’t touch—”

The air around Millie seemed to shimmer and vibrate. Sadie caught the strong scent of ozone.

“Shit! Millie, no!”

She covered the last few feet with a leap and seized Millie, then the two of them were tumbling through a bright vortex of light and sound. “Oh my god! What’s happ—”

Sadie’s cries were abruptly cut short by a mouthful of salty liquid. She was underwater. What the hell was she doing underwater? Was Millie still with her?

More importantly, which way was up? Because if she didn’t reach the surface – if there was a surface – in the next few seconds, none of those questions would need answering. There was really no skirting round the inconvenient truth:

Sadie Laine was drowning.

On to Chapter Eight!

Note from JetBoy: It’s always a pleasure to introduce a new writer to our public, and here’s one who, I’m sure you’ll agree, has turned out something very special for her Juicy Secrets debut. Let’s give her a warm welcome, okay? A tip of the mitt to BlueJean for editing.

 

by Debbie L

Part One: Tiny Dancer

The TV is on in the background. It might be Strictly, or the news, or even a commercial break. Either way, it’s unimportant. Thirty-five-year-old Melanie Andrews isn’t watching TV. All she’s aware of right now is the torrid kiss she’s currently engaged in – a hot, wet, deep, lip-smacking, tongue-tangling kiss, punctuated by the occasional feminine moan or hastily drawn breath.

A girl is straddling Mel’s thighs. She’s wearing nothing but a cute little black satin cami top. Mel is marginally less naked in a slouchy tee shirt and a pair of very wet knickers.

Mel grabs at her lover’s arse, squeezing, kneading. It elicits a moan from the girl, and she grinds her body against Mel’s, their tongues engaged in a playful, sexy dance.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Mel’s mother always told her. Well, Mel had made her wish, and it had been granted. Now she’s somewhere between blind panic and utter rapture.

As Mel continues to wage war with her conscience, the imaginary red cartoon devil that sits on her right shoulder is currently stoking a fire in her undies.

We really shouldn’t be doing this, Mel thinks. I’m going to hell. Or jail. Maybe both.

The girl slips a hand under Mel’s soft cotton tee and settles on a breast, massaging her rigid nipple with a palm.

Fuck, that feels so good, though.

Now the girl is pressing her body down harder between Mel’s thighs, and the wetness in Mel’s panties tells her this can’t possibly be wrong. Because it feels. So. Fucking. Right.

She pulls the girl close, one hand reaching round to grab a handful of silky, chocolate-coloured curls, the other caressing and squeezing a thigh, wandering dangerously close to a smooth, bare pussy. Mel kisses the girl with hungry fervour.

She could’ve picked any woman to bring back home while her daughter was away with her dad. Any woman from any gym or any supermarket. Maybe one of the town’s more discreet LGBTQ venues, had she cared to visit one.

But she chose this instead. This.

Shit! Diane is going to kill me. She’s going to totally and utterly fucking kill me. 

The girl brings a hand low, slipping it into Mel’s knickers, fingers easing the wet flimsy cloth away from her pussy, making Melanie moan and shudder as two fingers expertly curl into her slippery, soaking cunt.

The little red devil looks up and smirks. “If you really wanted to, you could’ve stopped this already, Mel.  You don’t, though, do you? You want this. You want it bad.”

She’s my best friend’s daughter, for God’s sake!

An imaginary cartoon white angel poofs onto her left shoulder, “Yes, and that’s bad enough. But it’s not the worst part, is it, Melanie? Hmm?”

Okay. She’s my best friend’s little girl. Her preteen daughter. Satisfied now?

It’s true – the lips Mel is kissing, the body she’s caressing, the fingers so deliciously working her pussy, belong to her best friend Diane’s twelve-year-old daughter. A sultry little brunette temptress by the name of Chloe.

How the fuck did I arrive at this point? Mel wonders.

***

It all started three years earlier. Mel’s nine-year-old daughter Amy Jane, or AJ to just about everybody, had been pestering her about dance classes at a new studio that was just opening in their hometown.

The ad had been posted on social media, offering places to twenty-five girls between the ages of nine and fifteen, open auditions for suitability to be held that Saturday and commencing at midday. Mel’s husband David worked abroad in construction for six months of the year, so she was basically raising Amy as a single mum. She figured that if all went well, it would at least give her back Saturday mornings. Mummy surely deserved a little time to herself now and again.

On the day of the auditions, around forty applicants had shown up, and the small studio space was alive and bustling with a hubbub of young, excited girls and overzealous dance mums. AJ was in the process of slipping on her brand new sneakers and lacing them up when Mel heard a voice ask, “Is this spot taken?”

She looked up to see a slightly flustered young woman gesturing at an empty spot on the bench beside her.

“Oh. No, sure. Take it, please,” Mel said, moving her bag out of the way.

The young woman sat down with a thankful gasp.

Mel gave the newcomer a discreet once-over. She was actually pretty damn gorgeous – petite with elfin features and large dewy brown eyes; tumbling chestnut curls that hung to the middle of her back. A pair of fake Gucci shades were perched stylishly on top of her head. The whole look was finished off with tight jeans, a loose floral boho shirt over a black tank top, and numerous hippy-style bangles, rings and necklaces. She looked to be in her mid-twenties.

The woman kicked off her trainers and blew out a relieved breath. “Jeez, my feet are killing me. I’m Diane, by the way. My little one should be back any minute.” She leaned towards Mel and whispered behind a hand, “Last minute nerves. Had to visit the loo.”

Mel offered a sympathetic nod. “I’m Mel,” she gestured to her daughter, who was busy admiring her new Reeboks, “and this is AJ.”

AJ beamed a friendly smile at the woman, accompanied by a cute wave. “Hiya.”

All eyes looked up to see a perfect, achingly beautiful little replica of Diane walking towards them, her big brown eyes and mass of rich dark curls giving her an almost wild look.

“Here she is,” Diane said. “This is my Chloe.” The pride she took in her beautiful daughter was clear.

Mel had never seen a more beautiful child, and couldn’t help but gaze in wonder. She could never have imagined in her wildest dreams what would happen in the months and years to follow.

Girls being girls, especially at that age, Chloe and AJ instantly fell into an easy friendship. They soon skipped away hand in hand, pairing up to practise their dance moves together.

As ranks of girls formed up for the audition, Mel and Diane spent the time chatting to one another. Diane was only twenty-six, and it turned out that Chloe was the result of a high-school fling, one in which the young father bolted as soon as the prospect of parenthood reared its head.

Diane quickly learnt to adapt to life as a single parent, and subsequently worked two jobs to support herself and Chloe. Her own parents could only offer limited support, as they lived many miles away in the North. The dance classes were courtesy of Chloe’s grandfather, who had never been able to deny his granddaughter anything.

Mel offered her own potted history, and over the course of the next hour or so, a friendship took root, one that would eventually blossom into a close, almost sisterly bond.

***

Both Chloe and AJ easily made the grade, along with twenty other girls. The two of them excitedly ran up to their mothers, exchanging breathless, overjoyed hugs.

“How about Maccy D’s?” Mel suggested. She was keen to capitalise on the celebratory mood. She’d made a new friend, as had AJ, and she found little Chloe utterly captivating.

Despite a mild protest from Diane about money, solved by Mel offering to pay, the excitement of the girls won out. Mel and her new band of friends trooped off for a calorie hit of burgers, salty fries and milkshakes.

In the weeks and months that followed, Mel and Diane became close, and the girls, despite attending different schools, became firm friends through their mutual love of dance.

But for Mel, something else was happening, though it took her a while to accept. The more time she spent around Chloe, the more infatuated she became with the little girl – her smile, her cute dance moves, the way she would flick her soft brown curls this way and that. Mel was smitten.

As Mel’s husband was away so much, the four girls fell into doing all the stuff that families do – movie nights where they would all snuggle on the couch under blankets, weekends away, theme parks, even holidays together. They celebrated the victories and successes. They saw each other through hard times and disappointments.

The girls were entirely comfortable around one another’s mums, never shy about cuddling and showing affection. They were, to all intents and purposes, a happy if unconventional family.

At dance meetings, Mel would always find herself sneaking peeks at little Chloe. The nine-year-old preferred to dance barefoot, adding to her wild allure. On holidays, she would cavort in tiny swimsuits that clung to her lithe body. On these occasions, Mel made sure to wear sunglasses, so she could watch covertly. She could barely tear her eyes away from the beautiful little girl.

Mel was finding it increasingly hard to ignore the throbbing between her thighs. She was sure that Chloe had caught her ogling on more than one occasion. The girl would look in her direction, and Mel would turn her head away quickly, only to glance back and see her smiling. No – more like smirking.

Sleepovers were a regular occurrence, of course. The two pre-teens would hang out in nothing more than t-shirts and knickers, their cute bottoms and toned legs on full display.

Chloe became the inevitable headline act in Mel’s sordid nighttime fantasies. She desperately tried to divert this deep-seated lust in Diane’s direction, telling herself it was the girl’s mother she was really attracted to. But there was no way she was going to risk making a clumsy pass at her best friend.

Mel had known she was bisexual since she was a teenager, but the last time she’d acted on those impulses had been back in university. Now those desires came flooding back, and they were getting harder to ignore.

***

The girls eventually moved into secondary education, and were finally attending the same school. It was also around this time that Mel’s marriage broke down. Estranged, and out of tune with each other due to David’s long absences, they finally decided to call it quits.

It was an amicable enough parting. Mel kept the family home, and Diane and the girls were there for her every step of the way. AJ, for her part, took the separation in her stride, dealing with it in an unexpectedly mature way. She was eleven now, and despite loving her father, his protracted absences meant she barely knew him. Despite this, some effort was made to maintain their relationship.

Diane was now working a single steady job, and Mel worked from home as a freelance bookkeeper. This meant Chloe could come home with AJ until her mum was ready to pick her up after work. Mel took a guilty delight in the sight of her best friend’s daughter dressed in her school uniform, aching to touch her, to see her nude.

On one particular day, the two little dancers having arrived home from school, Mel simply couldn’t help herself. “Better not flash those sexy legs when you’re walking home, girls. You’ll cause a few car crashes if you’re not careful.”

“Eww, Mum!” AJ responded with a look of abject disgust that only an eleven-year-old can muster. “That’s so gross!”

Chloe offered a breathless giggle, then playfully kicked off her shoes. She broke into a perfect pirouette, her school skirt whirling up to reveal a pair of toned legs in black tights, with just a hint of white knickers underneath. “What, these legs, Mel? Better take a good look while you can, then!”

Melanie nearly came on the spot, the image seared in her mind. She was both relieved and disappointed when AJ grabbed Chloe and dragged her off to do their homework, jokingly admonishing her friend.

Sometime later, Mel heard footsteps on the upstairs landing, and the bathroom door closing. A couple of minutes after that, her phone pinged. It was a message from Chloe.

“I know you like looking at me. Here’s something just for you, xoxo.”

Mel opened the accompanying image, and her heart skipped several beats. Chloe had perched her phone on the sink or laundry basket and taken a picture on a timer. She’d taken off her skirt and tights, and had assumed an incredibly sexy, pin-up like pose. Her white blouse was half unbuttoned, school tie still on but loosened by a few inches. A thin sliver of knickers were just showing between smooth thighs. Chloe’s legs were stretched out, toes pointed. She smouldered for the camera, mouth turned up into a suggestive smile.

Mel felt that delicious tingle in her pussy again, and she knew her knickers were already soaked through.

Her phone pinged again.

“I hope you liked it. I like looking at you too, xoxox.”

Before she could even consider what she was doing, or what the consequences might be, Mel was shucking her jeans, then stretching out on the couch. Hoisting her tee and pushing her jeans down, she snapped a selfie, showing her trim body in all its mature glory – damp, lilac lace knickers stretched taut over the rising bulge of her mons, smooth, toned legs, all the way down to her red painted toenails. She typed an accompanying message with shaky fingers.

“Just for you, sweetheart. Our little secret. Hope you like mine, too, xxxx.”

And… sent.

After nervously waiting for a reply, Mel soon received a single word message: “WOW.”

Chloe came bounding downstairs, now with her skirt back on. She ran up to Mel and threw both arms around her. “You’re the best, Mel!” The eleven-year-old scampered into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water, then disappeared back upstairs.

Flabbergasted, Mel slipped back into her jeans, then poured herself a very large glass of wine. She leaned back against the kitchen counter and took a big swallow. “Fuck… Fuck!”

She took Chloe’s picture to bed that night, imagining herself and the preteen beauty in any number of erotic scenarios, finger fucking herself into blessed oblivion.

***

What started as a bit of spontaneous fun soon became something more of a ritual. Over the coming months, teasing pictures and short messages were pinged back and forth, and Mel continued to tell herself that she had it all under control.

We’re not actually touching each other. It’s fine, isn’t it?

The school year approached its end as AJ and Chloe both celebrated their twelfth birthdays. And all the while, as far as Mel could see, Diane and AJ remained blissfully ignorant of Mel and Chloe’s covert correspondence. Both families holidayed separately that year, spending time with grandparents and other relatives. This gave Mel some room to breathe. Her desire to move things to a physical stage with Chloe was now at a steady simmer, and she was beginning to lose trust in herself around the beautiful twelve-year-old.

On Mel’s 35th birthday, she received a new picture from Chloe, the girl’s fingers hooked into the elastic of a well-worn pair of Little Mermaid knickers. Clearly a size too small, and probably long since decommissioned, the thin cotton only accentuated the girl’s treasures, stretched taut over her young pussy while the preteen temptress made like she was threatening to pull them aside. Remembering a song from the film, Mel savoured the irony.

Darling it’s better
Down where it’s wetter
Take it from me

The girl was driving her mad, and she was loving every minute of it.

She responded with a close up of herself in see-through black knickers, her silky smooth shaved sex easily visible, and clearly moist with arousal. “Bad girl, xoxo,” she tapped out.

The response: “You have no idea HOW bad… xoxo.”

It was true, Mel had no idea… but during the October half-term, she would find out.

***

AJ had opted to spend the week visiting her dad and grandparents, leaving Mel alone for a few days. It was Monday afternoon when her phone started ringing. It was Diane.

“Hi, sweetie, what’s up?” Mel said.

“I’m good. Listen, Mel, I know it’s half-term, and you were looking forward to some time to yourself, but I was wondering if there was any chance you could take Chlo for a few days. I know it’s short no—”

Mel cut her off. “Of course I will, babes! Amy won’t be here, she’s spending the week with her dad and his parents, but Chloe’s welcome to stay. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s a work thing. A place opened up on a course I really want to do, but it’s in Portsmouth, and I’d have to leave really early to grab the 6.30am train. I’ll be gone ‘til Friday. Are you sure it’s okay? I’ll totally understand if you can’t do it.”

Mel tried to hide the excitement in her voice at the prospect of four whole days with Chloe. Just the two of them. Alone.

“No, no, it’s fine. Really. If you want, you could bring Chloe over this evening and both have dinner here. Then she can spend the night to save you the hassle in the morning.”

“Oh, that’d be fantastic. Thanks so much, hun, you’re a fucking treasure! We can be there around six, is that okay?”

“Sounds great. See you both soon.”

Mel’s body trembled as she ended the call, nerves jangling, excitement flooding her.

She’s just a kid, she reminded herself. No touching. As long as there’s no touching, it’ll be okay.

Mel finished up her bookkeeping, then rushed around tidying the house. She took a long, hot bath, shaving her body of any unwanted stubble before lying back and relaxing in the bubbles and steam. A hand wandered towards the ache between her thighs, but she pulled back, resisting the urge to masturbate.

She’s my best friend’s kid, like a second daughter to me, and like a sister to AJ. But surely a little innocent real-time show ‘n tell is harmless enough. We’ve already shared pics, after all. Just… no touching, Mel. No touching.

In the bedroom, Mel studied her naked body in the full length mirror before slipping on a tiny pair of black knickers, yoga pants and a slouchy off the shoulder tee. A quick slap of makeup before she tied her blonde hair back into a loose ponytail, giving herself what she hoped was an effortlessly sexy look. She headed back downstairs to start dinner.

In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine, then prepared an easy pasta and salad meal.

At 6pm, Diane and Chloe arrived.

Diane was dressed in casual tight-fitting jeans, with ankle boots and a black denim shirt, her usual beads and bangles on full display. Chloe was wearing a plain hoodie, but her dancer’s legs were clad in very short, tight cut-off jeans, along with sheer black tights and sneakers.

Hugs were exchanged before Chloe kicked off her sneakers and made herself at home on the couch to watch TV while the two women armed themselves with glasses of wine and chatted away in the kitchen.

“Thanks so much for this, Mel,” Diane said. “I know it’s short notice.”

“It’s really not a problem. You know I’m always happy to help.”

Diane glanced towards the open kitchen door, then lowered her voice a notch. “While I think about it – has AJ mentioned anything weird about Chlo?”

Mel shook her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Why?”

“It’s just, I dunno, she’s been a bit of a handful lately. A bit off, you know?”

Mel felt a brief stab of panic. No, it’s probably got nothing to do with… Relax, for God’s sake.

“I wondered if there’s something going on at school that she’s not telling me,” Diane continued. “Or, I dunno, it could just be that she’s growing up.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Di. I’ll keep an eye open. Want Agony Aunt Mel to have a little chat with her?”

“Nah, you’re right. I’m worrying for nothing,” Diane said, waving the notion away. “Thanks, babes. Dunno where I’d be without you.”

“It’s fine. Chloe and I will have a fun few days together. I’ll cheer her right up.”

The three of them sat round the dining table to eat their meal. There was the usual gossip and smalltalk, and Mel began to feel a little more relaxed as they all enjoyed each other’s company.

Until, that was, Mel felt a foot brush against her bare ankle. She passed it off as an accident and thought no more about it. But the mystery foot returned a short while later, moving slowly up her leg before lingering near her thigh. She looked up to see a smirk on Chloe’s face as the twelve-year-old munched on a piece of garlic bread.

Mel nearly gagged on her wine. “Shit, went down the – ach! – wrong way.” She took a mouthful of water, her face reddening.

“Need a slap on the back?” offered Diane.

“No, I’m okay. Anyone fancy pudding? I think there’s some ice cream in the freezer.”

Diane dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I’d love to stay, babes, but I better get home. I still need to pack, then grab an early night.”

“While I think about it, Di, what time does your course kick out on Friday? I only ask because AJ’s staying with Dave and his parents just down the road from you in Southsea. Any chance she could travel back with you to save Dave the trip?”

“Absolutely. I should finish around lunchtime. We can have a bite to eat and a girly afternoon, then grab a train home later. I’ll call AJ tomorrow and sort it all out, if you could just let her know the rough plan.”

“I will. Thanks, you’re a gem.” She kissed Diane on the cheek, then they shared a hug.

“Be good for Mel, poppet,” Diane told Chloe, and bent down to give her a hug. “I’ll see you on Friday. Love you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good,” Chloe reassured her mum with a smile that seemed just a tad mischievous to Mel. “Good luck!”

With that, Diane climbed into her car and departed. Mel and Chloe waved her off from the front door.

Chloe slipped an arm around Mel’s waist and rested her head against a shoulder. “Thanks for letting me stay, Mel.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s fine. You know I love you to bits,” Mel said, leaning down to kiss the girl’s brow. Her hair smelled sweet and fragrant. Mel breathed it in.

“Mind if I go have a quick shower?” Chloe asked. “I feel all scuzzy.”

“Sure, go ahead, stinky. You know where everything is. AJ’s room is all ready for you when you’re done.”

As they parted, Chloe’s hand brushed across Mel’s arse in a way that could only have been interpreted as deliberate. Then she scampered off upstairs with a giggle.

“Hey, Mel!” the twelve-year-old hollered once she’d reached the landing. “I’ve got you to myself for four whole days! I hope you’re ready!”

Melanie was left reeling. Her best friend had not been gone five minutes and already her resolve was crumbling.

Get a grip, you daft cow. You’re a grown woman, and Chloe’s only twelve! She’s just teasing you, that’s all.

Mel topped up her wine glass and settled onto the couch while Chloe took a shower. She flicked through the TV channels, trying to take her mind off the throbbing between her thighs. She settled for a movie she’d seen a dozen times and relaxed into the cushions.

Thirty minutes later, Chloe came back downstairs and entered the kitchen, probably to grab a drink from the fridge. “Mel, do you need anything?” she hollered. “Hey, Mum left half a glass of wine here. Am I allowed to have it? Please?”

“I really shouldn’t let you, but if we keep it between us, I don’t see the harm. Just drink it slowly! And grab the bottle from the fridge for me, would you?”

Chloe padded into the lounge with the glass of wine pressed to her lips, the other hand grasping the bottle by its neck. She flitted across the floor ballerina-style, dressed in a cute pair of satin pyjamas, the bottoms resembling old-fashioned French knickers, while the top was a hip-length camisole, the edges trimmed with lace. The whole ensemble took Mel’s breath away.

“You like?” Chloe purred with a seductive smile, hips pivoting from side to side to show herself off. The silky fabric clung to her body like a second skin, barely concealing her budding peaks and two small but prominent nipples. The damp tips of her freshly-shampooed hair only added to the seductive effect.

Mel swallowed hard. “Y-you look… you look amazing, sweetie.”

The child was stunning, undoubtedly destined to break some hearts. Mel knew that if she wasn’t careful, her own heart would likely be the first.

Chloe bent at the waist to put the wine bottle down on the coffee table. She peered back over her shoulder with a grin, hips swaying gently, then extended a dainty foot to toy with Mel’s leg.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” she giggled. “Now I have you all to myself for four whole days. You can touch me anywhere you want, Mel, okay? I really want you to.”

Mel chewed nervously on a fingernail. “Oh, Chloe. It’s not that I don’t want to, I do, but I… I shouldn’t. I can’t.” 

But even as she said the words, Mel was leaning forward to run her hands over the girl’s ankles, then further up the length of her legs to slip beneath pyjama shorts. She found herself caressing Chloe’s smooth thighs and slim hips, a choked moan escaping her lips as fingertips grazed the curve of the child’s firm bottom.

“Chloe… your Mum, AJ. They can never know about this. You have to promise me,” Mel whispered, her resolve melting away completely. “Fuck, I love your skin. You feel so nice, baby.”

Chloe gave the derisive snort so typical of young girls these days. “Pfft, Mum’s got her secrets, too, like you wouldn’t believe. But this can be ours. I promise not to tell. Oh, please, Mel. I’ve wanted this for, like, ages.”

Mel placed a soft kiss on the small of Chloe’s back, breathing in strawberry body wash and the girl’s subtle but intoxicating natural scent.

Chloe wiggled her hips, bum cheeks moving up and down hypnotically. The combination of gravity and her slim build won out. The satin shorts poured down her legs to pool round her dainty feet.

Mel let her eyes travel up the girl’s toned legs. Chloe raised her arms above her head in a pretend yawn, causing her pyjama top to hike up a few inches, just enough to reveal the golden orbs of a very supple bottom, and the merest hint of her sex.

Mel was trembling uncontrollably; nerves, fear, arousal all conspiring to drive her lust as she peppered Chloe’s arse with soft, feathery kisses, stroking her skin. She ran her hands up the girl’s torso, fingers slipping beneath her top to rest on a delectable pair of budding breasts.

“I think you should take those yoga pants off, Mel.”

At the twelve-year-old’s request, Mel hooked her fingers into the waistband of her pants as Chloe took another quick sip of wine, then put the glass aside to help Mel undress, rolling the leggings down her thighs and then kneeling to pull them from her feet.

“I’ve been dying to see you like this,” Chloe said. “The photos were fun, but this is much better.” She offered Mel a smutty grin. “I can’t wait to get these knickers off, too.” And with that, she pressed her face against the front panel of Mel’s undies and breathed in deeply, nuzzling her cheek against the warm, damp material.

Mel could only collapse back onto the couch, allowing Chloe to straddle her thighs. The two of them came together for a first kiss, an almost chaste affair, closed lips tentatively teasing.

“It’s okay, Mel,” Chloe said. “I know you want this. I do, too. Just… just love me.”

Then they were kissing again. Chloe’s lips were the first to open, inviting Mel’s tongue inside. She wriggled around on the older woman’s lap, caressing and squeezing her breasts under the t-shirt she wore.

The twelve-year-old was blissfully unaware of Mel’s internal battle. She finally had her best friend’s mum right where she wanted, and on some level, Chloe had always known that Mel felt the same way, and that given the chance she would cross that threshold from flirting into… well, this.

And there they both were. Joined together like lovers.

Chloe curled two fingers easily into Mel’s heated pussy, making her spasm and throb. Mel twined her own fingers through the girl’s chestnut curls, drawing her closer until their mouths locked once more in a deep lover’s kiss. Her free hand slipped between Chloe’s thighs, thumb stroking a silky smooth slit.

The little girl’s fingers moved rhythmically inside Mel’s aching cunt, leaving the older woman briefly wondering where a girl of twelve learnt such things. “Oh, God, Chlo… Fuck!”

Mel was lost – in love, or lust, maybe something in between. At least I waited until she was twelve, she told herself. I mean, it’s a bit more legal than nine, isn’t it? And she wants me too, doesn’t she? Surely that makes it okay. Okay-ish, at least?

Her old friends Little Angel and Little Devil threatened to rear their imaginary heads, but Mel was of the opinion that they could both go fuck themselves. She locked them in the darkest chamber of her mind and threw away the key. She thought there might be a word for that. Something like: Denial.

Chloe gave a lust-driven squeal as Mel’s thumb teased at her pussy, the girl’s wetness providing ample lubrication. Their kisses intensified as Mel revelled in her young lover. Picking the girl up, she playfully tossed her back onto the couch, admiring the little one’s lithe legs as they waved to and fro. She hastily pulled off Chloe’s cami, noting the look of pure unadulterated want in the child’s face.

“Mel, do it to me… make me feel good.”

Mel slipped her tee over her head, then pushed her sodden knickers down her legs and away. When she spoke, her voice was thick with arousal. “Baby girl… Oh, fuck, I so want you.”

They drank in the sight of one another’s nakedness, the inevitability of this moment apparent to both adult and child. Mel took Chloe’s feet in her hands and lifted them to her lips, kissing and sucking each little toe as she moved her hands up the girl’s legs. Reaching the crease of her smooth sex, she gently teased the wet slit with the tips of her fingers. Chloe could only wriggle and writhe as Mel folded to her knees on the floor and kissed her way upwards, teasingly bypassing the girl’s mons to pepper soft kisses across her belly.

Chloe let her legs drop down on either side of her lover and leaned forward, taking Mel’s mouth in a long deep kiss, reaching out to fondle her tits and gently pinch nipples that had already taken on a rubbery stiffness. Chloe mewled mournfully as the kiss broke, but was soon gasping with delight as Mel dipped down to suckle at her sensitive little nipples. Her fingers found the forbidden treasure between the girl’s thighs once more, easing a finger inside her this time, curling it round to find that magic spot.

She eased her young partner back onto the couch, and Chloe languidly draped her legs over Mel’s shoulders. The twelve-year-old knew what was going to happen next and could barely wait.

Mel took a moment to savor the sight of the preteen’s silky smooth sex. Not yet fully developed, the delicate flower glistened with a thin veneer of moisture, the labia puffy and firm. Mel pried the small lips apart with her fingertips, revealing a bright pink interior. For a moment she could only gaze in awe, but then she was leaning in to take a slow, sensual lick from bottom to top, finally capturing that first long-awaited taste.

Chloe cried out in pleasure, the sound primal and animalistic. She tightened both legs around her new lover, reaching out to grab fistfuls of Mel’s hair as the woman’s tongue penetrated the warm hole, treating her pussy to a luxurious French kiss.

Mel cupped Chloe’s bottom, holding the writhing girl tight to her mouth, lips completely enclosing her exquisite cunt as she licked and kissed and sucked. When she found Chloe’s throbbing clit and began massaging it with her top lip, the twelve-year-old felt her body stiffen. Her back arched, thighs clenched tightly round Mel’s shoulders.

Any and all of Mel’s misgivings were now firmly in the rearview mirror as the beautiful little dancer spasmed and climaxed. Her pussy constricted around Mel’s tongue, the copious juices flowing freely. Mel couldn’t get enough of the taste. She kept at it, wringing another orgasm out of the frantic girl.

“N-no more, Mel! Please… no more. Let me… let me get a breath…” Several long moments passed before Chloe was able to speak again. “Omigod! I love you so much, Mel! That was better than I ever imagined.” Her body was trembling, breath ragged and hoarse.

Mel reluctantly released the girl and sat back on her heels, her own wetness drizzling down onto the soles of her feet. Her mouth and chin were glazed in pussy juice. She grabbed her wine glass from the coffee table and gulped the contents down in one, then gently began stroking the exhausted girl.

“Shhh, baby girl. Relax now. I love you, too. You’re so fucking sexy. So beautiful.”

Mel clambered up onto the couch and pulled Chloe close, wanting no more than to hold the girl for a spell. They had four whole days to explore one another. Her own orgasm could wait.

Chloe drifted off to sleep in Mel’s arms, limp and utterly spent.

Mel felt she was finally at peace with her conscience. She was helplessly in love with Chloe, and promised herself she’d move mountains to protect their special bond. Pulling the large, luxurious throw off the back of the couch, she draped it across them both. Reaching for the remote, she picked a movie at random, settling in for the night as Chloe slept on in her embrace .

She kissed the girl’s brow. “Sleep, my love,” she whispered softly. “Sleep well.”

***

A few miles away in the little two-bedroom house she and Chloe shared, Diane had showered, packed, and was now in bed. She picked up her phone and clicked on a contact number, feeling a warm flush at the sound of a familiar voice at the other end.

“Hi, gorgeous girl,” she replied. “I’ve booked us into the Wayfarer for Friday night. Hmm? Oh, it worked like a charm, didn’t it? It was almost too easy. Yeah, I can’t wait to see you, too.” She paused. “Your mum and Chloe?” Diane smiled to herself. “If they’re not fucking already, I’ll be amazed. You’ve seen the pictures they’ve been sharing. I know – your mum thinks she hid them so well. No, baby, nobody knows about us except Chloe. We were a little careless there, but she’ll keep our secret. After all, look what she got in return. No, your mum doesn’t suspect a thing, don’t worry. Okay, I’ll see you on Friday. I love you, AJ. Nuh-night, sweetie. Sleep tight.”

Diane ended the call, then pulled up the collection of very private photos she’d amassed over the last eighteen months, a familiar warmth between her thighs as she scrolled through them. Some showed AJ alone dressed in the sexy underwear Di had secretly bought for her. Other pictures – an awful lot of them, actually – showed Diane and AJ together in a variety of very intimate poses.

Diane stroked herself to a lazy, much needed orgasm. Finally, she turned out the bedside lamp and drifted into a satisfying slumber.

On to Part Two!

The story thus far: Seeking a missing Texas Ranger, our old acquaintance The Tequila Kid comes across a poor family named Miller. Like many others in the area, this widow Sarah and her two little girls, Amy and Cindy, have been brutalized by a wealthy scoundrel named McCuller, who intends to drive away all the owners of small farms and ranches in the area and take their land. Later, drying off from heavy rain at the local stable, Sheriff Lucas Clay comes in search of The Kid, demanding she surrender her guns. Knowing Clay to be corrupt (and in league with McCuller), The Kid asks to speak with him in private. Moments later at the jail, he threatens her, and she deals him a beat-down, then informs him that she means to arrest McCuller and Tyson Avidite (a banker who is part of the conspiracy) before she leaves.

From the sheriff’s office, she goes to the Silver Slipper, the town’s saloon, gambling house and brothel. There, she encounters a young man named Jud Nelson, who she’d seen Sheriff Clay harass earlier. Recognizing him as a decent sort, she hires him to watch the jail to see if Clay leaves. Then she meets a twelve-year-old girl named Dixie, who does menial work at the Silver Slipper and is bullied by Toots, the brutish bartender. The Kid asks Dixie which girl is the most popular of the whores. Star, the girl replies, and The Kid gives Dixie the money to pay for Star’s services that evening.

Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, The Kid enjoys an intense hour of sex with Star. Afterwards, she asks the prostitute a few questions about the town and its doings. She learns that Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she seeks, disappeared around the same time as Dixie’s older sister Dallas, who was one of the whores at the Silver Slipper. The Kid asks about Ben McCuller, but Star refuses to answer, claiming “it’s too dangerous.” When The Kid goes back downstairs, Jud returns to let her know that Sheriff Clay just left town, riding hard in the direction of McCuller’s place.

Figuring she’s done as much as she can for one night, The Kid decides to join an ongoing card game, where she ends up winning a decent amount of money, as well as a neglected horse, which she takes to the local stable where her own horse is being kept.

The next morning, The Kid is informed by Jud Nelson that Cy Warren, McCuller’s enforcer and dirty-jobs man, has just entered the sheriff’s office, using a key. On their way to confront him, The Kid is taken aback to recognize the horse Cy has hitched up outside as Thunder, who she knows to be the property of Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she is seeking. More determined than ever to get answers from Cy Warren, she boldly strides into the sheriff’s office, a nervous Jud close behind.

The Kid quickly catches Warren in an obvious lie about his having purchased Hansen’s horse, and arrests him on the spot, drawing her gun before he can. Once Cy is locked up, she and Jud set off for banker Tyson Avidite’s office. With the genuine ranch deeds in her possession, she and Jud quickly establish that the ones Avidite is holding for McCuller are obvious forgeries, created in an effort to steal the area’s small ranches from their rightful owners.  Confronted by the evidence, Avidite breaks down and confesses to his role in McCuller’s crooked conspiracy. 

Later that day, The Kid steals onto McCuller’s land while he is away. She encounters his vicious pair of trained dogs, and deploys Indian methods she learned as a young girl to make friends with them. That accomplished, she carefully breaks into his study, where she fiddles with a certain something in the man’s desk drawer before making her escape.

The Kid has one more task to accomplish before turning in. She drops by the Silver Slipper to liberate the young girl Dixie from her menial position. The vicious bartender Toots is intent on stopping The Kid, but she takes him down with a couple of well-placed punches, then helps herself to a large wad of cash from the man’s pocket for Dixie’s back wages. The Kid and the girl then depart, leaving an enraged Toots behind.

The Kid takes Dixie out for a decent meal, buys her a new set of clothes, then gets them a room at a local boarding house. After a bath, The Kid plans to turn in for the night… but Dixie has other ideas, insisting on making love to her benefactor as a way of saying thanks. The Kid finds the sweet young thing impossible to resist. 

The next morning, on her way to the sheriff’s office, The Kid happens upon two men loading a large wagon with food and supplies, and quickly realizes they work for McCuller. When they beat a man for begging for a little flour, she arrests them both, putting them in jail along with Cy Warren. Once they’re locked up, she asks Jud Nelson to return the deeds McCuller stole to the families he took them from — along with a thousand dollars for each family, taken from McCuller’s bank account, and the contents of take the wagon of supplies.

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

by Purple Les

It was the most wonderful thing that could ever happen. Mr Vale come riding up with a big wagon full of supplies. He told Ma it looked like we’d be staying put after all.

A new sheriff was with him. He gave Ma the deed to our ranch and a thousand dollars to boot. 

Mr Vale was so happy he looked ready to bust. He said on Christmas day everybody is invited to his place to eat and make merry. Amy was doing cartwheels round the yard.

Mr Vale left us a lot of food and such, then him and Sheriff Nelson rode off to do the same for all our neighbors. Soon as they was gone, we went over what they’d left us. Besides some vegetables, there was a little firewood and coal, and some coal oil for our lanterns. There was some salt pork and bacon too, with flour and tea and coffee.

Later that day, The Tequila Kid come riding up. My, we were glad to see her! This time she wasn’t alone, there was a girl sitting behind her on the horse. She looked to be a couple years older than me.

She was kind of shy at first, but while Ma and The Kid talked grownup business inside, me and Amy walked around our place with this girl, who is named Dixie. After we told her all about us, we learned some about her.

Turns out she had a big sister, but Dixie thinks she is dead now. She told us her sister’s name was Dallas. But then she said her real name is Clara, and her sister was called Ruth. Clara and Ruth Lamb, they had been.

She told us after their Ma and Pa were both dead and they lost their home, they wandered from town to town. Clara said that was when in one town someone started calling her Dixie and her sister Dallas, then it just sort of stuck. Me and Amy asked what we should call her, and she said it didn’t matter, but Amy said she liked Clara better, so now we call her that.

We told Clara that my name is Cynthia and Amy’s is Amaryllis, but please just call us Cindy and Amy.

The Kid come out of the house later and said she had things to get done, but when she rode off, she left Clara with us to play.

Ma asked Clara to come in the house, then a little later she called for me and Amy too. Ma asked how we would feel about Clara staying with us for always.

Me and Amy had some questions, like where she’d sleep and such. Ma said she could bunk down with me and Amy for now, till she could get a pallet made up. And when she said Clara would be helping with the chores, me and Amy said it would be fine with us since we liked her right off anyways. And now we’d be able to skip rope proper.

***

Before leaving town, Cy Warren stopped at the bank, where the teller informed him that Tyson Avidite wasn’t in that day, and not at home either. Unbeknownst to anyone else, The Kid had Avidite stashed away in an abandoned miner shack.

Somethin’ wrong here, Cy told himself, back on the road to McCuller’s. Avidite would have to be sick as a dog to stay away from his bank. No, I don’t like the look of it.

Then something occurred to Cy that made him stop dead in his tracks. Wait just a goddamn minute… What if that bitch has somethin’ to do with this?

It was the only explanation that made a lick of sense. First she runs Sheriff Clay outta town. Then she locks me up like a thievin’ half-breed. Now Tyson Avidite’s gone missin’. That Tequila cunt is behind all of it. She’s gotta be.

Just then Cy happened by the burnt-out shell of the Fletcher home, the one he’d set ablaze himself after putting a bullet through Bob Fletcher’s head.

Gotta admit, he was a tough old bird, Cy mused. Even after I pistol-whipped the shit out of him, he still wouldn’t tell where them deeds were.

His mouth tightened. I shouldn’t of lost my temper and shot him, though. It was the way he smiled after I backhanded him that last time, like he was laughin’ at me. I won’t take that from no man, ‘specially in front of the boys. Still, if I’d just worked on him longer, he’d of given in.

Cy began to kick through the debris, seeing what his boot might turn up. Nothing. Then his gaze fell on the fireplace and chimney, all that remained of the Fletcher house.

Getting down on his hands and knees, Cy examined the hearth closely, looking for anything out of place.

It wasn’t until he peered into the fireplace itself that Cy spied one brick that seemed to jut out slightly. Whipping out his stiletto, he worked at prying the brick out, grunting with satisfaction as it emerged by a good half inch.

A few minutes later, the man held a battered metal box. It proved impossible to open, so Cy carried it off with him. It’s gotta be the deeds. What else would that dirt-scratcher have worth takin’ that much trouble to hide?

He resumed his journey with a confident stride. Reckon this’ll get me back on the boss’s good side. Then I’ll round up the boys, ride back into town and deal with that fuckin’ Tequila Kid. She’ll be beggin’ for mercy afore I get done with her.

***

The sun was just commencing to set when The Kid arrived at Sarah Miller’s place, anxious to assure herself that Dixie was settling in nicely with her new family. She was pleased when, on her arrival, all three girls rushed to greet her with big hugs.

Sarah was close behind. “You’ll stay to take supper with us,” she said, in a tone that made it clear she would brook no refusal.

“Much obliged.” The Kid replied. “Mind if me and my horse bed down in your barn tonight?”

“Oh, now… there’s no need for that. There’s room aplenty for you in the house,” Sarah offered.

“Don’t think my horse would fit in there at all,” The Kid joshed.

“You know I meant that for you,” Sarah said, gently resting a hand on The Kid’s arm.

“Naw, the barn’s fine.” Glancing around to make sure the girls were out of earshot, The Kid whispered, “Tell the truth, Sarah, I want to keep a lookout tonight. I don’t reckon anyone will turn up, but it’s best to play it safe.”

Sarah nodded knowingly. “Thank you, Kid.”

For the first time, The Kid noticed what a nice smile Sarah had. It stirred something inside, making her feel a little awkward. For a moment she wasn’t sure what to say, finally coming out with, “Dixie seems to be enjoyin’ herself here. Seems like she’s gettin’ on right well with your girls.”

“Oh, she is, yes. They adore her. She’s like a new big sister. By the way, she goes by ‘Clara’ now. That’s how she was christened.”

“Huh… so ‘Dixie’ ain’t her real name. Funny how kids’ll tell each other things they don’t tell their elders. Anyway, thank you again for takin’ her in. You’re a real lady, Sarah.”

“Well, I’m far removed from bein’ a lady, Kid,” Sarah protested. “Just a farmer’s widow, that’s all.”

The Kid took Sarah’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t you believe that, now. You’re a strong, beautiful woman who’s bringin’ up a couple of the sweetest girls I ever met, and you kept this place goin’ when times was hard. If your husband was still here, he’d be real proud of you.”

Sarah blinked a few times, fighting tears. Finally she said, “Much appreciated, Kid. I… I do what I can. Now it’s my turn to thank you for leaving that food when you came here the first time. It gave us more than just something in our bellies. For the first time in a long while, I remembered there was still goodness in this world.”

Kid looked down at the ground in embarrassment, but managed to reply, “Shucks now, Sarah. When I seen how you folks was nearly starvin’, then little Amy come out and give me an egg for myself, and an apple for my horse… well, how could I not give her somethin’ back for that kindness?”

The two women met in a warm embrace. Wiping her eyes. Sarah murmured, “Well, I best get started on supper.”

“Yes,” Kid replied, “I need to get my horse settled in, then I’ll split up that bit of firewood Jud left.”

With one last smile for The Kid, Sarah mounted the porch steps, looking back once more at her guest before she went inside.

The Kid gazed out into the yard, watching the three girls play. I’ll have to get used to callin’ that child Clara now instead of Dixie. She sure is a sweet thing. Wonder if she’ll be trying to get specially close to her new sisters, same as she was with Dallas. 

Watching Clara break into an impromptu dance, she remembered how pretty the girl was with all her clothes off. Don’t reckon I’ll be seein’ her that way again, The Kid told herself, feeling a bit wistful. With a brief sigh, she took up Button’s reins and led her horse into the barn, where she removed her gear and groomed her horse. She found a few horse blankets, and took one to drape over Button. Laying some hay down, Kid patted Button’s neck.

“Eat up, girl. I’ll be doin’ the same in the house.”

Evening came early that time of year. As the disc of the sun began to slip behind the horizon, Sarah called the girls indoors to help with supper. The Kid had each girl carry a stick of wood in with her while she toted the rest.

Dropping the split logs into the wood bin, she asked Sarah, “Need any help fixin’ supper?”

Sarah shook her head. “You’re a guest,” she said. “Sit you down in the front parlor and relax. It’ll be ready in a short spell.”

The Kid would have preferred to lend a hand, but did as she was told, seating herself in the room’s only chair. They had to bust up most of the furniture for firewood, she remembered.

She felt a little awkward sitting there on her own. Cindy and Clara were helping out in the kitchen, while little Amy was setting the table. Thankfully, Amy completed her task right away, then shyly approached The Kid. “Can I sit with you?” she asked with a smile.

“Why, sure,” The Kid replied, patting her thighs. “I was feelin’ kinda lonesome. Come keep me company.”

Climbing into The Kid’s lap, Amy nestled into her new friend, then reached into a pocket sewn into her dress, from which she produced a harmonica. “Would you like to hear me play?”

“I’d purely love to,” The Kid replied.

“This is my favorite. It’s called, ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’. Here I go!” And she performed a spirited rendition of the hymn.

“Well, that was real pretty,” The Kid said when Amy finished, tousling her hair. “What’s it about?”

“Christmas!” the child squealed, all but bouncing in her excitement. “That’s when Baby Jesus was born. And when Santa Claus comes!”

“Hmmm… Santa Claus,” The Kid said thoughtfully. “I have heard that name spoke around Christmas time. Who is he?”

“You don’t know who Santa is?” Amy scowled in disbelief.  “Everyone ought to know about Santa Claus.”

The Kid noticed Amy looking at her as if she’d gone plumb loco. “Well… why don’t you tell me, then?”

For the next few minutes, she sat spellbound as Amy shared everything she knew about Santa Claus. It wasn’t long before The Kid was brimming over with questions. “How’s this Claus fella get back up a chimney once he slides down? What if there ain’t one? What if there’s a fire burnin’ in it? Where in tarnation did he get reindeer that can fly?”

Amy had a ready answer for most of these questions, and came up with good guesses for the rest. The Kid was left shaking her head in awe. “Well, I’ll be. So… you ask him for what you want, and if you been good, he’s s’posed to come down the chimney and leave it for you.”

“That’s right! But if you’re bad, he gives you dirt and stones instead.”

“Huh. How you reckon he knows who’s good and bad?”

Amy shrugged. “Don’t know. He just does.”

“So what was it you asked him for?” The Kid asked. “And how do you ask if he’s so far away? Send him a telegram?”

“No, silly!” Amy giggled. Glancing around to make sure the others weren’t listening, she spoke wistfully, “Used to be, Pa would help me write a letter to Santa, then mail it to him. This year, I wrote it the best I could. But I didn’t have no way to mail it. So I waited till there was a strong wind blowin’ northwards, then I took my letter out past the barn and let the wind take it away. I was hopin’ it would go right up to the North Pole.”

Shifting closer to The Kid, Amy whispered in Kid’s ear, “I asked Santa to make Ma happy again. She’s been awful sad since we lost Pa. For Cindy, I asked him to give her a horse. Those bad men who shot Pa? They killed our horses, too, and she misses ‘em somethin’ terrible.”

The Kid waited to hear the rest, but the little girl was silent. “Didn’t you want somethin’ for yourself?”

The little girl shrugged. “I already asked for so much. Besides, if Cindy and Ma are happy, I’ll be happy too.” With that, she rested her head against The Kid’s chest. “I know a horse will make Cindy happy. I don’t know how Santa will make Ma feel better. But I know he will somehow.”

They sat quietly for a while until Sarah called, “Supper’s ready.” She emerged from the kitchen with a steaming pot of salt pork stew with dumplings, followed by Cindy with a plate of hoe cakes and Clara with a basket of hot biscuits.

There were only three chairs, so The Kid pushed the front parlor chair over to the dining table, while Amy seated herself on a crate Jud Nelson and Jack Vance had left with the supplies they’d delivered.

“Let us say the blessing,” Sarah murmured, looking around at the others. Bowing her head, she said, “Dear Lord, please bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies, and our bodies to thy service. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen,” the girls echoed, and The Kid slipped in a mumbled, “amen,” of her own.

It was a very pleasant meal. The stew was delicious, and for the first time in a while, there was a mood of genuine optimism in the air. Clara had filled the lamps with coal oil, so the room was brightly lit. There was a small fire in the fireplace and the stove filled the house with warmth.

“Nice to have it warmer inside than outside for a change,” Sarah murmured.

Amy said, “I like this crate for a chair. Puts me up nice and high to the table.”

With a smile, Sarah replied, “Don’t get used to it, dear. It’ll be firewood in a day or two, once I’ve replaced the chairs.”

After dinner, they remained at the table for a while. The Kid took a deck of cards from her green corduroy vest entertaining Sarah and the girls with a few tricks she’d learned from a New Orleans cardsharp. She’d been up since before dawn, though, and soon found herself yawning.

“Sorry, folks, but I’m plumb tuckered out,” she mumbled, getting to her feet. “Time for me to turn in. Thanks for supper… it was real good.” She moved the stuffed chair back to its place in the parlor, said “Evenin, all.”

Sarah and the girls wished her a good night, then The Kid set off for the barn. Wandering over to the door, Sarah watched their guest vanish into the darkness. Wish she lived round these parts, she thought. I’d purely love to have her for a friend. There’s something about her that I especially like. 

With a sigh, Sarah turned back to the girls. It wasn’t long until bedtime, but she wasn’t ready for the night to end just yet. Then she had an idea. “You know… I think that tonight would be a good time for you girls to have a bath.”

Amy and Cindy exchanged puzzled glances. Bath night was a special treat in the Miller home, but it always took place on a Saturday. Of course, their lack of firewood meant that their recent baths had been taken in cold water.

“It ain’t Saturday, Ma,” Cindy said.

“It’s ‘isn’t’, not ‘ain’t’, and those last few baths shouldn’t even count,” Sarah replied. “Since the stove’s still going and we have a fire in the fireplace, let’s use the rest of our wood to heat the water. We’ll have it nice and hot!”

“You don’t have to heat up water for me,” Clara said. “I had a bath the other day.”

“Well, another won’t hurt,” Sarah said. “Besides, bath night is a very special time for this family, and we want you to be part of it. Don’t we, girls?”

“You don’t ever want to miss having a bath, Clara!” Amy exclaimed. “It’s lots of fun.”

Soon the whole family was caught up in preparation. Cindy pumped the spigot in the kitchen, filling a bucket for Clara to carry to a pot on the stove, while Amy fetched the soap and a large towel they always used. Sarah took the large metal tub down from its hook on the wall and set it near the fireplace. She paused to stoke the fire, feeling warm in more ways than one.

Sarah returned to heating water on the stove as Clara brought it to her, while Cindy and Amy worked the pump. When it was warm enough, Sarah took the bucket from Clara and started pouring it into the washtub. Emptying the last of it, Sarah looked up and said, “Get undressed, girls.”

***

Cy Warren trudged up to the ranch house, out of breath and damp with sweat despite the cold, his feet aching horribly. He knocked on the massive oak door, then McCuller himself opened it, glaring in disgust at his bedraggled right-hand man.

Ben McCuller stood five foot four. He was fifty years old and gray-haired, with wide shoulders and narrow hips. He seldom smiled, even when in a good mood, and right then his disposition was anything but good. His steel-blue eyes seemed to bore into Cy as he snapped, “Well, nice of you to show up!”

Swiveling around, he stomped off toward his office, Cy making haste to follow as he limped behind. God damn it to hell, he thought, the old man’s on the warpath again. He’s gonna kick my ass from here to Abilene when I give him the news. 

In McCuller’s office, Cy seated himself, uncomfortably conscious of the two huge dogs lying by the fire, their eyes following his every move.

McCuller poured whiskey for himself and, after fixing Cy with another contemptuous glance, grudgingly took a glass from the bottom desk drawer and poured him one, too. Fighting an urge to drink the contents in a single gulp, Cy took a small sip, then opened his mouth to speak – but McCuller cut him off before he could utter a syllable.

“Where the hell have Sam and Cookie got to?” he demanded. “I sent them into town to get the larder stocked… they should’ve made it back hours ago.”

Cy clenched his jaw. Wonderful. Somethin’ else for him to chew on my neck about. “Well, um… they’re in jail.”

“Are they, by God!” McCuller thundered. “How the hell did that happen? For that matter, how’d you let it happen?”

Taking another swallow of whiskey, Cy explained everything. How The Tequila Kid caught him rifling the desk in the sheriff’s office. How she’d identified the horse he was riding as the property of the missing Ranger Hansen, then got the drop on him, forcing Cy to surrender his gun before locking him up. How The Kid then found an excuse to lock up Sam and Cookie, who were cooling their heels in jail at that very moment. How she had deputized Jud Nelson, one of the ranch hands McCuller had recently fired, as the new sheriff. How Tyson Avidite had gone missing, and his suspicion that The Kid was involved.

McCuller spoke not a word, and he remained impassive while Cy spoke, but his ears began to flush a bright red. No doubt about it; an explosion was imminent.

God almighty, is he gonna turn them dogs loose on me? Cy didn’t think it would come to that, but you never knew with McCuller, especially when in one of his rages. I seen him do worse. 

Suddenly Cy remembered the metal box he’d found, now resting on the floor by his chair. Idiot, he chided himself. You should of mentioned that first. 

“I got this,” he said, reaching for the box; showing it to McCuller. “I passed the Fletcher place on the way back. It’s all burnt down ‘cept the fireplace and chimney, but I poked around in there and found a hollowed-out hidin’ place.” He tapped the box. “This was stuffed inside. Figure it might be them deeds old Fletcher said he had.”

McCuller’s eyes lit up. “Give it here,” he said.

Cy handed the battered box over. McCuller studied it for a moment, then took a heavy-duty letter opener from his desk. After a moment’s struggle, he managed to pry the lid open. Staring inside, his face turned dark; his mouth tightened. Taking a piece of paper from the box, he brandished it. “What’s this?”

Cy leaned closer, staring at the paper. “It’s a… drawin’ of a bird. Maybe a raven or crow.”

“I’ll tell you what it isn’t,” McCuller growled. “It isn’t a stack of goddamned deeds!” Wadding the paper up, he threw it in Cy’s face. “Warren, you couldn’t find your ass with both hands and a map to guide you. I suppose now you’ll tell me that Tequila Kid had something to do with this, too!”

Soon as the words left McCuller’s lips, Cy knew they were true. How he knew, he wasn’t certain, but it made sense. Somehow, she got to them deeds first. Damn her eyes.

McCuller was staring at Cy, his face like thunder. “You failed me completely, Warren. I gave you that Ranger’s horse as a personal favor. Didn’t I tell you to get rid of that fancy saddle of his? Now the law knows you have it. That saddle is a finger pointing straight at you… which means it’s pointing at me, too.” He shook his head. “Then I send you to town to make yourself sheriff, and you get yourself arrested. By a girl, no less!”

“Now, that ain’t fair,” Cy protested. “The Tequila Kid ain’t just some girl–”

“Shut up!” McCuller snarled. “You’re supposed to be a soldier, Warren. A soldier working for my coin. If you can’t handle her, I’ll get someone who can. Hell, let her come out here. I’ll kill her myself.”

“I’ll take care of her, Mr. McCuller. Let me bring some of the boys into town and–”

But McCuller was already shaking his head. “No. You had your chance, Warren. This will all get sorted out, and that bitch Ranger will be in an unmarked grave, no thanks to you.”

Cy said nothing, but he could feel his face getting hot.

“I’ll take care of that Mezcal Kid, or whatever the hell folks call her. A woman Texas Ranger, for Christ’s sake!” He made a face as if he’d just bitten into a lemon. “Now go back to the bunkhouse, and stay there until I call for you. Until then, I don’t want to see your sorry–”

The two huge dogs looked up, ears back, and softly growled before the men heard the loud thump on the door. McCuller and Cy both started, but then McCuller smiled. “Ah… now, if that’s who I think it is, our little problem is as good as solved.” He rose from his seat. “You might as well stick around, Warren. I believe you two have already met.” With a low, mean laugh, he stalked out of the room.

Cy sat motionless as he listened to the boss stride down the hallway to the door, all too aware of who was on the other side. Hell fire, I didn’t think this day could get any goddamn worse.

***

Once Sarah was done bathing the girls, she had them slip into their nightgowns and climb into bed. It was a bit small for the three of them, but Sarah figured that would make it easier for them to stay warm. Kissing each one on the cheek, she said, “Now, don’t stay up too late talking, girls. Get yourselves some rest. I’m going out to the barn for a little bit; see if The Kid needs anything.”

Lighting the bullseye lantern, Sarah headed out to the barn, bundled up in her heavy coat. She’d be draping that coat over herself later after getting into her own bed. Without the girls to sleep with, it was sure to be cold.

The Kid quickly woke when she heard Button nicker. Reaching from inside the bedroll, she grasped the butt of her gun.

Sarah entered through the small side door. “Kid? It’s me.”

The Kid relaxed somewhat. “Everything okay? You hear someone? The girls are all right?”

“Yes, all is well. I just wanted to check if you’re warm enough… maybe chat for a while if you were still awake.”

“C’mon up,” The Kid called out. “Or do you want me to climb down?”

“I’ll come up.”

Sarah made her way up the ladder, The Kid helping her into the loft. Taking the lantern from Sarah, she carefully hung it on a hook.

“Lord, Kid!” Sarah exclaimed, briskly rubbing her hands together. “It’s freezing up here. You really should come into the house. My bed’s roomy enough for the both of us.”

“Shucks, I’m just fine,” The Kid said. “I’ve slept rough when it was a lot colder than this. Looks to me like you’re the one that’s cold. Here, come get in my bedroll and warm up.”

Settling in alongside The Kid, Sarah reflected on how nice it felt. I haven’t been this close to anyone since Eric was killed. Well, except for cuddling the girls. 

“I’d like to thank you again for what you done for Clara… givin’ her a home,” The Kid said. “If not for you, that little girl would of ended up sellin’ herself to men just to get by, just like her sister had to.”

“I’m happy to have done it. She’s a darling child, and my girls adore her.”

“Nice of you to pay me a visit, seeing how cold it is out,” The Kid said. “I been wantin’ us to spend some time together.”

“Oh, I’d have come up here sooner,” Sarah said. “But I wanted to give the girls a bath, since I had enough wood to heat up the water.”

The Kid gave a thoughtful nod. “Well, I can see how little Amy might need a hand, but the other two… aren’t they old enough to wash themselves?”

“Oh… that’s just how me and my daughters have always done it. Bath night is a special time for us. And I think it’s a good thing for Clara to be part of it, so she gets to feel more like one of the family.”

The Kid slipped a hand inside Sarah’s coat, resting it on the woman’s side. “It’s right nice, lookin’ at pretty girls. Isn’t that right, Sarah? ‘Specially when they’re bare naked. I know it pleases me.”

“Uh, yes, I guess so.”

“Was your girls curious to see an older girl like Dix… I mean Clara, with all her clothes off?”

“Well, the children go swimming naked in the summer, so they’ve seen other – I mean, it’s nothing new to them.”

The Kid whispered, “You didn’t mind looking, I bet. Havin’ all three girls in the tub. Washin’ one of ‘em while the other two look, then movin’ to the next one.”

Sarah felt her heart pounding in her ears and said, “I – I’m not sure what you mean,” all the while thinking, How did she know? I do love looking at them. Such lovely children. What is there about naked little girls that makes them so beautiful? And they enjoy it as much as I do. I’ve often noticed how my daughters always seem to steal glances at one another… and tonight they were paying extra special attention to Clara. 

“I don’t mean nothin’ by it,” The Kid said softly. “Mamas do wash their younguns, after all. I just figured yours are grown enough that they don’t really need much help takin’ a bath.” She placed a hand on Sarah’s thigh.

Sarah shivered. “A  year or so ago, I… I told the girls they were old enough to wash their own selves, but they wanted to keep having our bath time together, all three of us. Eric would go into town and play cards on those nights, so we could have some privacy.” She trembled as The Kid’s hand found its way under her dress.

“I can see why they’d want you to wash ‘em, ‘stead of doin’ it on their own,” The Kid said, touching the front of Sarah’s underwear, tracing the cleft of her vagina through the thin cotton with her index finger. “It’s the closeness. Bein’ together, showin’ your love.” Her hand covering Sarah’s vulva, The Kid began to rub the dazed mother’s cunt. “Did you ever take your clothes off when you were givin’ the girls their baths? Ever let ‘em wash you for a change?”

“N-no,” Sarah gasped. “But one day… well, Cindy went into town with Eric, so it was just me and Amy. I had a bath ready for myself, and I thought, why not bring Amy into the tub with me?”

“Why not?” said The Kid, voice soft as a prayer. By then, she’d slipped a hand into Sarah’s drawers and was fondling the woman’s sex. “Did you enjoy it?”

Sarah tried to focus on the memory of that time with little Amy, though The Kid’s probing fingers were playing hell with her concentration. “I did… very much,” she admitted.

“I bet Amy liked being naked with you, too. Imagine what it would be like, all of you bathin’ together.”

“The tub isn’t b-big enough,” Sarah replied.

The Kid smiled. “If I was you, I’d get me one of them nice big tubs with the tall sides.” She eased her finger into Sarah’s vagina. “Think about how nice that would be. The girls washing you for once. Them soft little hands strokin’ your skin. Bodies touchin’, all slicked up with soap. A momma and her girls, gettin’ close. Was it me, I reckon I’d be bathin’ naked with my little ones every time we needed one. Maybe even sometimes when we didn’t.” She nuzzled Sarah’s neck, then gave it a light nip.

“Oh, Kid,” Sarah moaned. “Oh, my goodness…”

“You got to see ‘em all naked tonight, didn’t you? Lord, I’d love to of been there. Those sweet little bottoms, all shiny from the bath water… Mmm, just thinkin’ about it makes me all hot and crazy inside. Which do you like better, Sarah – those nice smooth pussies your girls have, or that sprinklin’ of hair Clara’s got?” By then, The Kid’s index finger was churning about inside Sarah’s vagina.

“Um, I – I like it all.” Sarah stammered, then cried out as The Kid’s thumb brushed her clitoris.

“Listen, Sarah,” said The Kid, “you’re a mighty fine-lookin’ woman. I’m guessing maybe you been missin’ your husband’s attention. Would you allow me to kiss you?”

Without a word, Sarah turned toward The Kid, and their mouths met. Surprising herself, she parted her lips to admit the younger woman’s tongue, then met it with hers.

Surely this is a sin, Sarah told herself. But I’ve not been touched or held like this in such a very long time, and loneliness weighs on my soul. Lord God, please allow your humble servant to drink from this cup. 

She wrapped both arms round The Kid, drawing her close until their bodies were pressed snugly together, the two women kissing hungrily.

Something occurred to Sarah as The Kid’s hand covered her breast. How does she know Clara has hair between her legs? 

***

Soon as Ma went out to the barn, Amy told Clara right out of the blue that she was real pretty. I think so too. In the bath Amy was rude to ask Clara why she had so many black and blue marks and Ma corrected her. Clara just said she’d fell down some steps. Made me think she sure must be unsteady on her feet.

I was surprised when Clara said she thought me and Amy are pretty too. What surprised me even more is when Amy asked if Clara would take off her nightdress and let us look at her again.

I scolded my sister, telling her she ought not to ask such things, but Clara just smiled and wanted to know if we liked looking at girls with no clothes on. Amy said we both did, but when Ma gave us our bath we were standing too close in the tub to see much.

Clara got up to stand at the foot of the bed and pulled her nightie right off.  Then she lay back on the bed with her legs spread open and told us we could look all we wanted, or touch her any place we liked.

Right away Amy kneeled by Clara and began to feel her titties. Then she reached out to touch the little patch of hair Clara had down there, between her legs. There wasn’t enough of it to hide her girl bits, cause I saw when Amy touched her there, too. 

Clara liked that a lot. She even told my sister to feel down lower. So Amy put a finger on her slit. Clara took her hand and moved it all around, showing her the right way to do it, so she would have the good feelings. Amy asked what kind of feelings she meant, and Clara said she would show us.

This was something new. Every once in a while me and Amy liked to pull up our nightgowns and rub our girl parts together, but we’d never tried using our fingers on ourselves, or on each other. It sure looked like fun!  

Clara asked if we’d never seen a girl with hair down there, or titties like she had. I told her about Maude Fletcher having had some hair down there and little titties. Then Amy surprised me by saying that one time she took a bath with Ma, and how our mother had a lot of hair down there and nice big titties. I’d never known that. I wasn’t really jealous but maybe a little sorry I never got to see Ma like that, and that they kept it secret from me. 

Clara asked me if Maude Fletcher still lived round here. I had to tell her the whole Fletcher family got killed a couple months back. She asked who done it, and when I told her it was this rich rancher named McCuller, Clara turned pale and quiet for a little bit. Maybe he did bad things to her family too. I didn’t want to ask about it. 

Anyhow, Clara cheered up when Amy started to touch her girl bits again. She said it was the best feeling a girl could ever have, then told us we should get naked too. Amy didn’t think twice about taking off her nightgown, then she lay down on her belly and was touching between her legs with both hands, moving her bottom around and saying how much she liked it. Telling me I should try it too. Clara was still on her back rubbing herself while she watched Amy.

That’s when I took off my nightgown, then none of us was wearing a stitch. I kneeled on the bed and touched down there. It was wonderful, so warm and special deep inside. Like when me and Amy rub ourselves together, but lots nicer.

Clara turned Amy over on her back. She smiled at me, then Amy, and said this is what girls do when they truly do love each other. 

I couldn’t believe what happened then! Clara lay down between my sister’s legs and kissed her there! Then she started to lick it, running her tongue through the opening, even going inside some. Then she covered it with her mouth. 

Amy was going crazy, squirming and wiggling where she lay, saying oh Clara oh Clara oh Clara I love you. I was still touching myself, and watching Clara give my sister the good feelings she promised made what I did even better. My heart was beating so loud I could almost hear it.

It got too hard for me to be on my knees, so I lay down beside my little sister and took her hand. Amy gave it a squeeze, her body did a huge jerk, then she lay still, breathing fast and deep. I kissed her cheek, then she hugged me close for a little while. 

Then Amy sat up and asked Clara if she would use her mouth on me, that I had to feel it for myself. Clara said she would love to. So I lay back and opened my legs for her. Once more she got down on her belly, then gave me a kiss down there. I liked it, but when she got started licking it was like floating straight up to heaven. 

When me and Amy rub our parts together the way we like, it feels good, but Clara’s mouth and tongue was like a slow burning fire that gets out of control and burns down everything in sight. Soon I was shaking the same way Amy had done, like I was having some kind of fit. 

Then my sister was giving me one of our special kisses while Clara kept licking, and before I knew it that fire swept through me so fast and wild that I half expected to die from it. 

I didn’t die, but maybe I fainted for a little bit, cause next thing I knew, Clara was cradling my head in her lap, like Ma used to when we were little. I felt bashful all of a sudden, but still told her thank you. 

Clara said I was very welcome, then she bent down and kissed me. A special one with her tongue, the same as me and my sister do. I wondered if Amy had showed her how. 

Her kiss tasted strange at first, then I figured out it was the taste of my girl parts. I wasn’t sure what to think about that but it was pretty nice. 

We all three took turns kissing for a while. Amy asked Clara if she could lick her down there, but Clara said Ma would be getting back in from the barn soon so we better not. She said we could lick her next time, so I figure we will be doing those things again.  

I remember us putting our nightgowns back on, then we got under the blanket and snuggled up close to stay warm. Guess I fell asleep right quick, cause I didn’t hear Ma come back in.

On to Chapter Eight!

For a list of the many characters who populate this saga, check out Dramatis Personae.

Sadie receives a concerning call from Vivaan Dinesh, Derwold’s resident doctor. At the surgery, she is confronted with the murdered vicar. Meanwhile, Millie rescues Bernard from the mysterious black panther, and the traumatised man confesses he’s not a real druid at all. 

Sadie sets out to investigate the vicar’s murder, and discovers that someone has set an arcane wall around the village, preventing anyone from entering or leaving. In the woods that surround Derwold, she meets Astris the dryad.

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

by BlueJean

1

“We must speak, you and I. Sister to sister.”

The dryad’s not speaking English, Sadie thought. She’s speaking her own language, but I can understand her. She’s making me understand.

Billy had little reservation about leaping up onto the log where Astris sat, offering himself up for strokes. Astris ran a slender green hand through his black fur.

“You’re real…” murmured an astounded Sadie. “I mean, I had every reason to believe you were, but… after what happened at the oak, there was no sense of your presence there.”

The dryad’s voice was warm honey and sandalwood oil. “The tree was one of many when I first called it home. Now it stands solitary upon the land your kind have stripped bare. Were it not for Isabel I would have retreated further into the forest long ago. Now, though, the oak is free of her sickness and deserves to live out the rest of its days in peace, would you not say?”

Sadie gestured to herself. “It was me that sent Isabel back to the cycle. I’m actually a witch.”

She suddenly realised how needy she sounded, as if she were fishing for gratitude. Did she expect this ancient creature to kiss her palm and offer profound thanks? Sadie and Isabel had been kin, linked by blood. Whose problem had her ancestor been if not Sadie’s? Why expect thanks for putting her own house in order?

Astris regarded her with shrewd eyes. “So it was and so you are. The way you sent Isabel on was very unusual, very impressive. If you had failed, I would not be standing here now. I have yet to regain my full strength.”

Sadie flushed with pride. The dryad shimmied from her perch and padded towards her.

“But enough of that. You came to investigate the spell woven around the Oaken Wood, did you not?”

Sadie recognised the name of the village hiding in those two words. Der meant oak in Old English. Wold meant wood. The village had supposedly been named after Simon Derwold’s ancestors, but it seemed more likely to Sadie that the Derwolds had named themselves after the village. There was power in names, she knew, and an old name doesn’t give itself up easily.

“I thought it was your spell,” Sadie said. “If not yours, then whose?”

“You are not the only witch that wanders these woods, Sadie Laine. I have seen another wending her way through the forest. A magpie sits upon her shoulder.”

“Another witch? Who?”

“A flame-haired woman. There are silver streaks that run,” Astris touched her temples, “here and here. She has used the remnants of the warding weave I placed around the forest centuries ago as a foundation for her own dark magic. She’s very clever, very powerful.”

“Elsa Hart…“

Elsa was a witch? That was quite the revelation. Was the barrier around the village somehow connected to the vicar’s murder, then? Was it Elsa who had murdered him, or were the two things unrelated?

“What’s Elsa playing at? Why would she shut the village off like this? I don’t understand.”

“Nor I. Nothing good can come of it, I fear. Look at the death she has wrought.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Sadie said, then realised it sounded like a reprimand. “What I mean to say is, you could’ve stopped her if you’d wanted to, right?”

Astris turned away. She was bunching her fists together at her sides.

“My God… you’re scared of her.”

The dryad peered back at Sadie with something akin to amusement. “Did you think me indestructible, witchling? Do you imagine I do not bleed when cut, nor shrivel and die when burnt? When the Legion invaded these lands millennia ago, they slaughtered my kind with ease. Their metal weapons made a mockery of the slow seduction of our weave. The long life of the Dryad is only won through caution.”

The Legion? Surely Astris couldn’t be talking about the Roman invasion of Britain? That’d been two thousand years ago!

“Uh… exactly how old are you?“

Astris afforded her a scathing look. “It is not a polite question to ask.”

“Oh. Sorry. Some humans don’t like to be asked their age, either.“ Sadie forced herself to focus on the task at hand. It was no time for distractions. “We need to get this barrier down as soon as possible. And figure out what Elsa is up to.“

“The petty games of humankind are naught to me,” Astris said haughtily.

“So you’ll do nothing?” Sadie gestured towards the dead animals scattered across the forest floor. “That’ll be the villagers eventually, unless we can dispel this barrier. If no one can get in or out, we’ll starve to death. Will you really stand by and—”

“I did not say I would not act. Is the Oak Wood not my home also? My kind were living here when yours were still tree dwellers in a faraway land. And one does not ‘dispel’ a tapestry. The weave is dense and complex. It must be unraveled, stitch by stitch. It will take time. And patience.”

Tree dwellers in a faraway land? Sadie didn’t even want to contemplate the inscrutability of that statement. It occurred to her that the dryad might be mad.

“How much time? I don’t know how long it’ll be before someone stumbles on this thing, if they haven’t already.”

Astris circled Sadie slowly, seemingly fascinated with the young teacher. “Hard to say. My perception of time differs from yours. The beat of a dragonfly’s wings for me. Several cycles of the sun for you.”

“Well, can I help? I know some dispelling magic.”

“Yes. You may help. The child, too.”

“Millie?”

“Just so.”

“Millie… she’s different, isn’t she? Her power goes beyond mere witchcraft.”

Astris hunkered down on her haunches next to a dead roe deer. She ran a hand across its cold fur. “Millie and Elsa are the same. They are both of the Tuatha.”

“What does that mean?”

The dryad said nothing for a long moment. Finally, she spoke again. “It was our great mistake. But the tale is long, and there is no time for it now. It is enough to say they both harbour great power. I believe Elsa has suffered, just as Isabel suffered. Her sorcery is all rage and spite. You asked if I feared her. I do. Believe me when I say I have good reason. You would do well not to confront her. Millie may follow a different path. When her menstrual cycle begins she will realise the full potential of her power. Guide her well.”

“I’m trying, I really am. But I’m still learning myself. I had no coven to teach me.”

“The child will need to understand the power she harbours, this is for certain. But kindness and compassion are better lessons. They will stop her straying from the path, and the path is all too easy to stray from. I believe it is too late for Elsa.”

Astris stood and approached the young witch. Sadie could smell her – rich and sweet and earthy. Not at all unpleasant. “I dwell by the waterfall now.”

Sadie knew the place. During the summer months many of the village children went there to swim and frolic.

“Come to me there on the morrow. We will see what can be done with this spiteful hex.”

“All right.”

The dryad leaned in towards Sadie, her nostrils flaring. “What is this? This scent?”

Sadie suddenly felt very self-conscious in such close proximity to the nymph. Astris was incredibly beautiful. Her long walnut hair was swept back behind her pointed ears and draped across a shoulder, a single braid woven into one side. Her bare breasts were pert and perfectly formed.

“It’s perfume,” Sadie murmured. “Medeau Origin.”

She considered offering to write the name down for Astris, but it didn’t seem likely the dryad would be marching down to Boots to purchase a bottle any time soon.

“It is so strong. Why do you mask your natural scent?”

“I’m not sure, really. I just think it smells nice.”

“Mmm. And this colour on your lips. It is paint? The Mammoth Hunters used red ochre on their faces, I remember.”

Mammoth Hunters? Not possible. Surely not possible. How could any creature live that long?

“It’s a sort of paint, I suppose. It’s called lipstick. I tend to stick with the nude colours. Not too keen on anything garish.”

The dryad placed a green fingertip upon the side of Sadie’s neck, brushing the small hummingbird tattooed there. Sadie shivered at the touch. “So detailed. As true as life. The Pictish tribes adorned their bodies with pictures, but nothing so vibrant as this.”

“I have another one here.“ Sadie rolled a sleeve up to reveal a tattoo depicting a cartoon witch riding a broom.

Astris was making approving cooing noises. At least Sadie thought they were approving. “Your outfit is very interesting. So many colours! And your boots seem very sturdy.”

Before she could stop herself, Sadie was holding out her hands and doing a cute little pirouette. “What, these old things? I just threw them on willy-nilly, to be honest. Levis tucked into mid-calf leather boots – very classic. And I love my ethnic tassel cardigan! I literally wear it everywhere.”

Astris gestured to herself. “Among my kind I am considered very beautiful,” she said, a look on her green face that Sadie was shocked to discover might have been shyness. Faced with the almost god-like aura the dryad projected, that small sliver of human vulnerability made Sadie want to close her eyes against its blasphemy.

Astris touched the turquoise jewel that sat in the centre of her forehead, strung there with what looked like a thin vine. “I like this stone. Do you see?”

“Omigod, I know! It’s gorgeous! I never thought about having jewelry there. I might steal the idea, okay?”

“And I use vines and leaves around my body. I like to tie them round my arms and legs like this.” Astris twisted her body from side to side, showing off her scant attire.

“It’s so fucking cute! I wish I could get away with that look. If I turned up to work dressed in leaves and vines, I’d probably get fired, though. But you pull it off so well, Astris!”

An awkward silence ensued as human and dryad regarded one another wistfully. Finally, Astris offered a wry smirk, then flicked her hand dismissively. “Tsss. Enough of this nonsense.” She began wandering away through the trees. “We must watch and wait, Sadie Laine. See what drives this flame-haired woman. See what it is she hopes to achieve.”

“Er… okay. Bye, then.”

“The waterfall on the morrow. Come find me. And bring the child.”

When Astris had disappeared into the forest, Sadie offered Billy a big dopey grin. “Oh my goodness, Billy Buckham! We only went and met a flippin’ dryad!”

Billy looked distinctly unimpressed.

“What? I thought I handled myself quite well, actually.”

2

After that exquisite feast of incestuous pleasure with the girls, Georgia tried her best at persuading them to spend the rest of the afternoon indulging in more sexy fun, even going so far as to promise them freshly baked cakes and extra pocket money. But Freya wanted to pay Elsa a visit, and Millie wandered off upstairs with Bee in tow.

One orgasm was rarely enough for Georgia at the best of times, but there were days when her arousal was so ravenous it could barely be sated. This was one of those days.

She’d tried to phone Sadie several times, but mobile coverage was nonexistent, worse even than normal.

On days like this, Georgia and her lover would fuck the afternoon away, finding ever more inventive ways to make love. Neither of them had much in the way of inhibition when it came to sex.

When Sadie and the girls were at school and Georgia was alone, frustration would stoke her perversion to new heights. She would send Sadie pictures of herself splayed out on the kitchen table with a rolling pin or a courgette stuffed up her cunt, or ask her lover to text her with details of what the pretty little girls in her class were wearing, what colour their panties were, what kind of socks they wore, if their hair was in pigtails or ponytails. Which of them, besides Freya and Millie, would have the tastiest little pussy?

Georgia decided to take the clean laundry upstairs, then spend the rest of the afternoon with her sex toys until Sadie turned up. Basket under arm, she entered Freya’s room first. Her daughters had previously shared a bedroom, but Freya had expressed a desire for her own space, so they’d redecorated the spare room.

She left Freya’s neatly folded clothes on the bed, then lifted the pillow. There were two pairs of panties there, a pair of Sadie’s and a pair of hers, both unwashed. Georgia had to smile. God, I feel so fucking horny.

She left Freya’s room and padded across the hall to Millie’s. Nudging the door open, she found herself gasping in shock.

Millie was sprawled out on the bed, panties round her ankles. Bee was poised between the eight-year-old’s spread legs, lapping at the child’s cunt while Millie stroked the dog’s head, whispering, “Good girl, good girl.”

“Millie Newton! What on earth are you doing?!” Georgia cried, a hand to her mouth.

“Waaaah!” Millie pushed Bee away and scrambled to pull her knickers up. “Uh… bad dog, Bee! I told you not to do that, didn’t I? I did, Mummy, I told her!”

Bee simply wagged her tail.

Georgia couldn’t help but laugh. The truth was, when Sadie and the girls were at school, she’d tried to get Bee to do the very same thing on several occasions, but that novel method of masturbation had always been hit and miss, and usually necessitated a drizzle of honey on her mons. Okay, it was a bit perverse, but it wasn’t as if she was letting dogs fuck her or anything. Surely, a little licky licky every now and then was harmless enough. Certainly no worse than having sex with your own children, she told herself.

Georgia put the washing basket down on the floor and perched herself on Millie’s bed. “Well, someone’s been caught red-handed.”

Millie shook her head rapidly. “No, I haven’t, actually. I was having a nap and when I woke up Bee was doing… uh… well, that.”

“Oh, I see. And I suppose Bee pulled your knickers down too, did she?”

“Um… they must have fallen down!”

Georgia laughed. “You’re so funny, pixie.”

“Oi, stop laughing!” Millie demanded, then broke out into fits of giggles herself.

Georgia snaked a hand up her daughter’s bare inner thigh, then let it settle on the crotch of her pink panties. Her fingers traced the shape of the puffy labia beneath. “If you need your pussy licked, you don’t need to get Bee to do it, silly girl. Mummy’ll always help you with that.”

“Sometimes I like it when Bee does it,” Millie admitted. She opened her legs for her mother. “But I like it when you do it, too.”

“Let’s get you out of those knickers, then.”

Millie slipped her panties down until they ringed her knees. Georgia pulled them the rest of the way off, then pushed a finger through the child’s bulbous vaginal lips, still wet from the dog’s tongue. She took Millie’s knickers and wiped away any remaining moisture, then dipped her head between Millie’s open thighs, flashing her tongue through the crease of the little girl’s sex. The taste was tart and spicy, the smell of her youngest only fuelling her own arousal.

Georgia coaxed Millie’s little clitoris from its fleshy hood, then pushed a single finger deep into her pussy. “I’ll bet Bee can’t do this,” she cooed, then flicked her tongue over the little node while her finger pistoned in and out of Millie’s tight hole.

Wanting a better view, Millie pushed Georgia’s dark hair back. She liked to see what her mum was doing when they played sexy games. It was fun to watch her finger poking in and out, to see her tongue darting back and forth.

A series of small tics and tremors shook Millie’s body. Bee had taken her halfway there, and now Mummy was finishing her off so, so nicely.

“Oh, Mummy… Mummy!“

Having satisfied Millie, Georgia planted a soft kiss on each of the girl’s thighs, then another on her belly button. She could happily go down on her little girl for the rest of the afternoon, but her own hunger needed to be taken into consideration.

She gently turned Millie over onto her belly, unable to resist peppering more kisses across her firm little bum cheeks. Quickly shedding her clothes, she climbed over Millie, pressing her sex against the child’s arse. “My sweet girl,” she cooed, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Mummy’s going to fuck you now.“

Hands braced upon the bed on either side of Millie, Georgia arched her body and rubbed her cunt back and forth across the child’s bare bottom.

Millie reached back to grasp her mother’s arse, a smile playing on her lips. “You’re making my bum all wet.“

Hips pivoting, Georgia pressed her tits into Millie’s back, liquid sounds accompanying each thrust. “Oh, yeah. I’m gonna come, Millie, okay? Mummy’s g-gonna come all over your pretty bottom.“

Millie craned her neck to peer back at Georgia, sucking on her lower lip. She liked to watch her mum doing orgasms.

Georgia ground her sex tightly against Millie’s bottom as the climax oozed out, her arse clenching and unclenching with each surge of ecstasy. Finally, she let her full weight settle onto her daughter’s body, nuzzling at her ear. Millie found her mother’s mouth and the two of them shared a long, deep kiss.

“I don’t think we’ve ever done it on your bed before, have we?“ Georgia said.

Millie shook her head. “It’s quite nice.“

Bee leapt up onto the bed, gave the two of them a reproachful look, then curled herself into a ball on Millie’s pillow.

“Oh dear,” Georgia said. “I think we’ve made someone jealous.“

3

It was late afternoon when Sadie got back to her cottage. She’d considered checking in at Georgia’s house first, but the question of how to approach the day’s events, and how much of it she should reveal to her girlfriend, lingered heavy on her mind.

Georgia would know she was hiding something – she was either unusually gifted in that regard or Sadie was a poor liar – but if Sadie told her the truth, Georgia was sure to panic. Derwold was cut off from the rest of the world, at least temporarily. Panic and confinement were not good bedfellows.

She would head back there before the day was done; had to eventually. But right now, she needed to make as much sense of this situation as she could. And her old house – well, it was home, wasn’t it?

She’d loved living at Beekeeper Cottage these last few months, to be sure. To have Georgia greet her and the girls at the back door when school was done for the day, to cook with them in their kitchen, to help bottle honey on balmy Sunday afternoons while they still wore their pyjamas. Waking up next to Georgia each morning, her lover’s head resting against her breast, would never lose its appeal, nor would sharing a house with two enchanting little girls who could usually be counted on for a spot of sexy fun.

But this was her real home. This ancient roundhouse where Great Aunt Muriel had lived for a short time with her apprentice, Peg. Though long gone, she could still sense some vestige of them here, her ancestral memories conjuring fleeting faces between rows of sheets strung out along the washing line, whispers in the wattle and daub of the walls, tinkling laughter in the wind chimes hung hither and thither throughout the cottage.

Some might have called these benign visitations hauntings, but there was no malice in them, and they coaxed no fear from Sadie. Indeed, they were a comfort to her, as much a part of the old cottage as the clanking pipes and the creaking floorboards. Yes, Georgia and the girls had claimed a portion of her heart, but not all of it. Some part belonged here, always would.

She entered through the kitchen door, Billy Buckham at her heels. She slipped her boots off and left them lying on the mat, then washed her hands at the sink. The cat demanded milk. Sadie settled for matcha tea.

She took her drink through to the lounge, setting it down on a coaster, then opened her laptop on the coffee table. Once the screen popped up, she paced back and forth, hands laced behind her back. She would have been far too self-conscious to perform this little bit of theatre in front of anyone else, even Georgia, but had no qualms about indulging herself here, alone in what she sometimes imagined was the Batcave.

And who am I, if not Batgirl?

“Ori, search the web for all files pertaining to the House of Derwold.”

A short pause before the monotone voice of the search assistant emerged from the laptop.

“The English village of Derwold lies on the southern border of Wales. It contains eighty-two houses.“

“Er… that’s not exactly what I meant. Ori, reference all files relating to Derwold Manor and its owners.”

“Derwold Manor. The ancestral home of the Derwold family. The estate and its surrounding hamlet was granted to the Derwold family by Queen Elizabeth I in 1583 for services rendered. The manor was abandoned in 1976.”

“Ori, why was Derwold Manor abandoned?”

A longer pause this time.

“One file relating to query. Archived newspaper article from the Derwold Gazette, dated 7th November 1976. Article later redacted through threat of legal action.“

Legal action? From who? The Derwold family themselves? Had someone tried to suppress the story?

“Ori, read article.”

“Derwold Family Flee Village Under Cloud Of Scandal.

“The Derwold family, the ancestral stewards of Derwold Manor for almost four hundred years have seemingly tired of weathering the storm of scandal and controversy that has plagued the family for decades.

“Tales of satanic gatherings and wild sex parties have circulated amongst the residents of the village for years, with outspoken patriarch Lucian Derwold doing little to quell such rumours. In the space of one year alone, he was arrested three times for allegedly terrorising villagers and promoting satanism. Other offenses levelled at the family include releasing exotic and dangerous animals into the surrounding countryside, and soliciting unwanted sexual advances.

“Tensions reached a head earlier this year when a mob of villagers marched up to the manor and demanded Mr. Derwold and his wife leave the village. Several arrests were made, including Mr. Derwold himself, though as on previous occasions, all charges brought against the Lord of the Manor were dropped, a fact that may have led to the villagers taking matters into their own hands.

“Now, amongst a heavy police presence, removal trucks have been seen carrying furniture and other items from the manor. The Derwold family were not available for comment, apparently having already left the property. Their two children, thirteen-year-old Helen and eight-year-old Simon, were reported to have been taken into care.“

Satanism. Or a flirtation with it, at least. Sadie recalled the pentagram carved into the vicar’s chest. Surely it was more than mere coincidence. Had Simon killed the vicar, then, and not Elsa? Had he inherited his father’s apparent fixation with the occult? Enough that he was willing to commit murder in the name of it?

“Ori, search Simon Derwold.”

“Fifty-seven instances of the name Simon Derwold are registered under the UK census database. Please narrow search.“

“Amend search to Simon Derwold, current owner of Derwold Manor.”

“Simon Derwold. Fifty-four years old. Mother, father and sibling deceased. Husband to Elsa Hart. Owns Derwold Property Inc, a Russian-British company. Investigated for corrupt business practices connected to the Russian state. No children.“

Some interesting tidbits, but nothing that helped her. “Ori, search Elsa Hart.”

“Elsa Hart.“

It seemed Ori had nothing to offer but the name itself.

“Ori?”

“Yes.“

“Search Elsa Hart.”

“Elsa. Hart. Yes. Yes. No.“

“No?”

Ori had been known to flip out every now and then. Sadie had once done a search for ‘catering companies in the Anglo-Welsh border region’ and Ori had come back with seven hundred and forty-six search results for ‘the history of brass rubbings from 1872 to 1957’.

“Ori—”

“No. Error. Stop. She sees you. Stop. Error.“

“What the hell…”

Sadie turned the laptop round to face her. There was a single search result on screen, an entry from another newspaper article, this one from a publication called The Morcant Echo. Another local rag, she assumed. Wasn’t there a Cornish town called Morcant-On-Sea? It was dated the 13th of October 1954. Sadie read it.

Twelve-Year-Old Girl Sole Survivor Of House Of Horrors

Mainland police were greeted with a scene of horror
yesterday as they entered the home of Glenda Mooney,
a known recluse and alcoholic. Mrs. Mooney was found
dead at the property, along with her boyfriend Samuel
Skegg. Reports from the scene indicate the couple had
been set on fire, although the copious amounts of blood
suggest that fire wasn’t the cause of death. Inspector
David Trevan of the Cornish Police Force looked visibly
shaken when our reporter spoke to him. “In all my
twenty-seven years on the force I never saw anything like
this. It’s carnage in there,” he told us. Twelve-year-old
Frances Mooney was also in the house, but she survived
with nothing more than cuts and bruises. The police say
she hasn’t spoken a word since the incident and is unable
to shed any light on what happened. The Mooney family
had a history of troubles, with police visiting the property
several times over the years. Frances is believed to have 
suffered regular beatings at the hands of her mother and
her mother’s boyfriend.

The article didn’t seem to have any connection with Elsa, not that Sadie could see. Until she saw the photograph accompanying the article.

Could the young girl being led away from the house by a uniformed police officer be Elsa? There was a resemblance, certainly, but it was the hair that convinced Sadie. The same frizzy, untamed proposition. The photograph was black and white, but had it been in colour Sadie was almost certain that wild mop of hair would have been red, minus the white streaks through the sides. It was Elsa. Had to be.

But the date didn’t add up. If Elsa had been twelve in 1954, that would make her almost eighty now. Elsa couldn’t have been any older than fifty, more likely in her early to mid forties. Was it a picture of her mother, perhaps?

What had happened in that house? And if it really was Elsa in that picture, why had she changed her name? Intrigue upon intrigue.

“Goodness, Billy. There’s more questions here than answers.”

One thing she was sure of, though: Simon and Elsa were dangerous individuals.

Sadie’s heart suddenly dropped. Freya had been spending a great deal of time with Elsa, hadn’t she? For weeks now they’d been getting up to who-knew-what in Derwold Manor. Presumably Simon had been there too, at least on some of those occasions.

Gods! She needed to get back to Georgia’s and make sure they were all okay.

But there was one last visit to make before heading there.

4

“Sadie, what the bloody ‘ell’s going on?” Sally Jeffries hawked as Sadie walked through the post office door.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been due a delivery of stock for two days now, and I can’t even get on to the supplier ’bout it ’cause the bloody phones are down.”

And so it begins, Sadie thought. The confusion, then the panic. She needed to resolve this quickly, probably find a way to spread some bullshit excuse. Damage to the phone infrastructure, something like that.

“Nobody’s been gettin’ no mail, neither,” Sally was saying. “And people been fallin’ sick with something when they try headin’ outta town.”

“Falling sick? Who?”

“Jerry Carmichael, for one. He’s up on his feet now, but he said he nearly blacked out at the wheel tryin’ to get to the farm auctions down in Gloucester. Had to turn around and come home, he did. Then Pat and Sue Cornaby comes in ‘ere sayin’ the whole family had come over all queer when they was out ramblin’. Pat reckoned it was some virus they’d all caught, but they was right as rain a few hours later. Sue said she didn’t even remember going out!”

Sally leaned in to Sadie with a conspiratorial look. Her voice was hushed when she spoke, which seemed pointless considering it was only the two of them in the shop. “Do ya think it’s some sorta poison gas, Sadie? Eh? Summit the army’s testin’? Maybe they’s usin’ us as guinea pigs. Eh?”

“Don’t be daft, Sally,” Sadie said. “It’s probably just some bug doing the rounds. Sometimes you don’t know you’ve got something until you start moving about. And it can disappear as quickly as it starts.”

“Bloody ‘ell, tell me about it!” Sally agreed. “I had some dodgy sausage rolls at me sister in law’s birthday party once. Didn’t realise anything was wrong ’till me and Jeff got up to leave, and then I shat meself there and then. Ha!”

Strange how Sally always conveyed such information as if it was a point of pride.

Sally peered furtively through the shop window to make sure no one was watching, then gave Sadie a dirty grin. “Eh, fancy showin’ me some o’ that lesbian action? I’ll pay ya good money if you rub yer furburger on mine for ten minutes.”

Sadie slapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god, what is wrong with you, Sally?!“

The two of them hooted with laughter.

Seeing as Sally was in such high spirits, Sadie decided against her better judgement to venture into forbidden territory. “Uh… the party up at the manor was fun, wasn’t it?“

She was skating on thin ice and knew it.

“Oh, yeah. A right hoot,“ Sally agreed.

“Do you, er, remember much about it?”

Sally looked unfazed, except for a momentary creasing of the brow. “Yeah, course I do. Why? I didn’t do nothin’ embarrassin’, did I?”

“No! No, God, no. You were fine, honestly.”

I mean, you may have set fire to a druid, propositioned a Morris dancer, then called the entire population of the village ‘fuckers’, but who hasn’t done that at some point in their lives?

“Oh, thank Christ for that. I never know if I’ve said summit I shouldn’t when I’ve ‘ad a few drinks. Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“Well, you were talking to Simon Derwold. It seemed like you knew him.”

Sally’s smile dropped from her face, and hers was a face built for smiles. Sadie thought it looked strange without one. “Yeah. I remember him from way back, when we was kids. Back in the seventies, it must’ve been. Funny, I’d forgotten all ’bout him.”

“You said he did something nasty. What was that about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The postmistress abruptly turned away. She picked up a large tub of pear drops from the floor and reached up on tiptoes to place it on the confectionery shelf behind the counter, next to the murray mints and the sherbet lemons.

“Sally?”

Sadie was about to ask if she wanted a hand, but it was too late. The tub slipped from Sally’s grasp, scattering pear drops across the floor. Sally kicked the upturned container. “Fuck’s sake! You clumsy fuckin’ cow, Sally Drodge!”

Sadie came round the counter and put an arm around the postmistress. “All right, Sally. No harm done, okay?”

Sally was trembling. “You hear that, Sadie? I called meself ‘Drodge’. I ain’t been a Drodge for nigh on twenty-five years.” She turned to Sadie with frightened eyes. “He tortured his pets, Sadie. Killed ’em. His dad didn’t care neither – he had ’em stuffed afterwards. The little shit used to keep ’em in his room, he did.”

“Simon?”

“Yeah. I seen him kill his little dog. We was in the woods and he… he made me watch. I were only six. He tied it down and drew one of them devil symbols round it. Then he…” Sally screwed her face up, shaking her head as if to deny the image it had wrought upon her. “I can still hear it scream, Sadie. A dog ain’t s’posed to make a noise like that. I were only six, for God’s sake.”

“Oh, Sally.”

“He was a fuckin’ nutter. I’d forgotten all about it ’till he come back here again. Can you ever become a normal person after doin’ summit like that, Sadie? I dunno. We was just kids, I s’pose. I doubt he does that sorta thing these days.”

No. These days the pets have been upgraded to members of the clergy.

Sally wiped her eyes, then bent down and began scooping confectionery from the dusty floor. “Anyway, it were a long time ago. Help me pick these sweets up, will ya? If I stick ’em back in the tub no one’ll ever know.”

Sadie made a mental note never to buy sweets from the post office.

5

When Sadie got back to Beekeeper Cottage it was approaching early evening. She met Georgia coming from the orchard, fully suited in her beekeeper attire. Millie closed the orchard gate behind her, then scampered towards the two women. The eight-year-old didn’t bother wearing her own beekeeping suit anymore, a fact Georgia had begrudgingly come to accept. Sometimes the bees swarmed around the child, settling over her in great clumps, but far from alarming Millie, it seemed to delight her. And the bees had never once stung her.

Georgia pulled off her protective veil and kissed Sadie on the mouth. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Sadie replied. “Where’s Freya?”

Georgia rolled her eyes. “Where do you think?”

Sadie’s heart dropped into her stomach. “With Elsa?”

“Who else? That girl’s infatuated. Hey, you don’t think she and Elsa are… you know…?”

If only sex was the extent of our problems, Sadie thought. All this time they’d been happily allowing Freya to wander off to Derwold Manor with no inkling of how much danger she’d been in. It was like putting a lamb into a cage full of wolves. “Uh… dunno. Listen, I’m gonna go pick her up.”

Georgia creased her brow. “Is everything okay? You looked worried.”

“I’m fine. I just need you and Millie to stay here until I get back with Freya.”

“What’s going on, Sadie?”

Sadie was already heading back to her car. “Nothing, Georgia. I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

Her hands were shaking when she took the wheel. As she navigated the narrow country lanes to the manor, she considered the best way to approach the situation. Astris had warned her not to confront Elsa, but what choice did she have now? She needed to get Freya out of there, and quickly.

She’d just make up some excuse about dinner going cold on the table, retrieve Freya, and with a little luck, hightail it out of there before Elsa and Simon had an opportunity to think something was amiss.

Driving past the imposing wrought iron gates, Sadie took the car up the steep thoroughfare that led to Derwold Manor.

On to Chapter Seven!