Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Rachael Yukey

Wednesday, October 4th, 2006

Wednesday is my favorite school day, because A.L. is way more fun than regular school. And now it’s even better, because Julie and I get to spend so much time together on the bus. I wish I didn’t live out of town. Town kids get to walk or ride their bikes to each other’s houses, but no way are my folks going to let me ride my bike on the highway.

I know I haven’t made an entry in over a week, but I don’t think I’m going to write every day unless something big is going on. Besides, I’ve been pretty busy. Mom spent three nights at Grandma’s which is the longest ever, and guess who got to keep the house clean? Here’s a hint: it wasn’t Dad! They told me it was just a visit but I’m not dumb. I can tell they’re still pretty mad at each other. I don’t get it. My parents are the most Christian people I know, so how come they have such a hard time forgiving?

I talked to Julie about it on the bus today, which is the first time I ever told anybody. Usually when I talk about Mom’s visits to Grandma I just repeat whatever lies my parents tell me, but having a best friend means you can be honest about stuff like that, right? So I told her everything. About halfway through she took my hand, squeezed it, and didn’t let go. She was still holding it when I ran out of stuff to say.

“Do you think they’re going to get divorced?” she asked.

That was something I’d just plain never thought about, so I had to kick it around in my head before I answered. “I don’t think so. The Bible says divorce is a sin, and they won’t go against the Bible on anything. But you know something? I think a lot of people do it anyway. Tons of people at my church have been divorced. And you know what else? I think my parents might even be happier if they got divorced! All they do anymore is fight.”

I was close to crying. Julie squeezed my hand tighter.

“My parents got divorced,” she said. “I was really sad when it happened, but it really did make things way better. I didn’t understand how messed up my mom is till we weren’t living together anymore.”

“What’s wrong with your mom?”

“Lots of stuff,” she said. “She has depression, and it made it really hard for her to take care of me. It got really bad when Dad went back out on tour after I was born, and she started taking stuff to make it easier. Now she’s a drug addict, so she goes to a bunch of rehabs and treatments and stuff.”

“Do you get to see her a lot?”

“Not right now,” said Julie. She sounded sad for the first time since I’ve known her. “She lives in Minneapolis. When she was doing good, she got visitation and Dad would drive me down there to stay with her every other weekend. But then she started doing drugs again and the judge says she can only see me supervised. And it’s not all weekend, just for a few hours every other Saturday. Dad is driving me down this weekend for it.”

Now there were tears in Julie’s eyes. I squeezed her hand. She took off her glasses, wiped her face, and gave me a sad smile.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I miss her, but she’s really better to visit than to live with. I just wish it could be more often.”

We were pulling up to the school by then, so that ended the conversation.

I don’t know why the idea of Mom and Dad getting divorced never occurred to me. Lots of married couples break up nowadays, and my folks sure do act like they’re fed up with each other. I wonder if they’ve ever thought about divorce? I’m not sure how I’d feel. At least they wouldn’t be fighting all the time, but who would I live with? And where would Mom go? She’s never, ever had a job or lived alone. The more I think about it, the scarier it sounds. But I don’t think they will. The Bible says being married is forever.

On the ride back, me and Julie talked about how we can get together more often outside of school. She thinks that her dad would be happy to drive her to my house whenever she wants to go, and my mom drives into town to do stuff at the church almost every day, so I could probably hitch a ride with her.

“You’re gonna be gone on Saturday, is that right?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got my time with Mom. Dad is gonna drop me off at the visitation center, then go rehearse with a band he’s filling in for next month till it’s time to pick me up. The visit is four hours and it’s like over two hours to drive there, so we’ll be gone all day.”

“Well…” I hesitated. I knew she didn’t want to talk about religion, but this wasn’t really the same thing. “There’s a pizza party for kids at my church Sunday at 12:30. We don’t do religious stuff; we just eat pizza and hang out. There’s pool tables and games and a CD player in the church basement. Wanna come?”

“Am I allowed to, even though I don’t go to church there?”

“Yeah! They want you to. They’re always telling us to invite our friends to stuff like this. The idea is that if you have fun it’ll make you want to come to church. I don’t think it works, though. I really like the pizza parties and ice cream socials, but I hate church.”

Julie seemed surprised to hear me say that. Actually, so was I. I’d never told ANYONE how I really felt about going to church.  “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty boring. But the pizza party will be fun. Want to come?”

“Sure! I’ll ask my dad,” she said. “I bet he’ll let me.”

“Cool! Just don’t eat any lunch before you come. There’ll be tons of pizza, and some of the church ladies will probably bake cookies or something for later.”

That settled that, but there’s one more thing on my mind. I haven’t even talked to Julie about it. I can’t stop thinking about what we heard the night I stayed at her house, and how it made me feel. I’m not exactly sure what Lisa was doing, but just thinking about what I THINK was happening makes me feel that way all over again. Every night when I lie down, I close my eyes and have visions of Lisa putting her hands all over herself, even on her private parts, and making herself feel so good that she made all that noise. It makes me feel tingly, it makes me breathe funny, and it makes me all warm down between my legs. I feel like I really need something but I don’t know what it is.

I want to find out more about master baiting, but who would I ask? I bet I could find out on the internet, but I never get to be on it except at school where they’re watching everything we look up.

Ugh! I wish I could figure out what to do. I hate not knowing stuff!

 

Saturday, October 7th, 2006

Mom and Dad are fighting again. This is the worst I’ve ever heard. They’re downstairs absolutely howling at each other. Dad changed our TV package to basic cable, and Mom is just flipping her lid. Dad is telling her that we can’t afford all these extras we don’t need.

That’s always how it starts, something about money… but then it goes all over the place. Dad complains about her making microwave food instead of really cooking, so Mom screams about Dad never fixing anything around the house. Dad says she could fix it herself and I’ll believe THAT when I see it. The last time Mom got hold of a screwdriver, she almost put it through her hand!

Tonight it’s even worse. Dad just called Mom a fake Christian who puts on a good show at church but is slothful and unloving at home, then she told him off for ignoring his family and hiding out in his workshop even when he’s not doing any work. Every word both of them are saying is true.

Wow… they’re having a real screamfest. Do they really think I can’t hear it?

Okay, Dad just called mom a REALLY nasty word. I’ve never heard him use that kind of language before, not ever. I should be freaking out about this but I just feel, I don’t know, sort of numb.

I wish I was at Julie’s house right now! Or anywhere else. But it’s okay, I’ll get to see her tomorrow after church. It’ll make the pizza party way more fun!

 

Monday, October 9th, 2006

Holy crow, did things ever go crazy yesterday after church! Mom and Dad were already pretty grumpy in the morning but they weren’t noisy about it. They just sort of avoided talking to each other. We had breakfast and got dressed, then I practiced piano for a little while before we left.

I wonder when I’m going to get cut off from piano lessons because it’s too much money? I hope not soon, I like playing piano. But stopping my lessons wouldn’t be the end of the world. I can sit and play stuff I hear on TV commercials or the radio. Mom hates it when I do that… says it’s not proper. Whatever. It’s getting hard to practice anymore anyway, because the piano is in the living room and she always wants the TV on.

Sunday School and church were the same old boring stuff, but after the service I put on my jacket and waited outside for Julie. It’s getting really cold now, and windy too.

Julie showed up on foot. She probably figured it was too windy for biking to be any good. She waved and yelled “Hey!” when she saw me waiting at the top of the church steps.

“Hi, Julie!” I yelled, waving back. She ran up the steps, and we hugged. I led her into the building, and boy was it nice to get out of that wind. Right away she was chattering about the ride to Minneapolis and the visit with her mom. Apparently it’s going to be awhile before she sees her again because she’s going to be doing rehab in another state, but at least they had a fun visit.

We hung up our coats while she talked, and then I led her downstairs. The church basement is a huge open space with a big kitchen at the far end from the stairs. It’s always kind of musty and damp smelling down there, but it’s a cool place. The littler kids get to run around just about as much as they want, and for those of us that are a bit older there are games, puzzles, books to read, two pool tables, a foosball table, a couple of old pinball machines that only work about half the time, and a small stereo with a CD player. The CDs they have are mostly Christian rock, which I don’t like very much, but there are also a few regular rock discs too. Some of those are pretty good. A bunch of long tables are set up down by the kitchen end.

“Wow!” Julie exclaimed. “This is wicked!”

I giggled. “Don’t let any of the adults hear you calling it that. It’s supposed to be like a holy sacred place.”

Julie grinned. “Whoops, sorry!”

I introduced Julie around as we ran into other people. The kids in our grade she already knew, but not so much some of the others. The pizza showed up a few minutes later, and we all clustered around the tables. I grabbed a couple slices of supreme and Julie went for one pepperoni and one sausage. We sat together and talked about this and that. I wanted to talk about the fight my parents had the night before, but I wasn’t going to get into that in the church basement with lots of kids I knew hanging around.

After we were so stuffed we couldn’t eat another bite, Julie challenged me to a game of foosball. As it turned out she’s just about as bad at the game as I am, and I’m pretty bad… but it was fun. After that we went through the stacks of games and decided to go for Mousetrap. We were still getting it set up when everything went bananas.

Jared Torgleson, who’s a grade ahead of us in school, came charging down the stairs. “Hey, Mallory,” he called out. “You gotta come see! Your mom and dad are going ballistic on each other right out in the parking lot!”

I forgot all about the game. I went running pell-mell up the stairs, with Julie right behind me. When I got to the parking lot my parents were standing almost nose to nose, screaming at each other at the top of their lungs while everybody just stood off to the side and stared. Before I even got close enough to hear what they were saying over the wind, Mom smacked Dad across the face.

He drew himself all the way up and stepped towards her, and she took a step backwards. She couldn’t go any farther because she was backed up against our Explorer. I was standing frozen at the edge of the lot. I’m not sure what would have happened, but just a second later it was over. Somebody had called the cops.

We only have three police officers in our town, and only the chief is full time. None of them is actually on duty Sundays; they just take turns being on call. Officer Felter must have been the on-call cop yesterday, because she came barreling into the parking lot in her own pickup. When she got out I saw she was wearing regular clothes, but she had her gun strapped on.

Officer Felter is one of the part-timers, and she also runs a dog grooming business. The adults all just call her Abby. She’s, I think, around Jason’s age, she’s divorced, and has a daughter a couple of years older than me and Julie. She’s very muscular… I think she must work out, but she always dresses really feminine when she’s not wearing her uniform. She has dark brown hair and huge boobs. Today she was wearing stylish black slacks and a pretty purple blouse. I think the only reason I noticed right away is cause her gunbelt looked really funny with her clothes.

She pulled in right behind the Explorer, and when she got out of the truck Dad whirled around and snapped, “Stay out of this, Abby. It’s none of your business!”

“You’re causing a ruckus in a public place, Dan,” she told him, her arms folded. “That makes it my business. Talk like that to me again and I’ll cite you for public disturbance. Now what exactly is going on?”

I’m not going to go into the whole thing. Officer Felter had to tell Mom and Dad both to shut up a couple of times. She didn’t care what the argument was about, or who was right or wrong. Chief Moen showed up a few minutes into it, also driving his own vehicle and wearing street clothes. He’s a short, roundish guy with a big bushy mustache. He’s usually totally cheerful and always has candy or something for the kids, but he wasn’t looking very cheerful then.

That’s what really made it all real for me, the look on the police chief’s face. I started breaking down. Julie had been standing next to me the whole time, and she put her arm around me and pulled me close. That’s all it took… I started sobbing.

Chief Moen heard, and turned his head towards me. “Somebody get her out of here,” he said. A couple of older ladies who were standing together got themselves moving, and started guiding me back towards the church. I didn’t mind, I wanted to go inside. I’d left my coat in the building, and I was freezing.

Julie was shivering, too. She came with us, her arm still around me. One of the ladies tried to separate us.“Maybe it’s better if you stay here, sweetheart,” she told Julie.

“NO!” I almost yelled. “I want her to stay with me.”

By the time we got inside I was already not really crying anymore, just sniffling. The sad was going away and I was starting to get mad. This is so stupid, I was thinking. I’m so sick of it. What’s the matter with them?

The ladies brought us into one of the little rooms upstairs. I think sometimes the church people do counseling and stuff like that in them. All it had was a worn-out office chair, a love seat, and a small table. We both sat down on the love seat, and Julie put her arms around me. We’ve only been friends for a few weeks, and I think she already loves me better than my parents do.

“Do you need us to stay with you?” one of the ladies asked in a kind voice. Now that my brain was working, I saw it was Ellen Fitzgerald, who runs the nursery that looks after little kids during the church service

“I’ll be okay with my friend here,” I said.

“Okay, honey.” They left.

Julie and I didn’t talk right away. She just held me, and I held her back. After a few minutes, Mrs. Fitzgerald brought us a plate of cookies, ruffled my hair, and left again.

We munched cookies for a couple of minutes, still not talking. I didn’t want to discuss this just yet, and I was glad Julie understood that. There was a tap at the door, it opened, and Jason Hanson stepped in. He was wearing a hoodie that said EMS in big letters.

“Daddy,” said Julie, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He patted the radio clipped to his belt. “I’m on call for the ambulance today, remember? I heard them dispatch law enforcement to the church for a domestic, and I figured I’d better come see if I needed to get you out of here.” His eyes shifted to me. “I’m sorry it’s your parents, Mallory. You okay, kiddo?”

“I think so,” I said. “Are my parents going to get arrested?”

I realized the idea of them going to jail didn’t even bother me that much; it would probably serve them both right! But where would I go?

Jason was shaking his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “The chief’s writing your dad a citation for disturbing the peace, and that’s mostly because he keeps getting lippy with the cops. You know Jeff Moen. It takes a lot to make him mad, but when he does get pissed off you sure don’t want to be the one who caused it.”

I didn’t know that about Chief Moen… I’ve never seen him mad. I was a little surprised to hear somebody use the words “pissed off” inside the church.

“Listen, Mallory,” Jason said, “If ever you need to escape for awhile, our door is open. That includes overnight, even on school days if your parents will let you. If you need a ride, either myself or Lisa could pick you up.”

I gave him a grateful smile.“That’d be great,” I said, “But I don’t know if my folks will let it happen.”

There was another knock, and this time it was Officer Felter.

“I need a couple of minutes alone with Mallory,” she said. She must have seen something in my face, because she smiled at me. “Don’t worry, hon,” she said. “It’s no big deal, just a couple of easy questions. You’re not in any trouble.”

Jason reached down, took Julie’s hand, and pulled her to her feet. With his other hand he patted my shoulder.

“We’ll be right outside,” he told me. Julie squeezed my hand one more time, then they left the room.

“That looks like a pretty good friend you’ve got there,” Officer Felter said with a smile. She pulled the old office chair up close to the love seat and sat in it, facing me. I could smell her perfume, and it was really nice.

“She’s the best,” I told her.

“Good,” said Officer Felter. She looked straight into my eyes. She’s really pretty… how come I never noticed that before?

“I need to ask you a question, Mallory. It’s something the law says I have to ask when things like this happen, and it’s very important that you tell me the truth. Do you feel safe at home?”

“Yes,” I told her, and that was true. Sometimes I feel like my parents wouldn’t care if I fell off the face of the earth, but I don’t think either of them would ever hurt me.

“You never feel threatened in any way?”

“No.”

“Okay,” she said. “Do they fight a lot in front of you?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “They yell at each other a lot after I go to bed. I don’t see it, but I sure can hear it.”

“Thanks, Mallory,” she said. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

I thought about it a moment, then shook my head.

“Okay,” she said. “You know where to find me if there ever is.” She put her hand on my leg, squeezed, and gave me that nice smile again. It made my heart a little fluttery. Her eyes hadn’t left mine the whole time. Then she got up and opened the door.

Jason and Julie were waiting outside. As Officer Felter stepped out of the room, Jason put a hand on her arm and leaned close to her ear. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. She nodded to him, murmured something back, and left.

“I’m going to stick around for awhile,” said Jason. “You girls need me to sit in here with you, or would you rather talk alone without a nosy adult?”

Julie and I both giggled. “Get lost, nosy adult,” said Julie. “I got this, huh?”

They both laughed, while I tried not to die of shock. I could NEVER joke with my parents like that, they’d skin me alive. Jason leaned over, kissed her forehead, and closed the door behind him.

Julie sat back down, and I just started letting it all out, all about the fight last night and how tired of it I was and how I wished I could just be in a normal family that didn’t hate each other. She didn’t say much, just mostly sat there and held my hand while I talked.

A few minutes later the door opened again, and this time it was my father.

Julie stood up. “I’ll be in the hallway.” She scooted out of the room.

Dad sat down in the chair. “Listen, Mallory,” he said. “You know your mother and I love each other very much.”

I felt a crazy urge to shout Liar! You don’t even LIKE each other anymore! But there was no way I’d ever talk that way to my father, so instead I just nodded.

He didn’t even really look at me, just kept talking. “We’re committed to a… a Godly marriage, and to being Godly parents to you. We just have a few things to work out. It won’t take long. You understand that, right?”

I didn’t believe a word of it, but I nodded again.

“It was suggested… I mean… your mother and I think that maybe it would be a good idea for us to be alone this afternoon to talk. Officer Felter seemed to think Jason Hanson would be willing to let you stay at their house today, and that it would be good for you to be with your friend. I spoke to Jason, and he said that would be fine. Would you mind spending the rest of the day with the Hansons?”

I thought that sounded like the best idea ever, but I wasn’t dumb enough to let him know it. “That would be all right,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. “Why don’t you get your things, and you can go back with them. We’ll make sure to get you home before bedtime.”

You can leave me there forever, I thought… but I just nodded again. It was like I was one of those bobble head things that don’t do anything else.

“Okay, we’ll see you this evening,” he said. And just like that, Dad got up and left, leaving the door standing open. I realized the whole time he was there he never once even touched me. He never said he was sorry, either.

I followed him out. Julie was waiting there for me. “Let’s get our stuff,” I told her. “Sounds like I’m going to your house for the rest of the day, and I want to get out of here right now.”

“Yay!” said Julie.

We went down to the lobby and got our coats. As I was shrugging mine on, Jason came inside. “You ladies ready to amscray?” He asked.

“Like, yesterday!” I said.

“Riding with me or walking?”

We took the ride. It was cold out.

***

The clock on the wall said it was a little after two o’clock when we got to Julie’s house. I couldn’t believe that much time had gone by. Since I was last there Jason had put a door up for the new bathroom, and it was drywalled on the inside. The side facing us was still just framework with wire running through it. He must have done the electrical, too.

“Can I look in?” I asked.

“Sure,” Jason said, so I opened the door. The bathroom wasn’t big enough for a tub, so he’d put in a shower. The drywall was all up but he hadn’t done the finish yet. I tried the light switch, it worked. There was no sink or toilet yet but I could tell from the holes in the floor where they were going to go.

“Nice!” I said. “It’s gonna be great when you’re done.”

Jason chuckled. “It’ll be a bathroom, anyway,” he said. “Now look, ladies… Lisa is having dinner with her sisters and her mom and won’t be back until later this evening, and I’m on call. I’m planning on putting a duck in the oven around four, but you might have to do dinner if the ambulance rolls. Just the usual duck recipe, Julie, no surprises. Can you handle it?”

“No sweat, Dad,” she told him. “If I have to make dinner, do you care what I do for sides?”

“Whatever you like, kiddo.”

“Cool!”

I noticed in the living room a red keyboard on a stand with a piano stool in front of it, a big one with 88 keys. I was pretty sure it hadn’t been there last time I was over.

“Whose keyboard?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s Dad’s,” said Julie. “He had it boxed up out in the garage, but we brought it in because I like to play around on it sometimes. I’m not very good, but I like to try and play music I hear on the radio and stuff. It’s easier to do that with the piano than the guitar.”

“I like to do that, too,” I said. “But it really bugs my mom. She says if I don’t learn properly by reading the sheet music, it’s cheating.”

Jason snorted. “You just tell her you got it from a pro guitar player that if you can’t learn by ear, you’ll never do any real work in popular music,” he said. “Or maybe on second thought you’d better not tell her that. But it’s true. I think Julie mentioned that you take piano lessons. Wanna play something for us?”

I sat down on the stool and tried to think of what to play. Then my mind fixed on Life is a Highway, which kids at school had been listening to a lot. I hummed a bit to make sure I had the melody straight, sketched out the first chord with my left hand, and did an off-the-cuff instrumental version of that. It’s weird on a keyboard when you’re used to a piano, but it went okay.

Julie clapped when I was done, and Jason nodded his approval. “I’m guessing that’s not from your piano lessons,” he said.

“Nope,” I told him.

“Well, you’re a better keyboardist than I am, that’s for…”

His radio crackled and he stopped talking and held up his hand. We listened. It was a message for the police, not him, but it was something about a heroin overdose at a certain address. Before it was over, Jason was already going for his coat.

“That’s our service area,” he said. “Pager to go off in 5… 4…”

His pager blared. This time it WAS for him, with directions to respond to a possible overdose victim and an address to go to. He scribbled down the address, said “Bye, ladies,” and was gone.

“Holy cow,” I said. Julie shrugged.

“It’s scary the first few times, but you get used to it,” she said. “I’m hungry. Want a snack?”

While we were rooting around in the fridge we heard the ambulance siren start up, then fade out as it got further away from us. We found a fruit salad… one that somebody had made by cutting up real fruit instead of out of a can. We put some of it in bowls and went to the living room to eat.

“How long is he gonna be gone, do you think?” I asked.

“At least an hour and a half,” said Julie. “They have to drive to the scene, do whatever needs doing before they load the patient, and then the nearest emergency room is like a half hour away even if they’re going fast. If they have to do a lot of stuff at the scene or it’s a long drive to get to the patient, it might be more like two hours.”

“So what do you wanna do?”

Julie giggled. “You mean like, what rules should we break while there are no adults around?”

I laughed too. “That’s not what I meant, but okay!”

We both just sat there giggling for a few minutes.

“We could read to each other,” Julie suggested.

I snorted. “So much for rule-breaking,” I said. For some reason that struck us as funny, and we both got a fit of the giggles again.

“I didn’t say OUR books, silly,” said Julie through her laughter.

I was about to ask her what she meant, then realized that I already knew. “You mean… the books you were telling me about last time I was here?”

“Yeah! Lisa’s books. Want to?”

I caught my breath. Did I want to read the books with all the sex in them? I only had a pretty vague idea of how sex was even done, it’s not like something my parents are open about! Of course I was curious… and something else. The idea was exciting. Yes, I wanted to see what was in those books. I nodded my head.

Holy crow, it’s almost midnight! I REALLY want to write about what happened after Julie and I went upstairs to check out those books, but I’m gonna have to finish this tomorrow.

Soon to come: Chapter Four!

 

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

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

Chapter Seven: The King’s Court

I was taking the air on deck, smiling to myself over the previous evening’s dalliance with Lady Fleming’s daughters, when Kira approached, a knowing gleam in her eye. I still found it hard not to think of her as Anne.

She was blunt as ever. “So, did you enjoy fuckin’ them two girlies? Mind, I’m not bein’ critical. Time was, I would’ve joined you, but I’ve got one now who keeps me content. Daphne an’ I wants no other.”

“They were a delight – and quite wanton,” I said. “The mother wishes to arrange a picnic, which I’m sure will entail more than just a lunch. The girls would like you and Daphne to accompany us.”

Kira gave one of her scowls of old. “Not to my taste. I doesn’t mix too well with the gent’ree. But I’ll leave it to Daphne.”

Matters advanced rapidly within the week, however, making such an outing far less likely. The admiral informed me that the York, a sixty-gun fourth-rater, would be returning to Blighty in a few weeks. He had given the Peregrina a minor refit, and she was ready to sail, though she had not yet been renamed. She would be at our disposal to collect our hidden gold – a small percentage, naturally enough, to be paid, in gold, upon our return.

It would be almost impossible to return to Aruba by retracing the route we had taken to Bermuda. Both the winds and the Florida current were against us. Rather, we would head southeast into the open Atlantic where, in a week or so, the wind and current would carry us nor’westerly. It was a considerably longer distance, but with the elements working in our favour, we would save time in the long run.

The new Naval crew of the Peregrina seemed happy enough with their assignment, which would at least provide a respite from the routine patrols that were their usual lot. The fact that all of the crew, from first officer to powder boy, had been promised a gold doubloon, was an added incentive. The captain would receive two. The admiral had said it was quite unheard of, but he would turn a blind eye — as long as he received his share for having made the arrangements.

We encountered no one and caught only glimpses of distant sails during the voyage which, despite one quite nasty storm, went smoothly enough. The sea was still running high when we arrived off Aruba, the last remnant of the storm. The next day, however, I deemed it safe enough to approach the cave. We found everything as we had left it. At the end of a day of strenuous labour, all the gold and silver was safely stowed on our two ships, and we beat a hasty retreat, lest anyone come snooping.

As we had done following our previous visit, we headed north towards the western tip of Cuba, setting our speed such that we arrived at dawn. From there we had an easy run through the straits of Florida and out to Bermuda. It was a relief to again be within the safety of Castle Harbour, especially in light of our cargo.

A note from the admiral informed me that my new uniform awaited at his residence, and I could try it on at my convenience. I was provided with a horse in the dockyard without question or hesitation. Everyone, it seemed, knew my name, and they were most eager to assist me.

Upon arrival at the admiral’s residence, a stable boy took my mount, and a footman requested that I follow him. I was asked to wait in the great hall while he announced me. I expected the admiral himself to welcome me, but instead was greeted by Lady Sarah. She appeared quite overjoyed to see me. One might have said she was breathless.

“Our gallant Captain, how wonderful to see you safely returned! Shall you join me in a glass of sherry? Or whatever you fancy?” Her words and intonation dripped with meaning.

“A cool, dry sherry would be fine, my lady, thank you.”

She rested her hand on my arm. “Oh, let us not be so formal. After all, we are friends now. So please, it’s Sarah, and if I may, I shall call you Bren.”

She rang a small glass bell, which brought a pretty young maid scurrying in.

“I and my Captain will take a dry sherry, Rosie.”

She guided me to a chaise longue and, most presumptuously, sat next to me, and very close indeed! I understood her game and what she expected from me. I was not quite so taken with her charms, but I felt it would be wise to keep this woman on my side.

“My daughters tell me that they had a splendid time on your ship, my dear Bren. Samantha has not stopped talking about you, and she’s been quite explicit. It brought quite a blush to my face, I might add that it made me feel somewhat envious. Do you mind?”

She touched a finger to my lips. “There’s no need to answer my silly question, but…” Instantly, form the taste,  I knew I had been snared. I stood up in front of her, desperately looking for an avenue of escape, knowing it was useless.

“Yes, Captain?” she asked. She feigned innocence, but the lust in her eyes was plain.

“Here, or somewhere a little more discreet?” I said. “You want to be fucked by your pirate captain. Well, here I am. Tell me quickly, before I rip your G–ddamn’d clothes off!”

Her hand flew to her mouth in mock horror. “Why, Captain! How bold you are! What is a well-bred woman to do? My heart is all a-flutter.”

To give Sarah her due, she summoned a profuse blush before rising to her feet. She stood close to me, her breath on my face, her bosom grazing my chest. ”I do believe it is dangerous to resist a pirate. Therefore, I shall not. You may have your way with me, Captain. Do as you will.”

I took hold of her shoulders and pulled her to me, not too roughly, but certainly not gently. I crushed my lips to hers. Her shoulders lifted and her arms flapped in a mock show of resistance. Then she groaned and flung herself upon me.

Other than this irresistible desire, I felt little effect from the potion. Either she had used only the tiniest dab, or else I was becoming accustomed to it. But for her it was different. She set upon me like a wild beast, tearing at my clothes and uttering such obscenities as would have had her exiled from all respectable society.

Then we were rolling naked on the rich carpet as our mouths devoured each other. Her body forced my legs wide, and then her mouth was at my pussy lips. Her tongue slithered about, lapping up my nectar.

I was propped on my elbow, watching her. She saw my look and paused. “A beautiful cunt, and for the moment it’s mine,” she said. “Such a heady odour!” Then she dived back in.

I had thought she wanted fucking, but I wasn’t complaining. She was quite satisfactory with her sucks and licks and little bites.

Of a sudden, she withdrew and crawled up my body. I tasted my juices when she brought her lips to mine. Her hips pressed down, grinding our pussies hard together. My breasts were crushed in her grip. She began to swivel and grind, and my clit responded as she ground away at it.

Sarah knew I was close to climaxing, yet she herself was holding back. I didn’t care, not for the moment. I raised my hips beneath her, urging on the sensations that fired my clit.

“Stop, Bren… stop!”

I almost rolled her over so as to keep stimulating my clit. Again, she called. “Trust me, stop now!”

Puzzled and not a little put out, I yet did as she commanded. She reached beneath a cushion of the chaise and withdrew the oddest contraption. I recognised the protuberances as being the same as Daphne’s wooden phalluses, but this thing had three of them fastened in some sort of harness affair.

“Kneel,” she commanded, then proceeded to fasten the harness around my waist. The phalluses were of different sizes and shapes. One was curved, and it was this she pushed into my cunt. She gathered moisture from between her legs and thus coated the smallest of the phalluses. Then she leaned over the chaise, with her copious arse towards me.

“Would the Captain like to guess where the other two go, or do I need to show you?”

This was new to me, and yet exciting. It seemed I could really fuck her, back and front at once. I tickled the smaller phallus at her winking rose. The larger of the two seemed to get sucked into her pussy. I pressed harder at her rear and watched as it opened her arsehole, disappearing inside.

She gave a sort of strangled squawk. “Now my pirate really fucks me! Fuck me hard, Bren.”

I hadn’t expected the phallus inside of me to have so much movement. But I was wrong. It fucked my cunt beautifully as I drove in and out of Sarah. Very quickly, I found myself returning to the point I had reached when she had called for me to stop.

I thought my shocks were over for the day, but I was wrong once again. Even through my exertions, I heard a giggle. There, beside the chaise sofa, stood Jane, Samantha, and the maid, Rosie, all with skirts held high as they diddled their clits. Never had I seen such a gleefully randy sight.

“Now, my love, fuck your bitch harder and faster,” Sarah said. “Look at my little girls playing with their divine cunts while they watch us fuck. Have you ever imagined the like?”

I needed no urging. My climax was about to explode. Sarah arched her back, then began to shake as my two spears thrust into her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Harder! Fucking harder, Bren! Oh, damn me, I’m coming!”

I was still aware of the girls, especially Samantha. Her hand was a blur, her eyes fastened on her mother being fucked. Then she squirted between her fast-moving fingers, spraying in all directions.

Finally, my cunt let rip. A massive fist seemed to grip my body. I urged the wooden phallus deeper inside. Sarah was well accustomed to this thing. She gyrated her hips, causing the object to fuck me hard as I came.

At last we collapsed to the side, both still impaled as I held her to me. Through the mists of my addled brain, I heard the girls clapping. Then the three of them piled on top of us, and despite our full bellies, as it were, we couldn’t refuse such a delectable array of sweets.

Afterwards, as we sat, once again dressed, I looked from one to the other in disbelief. “There seems to be an interesting understanding amongst you lot. And Rosie, I’ve tasted your pussy, but we haven’t been introduced.”

Sarah laughed. “Oh my, is the captain ready for more, and with little Rosie?” She beckoned to the maid, “Give the captain a nice kiss, then I think you should fetch her – his – new uniform.”

Rosie was as forward as the others. Her knee pressed between my legs as we kissed. Then she whispered in my ear, “We could have a nice time together. You could fuck me with the ding-dong.” She pulled back to grin slyly at me.

Sarah clapped her hands.

“Enough, Rosie! Stop seducing the captain.” But she was laughing merrily.

I had one question. “How did you get the potion? The girls, I assume.”

“I wondered if you had noticed. But yes, Jane asked Marianna for some. Don’t worry though, we are very careful. I wondered whether I might try it on the admiral to see if it wakes his rod up. It doesn’t work too well these days. That’s why he allowed me to invite you here.”

“What! The admiral knows? Surely not!”

“He likes having a young wife at his side. He knows he doesn’t satisfy me, so I am free to dally, though only with ladies. Other men are forbidden. You, I must say, are the closest to one I’ve had.”

***

I wasn’t sure what to make of the uniform. It was a bit grand and made me look too much like a Naval officer. Of course, I would only have to wear it once or twice. So, I supposed it would do.

Sarah, though, thought it perfect. It disguised my sex well, she said. If anything might give me away at court, it would be my beardless face.

“I would be quite happy to walk out on your arm, Captain,” Sarah said. “Should you ask.”

Noting my surprised look, she added, “Oh poof, I know it would be too scandalous, but what fun!”

She saw my glance at the clock. “Yes, it is time for our handsome captain to be away. You will give us all one last kiss and then you must go.”

Each, in turn, tried their damnedest to arouse me again, but I had to be getting back to the ship.

“Promise me, Bren, we will meet again,” Sarah said. “Perhaps you might bring Marianna next time?”

***

Conditions for our crossing of the Atlantic couldn’t have been better. The wind never faltered, nor did it strain our rigging. In barely six weeks we were beating up the channel. It had been agreed we would dock at the Naval yard at Chatham, this being the best suited for the repairs to our ships and for access to London. I could not allow any yard workers onto the ship before the gold had been moved.

The Siren was due for an overhaul. Her hull had taken a beating in recent months, and she was leaking badly. The crew were fed up with having to man the pumps at least once a day.

An unoccupied barracks block was made available to the men. It had all the provisions they could desire, and they could come and go as they pleased – at least when I had no work for them. I quickly made arrangements at a local bank so as to allow each man to draw on his funds. Everyone seemed happy enough.

I received a letter from the Prime Minister, one Robert Walpole, inviting me to London for discussions relating to my meeting with King George. His Royal Highness, so I was informed, was keen to make my acquaintance as soon as possible.

A particular dockyard officer had attached himself to me. He was quite helpful, even friendly. He advised that I might consider the purchase of a second uniform for everyday wear, one less grand than the one I had. Not that anyone would recognise what the uniform signified. But, he said, as I was to be in and out of the dockyard on a regular basis, it would not do to look like a pirate or privateer. He said the officials had been advised to treat me with the courtesy of an honorary officer, so he thought it best I rather looked like one.

I hired a large coach to convey  Halcombe, Jensen, Kira, Daphne, Marianna, and me into the city. We had the address of a well-regarded outfitter from whom we could obtain whatever clothing or uniforms we needed. After all, money was the least of our concerns.

I found the city daunting. The narrow, foul-smelling streets. The continuous smoke. The crowds of people rushing about, God knows where. Kira however, was clearly quite at home. She had seen it all before. Marianna, likewise, was none too bothered. But the rest of us wanted out, and as soon as possible.

All of the officers took lodgings close enough to the dockyard. Naturally, they went looking for cheap places. They were rich, I reminded them. They could afford the grandest accommodations they desired.

A major banking establishment had sent a bullion wagon, together with ten bank officials. They counted and weighed every scrap of gold and silver. The jewellery was itemised and locked into sealed containers. The bank would advise me of the total value, they said, once it was established.

One, who looked to be the most senior of the lot, said, “Do you realise, Captain, you have an immense fortune here? This little lot added to the amount your current bankers already have on deposit makes you quite possibly the wealthiest man in the realm. I strongly urge you to keep the fact a secret, lest you have every street beggar in London seeking your indulgence.”

I had never in my life read a newspaper. The dockyard officer – Lieutenant Graham Mellows was his name – waved one in my face. “Captain, have you seen this? You’re really awfully famous.”

It was headed thus –

Arrival in London
Privateer Captain Bren Dawlish
A True British Hero

The article in the Chronicle spoke of injustice being put to rights by His Royal Highness and  went on to tell of a Caribbean governor who, exceeding his authority and acting on wholly inaccurate information, had branded me and my men as pirates and criminals to be hunted down and hanged.

An unnamed admiral had taken our side, searched out the truth and laid it before the King, who had consequently issued, with the agreement of the Privy Council, a proclamation declaring us innocent of all charges.

It went on to detail some of our exploits, rather breathlessly, ending with the frigates we had captured and gifted to the King’s Navy. Most of the account was either highly inaccurate or much exaggerated.

In conclusion, it stated the King had commanded my presence at Kensington. There was much speculation as to the reason.

I was astonished. Me, in the Chronicle. It was beyond belief, yet there it was. And still, no one had an inkling as to my true nature.

Mellows then warned, “I’m afraid you are going to have a problem, Captain. You will have the whole of society wanting you to attend grand functions and balls. Everyone will be wanting you to give talks. You will have every newspaper hounding you. Need I go on?”

It all came as quite a shock. I didn’t want any of it. I wanted only to be left in peace.

“Perhaps we should hide away somewhere while we wait upon completion of the ships. But where? How could we go unnoticed?”

The lieutenant shrugged. “It’s beyond me, I’m afraid. Oh, and another thing you should consider. Neither you nor the Doña should be out and about without having one or two bodyguards in attendance.”

I went in search of Davy. He took some finding but, eventually, there he was, holding up the bar in the Pig and Whistle public house.

“It be’in’ good to sees yer, Bren. Can I says it straight? I’ll be glad when we gets away from this place. Don’t rightly knows what to be doin’ with myself.”

I had to agree, but then I told him of the rest of my troubles.

Davy shook his grizzled head. “These paper people, they’s a’ready pesterin’ the men. Be trouble soon, methinks.”

I didn’t want any of the men ending up in jail, nor did I want them confined to barracks. “First of all, I want you and Taylor to be at my or Marianna’s call as bodyguards. I can have rooms in lodgings next door to ours made available for you both. Find Taylor and see if he’s agreeable. If not, then Spencer. As for the rest, I believe I need to speak to someone in authority.”

It was easier than I expected. Someone from the Privy Council arranged what he called a “conference of the press.” All the newspapers were invited. There would be a prepared speech for me to make, and then I would take questions. This was all dependent on the papers instructing all of their staff that they were to leave us be in the future.

Then a bloody playwright turned up, who wanted to put on a spectacle about us in London. He was told, none too politely, where to go and what to do with his pencil.

Of course, I was apprehensive going in, but afterward, I was cheered and somewhat giddy at how successfully my little masquerade went over. Standing, in my new blue coat and white breeches, between Jensen and Halcombe, I appeared but one in a line of dashing young men who had made their fortune at sea – thinner, perhaps, and not quite so tall, but no less manly for all that. The Fleet Street scribblers saw what they expected to see.

But it was Marianna, the Lord bless her, who completed the illusion. She was at her most ravishing, in a shimmering lavender gown and a tight-laced bodice that put a swell into her matchless bosom. From the moment of her entrance, murmurs flew about the room that this dark-eyed beauty was indeed the captain’s woman. All attention turned to her, to the point where I and my officers were scarcely noticed at all. No one cared to look at me too closely, and no one would think to question the virility – or the sex – of a sailor who possessed such a creature.

Thus, the gathering went much better than I had expected, and it produced the desired result. We were indeed left alone from that point forward. The constant stream of letters kept on, though, and I was obliged to hire a secretary to open them all. He was to ignore anything that was not of a personal nature or of some importance.

Naturally enough, word of the young captain and his beautiful consort spread throughout society. We were suddenly the talk of London. It made us smile to think that two women were now the city’s most celebrated couple, but it did add another type of letter to those the secretary had to deal with.

It also caused the landlady’s daughter to begin openly flirting with me. She was a pretty enough girl of fifteen or sixteen, but I found her attentions rather taxing, and was growing weary of my masculine pretence. When Marianna teased me about her, I snapped, “Why don’t you just fuck the girl, and get her off my back?”

I saw Marianna’s hurt look and instantly regretted my ill-chosen words. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m letting things irritate me too much. It was wrong of me, I know.”

She took my hand. “I know how much you are having to deal with, Bren. I can see the strain. Of all of us, you’re the only one who can’t be seen for what you truly are. Perhaps I should fuck the little pest, just to introduce her to womanly love. If you think it would help, then why not?”

The following day brought two gentlemen to the door. One carried a letter from the King. A summons, really. His Majesty had set aside time to see Captain Bren Dawlish, Captain Thomas Jensen, and the Doña Marianna of Tortola in two days’ time.

***

I was surprised to find that King George spoke very poor English. His native language was German. I had been warned that he was of a saturnine disposition and lacked all humour. What I hadn’t been told was that he loved all things military. His greatest pleasure was to listen to tales of English victories, especially over the French or the Spanish. Mister Walpole gave a distinct cough when the King mentioned those countries by name. The King frowned in response, but then to the surprise of most, he laughed.

His Majesty took a good look at us. He seemed to approve, and to suspect nothing in regard to me. First, he bowed towards Marianna. “You Spanish, ja? I like Spanish who is work for me and England. Is good. Danke, Frȁulein.”

He turned back to me. “You tell me … Wie sagt man, die Geschichte?”

“Story, Your Majesty,” Walpole said.

“Story of … ach! Die Seeschlacht.”

“Your battles at sea.”

“Battle,” the King repeated. “Speak slow. Admiral, ship. Meine Fregatten you bring.”

After a moment of panic, I realised he was referring to the frigates.

He clapped often and insisted that I repeat parts of my story, exclaiming “Gut!” or “Ja!” each time. That he was delighted was beyond doubt, though I was unsure just how much he understood. In truth, beneath his grand trappings, he was but an old man with rouged cheeks. Puffs of white powder fell continually from his wig. His sleeves were flaked with the stuff.

When I came to the end of my tales, he held up a thickly veined hand. “Is good, yes.” He seemed to like that little phrase. Then he waved to two men in livery, one bearing a cushion, the other a sword.

Mister Walpole, who had grasped the situation, pointed to the cushion, which had been placed on the floor before the King, and beckoned me to step forward. I was at a loss as to what was happening. The Prime Minister gestured for me to kneel.

The King raised the sword, then touched it to each of my shoulders, “Captain Sir Dowlitch.” He struggled with my name, and still I was in the dark.

Mister Walpole escorted me back to my seat. Jensen saw my puzzled look. “You have just been knighted,” he informed me. “You are now Sir Bren Dawlish.”

“Jesus!” I whispered. “It can’t be. If they knew—”

“Shush,” Jensen said. “After today, they’ll never see you again.”

“Gentlemen!” Walpole interrupted us. “Attend to the King, if you please. Mister Jensen, if you would step forward.”

To Tom’s utter amazement, he was now Captain Sir Thomas Jensen.

With the ceremony at an end, the King beamed at us. ”Is gut… good? You serve me now … venn you permit.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said, stunned.

He narrowed his eyes at us, looking from one to the other. I wondered, were we expected to say something? Then he looked about the lofty chamber and began to applaud us. Everyone was expected to join in. It had been a capital audience, but it was clear now that it was at an end. The King gave a slight bow, which we returned, and took his leave. Just as he reached the side door, however, he turned and made a beckoning gesture.

We stood dumbfounded, not knowing which of us he meant.

“You!” he said. I placed an inquisitive finger to my chest. “Ja, you!” he repeated.

“His Majesty desires a word with you in private,” Walpole said. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

I hurried across the room with as much confidence as I could muster, but with a rising fear in my heart.

“At your service, Your Majesty,” I said, making yet another bow.

He stepped close to me, but before he spoke, he scowled over my shoulder. That was the signal for everyone else to step back and direct their attention elsewhere.

“Your Spanish,” said the King in a low voice. “She is beautiful.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Quite.”

“And you luff her?”

“With all my heart, Your Majesty.”

“Is good, yes,” he said. “But you – how do you say…?”

I waited while he pondered his next question. His English seemed to have improved rather rapidly, but either he could not find the proper words, or he believed no words would do, for his question, when it came, took the form of a simple test: his hand shot forward and seized my crotch. A true man would have yelped in pain. I did not, and I was much too taken aback to dissemble.

Not another word passed between us. His Majesty merely gave my privates an affectionate jiggle and upon winking at me, I am sure, went about his royal business. It took all my strength not to laugh out loud.

Jensen gave me a quizzical look as I rejoined the group, but I waved it off. Walpole took no notice. “Well done, Captains,” he was saying. “This has been a success. I didn’t know His Highness intended to knight you both. Quite a pleasant surprise. My congratulations. I have never seen him so jolly.”

“And I’ll wager you never will again,” I said.

“Indeed. You may know that our good King George has never been very popular with the people. They regard him as too Deutsch. Some even think him an idiot because he does not speak English well.”

“He is no fool,” I said.

“Le mot juste. In any case, he is immensely pleased with what you have done, and he wants it known that you have done it for him. His standing has taken quite an upturn since your arrival. I would imagine your knighthoods are his attempt at playing to the people.

“By the by,” Walpole added, “there’s a solicitor coming to see you. It’s all perfectly above board. I think what he has to say will interest you.”

***

The solicitor fellow looked just as I imagined he might – tiny, with ink-stained fingers and odd-looking spectacles that sat crookedly upon his nose. His appearance, though, quite belied his mind. He was as sharp as a blade, though perhaps a tad excitable. It seems that Mister Walpole’s office had thought I might like to know where my parents came from. It seemed it hadn’t been difficult for them to find that I had an extensive family on my father’s side, at not too great a distance, in Surrey. He advised me that most were not of the gentry, but rather farm labourers and such. In particular, he had found an uncle who was the proprietor of a public house.

He had not yet found my mother’s family, but would make further enquiries if I wished. The little man left me with a dossier of names and addresses. Most had some reference to their relationship with me.

“I have kept my fees to a minimum,” he concluded. “The Prime Minister’s office said you are quite capable of paying.”

It had occurred to me of late that everyone was keen to spend my money for me.

I travelled with Marianna to a place called Guildford, where we took rooms in a pleasant country inn. Over the next two weeks, we visited a number of families. Most had heard of me but had not realised I was their kin. I had thought to present myself in the country as I truly am, but Marianna had dissuaded me. Sir Bren I was, and Sir Bren I would remain for the duration.

With the assistance of a local solicitor, I purchased five farms and one public house. The farms had been split into smaller parcels. My family were tenant farmers. It did not take long to see how they struggled to pay extortionate rents and still make a living.

At our final meeting, some wept with joy when they heard of my intentions. From then on, they would pay only sixpence a year in rent – a mere trifle, but enough to satisfy the law. In return, they would keep the fences and walls of the properties in good repair.

I was astonished that the public house was named The Foxy Lady. How appropriate, I thought. The landlord, one John Dawlish, had not known of my existence, despite he was my father’s brother. Once more, I asked for only a token rent. More importantly, his was now a “free house.” He could sell any beer he wished and was no longer tied to a single brewery.

***

It transpired that Marianna and I weren’t quite the richest couple in Britain, but we were amongst the top five, with approximately two and half million pounds.* The question remained, what on earth should we do with it? Of course, it wasn’t all mine. It had to be divvied up between us and the crew. Exactly how and when was not something I had given much thought to.

We had been gone several weeks. It had been a refreshing change to just travel about the countryside meeting far more family than the solicitor had discovered, all of them surprised at the existence of a long lost male relative, and a famous one at that. Having settled the legal details with the solicitor, I felt it was time to be back to London, to see how my ships were progressing.

The dockyard chief walked with me to the Siren. There had been some major changes, he explained, as well as many fittings that had needed replacement. I stopped in my tracks. “She’s longer than before – good Lord, much longer! How on earth have you managed that?”

“You didn’t know? How very odd, but those were my instructions. I have the drawings here, Sir. I intended to show you what we’ve done. But, yes, she’s twenty feet longer than before. She was always too stubby for those two large masts. You said she sailed well. Now you will find her even better. And she can carry more sail. We know for certain she has sister ships, and we have already done the same to a couple of them.

“As for how, it’s quite easy… merely expensive. We remove approximately twenty feet from the front of her – the curved part of the bow. Then, to put it in simple terms, we add new oak frame timbers and lengthen the keel, before she’s replanked.”

I understood what he meant, although it wasn’t something I had known was possible.

The cannon were an even bigger surprise. Siren now carried two eighteen-pounders, two of twelve and twenty of nine, besides the two swivel guns. By my estimation, she was now, in effect, a frigate and no longer a brig. Majestic had also been fitted with eighteens and twelves.

My cabin was also more spacious, and there were now two more proper, though smaller, cabins. And there was something I knew would delight Marianna – our cot was considerably wider than before.

Throughout the ship, there were many more changes, both large and small. I’d take them all in later, but I wasn’t sure whether I should be delighted or enraged. No one had thought to consult me before making such dramatic changes to my own ship. I queried the dockyard chief again. Who, exactly, had given the instructions?

“The orders came directly from the palace and were approved by the Admiralty Board,” he replied. “As I heard it, the King insisted you have a ship worthy of your status and abilities. I have held off on one change though, because it’s very much a captain’s decision. He wants ‘Royal’ added to both your ships’ names.”

So my flagship was to be the Royal Siren.

“I rather like that,” I said. “Just so long as the bugger doesn’t think he owns me. Yes, you may go ahead with that.”

I thought he would have a fit when I referred to His Majesty as a bugger. I laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry. Old Georgie and I are great friends, don’t you know?”

It was that last sentence that brought it home to me. It really was time to be away from here. I was beginning to speak like a toff!

I would call a meeting of all hands, and we would decide our future as a team.

* Approximately two and a half billion pounds in today’s money.

Soon to come: Chapter Eight!

by Rosey M

May 30, 2006 – Rhonda

The next morning I slid into my pajama pants and made my way toward the bathroom. As I crossed the hallway, the strong scent of coffee wafted over from the kitchen.

After a quick pee, I brushed my teeth and studied myself in the mirror. The person staring back was the kind of ordinary girl you’d see anywhere. Other than my hair color, I’ve never had much of a resemblance to my mom or sister. I don’t have the pale, sharp features they do. Ashley says I have a “healthy glow” to my skin, and my face has always been a little more rounded compared to theirs. My sister insists that just adds to my cuteness.

I guess I was a little short for my age (my head just barely made it into the reflection), and my mid-length black hair definitely needed a good brush after all that tossing and turning in the night. My light hazel eyes looked blearily back at me. They were so unlike the dark blue ones that Mom and Ashley shared, but I’d inherited more of my father’s looks than my mother’s.

After I’d finished cleaning up, I left the bathroom and went into the kitchen. My mom sat at the small table, head in her hands, a steaming mug of coffee set before her. She always seemed so exhausted. Her hair was mussed and she looked like she’d barely made it out of bed. I went over to give her a peck on the cheek. “Morning, Mommy.”

She winced at the sound of my voice. “Hey, baby. Not so loud, okay?”

It was easy to see where Ashley got her looks from. Mom was tall and lean, her hair the same jet-black as mine and my sister’s, only shorter. I remember wishing I’d be as pretty as her when I grew up.

“Sorry, Mommy,” I almost whispered. After fixing a bowl of cereal as quietly as I could, I sat across from her and ate in silence. Finally, I tentatively asked, “Where’s Ashley? She’s normally up by now.”

“She left before you got up,” Mom told me while she rubbed at her temples. “Seemed like she was in one of her moods. Said she had some kind of art project she was working on at school.”

I was careful not to show the hurt and worry I felt at Ashley leaving without saying anything to me, especially after what had happened the night before. Mom couldn’t know anything about that, though. “Oh, yeah. I think she said something about it yesterday, but I didn’t really understand what it was about.”

She left so she wouldn’t have to see you, I told myself, wanting to cry but knowing I couldn’t.

Mom shook her head. “You and me both, Ronnie. I don’t understand half of what you kids learn in school these days.”

While I got up to wash out my bowl, Mom drained her cup of coffee and stood up, groaning as she stretched. “Go grab the brush so I can tidy your hair. It’s looking like a bird’s nest up there.”

I tried not to smile at the irony of Mom commenting on my hair when hers didn’t look much better. It was normally Ashley who helped me get ready for school in the mornings; I couldn’t remember the last time Mom had done anything like that for me. But I did as she said and went to fetch the brush.

She fixed my hair in silence, then gave me a quick kiss on the brow. “Hmm, that’s a little better, I guess. Now get dressed and scoot before you wind up being late.” She shooed me away with a little wave. “And don’t forget your keys.”

After getting ready and grabbing my backpack, I returned to the kitchen to say goodbye. Mom had already slipped into her room and shut the door. With a shrug, I quietly left for school.

***

I barely remembered what we learned in our morning classes that day, my mind on autopilot as it swirled with thoughts of my sister and what had recently transpired between us.

A hand waving in front of my face was what finally brought me out of my daze, accompanied by an insistent voice.

“Jeez, space cadet! What’s with you today?”

Sitting across from me at the lunch table were my friends Susie and Maria. Susie was the one who’d spoken, and she now sat looking at me expectantly, her blonde braid swaying from side to side as she shook her head in exasperation. “You’ve been out of it all day, girl. Heck, you barely looked at Miss McFadden when she called on you in math. And we all know how much of a crush you have on her!”

I flushed in embarrassment. Miss McFadden was definitely pretty, but I never liked her the way I liked Ashley.

Maria reached over and swatted Susie on the arm. “Jeez, you can talk!.  We can all see you make heart eyes whenever Joshua Patrick walks by!”

Susie was left sputtering in indignation as Maria turned towards me. “Is everything okay, Rhonda? Suze is right, you have been pretty distracted today.”

Her face was so full of concern, I couldn’t help feeling guilty for making them worry about me like this. I gave them a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s with me today. Just have my head in the clouds, I guess.” They seemed to accept my words at face value, and we dropped the subject.

I did know what was wrong with me, though – Ashley.  I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened the night before. I wondered what she was doing right then. Was she thinking about me the way I was thinking about her? Did she want to kiss me again?

That last thought made me giddy with excitement. I couldn’t help the wistful smile that teased the corners of my mouth, lost in thoughts of my sister’s soft lips pressed against mine.

Susie leaned toward Maria and stage-whispered, “Do you think she got hit on the head earlier? I’ve heard people with brain damage are like this sometimes.” I scowled and made as if to lunge at her. Susie took the bait and leapt out of her seat, moving behind Maria to use her as a shield.

I tried to hold my resolve, but couldn’t pretend to be angry for long. The three of us burst into giggles.

It seemed a stupid thing to worry about Ashley when I couldn’t do anything about it right then. I knew I’d be seeing her later that day, so we could figure things out together. For the moment, I just wanted to enjoy spending time with my friends.

I tried to participate in the rest of our conversation during lunch, and I was even able to pay attention during afternoon classes. I probably remembered next to nothing of what we learned, but it was better than nothing!

***

After school, I was so excited to see Ashley that I had to stop myself from skipping all the way home. We had a few hours before Mom got back and Ashley had to leave for work, so we could do whatever we wanted until then.

But when I got home, the house stood silent.

I called Ashley’s name, but got no reply. My face fell, and I tried to tamp down my disappointment. Sometimes she had to stay late after school, that was all. I’d just wait in her room and surprise her!

I dropped my backpack off by the sofa, then made my way to Ashley’s room. Force of habit had me knocking, but as expected, there was no response.

Opening her door, I peered inside. I’d never spent much time in my sister’s room – she always liked having a place to hide away for a bit, same as me. And whenever anything bad was happening in our house, she’d always be the one to leave her safe space to find and comfort me.

I felt a little bad about entering without permission, but curiosity got the better of me. Ashley had been a total mystery to me of late, and I found myself wondering if the answer to her behavior was within reach.

Shutting her door behind me, I flicked on the light switch and looked around. Her walls were adorned with all kinds of pictures she had drawn, as well as a variety of posters she’d either purchased or been given. My favorite was the album cover where the bat-winged skeleton is riding a horse and pointing a sword toward the viewer. So cool!

Ashley had always enjoyed that kind of imagery, so half the pictures she drew had skulls and demons and all manner of spooky things. The other drawings of hers were all from TV shows she watched. I only recognized a couple of the people in them, but there was no denying my sister was really good at this stuff. It was no wonder she wanted to display them.

Spying her closet, I flung the doors back to look at all the clothes she’d organized neatly on hangers. Almost all of them were black, a variety of button-up shirts, tight pants, and skirts making up the bulk of it. In one corner, there was a couple of long black dresses she only wore on special occasions.

I opened the chest of drawers underneath and found her underwear and socks. A flush of warmth reached my cheeks as I carefully closed everything up, and I couldn’t help tittering to myself. It was so much fun searching my sister’s room like this. I felt just like a detective!

My eyes locked onto Ashley’s nightstand where her laptop sat. It was a really fast model; way better than the old PC we kept in the living room. I remember Ashley having to save up for months to pay for it… which is why I didn’t want to touch it without her permission; I don’t know what I would’ve done if I somehow screwed it up.

Curious about what she had in the drawers underneath, I opened one and saw a bunch of neatly bundled cords and one of those new tablet devices, along with a Gameboy. I checked the drawer underneath it, only to find—

Huh?

My Hello Kitty shirt was in that drawer. What the heck!?

I brought it to my nose out of curiosity; it smelled a little like me, like it hadn’t even been washed. I was utterly confused. Was this where my shirts ended up when they went missing every other week? I always found them eventually, but still…

I put the shirt back in the drawer, knowing I’d have to ask her about it later.

Moving round the bed, I checked the top drawer in the other nightstand, gasping at what I found.

There were a bunch of knick-knacks I’d made for Ashley over the years: macaroni pictures, pipe cleaner projects; drawings I kind of wanted to tear up now that I was old enough to recognize their awfulness.

Separate from this mishmash of gifts was a neat pile of assorted black and orange construction paper that I immediately recognized as my Valentine’s Day cards. I couldn’t believe she actually kept them. She was so happy the first time I made one for her that I gave her a card every year until I’d grown out of such things. I always assumed she threw them out after a few days.

I picked up the one on top of the stack and opened it out. A bunch of small cut-out orange hearts were glued all along the page, along with the message, Happy Valentine’s Day, Ashley! Love, Rhonda. In between the hearts were doodles I’d made with different colored markers.

Ashley was always encouraging me to practice my drawing, since she thought I’d surpass her one day. Looking back on my rough lines and the misshapen blobs that were supposed to be animals made it clearer than ever that my big sister was definitely the artist of the family.

I opened the next couple of cards to see variations of that same scrawled message, and more rough sketches. The one I made the year prior was orange with black hearts, and the year before that had the same design as my most recent one.

The last card in the drawer was visibly frayed along the edges, easily the most worn of the lot. My heart ached when I realized just how many times Ashley must have taken it out to read, holding it in her hands as she lay in bed.

Inside the orange paper, there was a single black heart glued to the left side with A+R written in white pencil crayon. Underneath it were two scribbles that took me a moment to place. I think the left one was supposed to be a wolf, since Ashley has always liked wolves. Judging from the long ears on top of its head, the right one kind of looked like a bunny. On the top right side, crudely cut out black letters spelled, Happy Valentine’s Day! And below in my loopy, too-large writing, it read: I love you, Ashley! Let’s stay together forever! Love, Rhonda.

The fact that Ashley kept these had my mind spinning. I had to sit down on her bed to think about what it all meant. I’d poured my love into those cards, my feelings for Ashley so strong I thought I might burst. Only now did it feel like those feelings might have a chance of being returned. Ashley wouldn’t have kept my gifts if she didn’t love me the way I loved her, right?

Glancing down at my closed fist, I discovered with some alarm that I’d crushed the card. I dropped the crinkled piece of paper onto Ashley’s nightstand with a startled gasp, then burrowed under my sister’s blanket to hide. I was worried she’d never forgive me for ruining something she treasured so much.

I remembered how much she loved that card, the way she’d jumped up excitedly to read it. Only… that wasn’t the way it happened at all, was it? Hadn’t I wanted to surprise her, only to hear her call out my name before I’d even opened the bedroom door? Then when I ran in, it’d startled her, and she’d pulled her hand out from under her skirt.

My mind finally connected the dots as I realized what my sister must have been doing that day. But why had she been calling my name? Ashley said she liked to think about me while touching herself. Was she really thinking about me that way, even back then?

I poked my head out from underneath the blanket, but Ashley’s room held no answers, so I disappeared again. My body was starting to get hot from thinking about Ashley masturbating. Her scent seemed to surround me. I melted into the sheets, breathing it in.

I shimmied my pants and underwear down until they were bunched around my feet, then used my fingers to explore myself. My vagina felt warm and damp as I began to trace a path through the folds. My thumb brushed against the little nub near the top, causing a bolt of pleasure to shoot through me.

This is it! I knew immediately that it was what made me feel so good that night! I curled my toes into the sheets and began to move my fingers more vigorously through the wetness, making sure I paid special attention to my budding clitoris.

I thought about Ashley kissing and hugging me. I thought about the way she always stared at me like I was the only person who mattered to her. The way her body felt when she lowered it onto mine, and how her eager tongue had explored my mouth. Most of all, I thought about how she’d always been the most important person in the world to me, and how I didn’t want anyone else to have her.

The feeling between my legs was getting better and better. I clutched at Ashley’s blanket with my free hand as I drew her scent deep into my lungs. I heard my voice cry out, “Ashley!” and then, finally, it happened.

My lower half lifted itself up from the bed and thrust into my waiting fingers, intense pleasure flooding my core. With a panting gasp, my body went limp and I could do nothing but lie there, dazed and exhausted.

For all I knew, I could have been lying there for seconds, minutes, or even hours. When my mind finally switched back on, it struck me that being discovered in my sister’s room with my pants bunched around my ankles probably wasn’t ideal.

I quickly got myself dressed, then jumped out of Ashley’s bed. I put the Valentine’s Day cards back in her drawer, hoping she wouldn’t notice the one I’d crushed.

I did my best to smooth out the mess I’d made of her bed, then went to clean myself up. I took my time in the shower, making sure to keep the bathroom door open so the steam could escape. Mom always got mad if we shut the door and trapped the moisture inside.

After I got out, I busied myself with making a snack, then put the TV on in the living room. I always did my homework there so I could hear when Ashley got home. Splayed out on the couch, I waited for what seemed like hours, wondering if my sister would ever return. I hadn’t got much sleep of late, and unable to hold back a big yawn, I felt my eyes getting heavy, finally dozing off.

***

I couldn’t have been sleeping for much longer than half an hour when I felt a hand lightly nudge my arm. I found myself staring up at my mom, who was looking down at me in puzzlement. “Why are you sleeping out here? And where’s Ashley?”

I quickly sat up as her words registered. She still wasn’t here? “I’m not sure. She wasn’t home when I got back from school.”

The scowl on Mom’s face was a more practiced and expert version of the one I’d given Suzie at school. Mom had turned scowling into an art form. I immediately knew I’d said the wrong thing. “So you’ve been home all by yourself? That girl! When I see her…” Walking off angrily, she added, “Go sleep in your room if you’re that tired.”

I gathered up all of my school stuff to put in my backpack, then took my dishes to the sink to clean. When I was done with that, I did as Mom said and went to lie down in my room.

Why hadn’t Ashley come home? Did I really mess things up that badly when I pushed her away? In spite of these worried thoughts, sleep eventually took me once again.

***

I woke up fully alert, my mind barely registering that my bedside clock said it was almost midnight. I could hear raised voices coming from the hallway.

“What the hell were you thinking? She’s ten years old! You can’t just leave her alone like that.”

“I didn’t mean to! Time just got away from me and I had to head right to work, all right? Besides, how many times did you leave me alone here when I was her age? Or even younger? She was fine on her own.”

“That’s not the point! You’ll be turning eighteen in a few months, Ashley. You need to start acting like an adult. You can’t just leave Rhonda like that whenever you’re in a bad mood. You have a responsibility.”

“I have a responsibility? That’s rich coming from you. When was the last time you spent more than a few minutes of your time with Rhonda? I’ve been the one looking after her for who knows how long; we barely see you since Dad left! You go to work, come home, make dinner or tidy up around the house once in a while. But otherwise you just leave it to us.

“You spend your evenings drinking, then you wake up hungover and mad as shit – rinse, repeat. You want me to be responsible? Why don’t you try acting like a responsible moth—“

Ashley’s voice was cut off by the sound of a hard slap. I scrambled out of bed and opened my door to see them glaring at each other. Mom looked furious, and Ashley looked just about ready to strike her dead. Her cheek was red from where she’d been hit, both hands balled into fists. She looked to my doorway where I stood silently, and muttered, “Go back to bed, Rhonda.”

Mom’s eyes flashed to me for the briefest of moments before fixing back on Ashley. Her icy voice rang out into the night. “I am your mother, you ungrateful little bitch! I bust my ass around here to take care of you two, and you’re going to accuse me of being a bad mom? Don’t you ever speak to me like that again, Ashley. Go to bed. Now.”

Mom stormed off to her room, the sound of the slamming door echoing off the walls. Ashley and I stood where we were like sentinels until she mumbled, “Sorry, Rhonda. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Then she turned off the hallway light and went into her own room.

The silence engulfed me, my mind swimming with thoughts of what had just happened. I hated when they argued like that.

Dad had walked out on us almost four years earlier, and I knew it was still a sore spot for Mom. I can’t remember much about him. In most of my memories, he was yelling; especially when he’d been drinking. I was secretly a little happy when he left, even though I knew it made things harder on Mom and Ashley.

But I thought things were getting better. Ashley got herself a job to help with the bills, and she and Mom didn’t fight as often as they used to. When they did, it rarely escalated to hitting, especially now that Ashley was big enough to fight back.

I know Mom had been drinking a lot lately, but she did that when Dad was still with us. But what did Ashley mean about having to be the one to look after me? Sure, we spent a lot of time together, but didn’t she want to be with me? Did she hate having to be around me so much?

The thought made my eyes well up. I tiptoed over to Ashley’s room, quietly opened the door and slipped inside. In the darkness, I could barely make out her form curled up on top of the blankets. She lifted her head to look at me. “Rhonda?”

I padded over and climbed on the bed next to her. She still hadn’t changed out of her work clothes. “I’m sorry, Ashley.”

Her arms pulled me closer until I was lying by her side. “What are you apologizing for? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m angry at Mom, not you. I could never be angry at you.”

I wrapped my arms around my sister. “I’m sorry you always have to take care of me, Ashley. I never wanted to be a bother.”

I tried to pull away, but Ashley’s arms tightened around me, pressing me back against her. Her voice was thin and reedy as she choked out, “W-what are you talking about, Rhonda? You’re never a bother to me. Or Mom. We both love you to hell and back. And I… You know how much I love you. Don’t ever think I don’t want to be around you.

“Sometimes I have to leave you alone because I feel like I’m smothering you. I’d spend every waking moment with you in my arms if I could. I could say it a million different ways, and it wouldn’t be enough. I love you, Rhonda.” Her voice broke into a small sob as she rested her chin on my head.

Even now, I shiver when I remember the raw emotion in my sister’s voice as she poured her heart out to me. She loves me. She. Loves. Me.

Before I knew it, I was baring my soul to Ashley, revealing the secrets I’d kept from her for what seemed like an eternity. “I love you, too, Ashley. I think I love you more than a sister. Y-you know how in the movies, they always talk about true love, and the boy and girl get married at the end? It’s more like that. You’re all I can think about sometimes.”

Ashley’s murmuring voice stirred a gentle breeze through my hair. “Just sometimes? Then I win, Rhonda. Because I think about you all the time.”

I playfully made to swat at her, but she held me so firmly I could barely move my arms. “Don’t be a dork, Ashley! You know what I meant…”

Ashley rolled  onto her back so I was on top of her. “Of course I know what you meant, and I’m so happy to hear you say it.”

We lay in comfortable silence, my sister’s arms wrapped around me as I nestled against her chest. Eventually, I lifted my head to look into her eyes. Even in the dim light, I could see how red her cheek was from Mom’s slap. I gently pressed my hand against the mark, amazed by how hot her skin was. Ashley winced at the touch, but rested one of her hands on mine.

“Is Mom still gonna be mad in the morning?” I asked.

Ashley sighed and dropped her head against the pillow. “She’ll have sobered up by then. She’ll probably feel like shit and want to apologize. I know I went too far with what I said, but I had a lot on my mind after… well, y’know. Still, she didn’t have to fucking hit me.”

The way she described what happened between us, it was like something that was never to be spoken of again. I wasn’t happy about that, but at least things would probably be back to normal between her and Mom come tomorrow.

Throwing caution to the wind, I said, “Um, about what happened last night. Can we talk about it?”

Ashley stiffened against me and grabbed onto my arms as if to thrust me away, but I twisted my hands into her shirt and hissed out, “Don’t do that, Ashley! I’m not mad or upset about it. I actually really liked it when we kissed.”

Her grip on me loosened, her hands trailing back and forth across my arms instead. I could see a small smirk teasing the corners of her mouth. “Getting bossy, aren’t we, little girl? I’m happy you liked it as much as I did, though. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that. I felt so shitty about how it ended, but at the same time, it felt so nice to finally do something about my feelings. I… I’m sorry about scaring you like that. Did I go too far?”

My face started getting hot. I definitely wanted to talk about it, but were we supposed to just come out and say everything we were feeling? It was so embarrassing! I tried to put my face back against her chest, but Ashley reached out to cup my chin. “Hey, don’t go all shy on me; you’re the one who brought it up! Tell me what you’re thinking, okay?”

I needed to take a deep breath before I could even begin. “I’m sorry about pushing you away like I did. I wasn’t really upset or anything, I was just surprised. You kinda walked in on me, uh, touching myself, and you told me you knew I did it even though I tried to hide it, and then I cried, and we cuddled, and then I confessed, and then you confessed, and suddenly we were kissing, and it was getting all kinda crazy, and… and we…“

I trailed off as Ashley raised a hand to slow me down. “I guess when you put it like that, a lot did happen last night, huh? Too much, too fast, maybe. I get it, Rhonda. But you’re okay with what happened before it got to that point?”

“Yes! I liked it when we kissed. It made me feel all tingly inside. Did you really want to kiss me that way?”

Ashley peered up at me wistfully, her voice a breathy whisper. “More than wanted, Rhonda. I needed to. Do you, uh… do you want to kiss again?”

I answered by pressing my lips to hers. She reached out to clutch my hips while I held onto her shoulders for support. And then we were kissing.

I had no idea what I was doing, but tried my best to mimic Ashley – the way her mouth pressed softly against mine, how she gently nibbled on my lower lip, her tongue teasing and probing.

I don’t know how long we kissed before she finally pulled away and whispered, “I need to stop now, Rhonda, or I’m going to lose control. I love you. I love you so much.”

I smiled at my sister, wondering if it would be such a bad thing if she did lose control. “I love you too, Ashley. Can we do this every day? I don’t want it to be the only time we kiss.”

Ashley chuckled at my obvious enthusiasm. “Of course we’re going to do this every day, silly. Especially since I know you like it, too.”

I was over the moon to hear her say that. “Like it? I love it! Um, does this mean we’re dating now? Like when Mom and Dad first met?”

Ashley’s radiant smile sent a shiver of pleasure through me. “We’re not gonna be like how Mom and Dad were. We’re going to be so much better. Do you want me to be your girlfriend, Rhonda?”

I hugged my sister for all I was worth. “Yes! Oh, yes!” With everything out in the open, I figured now was as good a time as any for confessions. “Um, Ashley?”

My sister’s fingers stroked through my hair. “Hmm?”

“I was in your room earlier, and—“

“Oh! So I wasn’t just imagining things, then? I thought someone had been in here.”

I winced a little, pressing my body against Ashley’s so I didn’t have to make eye contact. “I missed you last night, so I came in here to just… I dunno. Don’t be mad, okay?”

Ashley reached up to cup my face. “Be mad because you missed me? Now who’s being a dork?”

“No, not that. I was snooping. I found the drawer where you keep all my old gifts. It kinda got me, um, y’know, thinking about stuff, and I accidentally crumpled one of the cards up. I’m really sorry, Ashley! I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine, Rhonda. Stop worrying, geez. As long as I can still read it, that’s what matters. I love that card. It always gave me a little bit of hope that maybe one day you’d feel the same way I do. I guess I don’t need to keep looking at it now that I actually have you. I do, right? Have you?”

I planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Of course you have me, Ashley! Like I said in that card – we’re gonna be together forever. But you’re really not mad?”

Her fingers trailed along my body, from my shoulders all the way down my back, pausing briefly to caress my hips before coming to rest on my butt. I thrust instinctively against her hands where they cupped and squeezed, causing a pleasant tingle between my legs.

“There. You’re forgiven,” Ashley said, then shifted uncomfortably beneath me. “Dang, you’re getting heavy.” I scowled at her, and she added, “Kidding, kidding!”

With a quick peck to my brow, she gently pushed me off her, the two of us now lying side by side. I helped Ashley shimmy the blanket out from underneath our bodies and pull it over us.

“We’ll take things as slow as you want, Rhonda. Even if you only ever wanted to kiss, I wouldn’t mind. As long as we’re together. If anyone asks you out, I want you to tell them no. You don’t need to explain why; just say you don’t want to. I promise I’ll do the same. But… you know we can’t tell anyone about us being girlfriends, right?”

“I know, Ashley. I love you, but it’ll be our special secret.”

“Yeah. Our special secret. ‘Night, Rhonda.”

I lay my head against my sister’s breast, and as my body melted into her embrace I could feel myself beginning to drift off. “G’night, Ashley…” I heard myself mumble from some distant place.

***

When I woke up the next morning, I could only imagine what kind of dopey grin I had on my face. But can you blame me? I’d had the most amazing dream, one that ended with Ashley kissing me, and the two of us becoming girlfriends!

As I sat up, feeling a little groggy, I quickly realized I wasn’t in my own bed. So it wasn’t a dream! But Ashley wasn’t next to me anymore. I got up and padded out of the room to find her.

I could hear the sound of the shower running, the bathroom door partially open to let the moisture escape. I sidled inside, then closed it without thinking. “Ashley?” I called. “I need to pee.”

I heard Ashley reply, “Okay, go ahead. I’ll just flush the toilet after I’m done in here.”

One of the unspoken rules in our house was never flush the toilet when someone’s in the shower. As I sat there peeing, I could feel my cheeks getting warm watching Ashley’s silhouette through the shower curtain. I found myself yearning to get a better look, and wondered what she’d do if I climbed in there with her. My mind buzzing with possibilities, I wiped; pulled my panties up. And then I flushed the toilet…

Ashley yelped in surprise. “What the hell, Rhonda!” Shying away from the cold water, she pulled back the shower curtain to glare at me. I was prepared to apologize profusely, but words failed me as my sister’s naked body came into view.

Her long black hair was plastered to her pale skin, still flushed from the hot shower, but it was her boobs my eyes were drawn to. Firm and petite, the nipples stood proudly from goosebump flesh. I’d seen my sister naked many times, of course, but only now did I truly appreciate what I was seeing, and compared to my barely-there bee stings, Ashley’s breasts were positively magnificent.

There was a little patch of dark hair just above her privates in the shape of a small line. Ashley seemed to understand what I needed, slowly opening her legs to reveal more of herself. Her vagina looked so much more mature than mine, so many folds and creases; such pretty colors. The rosy lips of her sex glistened with moisture. Water? Or something else?

My searching gaze traveled back up Ashley’s body to meet her eyes. Suddenly I felt so immature, standing there in her old hand-me-down pajamas, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. I hadn’t even pretended not to look.

Abruptly turning away, I mumbled, “Um… I’m gonna go start on breakfast, okay?”

As I quickly washed my hands and made to leave, Ashley called out my name. I slowly turned back to face her.

“Fair’s fair,” she said, her voice taking on a husky timbre. “Lift up your shirt for me.”

I blushed so hard my ears probably turned crimson, but I took hold of my shirt and lifted it up so Ashley could see me. It didn’t seem like a fair trade – I got to see Ashley’s beautiful grown up body, and all she got was a glimpse of my flat chest. But who was I to complain?

Ashley gave a low groan, her eyes heavy with longing as she stood gazing at me. Finally she stepped back behind the shower curtain, and I pulled my shirt back down. “Thanks, Rhonda. Could you shut the door when you go out, please?”

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I couldn’t help but let out a little giggle as I passed through the hallway. I don’t know what Ashley could possibly like about what she saw, but she clearly did!

***

Down in the kitchen I busied myself making bacon and eggs for the three of us. Happily humming away to myself, and with breakfast well underway, I could suddenly detect the familiar fruity scent of our soap.

Arms encircled me from behind and a warm body pressed against mine. “That was a great way to start the day,” Ashley murmured. “I still can’t believe you want me the same way I want you.” She plucked the spatula out of my hand and leaned around to kiss me on the lips. “Here, I’ll finish up with this if you want to make us some toast.”

Once everything was cooked and Ashley had brewed a pot of coffee (and stolen a few more kisses), we sat down to breakfast. I had barely eaten anything in the past day, so I was ravenous.

I was halfway through my plate when we heard Mom cursing in her bedroom. Not long after that she opened her door and crossed the hall to the bathroom. “Goddammit, Ashley!” she yelled. “What have I said about shutting this door when you shower? Are you trying to grow mold in here?”

Me and Ashley kept quiet while we waited for Mom to enter the kitchen. She was limping slightly when she eventually came in. She glared at us for a moment before turning away, heading straight for the coffee maker.

“Mom, are you okay?” I asked tentatively.

She stiffened defensively, before gradually letting some of the tension out of her shoulders. “I’m all right, baby. I hit my leg on my bed when I got up, but I’ll be fine.”

When she sat down across from us, I couldn’t help but notice how red her eyes were. She regarded us both with a forlorn look. “Listen, Ashley. I know I fucked up—” Mom gave me a brief glance, “I mean messed up, last night. I was angry, but I had no right to hit you like that. I’m sorry.”

Ashley’s hand found mine under the table, and I squeezed. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too, Mom. I shouldn’t have said all that stuff. You know I didn’t mean it.”

Mom’s tired smile said she wasn’t fooled. “No, you were right. I’ve put too much responsibility on you, and I know my drinking is getting out of hand. I’m going to try and cut back.”

Turning to me, she continued, “And I’m sorry to you, too, Rhonda. I haven’t been there for you the way I should have lately. You need a mom, and I haven’t been living up to that. It’s gonna be different from now on, okay? How ’bout I call into school, and the three of us have ourselves a girl’s day at the mall?”

Without waiting for a response, Mom grabbed a few pieces of bacon and folded a piece of toast around them. Grabbing her mug of coffee, she turned to go back to her room. “I’ll leave you girls to finish up, then we’ll head out in an hour or two.”

When Mom had gone, Ashley and I exchanged bemused looks. “What the heck was that?” I whispered

“I don’t know. I figured I’d get some half-assed apology this morning; I wasn’t expecting her to go that far.”

As we finished breakfast, my mind began to wander. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this new development. On the one hand, I was happy that Mom was paying more attention to me, but I didn’t know when I’d get to be alone with Ashley next.

As my mood began to darken, Ashley took my chin and gently turned me towards her. “Rhonda?” When a tear trickled down my face, Ashley looked at me in alarm. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Do you think Mom meant it when she said she was going to spend more time with me?”

Ashley swiped her thumb across my cheek to catch the stray tear, then smiled. “I think she did. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? She hasn’t been around enough.”

I felt a flash of anger. “But that means you and me won’t get to spend as much time together!”

With trembling lips, Ashley shushed me with a kiss, the tenderness of our exchange helping my own nerves to settle. “Take it easy, Rhonda. Even if she’s around more often, it doesn’t mean we’re going to stop spending time together. I won’t let that happen.”

She kissed me again, but this time I felt the gentle nudge of her tongue against my lips. I parted them, allowing her to caress and explore the rest of my mouth.

It dawned on me that I wanted to kiss Ashley like that, but just as I resolved to do so, she pulled away.

Her eyes had that glazed quality to them, but they quickly sharpened. “She can spend as much time as she wants with you,” she whispered angrily, “but I’ll never let her take you away from me. You’re mine, Rhonda. Mine!”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that proclamation, but couldn’t hide my pleased smile. After all, Ashley was mine, too!

She stood up and went to rinse her plate. “Besides, who knows if she even meant half of what she said? I think she meant it, but I don’t know if she’ll stick to it. We’ll just see how that goes.”

Craning her neck to look back at me, she added, “Finish what’s left on Mom’s plate, if you want. She won’t eat it.”

I was still a little worried about how things would turn out, but I tucked into Mom’s leftovers anyway. I was a growing girl, after all!

Soon to come: Chapter Four!

by Rachael Yukey

Sunday, September 24th, 2006

What a crazy weekend! I lied to my parents after church today. I told them that I wasn’t feeling good, and asked to go home. There’s an event going on at the sanctuary this afternoon, but I wanted to come home and write all this down while it’s still fresh in my mind.

I feel like I need to… what’s that word the adults use? Process. I need to process everything, and I think writing it down will help. So I told my parents I was feeling sick, and Dad drove me home to rest. I feel a little guilty about it, but it’s done now.

Julie had school breakfast Friday morning so we could eat together, and we were both just bouncing off the walls, all excited about our sleepover. A couple of other girls came and sat with us, girls that Julie hangs out with sometimes. As we were eating, I realized something about her. There are lots of people she hangs out with sometimes, but there isn’t anybody she hangs out with a lot of the time. Maybe she needs a real friend as much as I do. I want to be a good one.

After school we headed for the bike racks and sure enough, Dad left my bike there, just a few spaces away from Julie’s. When we go to A.L. on Wednesdays all the bikes at those bigger schools get locked up with chains and combination locks or they’ll get stolen, but nobody locks things up around here.

I never got to ride my bike in town before, and it was SUPER cool! We took the long way to get to Julie’s house, which was totally fine with me. It’s on 2nd street which leads right to the school… I mean, you can actually see the school building from Julie’s front yard. But it was a nice day, so we rode around for a little while first. Dad warned me to watch for cars, so I did, but it’s not like there’s heavy traffic.

Julie’s dad lets her ride anyplace in town she wants to go. If we’d gone straight to her house it wouldn’t have taken us five minutes, but we spent about half an hour riding around town and chatting before we pulled into the front yard.

Jason Hanson was standing on the front porch, cutting some 2 x 4 boards with a circle saw. He’s a tall, thin guy with dark brown hair. You’d think being a rock musician and all he’d have long shaggy hair, but he keeps it cut pretty short. He was wearing old jeans and a raggy t-shirt with some band’s name on it, I can’t remember what. He put the saw down, brushed both hands off on his pants, and turned to face us as we stepped onto the porch.

“Good ride, ladies?” he asked us.

He hugged and kissed Julie. Then he extended a hand to me, just like he would with an adult, and said “Hi, Mallory. Don’t know that we’ve ever actually been introduced. I’m Jason.”

I shook his hand, trying to remember the stuff my dad has told me about firm grips and all that. “Hello, Mr. Hanson,” I said. “Thank you for letting me come over.”

Jason made a big show of looking over his shoulder.“Mallory,” he said, “you say ‘Mr. Hanson’ and I start looking around to see if my old man is coming up behind me. The name’s Jason. If you don’t think your parents would like that, you can call me Mr. Hanson when they’re around. Sound good?”

He hitched himself up, planting his backside on the porch rail. “As for having you over… my pleasure. Julie, you think you can figure something out for a snack the two of you can eat? I wanna get the new bathroom framed before supper.”

“Sure, Dad,” said Julie.

The front door led straight into the living room. It was the typical ground floor you see in the really old country houses; just a big open rectangle with an enclosed staircase off to one side. The walls were old cracked plaster, and there was a huge red brick fireplace at the far end of the room. There were rooms off to the sides, but even I could tell that those were additions, and I was standing in the original part of the house. It was a lot like the old farmhouse I live in, but my house is smaller. There were lots of guitars mounted on the walls, and I wondered if Mr. Hanson played them all.

Oops! I need to remember to call him JASON, not Mr. Hanson. Before meeting him, I don’t think I ever met a grownup who wanted me to use their first name like that. Thing is, I don’t dare refer to him as “Jason” around my parents. They’d freak out!

Just to the left of the door as we came in, a smaller rectangle was marked off with tape, with some holes cut in the floor. I could see the basement through them.

“We’re not allowed to walk there,” Julie informed me, pointing to the taped off section. “That’s where Dad is building the new bathroom. He’s renovating the house.”

“Wow… he knows how to do that?”

Julie giggled. “Not really. But he’s been reading a lot of books and looking online and stuff. He’s getting it figured out. He built me a really great room upstairs this summer… I’ll show you after we get our snack.”

She led me to the far end of the room, and through a door to the right was the kitchen. A lady was in there, just closing the oven. When she turned around I recognized Lisa Jenkins.

Lisa grew up here in town, and I think she graduated high school three or four years ago. She works at the city offices now, and she moved in with Jason and Julie just before school started. Lisa’s really pretty with shoulder length brown hair, a cute little button of a nose, and a slim but really curvy body. She’s also pretty tall, just like Jason and Julie. She was wearing a white flower print skirt that went all the way to her feet, and a skintight dark gray long-sleeved top that showed off her boobs.

I love seeing women with pretty boobs. I don’t know why, probably because I wish I had some. Lisa’s are kind of middle-sized and a nice, round shape. I had to make myself stop staring at them. She also had on a fashionable-looking green scarf.

I felt really plain. I was just wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a blue sweatshirt. Even Julie was dressed way nicer than me, wearing a pair of leggings with lots of colors and a nice orange shirt that went down almost past her butt. And why was all this going through my mind right then?

“Well, hi, girls!” Lisa exclaimed. She gave us a smile that lit up her whole face. “How does lasagna sound for tonight?”

“Awesome!” I said.

“Yeah, way cool,” said Julie.

“Great,” said Lisa. “I’m glad you could come, Mallory. I suppose you two are in here after something to nibble on?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Julie replied. She opened the fridge and looked around. “You like strawberry yogurt?” she called over her shoulder.

“Yeah, sure.”

She turned around with a container in her hand and put it on the table. Lisa leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then turned to me and did the same thing. It was like an electric shock hit me, but in a good way. A really weird feeling! It’s probably because I’m not used to being kissed, especially by adults I barely know. Heck, even my mom hardly does it anymore.

“I’ll leave you girls to it,” Lisa said, and left the kitchen. Julie got us bowls and spoons, and we sat down to devour our yogurt.

“She’s really nice,” I said between mouthfuls.

“Yeah, she’s cool,” said Julie. “I like that she doesn’t try to be my mom. She’s not even old enough to be my mom!” She giggled as she said it.

“I’m not sure how old she is,” I said, “but I think she just graduated a few years ago.”

“She’s twenty-two,” said Julie. “Dad’s ten years older than she is. But I don’t think it matters. They get along really good. And for me it’s like having a really cool big sister, except she sleeps in my dad’s room with him.”

My mind flashed to what THAT must involve. Stuff like that has been popping into my head a lot more lately, and if I let myself think about it I start to feel all weird and tingly. I pushed it away.

After we finished our yogurt we went back to the main room, where Jason was assembling a wall frame in the middle of the floor. He’d shoved all the furniture up against the walls and out of the way.

“Sorry about the mess, ladies,” he said with a grin, “but I can’t put these together outside. They won’t fit through the door. You might wanna scram; I’m gonna start sinking screws and the impact driver is pretty damn noisy.” He hefted the power tool in his hand.

Julie snickered. “Don’t have too much fun, old man. And try not to cut your hand off. I know who’ll get stuck cleaning up the blood.”

“You just keep right on being a smart-ass, young lady,” he shot back. “I’ll have you down here putting this crap together while I sit in the Lazyboy sucking back a shot of Glenlivet.”

With a snort of laughter, Julie wrapped her arms around her dad. He hugged her back with his free hand, then Julie broke away. “Come on, Mallory – let’s go up to my room!”

My mind was reeling as Julie led me toward the staircase. I couldn’t imagine being so casual with my parents!

Just like at my house, Julie’s place has a narrow, steep, enclosed staircase. But when I followed her through the door it was like stepping into a new world. The stairway was narrow but well lit, and the walls were a bright, pleasant aqua color.

“Wow,” I said as we went up, “this sure is different from downstairs.”

“Dad did the upstairs first,” said Julie. “It was all one big open room up here, and somebody started a renovation before we came that never got finished, so it was pretty torn up. Dad turned it into two bedrooms. One for him and one for me.”

At the top of the stairs was a hallway. The first door led into Jason and Lisa’s bedroom, and the hallway ended with the door straight into Julie’s. She had the north half, and her room was painted a violet color with pink trim. Everything looked new.

“Hey, this is great,” I said. “Your dad built all this?”

“Most of it,” she said. “The closet was already here. He said it would be easier to just tear it out and build a new one, but I really liked it so he took it out, redid the wall behind it, and then put it back together. Everything else he did from scratch. This was his first try, so it’s not perfect. Look close at the walls.”

I took a closer look, and could see where the drywall mud was a little uneven in places. My uncle is a contractor, so I kind of know what to look for.

“Yeah, I see it,” I said. “But I had to look close. It’s not bad for a first try.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” said Julie. “He worked so hard! He did my room first so it would feel like home for me.”

“Does it? Feel like home, I mean?”

“Yeah,” she said, flopping down on her bed. “I’m really happy here.”

We hung out in Julie’s room for awhile, first reading to each other from our fantasy series, then chatting about school and stuff. Julie has a computer in her room which totally blows me away… my parents won’t let me anywhere near a computer outside of school! We could hear Jason’s impact driver from downstairs.

After a bit we took Julie’s dog Benjie for a walk. He’s a big, friendly yellow lab. We walked him on a leash to the big grassy field by the railroad track, then Julie unclipped the leash and let him run loose. We played fetch for a bit. I screwed up my courage.

“Julie…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you… you know… saved? Do you believe in Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” The words sounded awkward and stupid coming out of my mouth, and right away I wished I hadn’t said them.

Julie didn’t answer right away. She took the stick back from Benjie, threw it, and then chewed her on her lower lip for a moment.

Finally, she spoke. “Is it important to you? I mean… are you only friends with people who believe in the same stuff you do?”

I didn’t even have to think about it, not for a second. I liked Julie way too much to let that come between us.“No,” I told her. “It’s not. I just wanted to know. Actually, my dad wanted me to ask. We don’t have to talk about it again.”

“Okay,” said Julie. “Let’s not then.”

***

By the time we got back to the house Jason had the bathroom walls framed, and Lisa was taking the lasagne out of the oven. It was delicious. We ate at the kitchen table together, and I kept feeling like something was different, but couldn’t figure out what.

Finally it dawned on me… the TV wasn’t on! In fact, the whole time I’d been there the TV hadn’t been on. I could vaguely hear the stereo playing some rock music from the living room, but otherwise it was just the four of us having an actual conversation. There’s almost never a time in my house that people are awake and the TV is off. Weird! Jason asked me some questions about my dad’s farming and stuff like that, and I told him as much as I understood. We went back upstairs to Julie’s room after supper.

“Let’s get into our PJs,” said Julie. “Dad says we can stay up as late as we want, so let’s make it a pajama party.”

Without waiting for an answer she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it into a hamper next to her closet, then pushed her leggings and socks to the floor. Those also went into the hamper, which left Julie standing in front of me wearing nothing but a pair of yellow panties! I realized I was staring with my mouth open, and quickly closed it.

“Oh, come on,” she said with a scoff. “We’re both girls. We don’t need to be shy.”

I was nervous, but I didn’t want to seem like a scaredy-cat. So I took off my own shirt, then my jeans. I had on my blue panties with the pink elastic.

As I rolled up my dirty clothes and stuffed them into my overnight bag, I noticed that Julie was watching me. Then I realized something weird: I LIKED her watching me. I got brave and turned to face her, standing there in just my underwear.

We just looked at each other for a moment. Julie is starting to get boobs, but you have to look close to see them. I’m still completely flat.

“You’re really pretty, you know,” Julie told me after a minute or two. “After we put our PJs on, can I braid your hair?”

We got into pajamas. Mine was a baggy two-piece set, and Julie went for a thick floor-length nightgown. Julie had me sit on the edge of bed, and she got behind me on her knees. As she braided my hair I got a warm, happy feeling, not just in my head but in my body. I loved having her fingers in my hair and sometimes touching my head. It didn’t take nearly as long as I wanted it to!

When she was finished, Julie lay back on the bed.

“I wonder if they’re gonna do it tonight,” she said suddenly out of the blue.

“Do what?” I said, feeling a little stupid.

“You know, do it.”

Light dawned. “Oh,” I said. “Do THAT. Wait… you mean… you can HEAR them? Gross!”

Julie giggled. “Well,” she said, “their room is right next to mine. And Lisa’s pretty noisy. I thought it was kinda gross at first too, but… well… I kind of…” She blushed.

“Kind of what?”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Sure.”

“I kind of LIKE hearing it now. It makes me feel… I don’t know how to explain it. But when I hear them, I kind of understand why people want to do that. You know?”

I started to say that I didn’t know, but then realized it wasn’t really true.

“I kind of know,” I said. “I mean, I’ve never heard my parents or anybody doing anything like that. But now that I know what it is, I think about it sometimes, and thinking about it makes me feel all weird and tingly. So I think I kind of get what you mean.” I paused, wondering if I should ask Julie this, but my curiosity got the best of me. “Do you actually think we might hear them doing it tonight?”

Julie thought about that. “Probably not,” she said. “I bet they won’t do it when I have somebody over.”

That took me by surprise. “Why? I mean, do they know you can hear them?!”

Julie snickered. “If they don’t know it, they’re in la-la land. Seriously, they make a lot of noise!”

This conversation was really starting to give me that tingly feeling! I was relieved and disappointed at the same time when we started talking about other stuff.

Julie and I ended up watching a DVD movie on her computer. It was the first time I’d seen a TV or anything like that being used in the house all day.

Boy, I wish my parents would let me have a computer in my room! Not that I’m dumb enough to ask for one. I’d love to be able to watch movies any time I want… and to see whatever I felt like seeing.

By the time our movie was over, Jason and Lisa had gone to bed. I was oddly disappointed that we hadn’t heard them doing sex.

Julie has a nice big full-size bed with plenty of room for two girls, but she snuggled up close and wrapped her arm around me. I liked it. We talked for awhile, then decided it was time to get some sleep. Julie seemed to pass right out, but I couldn’t sleep right away. Her warm body pressed up against mine was making me feel all tingly again. What’s with this? I don’t understand what it is. I like it and don’t like it all at the same time.

The next day Julie was awake before I was, and woke me up by shoving a plate of eggs and bacon in my face. We ate together sitting on her bed.

“Sorry, but we can’t use the shower right now,” Julie told me. “Dad’s doing some stuff with the pipes, and he has to turn the water off for a couple hours. But that’s okay, he’ll be turning it back on later… and then we can use the bathtub. It’s huge!” That sounded okay to me, so we took off our pajamas and got dressed for the day.

We did stuff indoors until it warmed up a little outside, then spent the afternoon riding our bikes. Some other kids linked up with us, and we all biked over to the park and hung out for awhile. They seemed surprised to see Julie hanging around with me, but nobody said anything about it and everybody was nice.

When we got back to the house, Jason was lighting the barbecue grill. “I figure we might as well,” he said. “Probably the last decent day for it. By the way, Mallory, I just talked to your dad. Sounds like your mom is going to be staying with your grandma for tonight. If you want to spend another night here, give him a call and he’ll drop off a change of clothes. You can get dressed for church here in the morning and ride your bike there.”

Mom wanting to stay with Grandma isn’t great news… it means her and Dad had another big fight. But getting to stay another night with Julie wasn’t something I was about to say no to!

I phoned Dad, and he dropped my things off while we were eating. Jason invited him to pull up a chair and have some food, but he said he had to get straight back and took off.

After we ate we sat around outside for a little while, enjoying the last warm sunshine we’ll probably get this year. Jason brought out an acoustic guitar and we sang some songs. He plays really good!

After we came inside, Julie said she needed a bath, and asked if I wanted to take one with her.  I blinked, and she said the same thing as the night before. “We’re girls, right? We both have the same parts!”

Just like she said, their bathtub is huge, one of those iron things on clawed feet. Jason mentioned that although this bathroom won’t be there anymore when he’s done remodeling, he’s keeping the tub.

I did my best not to stare when she took off her underwear, but I’ve never seen another girl’s you-know-what before. Julie wasn’t shy, she looked right at me down there when I was taking off my panties.

“See?” she said. “Same stuff!”

We lounged in the tub and chatted. There was plenty of room for Julie and me to sit at opposite ends. I managed to relax, but I had that tingly feeling again. We started cleaning ourselves up, and then Julie suggested that we wash each other’s backs and hair.

I did her first, and it made me feel a lot more than just tingly. I was even a little out of breath. I took a washcloth to Julie’s back and went way slower than I needed to. It felt so good to touch her. Then I washed her hair, loving the feel of her scalp under my fingers.

When she washed me, I felt like she was also taking longer than she needed to. Did she enjoy it as much as I did? I wish I knew! But it felt like her fingers sliding across my back were sending little jolts of electricity through my entire body. I closed my eyes and got lost in it… I never wanted it to stop.

But it did. We rinsed, drained the tub, dried off, put on our PJs, and went upstairs. We slipped under the covers of Julie’s bed, and this time I snuggled up to her instead of the other way around. She turned so we were face to face and put her arms around me. We squeezed each other tight.

“I’m glad you’re my friend,” she whispered.

“Me too,” I whispered back. We got into a more comfortable position and quietly chatted for awhile, mostly about school stuff. A few minutes later we heard footsteps coming up the stairs… just one person. The footsteps were light, so I figured it must be Lisa. There was a tap on the bedroom door.

“Come in,” Julie called out.

The door opened, and Lisa stood framed in the doorway. Her jeans hugged every curve in her legs and hips. I hope I’m half as pretty when I’m grown up.

She gave us a big smile. “You girls need anything?”

“We’re good, I think,” said Julie. “Are you going to bed?”

“I think so. Your dad is going to be up late… he’s filling in for those shows in November, you know, and he wants to get a start on learning the songs. I think I’ll just read for awhile, then turn in. Goodnight, girls.”

We said goodnight back, and she closed the door behind her. A second later we heard the door to the other bedroom close.

“She reads really cool books,” Julie whispered. “I don’t think I’m supposed to read them, but one time I snuck in and flipped through a few of them.”

“Really? What does she read?”

“They’re, like, these romance books, but not like the ones my aunt reads. There’s a lot of really dirty parts in them. Like, you know, sex and stuff. Not just regular sex either. Some of them have women having sex with women!”

I kinda knew about that stuff, how women did things together and they were called lesbians. But I had no idea how sex like that was supposed to work. Also, my parents and everyone at my church thought it was very wrong.

“Do you think she’s reading one now?” I asked.

“As far as I know, it’s the only kind of book she reads,” Julie whispered back.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, and Julie didn’t seem to have anything to add either. We just lay there in silence, and I figured we’d both just drift off to sleep. But just as my brain was starting to feel all mushy like it does just before I doze off, I heard something from the other room.

I lifted my head a little so my ears were off the pillow and I could hear ragged, heavy breathing. I glanced over at Julie. Her eyes were wide open, and I could tell that she was listening too.

“Is Lisa crying?” I whispered urgently.

“I don’t think so,” Julie softly replied. “I hear this sometimes when she’s in there by herself. I think she’s… I think it’s called master baiting.”

“Master what?”

“I’m not sure. If I understand it right, it’s a kind of sex, and it feels really good. Only you do it by yourself.”

I was really confused, but I shut up and listened carefully. The breathing from the other room was getting louder and more ragged. Then there was a little moan.

Suddenly I realized that Julie was running her fingers up and down my arm as we listened. That tingly feeling of mine was getting really intense! I was having trouble breathing just like in the bathtub, only a lot worse.

Lisa moaned again, this time louder. Then another moan.

My hand was on Julie’s leg, and I had no idea how it got there. I was rubbing it up and down with my fingertips. She didn’t seem to mind, so I kept doing it.

Julie’s breathing was getting kind of raggedy too. The moans from the other room were coming every couple of seconds now, and getting higher and louder. Then there were a few short moans that came really fast and a long, loud one. The bed creaked a little. Then it was quiet.

Julie and I were facing each other, our foreheads almost touching. I couldn’t catch my breath, and from the sound of it neither could she.

“What’s happening, Julie?” I whispered. It came out shuddery and harsh. “I feel really weird. Is it always like that when you hear this stuff?”

“Kind of, but not this much,” she said, her voice sounding just as forced as mine. “This is worse than it’s ever been. I’m all shuddery and sweaty and I can’t breathe and…” She stopped.

“And what?”

“I feel all warm inside my underpants. And wet.”

It struck me that I felt that way too. Now I was getting scared.

“I think maybe this is what it feels like to be turned on,” she whispered. “You know, to want to have sex.”

“I sure feel like I want SOMETHING,” I whispered, “and, like, I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t get it. You know?”

“Yeah. I wish I knew what to do about it.”

We just lay there in the dark, holding each other. I tried to think about anything else, anything at all. After awhile the feeling started to slip away… a little, at least. Julie had dozed off, I noticed. It wasn’t much longer before I fell asleep too.

***

This morning I was up before Julie. I felt… I don’t know how to say it. Like something I needed was being held out in front of me and I couldn’t reach it.

Hang on, let me check my thesaurus. I keep one for my creative writing class.

Okay, there’s the word I was looking for! UNFULFILLED. I was feeling unfulfilled. But I didn’t know why. I still don’t.

I went downstairs to use the bathroom, and Lisa was making pancakes.

“Morning, sleepyhead!”

“Hi,” I said. I couldn’t look at her. It felt awkward. But she walked right up to me, took my chin in her hand, and turned my face up towards hers.

“Hope I didn’t keep you girls up last night,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. I could feel myself blushing. “I… I mean, I don’t know what…”

“Well, sometimes I kind of, you know, read out loud. Maybe a little too loud.” She gave me a wink, then turned back to her pancakes. She knows we heard, I thought. Then I started wondering if maybe she wanted us to hear. I didn’t know what to think.

Julie came down a few minutes later, and gave Lisa a hug and kiss as if nothing had happened. Then she hugged and kissed me, and was her usual cheerful chatty self.

Okay, I decided. If they can be all cool and normal, I can too. We dug into breakfast, then Julie and I went upstairs so I could get dressed for church.

By this time Julie and I had seen all of each other, so I just took off my pajamas and started changing into the church clothes Dad had brought over. Julie watched me for a moment, then started getting dressed herself, but in jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Hey, Mallory,” she said, “I had a lot of fun this weekend. I want to do it again sometime.”

“Me too,” I said. “Maybe you can stay over at my place soon. Or something. I really like doing stuff with you.”

Neither of us mentioned what we heard last night, or how it made us feel, or the stuff we talked about then. Maybe that’s best.

On to Chapter Three!

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

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

Chapter Six: A Royal Summons

We had but one expert musketeer aboard. Muskets are notoriously inaccurate, but over time, we’d managed to acquire two of exceptionally high quality. Spencer looked after them, and woe betide any man who touched either. 

“Spencer!” I called. He knew he had a job to do.

“Cap’ain, what you ’as in mind?”

“Take your muskets aloft. Look for their captain. You might have time for three shots. It doesn’t matter whether you hit him or not. I want him ducking for his life, not giving orders. But … if you hit him, you earn an extra tot.” 

Strange how the offer of rum makes a sailor jump. I never saw Spencer climb the shrouds so fast.

Suddenly I realised I’d left our manoeuvre a bit late. “Tack now!” I called. “Fast as you like. Then tighten up.”

The Majestic had got a bit ahead. I hoped Jensen would understand the need to slow and keep in line with us. Combined fire from port and starboard has a remarkable way of slowing your opponent’s gunners. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, than I saw him slacken sail slightly.

“Ready, guns! Twenty seconds!”

Such a brief time, yet it can seem like an age when so much depends on the outcome.

“Ready on the wheel. Now! Bring her over.”

The frigate raced towards us, and the twelve-pounder erupted. “Bring her back on course,” I yelled through the smoke. “Fire as you bear.”

There was a heartbeat between each shot of the nine-pounders, one after the other. I never heard Jensen’s guns, but I saw the smoke, in perfect time with the Siren.

The Spaniard returned fire, but it was hardly a broadside. Perhaps only three guns were touched. There was chaos on her deck, and I saw her officers running to the captain. Whether from our chain shot or one of Spencer’s muskets, I had no idea, but he was down. The Spanish officers, who are more capable than the French, should have known better than to worry over one another in the midst of battle. They should have been giving orders. But no one was.

“Prepare to board!” 

A thud shook the deck as we hit. Our hooks took hold, and our men surged over. I say ‘men’, but it came as a shock when I saw both Anne and Marianna, each armed with a sword and pistol, close to me as we charged the Spanish crew. It wasn’t until it was over that I also saw Daphne with a sword in her hand. Anne turned to her and berated her in the most animated fashion. Daphne replied calmly and tossed her head. I wished I knew what they were saying. 

The Majestic came alongside, her men ready to board, but there was no need. The fight was gone out of the Spanish by the time we had cut down a dozen or so. I sent Davy to fetch her colours down.

I told Halcombe to climb above the smoke and find the other frigate. He was back within seconds. “She’s gone, Captain,” he reported. “She’s trying to tack back towards the flota. I reckon they forgot how hard that was going to be. Maybe even impossible against that current.”

“Mister Halcombe –” He was a busy man today “– get the topmen repairing the stays. We don’t want one of these masts coming down on us.”

I went to check on their captain. He was alive but in some pain from the musket ball in his shoulder. That was the tot Spencer was due.

My question – “Tiene un medico?” – got a negative response. “Someone send for the sawbones, please.”

I called Jensen over. “I think we should get out of here as fast as we can. Someone’s bound to have heard the gunfire. Let’s get back in the current and head north, up past Grand Bahama. Then we’ll tack to the east.”

I had yet another job for Halcombe. 

“Mister Halcombe, you will take command of the Spaniard. Siren will sail ahead and the Majestic astern of you. We’re all going to be short-handed, but we’ll manage.”

We had another frigate for the King, to make amends for the one I’d sunk. My debt was paid. The question was, would he see it that way?

I decided to sail the Spanish frigate into Bermuda. She was called the Peregrina, and she actually boasted more guns than I had thought – thirty-six split between two decks. How lucky we were that she had been so poorly crewed!

We would fly a British merchant flag above the Spanish colours. This would identify the ship as a captured prize. We would also fly the signal for the admiral — four small flags: blue, yellow, red, and black.

I also appointed Anne acting mate of the Peregrina. In the past, I might not have trusted her, but now, I saw a marked improvement in her attitude, which I attributed to Daphne’s influence. “I would suggest we change your name and get Daphne to dye that red hair of yours,” I suggested. “We are hoping for a King’s pardon, but I doubt he would ever give such to Anne Bonny.”

If I had expected any argument, I would have been wrong.

“I already thought of that,” she replied. “I gave Daphne a list, and she picked Kira Delaney. In the true Irish language, it means black challenger, so it fits, I’d say – and my hair will be black.

“And before we go – I’ve not thanked you proper for my rescue,” she went on. “It was a brave thing, going into that prison. More for Jack I think, but nonetheless, here I am. More of a thank-you, though, is bringing me Daphne. Her and you, and of course, Big Davy for savin’ me.” 

It was the longest single speech I had ever heard from Anne… no, Kira.

Meanwhile, Daphne had rushed off to find Marianna. “Please, may I have a little of your potion? And don’t worry, I knows to be careful.”

It puzzled Marianna how she knew about it, but promised she would include a vial when she sent over Daphne’s clothes. “But really, do be careful, little one,” she added. “It is very potent. Just a tiny dab on the lips is sufficient.”

***

As the Siren and the Peregrina parted company, Daphne awaited a dressing down from the newly christened Kira for the danger she had put herself in, but the girl had her own plans. When she heard her mistress approaching, she applied the smallest dab of the potion to her lips. When the woman had closed the door to their little quarters, Daphne took hold of her shoulders. 

“Kiss me first,” she said. “Then scold me.”

Anne glared at her – or at least tried to. It didn’t work. “Fuck, you crazy girl. Come here.”

Daphne could already feel the effects of the potion. Her pussy ached powerfully. She pulled her lover tight, their lips joining as Daphne’s tongue delivered the potion to Anne. The kiss grew to a bruising intensity. Then they were ripping at each other’s clothes, tumbling onto the cot. For the briefest moment, Anne stared down at the ebony girl she straddled, her pussy inches from Daphne’s lips. “Are you weaving your black magic, or is it what you do to me? I never felt… Oh God, let’s fuck.”

Daphne laughed as she gripped Anne’s thighs and drew them down. Her mouth fastened to Anne’s glistening pussy. She shook her head as her tongue sliced through the fleshy crease. Anne reached curling her fingers into Daphne’s cunt. Thus they jiggled, tongued and fucked for what seemed an eternity, but was in reality no more than a few minutes. Anne was only vaguely aware of what was happening to her as she foundered in a sea of love and lust.

There had been no conscious movement, yet somehow Daphne was now on top of Anne and their bodies had swung about. Each had her mouth tight to the other’s cunt. Daphne’s clit seemed to have become the centre of her being, yet she gloried in making love to the clit before her eyes.

A thought pushed its way into her mind. “This is the love I have waited for. We are truly one.”

And they reversed positions yet again. Daphne, now on the bottom, raised her hips, her body taut, legs trembling. She’s coming, Anne thought, as she felt her own surge. Daphne was still sucking on her clit even as she came herself. The sucking ceased at last, but their pussies pulsed against each other’s mouths as they rode their mutual climax to its conclusion. Then they lay side by side, face to face, almost touching, gazing into one another’s eyes. Anne trailed her fingers softly over her lover’s body. Eventually, she spoke. 

“You feel it, don’t you? You and I – a belonging.”

For a time, they lay quiet. Then Daphne asked, “What do we do now? We go far from this life, somewhere safe? You want that?”

“I do, but where, I got no idea. Maybe Ireland, but it might be too cold for you. And they talk too much, they’re so damned pious. There must be somewhere. Let’s think on’t for now, my love.”

***

There were any number of large forts, both in Castle Harbour and in the approaches. It was an anxious time as we sailed slowly into the bay, a long tongue of water with several islands scattered about and even more forts. We headed towards where I believed the naval base was. All remained calm.

“A cutter has left the wharf, heading for us, Captain,” Halcombe called down.

We were making barely two knots as I watched the cutter approach. As they drew close, a senior officer studied and then hailed us. “You’re not the ship we expected, but you fly the signal. Captain Dawlish, is it?”

Once I had confirmed that was my name, he directed us to moor at the wharf, a manoeuvre I had never attempted. I’d only ever anchored the ship, but with some expert assistance from Halcombe, I soon had the Peregrina tied safely. Now we would see if the admiral had kept his word.

It appeared he had indeed. Otherwise, we would have been greeted by a squad of marines.

The officer came aboard. His hand fluttered, almost saluting, but he checked himself and gave a small bow. “Would the Captain kindly accompany me? The admiral is expecting you.”

It was barely a two-minute walk before we entered a large building of several stories. A day of firsts – I had never encountered such a grand structure. The officer, who had not spoken since we set foot on land, knocked on a massive oak door, then waited.

I recognised the admiral’s voice. “Come.” 

He strode towards me as we entered. “Captain Dawlish, such a pleasure to meet again,” he said, taking both my hands in his. And what is it I see you fetching into my harbour? Another Spanish frigate, and a mighty one at that.”

“A gift for the king,” I said. “The Peregrina is a fine thirty-six-gun ship, and not very old. She sails beautifully. There’s only one small problem. Her crew are still aboard – under guard, of course.”

“As I recall, this makes three Spanish frigates you have taken in less than a year. Quite a remarkable achievement, Captain. Would the King’s Navy had a dozen such as you.” I was surprised to hear an English admiral say such things, but he laughed it off. “Will you take coffee with me, Captain, or would you prefer something else?”

“Coffee would suit just fine, Sir, but I am anxious to know whether you have news for me.”

The admiral beamed. I almost thought he was about to do a jig. From his desk, he produced a letter. “Here, this is for you.” I took the proffered document, which bore the admiral’s seal.

I was half-expecting what I saw, yet it still seemed fantastical. A Royal proclamation with my name on it!

I read through the document a second time:

“Charges brought against him?” I said. “His Majesty seems to be under a misapprehension.”

“And I would recommend we not disabuse him of it,” the admiral replied. 

“No matter, I guess. I owe you my thanks, Sir. It is more than I expected. My crews will be overjoyed, especially with the last part.”

“His Majesty has also requested that you and Captain Jensen attend upon him at Kensington Palace,” the admiral said. “Of course, the invitation would extend to Miss Marianna. This is an almost unprecedented honour, Captain. It bodes well for a solution to the safe banking of your funds. Should you be in agreement, I can arrange that your vessels travel to Portsmouth or London in escort with one of my ships.

“Upon your return, I shall find you a task here in the Caribbean, should you be so inclined. You would thus be employed by the King, directed by myself, though not attached formally to the Navy.”

I could only wonder at His Majesty’s expression when he laid eyes on his illustrious privateer.

***

The men from both ships had gathered on the deck of the Siren. They knew I had something significant to tell them. Little did they know quite how significant.

I held up the letter. “I have here a signed and sealed legal document from the admiral on behalf of the King.” There was complete silence as they waited. In a loud voice, so that all could hear, I read the letter to them.

They still sat quietly, stunned at what they had heard. Then Davy shouted at them, “You all gone dumb?” Now, they erupted, shouting, cheering, capering about.

“There’s more,” I said when the commotion had passed. “I, Jensen and Marianna are invited to attend the King at his palace. We shall dock in Portsmouth or London, where we have been offered the Naval dockyard services to carry out any works deemed necessary to Siren and Majestic. I shall have to pay, of course. Then we and our two ships have been offered employment here in the Caribbean, in the service of His Majesty, should we so choose.”

Taylor stepped out. He was attempting to mimic my way of walking. Had he gone mad, I wondered?

He stopped, then bowed low, sweeping off his hat. “Yer Majestic Royalness, it is I, yer pirate Cap’ain at yer command. Who would yer be ’avin’ us plunder? Them Spanish or them monsurs?”

He paused to see if his pantomime had been well received, then addressed the men. “So, me hearties, we be free an’ rich men, but think on, what would us be doin’ if’en we weren’t with the Cap’ain? I hopes she is acceptin’ that offer … when we knows what it’s about.” 

It was an extraordinary speech coming from Taylor, who seldom had much to say.

There ensued many loud conversations as each seaman attempted to express a view. I again called for quiet. “Thank you, Taylor, both for your drollery and your support. May I suggest, there is plenty of time for all to have a think. There is no need to be trying to decide anything right away. Which includes me.”

***

We – that is, Marianna and myself, along with my officers – were invited to a dinner at the Naval Officers Club. I expressed my concern at our lack of appropriate attire and, more importantly, our lack of etiquette. Only Marianna was skilled in that area. The admiral’s staff officer said it was of no consequence, they fully understood, and they so wanted to hear the stories of our conquests that such formalities paled to insignificance.

It transpired that Jensen, assisted from time to time by Marianna, was a superb orator. His memory for detail was quite astonishing. The evening was a resounding success.

The admiral, in a long-winded speech, touched on the matter of our attire. It would not do to meet the King dressed as we were – excepting Marianna, of course. I rather thought the admiral had taken a shine to my sweetheart. He had in mind a uniform for me – clever man! – and he would send his tailor to see us.

After dinner, we circulated from one group to another.

Lady Sarah Fleming, the admiral’s wife, pulled me aside. “May I have a quiet word, Captain, or may I call you Bren? I do hate having to be so formal.”

We chatted for quite some time, flitting from one subject to another. It was obvious how much younger she was than her husband – at least twenty years. She had two charming daughters, on the cusp of womanhood, she told me. They apparently found life on the islands somewhat dull, though our arrival had relieved the tedium somewhat, and they had asked her to enquire whether they might be invited to visit our ships. They still liked to think of us as pirates, regardless of what their father said. Her concern was, would they be safe among such men?

She hadn’t thought I might take offence at such a question, though in truth, her concerns were not misplaced. I assured her that I would be delighted to receive her daughters – and yes, my men would comport themselves with decorum. 

***

The carriage came to a stop in front of the gangway. I had been forewarned of the arrival of these young women. What I had not been prepared for was their astonishing beauty. One, I judged, was perhaps thirteen years of age, the other a year or two older. Their names were Jane and Samantha, respectively.

Their enthusiasm was quite genuine. They wanted to see and be shown everything. They were most taken with Daphne, astonished that a beautiful black girl roughly the same age as they should be among my crew. I also noticed that Samantha seemed to quickly twig to the relation between Daphne and Kira. It didn’t appear to disconcert her at all. In fact, a pretty blush came to her cheeks as she regarded them. Minutes later, she whispered to Jane, who couldn’t hide her curiosity, when she, likewise, turned to study the pair. 

Kira was none too appreciative of being the subject of the girls’ perusal and whatever thoughts they entertained. She waited for the first opportunity to excuse herself and Daphne, leaving the girls with us in our cabin.

I decided I might play their game.”So, Samantha, you were not shocked at what you perceived? Nor I think, were you, Jane. Would I be correct?”

Samantha laughed, quite brazenly. “Why ever would I be shocked? Kira may do with her black slut as she pleases.” 

“Daphne is a free woman,” I said, somewhat offended. “Not a slut, as you put it.”

“She’s a tasty-looking bit, regardless,” Samantha said. “And, if I may presume, the Captain and Miss Marianna also live as man and wife? Do pardon me for being forward, but I believe I have judged you correctly, have I not?”

Astonished was hardly the right word for what I was feeling. The girl evidently approved of what she had rightly observed – but to ask such bold questions!

“Captain, you should not look so taken aback. Tell them, Jane.” 

The younger sister had been looking sly whilst Samantha had been speaking. She told us nothing, but rather stood, gave a little curtsy, and then asked a question. “Whom should I kiss? My sister, the captain, or Marianna? Or perhaps all of you?”

For once, Marianna and I were at a loss for words. Samantha, who was still seated, however, pulled Jane between her spread legs and into her embrace. Their lips came together in a fervent kiss, and their hands began to roam.

Samantha, though half hidden behind her sister, must have seen the arousal she and Jane were causing. She lifted a hand and beckoned. I hesitated, not wishing to betray a trust.

Samantha broke from their kiss. “No need to fear, Captain. Mother is aware of our … pastimes. Life on these islands can be lonely, and we have learned to take comfort from each other. Now, will you both join with us? Jane and I, we came to have a lady pirate have her way with us, did we not, sister?”

Marianna clapped her hands. “Whoever would have thought? Will you lock the door, Bren? I think it’s an unexpected time for some fun!”

Samantha was already easing the dress from Jane’s shoulders. I watched as it fell to her feet to reveal the young beauty in all her naked glory. I admired the pert little arse, until Samantha spun her around, bringing the budding breasts and stiffening nipples into view. Further down, a sprinkling of golden hair surmounted a tight slit. The girl smiled, clearly proud to have enticed my wandering eyes. She reached behind and pulled Samantha to her feet. Turning to her, she proceeded to unfasten the back of the older girl’s dress, which, in a twinkling, dropped to the deck. Jane then gave her a push, and she was in my arms. Jane herself crossed to Marianna, raising her face to be kissed. Marianna took hold of her arse cheeks and pulled her close.

Sweet holy fuck, Samantha was a sterling kisser! Her hands freely explored my breasts, pinching the nipples through my shirt. Any reservations I might have held evaporated. I pressed my hand to her pussy, curling my fingers, separating the lips. The girl must have been anticipating this since her arrival, for she was already wet with need. Her tongue engaged with mine as her hips began to rock on my fingers like a jolly boat. 

Through my rising passion, I saw Marianna with a finger or two in Jane’s cunt, while another finger was already penetrating her arse. They were no longer kissing. Rather, Jane had her head tilted back and was calling on her randy pirate to fuck her hard and fast.

Samantha had seen me watching. “A lustful little bitch, don’t you think? But, my handsome Captain, so am I! Do you think you might also remove your clothes? It would be so much more convenient.”

I nodded, and in a rush, she stripped me naked. Her hand went to her mouth when she beheld me. “I knew it – so utterly handsome. And those scars!” She ran her fingers tenderly across the most prominent of them, a pale line that divided my breast from my shoulder. A distant, vacant look came into her eyes. “Such strength,” she said. “Such … heroism. What if some vile man abducted me? Would you save me from him? Hack him to pieces?” 

So, she wished to be possessed by a pirate. I would play the role to the hilt. I lifted her hand from my breast and kissed the palm.

“My lady,” I said, “I would quarter the brute and feed him to the dogs.”

“Oh!”

She swooned in my arms. I pulled her around, and we fell to the deck. Her delightful, pouting pussy lips descended to my waiting mouth. We pushed our tongues into each other, first tasting, then licking and sucking. I suspected she knew quite well what to do, but for the moment, she was having fun mirroring my actions. 

I found her clit and teased it. She did the same to me. Then I pressed a finger to her tight little rose and felt it twitch. Again, she mirrored the act, but her smaller finger, pressing like mine, eased gradually inside.

She writhed her hips, her pussy squirming on my mouth as my tongue rapidly flicked her clit. My finger at her rear pressed harder. She gave a push, and I felt her inner heat.

My eyes were close enough to see her arsehole stretching as I added another finger. As she reciprocated, I briefly wondered whether she fucked her little sister’s arse the same way. No, I decided, it was more likely her mother’s.

Her cunt leaked juice across my face as she writhed. I found it hard to keep my tongue in contact with her clit. It likely didn’t matter. She was fucking my face, my nose often rubbing her clit, as she equally urgently fucked her arse on my fingers. As passion-mad as she was, she kept diligently fucking me, fingers pumping my cunt, lips drawing hard at my clit. Her jerking grew erratic. Still, she fucked me, though I knew she was coming. 

Her orgasm was not a single brief eruption. It was more an incessant series, like a ship’s bow pounding wave after wave. I had not known the like before.

At last, she felt my body stiffen. The fingers in my cunt worked even faster, though a moment before, I would have thought it impossible. Her tongue teased me hard. Then, a glorious climax.

Her body collapsed on mine as we gasped. I wallowed in the after-glow of so satisfying an encounter. Such a young girl, but so adept in the ways of love!

She turned about to meet my eyes. “I got my wish. The strong Captain fucked me. I so hope I haven’t shocked you, but somehow, I rather doubt it. I have heard a story that you and Marianna first met quite some years ago. My guess is you both fucked when you were as young as us. I can tell from your smile that I’m right.”

We heard a small squeal. It was Jane, now lying on top of Marianna just as Samantha had lain on top of me. I could tell by Marianna’s face that she had already come. The young girl though had not, but she was on the verge. 

Jane’s lips curled into an ecstatic grimace as she strived for her peak. It was the first time I had watched my lover bringing someone else to a climax. The girl, it had transpired, was twelve years of age, just as we had been, although, thinking back, I found it difficult to believe we had been as forward as this little one.

Her orgasm, when it came, was quite unlike her sister’s. Jane built to one explosive release, bucking furiously right up until the end. Then she froze, as the tremors rattled her body. When it was done, she simply went limp, 

“I and, I’m sure, Marianna are glad you came to visit us,” I said. “You may tell your mother how delighted we have been with your company. Though not the details, perhaps.”

“You’re quite wrong, Captain.” Samantha said. She will interrogate us on every particular. She says your ships may be here for a while, and she suggests we might take a picnic somewhere, all of us! Would you like that? Perhaps you might prevail upon Kira and Daphne to come, too?”

***

I impressed on the men the need for caution. 

“Try and stay out of fights with the Navy,” I told them. “We don’t want the admiral changing his mind and ordering us to leave. The Navy has what they call a shore patrol, that will whisk any troublemakers away. I think we might try and organise in the same way. Two will hold each watch when we have people ashore. They are not to drink. Their job is to prevent our men from causing trouble.”

I waited for the expected groans to die. “I am hoping we will soon receive our orders to depart for England. We have to go and fetch our treasure. The admiral will provide a frigate to accompany us … at our expense, naturally.”

On to Chapter Seven!

by Rosey M

November 5, 2005 – Rhonda

Ashley had been acting distant for a few months. She bought a laptop with money saved up from her part-time job, and was spending less time with me as a result. She’d sometimes go out, telling me that she was just going to meet a friend, but would never tell me who, or why she was hanging out with them. I hated it. I hated it so much! 

When I asked her to do things with me, she always found excuses not to. She still watched me when she thought I didn’t notice, but I couldn’t understand why she was just watching when we could be spending that time together instead.

She’d tell me that I didn’t have to worry about her, and that she was sure I’d rather spend time with my friends instead of my boring older sister. It drove me crazy! I loved being with her more than anyone else. I always have.

And really, why was she suddenly spending all her time with other people instead of me? Why were they getting all the attention? Was my company not good enough anymore? 

Sometimes, there would be a kind of awkwardness between us when I came home from school or playing with friends. Ashley would avoid making eye contact, and there’d be a look of sadness on her face. I wondered who would make her feel sad, and found myself wanting to be the only one who could invoke her emotions like that. Only me.

It was a Saturday, and Mom was out, so it was just me and Ashley in the house. I tried to get her to sit down and watch a movie with me like we used to, but she told me she was busy and then went to her room. 

For me, that was the last straw. Enough was enough! 

I jumped off the couch and marched over to her room, hammering loudly on the door. 

“Yeah?” an annoyed sounding Ashley called back. 

I threw the door open to see my sister leaning against the headboard, laptop on her knees. She was looking at me in mild alarm. But mostly all I could see was that stupid laptop! She spent more time with the damn thing than she did with me! She was probably talking to that mysterious other person. Enough!

It all came bubbling to the surface, making me burst into tears.

I was dimly aware of Ashley carelessly tossing her laptop to the side as she flew off the bed and gathered me in a hug. “What’s wrong, Rhonda!? Are you hurt?”

At that moment, all I could think was: now she cares!? Where was she when I needed her before? And why did it hurt so much? I collapsed into her as my body shook with sobs. 

“Rhonda!” Ashley exclaimed. “Tell me what’s wrong! I can’t do anything unless you tell me.”

I tried to take deep breaths, but my hiccupping sobs kept interrupting my attempts to get a hold of myself. “Y-y-you like them m-more than m-m-me!” The thought of Ashley liking someone, anyone, more than me made me cry even harder.

She pulled out of our embrace and grabbed my arms to steady me, her dark eyes staring in apparent confusion. “Who are you talking about? You know I’d never like anyone more than you, Rhonda.”

I wrenched myself free from her grasp as a fresh burst of anger seeped into me. “Then why don’t you talk to me anymore!? Why don’t you ever play with me like you used to? I hardly ever see you, and when I do, you barely even look at me!”

Words failed her and it was all she could do to stammer out, “I-I mean, I… I just…” She dropped her head in defeat.

Her shame soothed my rage, and I slowly deflated, my hiccups petering out to the occasional tic. “I miss you so much, Ashley… Whatever I did, I’m really sorry. I just want us to go back to the way things were.”

My sister raised her head to peer at me. There was enough sadness and resignation in her eyes to give me pause. It looked like she was trying to fight back tears of her own. “I’m sorry, Rhonda. I never meant to hurt you. And you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… it’s just that you’re getting older, and I know you must want to do other things, make new friends. Why would you ever want to spend all your time with your weird older sister? I’ve been hanging around you so much you must feel suffocated…” She bowed her head, then quietly murmured, “I know I have to move on…” 

Move on? What was that supposed to mean? Suddenly panicked, I cried out, “I don’t want you to move on! I want my sister back! The one who likes talking to me, and cares what I have to say. I want the Ashley who spends time with me, even if you think it’s all dumb kiddie stuff. I play with my friends all the time, and most of it I spend wishing it was you I’m with! I want you, Ashley. 

“And you’ve never made me stop wanting to be around you. Why would you even think that? Please stop avoiding me. It hurts s-so much…”

I could see tears running down Ashley’s cheeks as she huddled on the floor. I’d never seen her that way before. Cautiously, I wrapped both arms around my sister, feeling her tremble against me. She looked so small and vulnerable hunched over like that. 

I wanted to do the same things she always did for me when I was upset, so I stroked her hair, and hugged her as tightly as I could. As she began to relax, I pressed my lips to her head, then gently released her. She peered up at me.

I’ve always thought my sister is the most beautiful person in the world, but at that moment she looked both beautiful and comical. There were black smudges around her eyes, and dark streaks going down her face. I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. “You look like a raccoon!”

She wiped her eyes and smiled, only succeeding in smearing the eyeliner even more and getting it on her hands. “Sorry, I must look a mess. I was going to go out but… You really wanna hang out with me?”

I gawped at her, incredulous. “Did you not hear a word I said? Of course I do!”

I’m woman enough now to admit that I maybe overreacted a little at the time. Of course Ashley had every right to spend time with her friends if she wanted. So with great reluctance I added, “But if you’re meeting with someone, we can always, y’know, hang out when you get home.”

She shook her head, sniffled, then wiped at her eyes again. “No, it’s okay, Rhonda. I don’t want to any more. I don’t need to any more. Just give me a couple of minutes to clean myself up, and I’ll be back.”

A rush of selfish relief washed over me, knowing I was more important to my sister than whoever she’d been seeing.

Ashley exited through the open doorway and into the bathroom. I crawled up on her bed and leaned back against the headboard. That conversation didn’t go quite how I envisioned it, but nothing else mattered as long as Ashley and I could be best friends again.

Eventually she returned with a clean face. I snuggled up to her while she placed her laptop in front of us and told me, “We can watch a movie later, but there’s all sorts of video sites on the internet now. There’s this really funny clip I was watching earlier – check it out.”

***

May 29, 2006 – Rhonda

I squirmed for the umpteenth time that night, trying to find the right position. Rubbing my pussy felt so good, but I just couldn’t get it to happen again.

I’d been doing it the night before, my experimentation culminating in a warm peak of pleasure and tipping me over the edge into my first orgasm. I was tuckered out, and couldn’t exactly remember all the steps it took to get that far, just that I wanted it to happen over and over.

But when I tried to make myself feel good again a while later, I just couldn’t quite reach that special place. I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. Only ten years old, I found myself incredibly frustrated that I was having so much trouble figuring out what I was sure most girls my age probably already knew by heart.

But with Mom out with friends, and Ashley in her own room, I had lots of time to practice.

I tried lying on my back while I rubbed myself, then moved onto my side with a hand clamped between my legs. I even lay on my stomach while I ground against my curled fingers. 

I knew I wasn’t supposed to think about her when I did something like that, so I put it off for as long as possible, instead filling my mind with pop idols, and the teacher I had a crush on. It still felt nice, but it was nothing compared to when I’d think about—

A voice from the hallway broke into my erotic reverie. “You okay, Rhonda? I heard weird noises coming from your room.”

I was barely able to cover myself with a blanket, before Ashley opened my bedroom door and stood in the light from the hall. Wearing small shorts and a loose shirt, my older sister looked beautiful, even that late at night. Framed by long black hair, her tall, lithe body rested against the door jamb. 

Our relationship had mostly gone back to normal after we’d had our talk six months earlier, but something indefinable had passed between us, and now things felt… different, somehow. I was more aware than ever how pretty Ashley was, and how nice it felt to be with her.

I seemed to tingle whenever I thought about my sister, and she was nearly always on my mind when I was making myself feel good. Now Ashley was standing in the doorway, staring at me in concern, clearly waiting for an explanation about those odd sounds she’d overheard. 

I never talked to anyone about touching myself, always figuring it was something I’d get in trouble for. “Oh, I’m fine. Sorry I woke you, Ashley. Just tossing and turning ‘cause I can’t sleep.”

Entering the room and closing the door behind her, she studied me in silence for so long and so intensely I found myself squirming under her gaze. I still had my pajama top on, but I wasn’t wearing any bottoms under the blanket. I suddenly realized they were lying on the floor by the bed, along with my panties. Had she noticed them? 

For some reason, the very idea had my body throbbing, especially with the way she was looking at me. I began to rub my thighs together discreetly, trying to get some of the good feeling I was aching for, hoping Ashley would leave so I could see to myself properly.

Instead, she walked over to my bed and lifted the covers to crawl in next to me. Thankfully, she didn’t pull them back far enough to expose my nakedness, but it didn’t stop the squeak that escaped my mouth. What if she discovered what I was up to!? “Um, Ashley. It’s fine, really. I’m going to sleep now.”

Ignoring my protests, she perched on her elbow and regarded me thoughtfully. “What, I can’t sleep with my little sister when she’s having a bad night?” She nudged my leg with her own, in what she probably meant to be a playful gesture, but we both froze as she came into contact with my naked lower half.

Gaping at her in horror, I watched my sister’s face shift between several expressions before eventually settling on a knowing grin. Leaning in close, she cooed, “Come on, Rhonda, spill it! What were you doing before I came in? Being naughty?”

Unable to hold steady under her interrogation, I burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Ashley! I – I won’t do it anymore. Please don’t tell Mom!”

Ashley’s face fell. She quickly gathered me into her arms. “Hey, hey, hey, I was just kidding! No need for that, sweetie. What happens in here is always going to be between us. Besides, it’s completely normal to start doing that at your age.”

I started crying even harder, now mostly out of embarrassment. Ashley already knew what I was doing. Heck, she probably figured it out as soon as she looked in on me! Did Mom know, too? Was that why she barely talked to me… because she thought I was a dirty little girl?

Hugging me to her chest, Ashley rocked me back and forth for a while, making shushing gestures until I was able to calm down. I grabbed onto her shirt and put my face against her chest, mumbling, “Is masticating wrong?”

“Uh… what?”

I could feel my face getting hot. “Masticating. Is it okay that I do it?”

Trying and failing to hide her amusement, Ashley snickered. “I mean, yeah, it’s cool if you masticate… That’s how you eat food, goofball. It’s masturbate. And there’s nothing wrong with doing it.”

Blushing even harder – if that was even possible – I felt like crawling into a hole and never coming out. “It feels so good… I can’t stop doing it,” I whispered.

Ashley’s arms tightened their hold, pressing me against her body. “Why on earth would you want to stop?”

I peeked up at her face to test the emotional waters as best as a ten-year-old is able. My sister’s eyes shone brightly in the half-light of the bedroom.

The Look is something Ashley would do when she didn’t think I could see her. Her eyes would glaze over, and she seemed to commit every movement I made to memory. But whenever she noticed me looking back, she’d stop and find some excuse to leave the room.

By then I felt a weird tension building between us, and knew I had to ask her something before she had a chance to slip away. Mustering up all the courage I had, I said, “D-do you do it, too?”

Like she was breaking out of a trance, she peered at me in confusion. “Huh?”

“Masticate. Or whatever it’s called. Do you, Ashley?”

“Just call it touching yourself, Rhonda. But yeah, I do it. I think almost everyone does.”

I couldn’t believe it! Maybe she could help me with the problem I was having! “I got this really good feeling while I was doing it yesterday. But I can’t make it happen tonight. What am I doing wrong?”

Ashley’s hand began trailing down my back before suddenly retreating. She let me go and pulled away, jerking her head to the side, then giving me that tight smile I knew meant she was about to leave.

Lurching forward, I held onto her tightly. “Please don’t go, Ashley! I don’t know who else to ask about this stuff. It’s too embarrassing to talk to Mom.”

Her voice sounded a little strained when she spoke. “Well, kiddo. It sounds like you had your first orgasm. Congrats.”

“I don’t know how I made it happen, though. I’ve been trying really hard tonight, but it’s not working!”

“Well… how were you doing it when it happened last time?”

I felt my face turn warm, worried she was going to ask me for specifics.  “Well, um. I was laying here rubbing my, my thingy. It feels pretty good on its own, but it’s even better when I think about girls—“

Ashley interrupted me. “Girls? You don’t think about boys?”

I screwed my face up in distaste. As if I’d ever think about guys like that! “No, that’s gross! Anyway… I was thinking about hot girls while I was rubbing myself, and then it just happened.”

Ashley stared like she was seeing me for the very first time. She looked almost relieved, and I couldn’t help wondering why. “I think of girls when I do it, too. Who were you thinking about? Maybe it was a particular girl that did it for you.”

She wanted names now?! If dying from embarrassment was possible, I think I would’ve given up the ghost several times over by then. But she seemed so happy we were confiding in each other like we used to. I couldn’t let my sister down by clamming up now.

“Do you promise not to be mad or upset?”

She looked at me in surprise. “What!? Why would I be mad? I’d never be mad at you for this. C’mon, tell me.”

Smiling shyly, I told her the truth. “Well… I was thinking about you, Ashley.”

Ashley didn’t react at first, just looked at me blankly. Then she let out a shuddering breath. “Y-you were thinking about me?”

I knew she’d freak out! My first response was to panic. “I’m so sorry, Ashley! I know it’s weird. I won’t do it again!”

She pressed herself against me, burying her face into my neck. When she laughed softly, I felt it more than heard it. “It’s okay, Rhonda. I’m happy you think about me like that.”

Tentatively, I drew back so I could see my sister’s face. “Really? You’re not mad? You don’t mind that I think of you when I t-touch myself?”

She shook her head, biting her lip as she studied me carefully. “I definitely don’t mind, Rhonda.” She hesitated, then continued. “Would you believe me if I said I think about you when I do it?”

I never expected her to say something like that. Not in a million years. A surge of heat smoldered between my legs. 

The next thing I knew, Ashley was moving closer. When we were practically nose to nose, she whispered, “Can I kiss you, Rhonda?”

I quickly nodded, so she bridged the gap between us, pressing her mouth to mine. It felt so good; her lips were soft and warm. 

She pulled away, then asked softly, “Are you okay?”

Was I okay? I was better than okay. In fact, I was amazed – my big sister felt the same way I did! “Um, yeah. I liked kissing you, Ashley.”

Something seemed to shift inside Ashley, and before I knew it she was hovering over me. Her arms were on either side of my body, effectively pinning me to my bed. “I love you, Rhonda,” she whispered.

 “Ashley…” 

She pressed her lips to mine again, more firmly this time. Excited though I was, the intensity of the moment scared me a little. She lowered her body until she was on top of me. “You’re so beautiful.” 

 “Ashley?” 

I’d never seen her like this before. She kissed me again, her tongue wriggling its way into my mouth. I was overwhelmed, my hands resting against the soft warmth of my sister’s breasts as I tried to push her back just a little. Finally I broke away from her kiss, struggling to get her attention.

“Ashley!”

Startled, Ashley looked down at me as realization dawned on her. She clapped a hand to her mouth in horror, then hastily scrambled to her feet. “I am so sorry, Rhonda. So fucking sorry… I-I’m gonna go back to my room.” Hurrying to the door, she halted briefly to mumble, “Please don’t hate me.” Then she was gone.

All I could do was stare at the closed door in shock. What had just happened? One minute we were kissing so sweetly, and then suddenly she was all over me! It wasn’t that I didn’t like it; she’d just taken me by surprise.

Her boobs… they were as soft as I always imagined they would be. I found myself wishing I could have touched them a little longer. I was already regretting pushing her away. 

I don’t know how long I lay there like that, studying the ceiling. At some point I heard the sound of my mother stumbling through the front door. After a while, the apartment was quiet again.

Now I actually was tossing and turning, unable to get thoughts of Ashley out of my head. The kissing had been so nice. And despite being slightly alarmed, even the roughness of it had excited me – the way Ashley had seemed so out of control. My sister said she thought of me while touching herself, and it was her idea that we kiss. Hers.

It was all so much to take in. If I’d had even the remotest idea how she felt about me, I wouldn’t have been caught off guard like that! I figured I’d simply talk to her about it in the morning. Right then, though, I really needed to get some sleep.

On to Chapter Three!

Note from JetBoy: We’ve been promising this one to you for months now, and now we’re kicking it off with this refurbished opening chapter: Rachael Yukey’s “Pages From a Diary,” now available in this newly minted version. Let the hosannas commence!

But first, a bit of history. This story began to unfold at Juicy Secrets over five years ago. It made quite the splash, impressing readers and site staff alike… but alas, Rachael got caught up in personal matters and vanished from sight after the posting of Chapter Seventeen. We tried to communicate with the author, but got no reply, and finally gave up.

Jump ahead to the fall of 2022. Out of nowhere, we got a letter from Rachael, in which she fervently apologized for her disappearance – seriously, she was halfway convinced we’d tell her to go pound sand – and presented us with the first few chapters of a brand new story. On the strength of those chapters, Amanda and I immediately committed to accepting the rest… yeah, it was that good. Not that I need to convince you Juicy Secrets regulars, who know and love “Strange Brew,” the finished result.

Okay, that’s well and good, I wrote Rachael in reply. We love your new one, but there’s the little matter of this OTHER story… y’know, the seventeen-chapters-thus-far saga that never got finished?

Rachael’s response was that she’d written more chapters but was dissatisfied with them, felt she’d lost direction, and had no wish to continue “Pages from a Diary,” at that time. I encouraged her to at least think about it, but told myself that this new story of hers was more than enough to make Ms. Yukey’s return worth it.

So you can imagine my surprise (not to mention my dancing-in-the-streets giddiness) a few weeks later, when Rachael sent me several newly composed chapters for “Pages,” letting us know that she was BACK, baby, and her unfinished tale from years earlier was a GO!

Rather than pick up where “Pages of a Diary” had left off, I suggested that she and I do a thorough proof/edit/polish job on the entire story and repost it a chapter at a time, as if it was brand new. By then, the two of us had established a very solid working relationship after completing several installments of “Strange Brew,” so she graciously agreed. 

Like “Strange Brew,” this story is about a lot more than just sex, so don’t expect lesbian bedroom antics in every chapter. Which isn’t to say that you won’t get turned on in a big way. 

Rachael, my utmost gratitude goes to you for taking this story on again. It’s going to make a lot of people very happy indeed. 

Okay, people – time to knock off my rambling and direct your attention to Chapter One. Do enjoy… and please be sure to leave comments!

***

 

 

by Rachael Yukey

Wednesday, September 20th, 2006

I need to find a place to hide this notebook. I don’t exactly know what I’m gonna write in it yet, but who wants their parents finding their diary?

Hmmm… what do you put in a diary, anyhow? I’m not even sure why I decided to keep one! But you know what? I’m already starting to think I’m not just keeping it for me. That was my plan five minutes ago, but now I think that I’m writing it for people to read someday… maybe my grandkids or something. If it was just for me, why would I feel like I need to introduce myself?

Let’s do that now. My name’s Mallory Kalvornek, and I’m eleven years old. I just started the sixth grade. I live on a farm a few miles outside of a tiny little town of 1100 people in west central Minnesota. I’m an only child… it’s just my mom, dad, and me. Dad’s a grain farmer, and Mom spends most of her time doing volunteer stuff for the church. We’re Evangelical Christians, so we’re always doing religious stuff. If we’re not at church, we’re doing Awana or Bible Study or an outreach or something. I kind of hate it… it’s really boring.

Wow,  now I see why people do diaries! I’ve never admitted that before, not even to myself. It’s true, though… I hate church. Guess I ought to feel guilty about that, but I don’t, not really. It’s like we’re supposed to have this great relationship with God or something, and to me it’s just a bunch of sermons and stupid rules and boring church socials.

Sometimes I’ll hang out with the other kids at Sunday School or whatever, and that’s good because I don’t have any friends at school. I’m really shy and not good at talking to people, but at church they HAVE to be nice to me.

Whoa… I’ve never really thought about that, either. Are they only hanging around with me at church because their parents would get mad if they didn’t? That doesn’t make me feel very good.

But that kinda brings me to what I want to write about today. Maybe the whole reason I started this diary! I think I might be close to making a friend. You know, a real one, not just someone who only hangs out with me at church things.

Her name is Julie Hanson, and she’s in my class at school. She moved to town with her dad Jason last year… I want to say it was November. They bought this really old house right in the middle of town that needs a lot of work. Everybody thought it was really creepy, this guy coming in from the big city with his ten-year-old daughter and buying the cheapest house in town. I don’t think it helps that he’s a musician… some people seem to think you can’t trust them, I don’t know why.

Mr. Hanson plays guitar. He’s not like super-famous or anything, but he’s worked with some people that are. You can go online and see videos of him doing concerts with bands and singers I’ve heard of.

The adults talk about the Hansons sometimes, cause you don’t get new people in town much in a place like this. Of course, they don’t talk about it when kids my age are around, but with parents like mine, you get good at eavesdropping! From what I heard, Mr. Hanson has a lot of family close to here, and decided to stop touring and move back closer to home when he got divorced so it would be easier to take care of Julie.

The rumors are that he gave his wife all of their money and stuff like that, and she gave him custody of Julie. I hope that’s not true. Who trades their kid for money? But they say that’s why he had to come in and buy a cheap old house, because his ex got almost everything when they split up.

People ended up liking Julie and Mr. Hanson once they got to know them, mostly anyway. Mr. Hanson’s really active… this summer when the town did a benefit for this teenage girl with cancer, he got some old friends of his from the city to come up and they did a concert on the football field to raise money. He had a real stage and lights and a big sound system and everything. It was really fun! He and Julie both do volunteer work, and he took an EMT class this spring so he could help out on the volunteer ambulance service. He’s teaching guitar lessons to get by, but Julie told me today he also gets something called royalties for songs he wrote and that’s most of what they live on. Every time a song of his gets played on the radio or used in a movie or TV show, he gets paid for it!

But he also made some people mad, too. Not long after they got here there was some talk about him and a married lady (I’m pretty sure from what I overheard, they were doing sex things). But now he’s got a girlfriend that lives with them, so it’s better. She’s a lot younger than he is but nobody minds as long as he’s not dating lots of girls. My parents don’t approve of living like that with someone you’re not married to, but they seem to think dating lots of people is worse. I’ll have to look and see if it’s in the Bible.

I’ve known Julie for almost a year, but I don’t really know her, you know? We haven’t ever talked much. She’s really bubbly and social, and I’m quiet and never know what to say. I don’t really hang out with anybody at school, but she hangs out with lots of people. I think she’s really pretty. She’s the tallest girl in our class, even taller than almost all of the boys… and she has this long thick beautiful black hair. Me, I’m short for my age and blonde. Both of us are pretty skinny.

Anyway, this year we’re both in a program called Advanced Learning… mostly it’s just called A.L. Every Wednesday we get on a bus and they take us to Alexandria, a bigger town about forty minutes away. We have to get up really early for it, and we get home later than on other days. My mom has to drop me off and pick me up at the school so I can go to it. The idea is that they give kids who have what they call “exceptional potential” (which just means kids who are smart for their age) and take us someplace where we learn stuff they can’t teach us at our school.

The school in our town is really small and has all the grades in it, they call it a k-12. The town we go to for A.L. has like 13,000 people and has elementary, middle, and high schools.

A.L. goes from fifth grade and up, and our school only sends a few kids from each grade. There are only three sixth-graders, me, Julie, and Mitch, a boy who’s really weird. So the bus is usually not very full, and everybody is in their own seat. But today we were bringing a bunch of high school kids along for some other activity, so the bus was stuffed.

As usual Mom was running late dropping me off at the school, and I was pretty nervous because I knew the bus was going to be packed and I would probably have to sit with somebody. I don’t mind if somebody sits with me when I’m there first, but I feel really awkward coming up and sitting with a person who’s already there!

As I said goodbye to my mom and slid out of our green Explorer, I looked up at the bus and felt my stomach tighten. From what I could see, every seat had at least one person in it.

It was rainy and cold this morning, so the bus driver had the door shut. He opened it when I got close, and as I climbed the steps he smiled at me. “Morning, Mallory,” he said.

I looked away and mumbled “Hi,” stopping for a moment as I reached the top step. I was right… there were no empty seats. I looked around, trying to seem calm as I figured out who to sit with. Then I saw Julie Hanson, alone in a seat just a few rows behind the driver, leaning back in the corner with her nose in a book. Her thick black hair hung down, almost covering her face and her glasses with the purple rims.

I decided it was the best I was gonna get… at least it was a girl, and she’s in my class. I shuffled down the aisle, stopping next to her seat. I never know what to do at times like these… do I just sit down, or do I ask if it’s okay?

Julie solved the problem for me. She looked up, gave me a big smile, and said “Hi! Wanna sit with me?”

I was so relieved! I smiled back, said, “Sure!” and sat down. Julie gave me a friendly nod, then found her place in the book she was reading. I dug in my backpack until I found my own novel, the fourth book in the Sapphire Towers fantasy series. It’s supposed to be for girls a few years older than me, but books for kids my own age are pretty boring. I found my place and settled in as bus pulled out of the lot.

A few minutes later, just as we were turning onto the highway, Julie spoke up.“Hey, you’re reading the same thing I am!”

Wow! I’d been trying so hard not to hide my nervousness that I hadn’t even noticed what Julie was reading. It wasn’t exactly the same thing; the book in her hand was the fifth book in the series, and I was still on the fourth.

“Wow!’ I said. “That’s pretty cool. I didn’t think anybody else our age was reading these.”

“Well,” said Julie with an adorable little smirk, “I think books for our age group are pretty lame, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “The characters in these books at least kind of act like real people… you know?”

That was it. We spent the rest of the bus ride talking about our books instead of reading them, about the situations and the characters and everything we hoped might happen. Since Julie was about half a book ahead, she was really careful not to say anything that would spoil it for me.

 ***

Our A.L. group is a bunch of kids our age from different schools. It’s not as structured as regular school and nobody cares where we sit, so Julie and I sat together for the first half of the day, partnering up for the group logic problems they had us do. We also ate lunch together, chattering on about our books at first, then more about ourselves and our families.

For the second half of the day, the group splits up and we go to more specific classes where we get to study things that interest us, and we were separate for part of that. Julie and I have creative writing together, but then I do art and Julie… I don’t even know what she does then, now that I think of it. I’ll have to ask.

On the bus ride home, Julie read to me. We agreed that it was lots of fun to have someone to share our books with, and she wanted me to catch up so that we can talk about all of it as we go. We didn’t quite finish, but she’s going to wait for me to catch up. Which I just did, right before I started writing this! Tomorrow when I see her at school we’ll be in the same place.

When we got off the bus, Mom was waiting for me in the Explorer. Julie just lives a few blocks from the school and usually walks or rides her bike, but it was rainy so her dad was there to drive her home. He drives a blue Ford pickup, the kind with the long cab and back seat.

Julie and I got off the bus together, and before we said goodbye she put her arms around me and pulled me into a hug that made me feel all fluttery inside. My parents aren’t very touchy or snuggly people, and I just LOVE getting hugs! When she pulled back her hands stayed on my upper arms for a moment and she looked straight into my eyes.

“Today was really fun,” she told me. “We like a lot of the same things, and you’re really cool. I hope we can be friends.”

Then she was gone. But she said I was cool! NOBODY ever said that about me before. And she wants to be my friend! I hope she still wants to hang out with me tomorrow, and please God, don’t let me mess it all up by being awkward and weird.

 

Thursday, September 21st, 2006

My mom doesn’t cook in the mornings anymore. School breakfast is her friend! She just shakes me awake, leaves the room, and watches TV while I get ready for school. She spends lots of time doing volunteer stuff for the church, but when she’s home she mostly just watches TV. Okay, she does keep the place clean and cook dinner, but not much else. Dad isn’t even awake yet when I get up in the morning unless he’s got stuff to do on the farm, and at this time of year there isn’t much. There’s still some corn that needs combining, but it’s too wet right now. And when he is in the house, he mostly just watches TV, same as Mom.

My parents don’t really pay a whole lot of attention to what I do. I have a lot of rules to follow, but I don’t think they’d notice if I started breaking them like crazy. Hmmm… I haven’t given that much thought before.

Mom and Dad don’t talk much unless they’re badmouthing somebody or fighting about money, but lately they’ve been fighting about money all the time. They think I can’t hear, but after I go to bed I can hear everything anybody says in the living room or kitchen. Dad’s profit margins are doing nothing but going down, and Mom hates having to cut back on spending. So they fight. We’re like the only farm family I know where the mother doesn’t have a job in town, but Mom and Dad believe that a good Christian woman stays home and minds the kids and house. Except Mom doesn’t do that, she spends all day doing volunteer stuff for the church! I don’t see how that’s any better than getting a job that would help with the bills.

I was in a really good mood this morning because I was so excited about hanging out with Julie at school. I was smiling and humming to myself while I brushed my hair and teeth. I wanted to sing out loud, but I knew it would irritate my mom. I was ready fifteen minutes before the bus and the sun was out, so I decided to wait outside. I said goodbye to my mom and she didn’t even look up… just kind of waved.

It was chilly, but the sun was shining and that was good enough for me. I sang at the top of my lungs until I saw the bus coming. Since the weather was nice, I knew Julie would be riding her bike to school, but I hoped to see her at school breakfast.

I’d hoped that Julie would be at breakfast, but she wasn’t. It turns out that she comes to school breakfast maybe half the time. So I ate alone as usual, but she was waiting for me outside the cafeteria. She hugged me right away, and I froze for a second then hugged her back. It just feels so good to be in someone’s arms!

“Hey!” she said as she let me go, “how far did you get in the book?”

“Oh, I caught up to you last night,” I told her.

“Sweet!” she replied. “Should we agree on how far to go each night, so we can talk about it the next day?” She tugged at my hand, and we set off side by side down the hall.

“Sounds great,” I said. “But we can’t read the same amount every night. Tuesdays I have piano lessons, and then there’ll be church things and stuff. And chores.”

Julie nodded. “Yeah, same here. My dad is teaching me to play guitar and I try to get in some practice every day. And I have chores at home too. But not as many as you do, I bet, living on a farm.”

“Not so much,” I said. “I do house chores, but I don’t really do farm things. We don’t have any animals to feed so it’s all tractors and chemicals and other stuff I’m not allowed to mess with. I probably don’t do much more than you.”

By this time we’d arrived at our classroom, and it was time to get in our seats. They don’t give you much time for school breakfast if you’re riding the bus!

“Hey,” said Julie before we headed to our desks, “do you eat school breakfast every morning?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I kind of pick and choose,” she said. “My dad will make me breakfast if I want it, so I eat at home unless there’s something extra tasty on the menu at school. Maybe I should do school breakfast more often, then we can talk about Sapphire Towers right away!”

I thought it sounded too good to be true… Julie really wants to spend time with me! I just smiled and nodded, and we both rushed to our seats.

During lunch we chatted about the part of the book I had just caught up on, and then Julie said something that blew me out of the water.

“Um, Mallory?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think your parents would let you have a sleepover at my house tomorrow night? I asked my dad if I can invite you, and it’s okay with him if it’s okay with your folks. You could come over after school tomorrow, and then hang out with us Saturday.”

Nobody has ever, ever invited me to a sleepover before! I was so happy I thought I was going to cry. Good thing I got myself under control first… I sure wouldn’t want to act like a baby around my new friend!

“Oh, wow, that sounds awesome!” I said. “I’ll ask them tonight!”

The rest of the school day was a blur. Julie hugged me again before I got on the bus, and that warm, tingly feeling came over me again. I squeezed her tight and she squeezed back.

There’s something weird about hugging Julie. I love to get hugs from anybody, but with her it’s not like hugging my grandma. Does that make sense? I can’t put my finger on it. Anyhow, we finally let each other go, and she trotted over to the bike rack, pulled her cruiser out, and pedaled away.

I was a little jealous. Because I live on a farm, the only place I have to ride my bike is on our driveway and the dirt trails Dad drives his tractors on. It’s rough riding and I can’t really go anywhere. The kids that live in town have all these nice paved streets to ride on. But it’s starting to get pretty cold, and a month from now nobody will be riding bikes anywhere until spring.

When I got home I flew off the bus, raced up the front steps, and burst through the door. Mom was in the kitchen.

“Mom!” I blurted. “My friend Julie Hanson invited me to sleep over at her house tomorrow and spend Saturday there. Can I, Mom, please?”

My mom just stared at me like she’d never seen me before, then waved her hand at a package of store-bought cookies on the counter. I helped myself to one and waited.

“That’s Jason Hanson’s daughter. Is that right?” she inquired.

I nodded. My breath was sticking in my throat. I know my parents don’t approve of Jason Hanson.

“It’ll probably be okay,” she said. “But we have to check with your father first.”

Talk about what I DIDN’T want to hear!

Dad came in just in time for dinner. We all sat down, bowed our heads, and Dad led the family prayer for what felt like an hour. I’m starting to realize that I’m a really terrible Christian, and that maybe it’s something I need to work on. I didn’t want to communicate with God… I wanted to get permission to sleep over at Julie’s house!

Finally it was over, and we started eating. I was trying to find the nerve to ask, but Mom beat me to it.

“Jason Hanson’s daughter invited Mallory to a sleepover tomorrow night,” she said. “What do you think, Dan?”

Dad rubbed his eyes. He always looks exhausted lately. He’s only 35, but he looks like he’s in his forties.

“Did Mr. Hanson say it’s all right?” he asked, looking at me.

“Yep,” I replied. “Julie asked him before she talked to me.”

“That’s the respectful way to do it,” said Dad, nodding with approval. “Mallory… how much do you know about the Hanson family?”

“I know they moved here last November,” I said, “and that Mr. Hanson used to play guitar for money. I know they lived in a way bigger city before. And that Julie’s mom doesn’t live with them. Annnd…” I shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve only just started being friends with Julie.”

“Do you know they don’t go to church? Not just our church, but any church?”

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it,” I said, feeling helpless. It seemed for a minute like things were going my way, but it didn’t look so great now!

“Also, do you know that he’s living in sin with a woman who’s not his wife?”

“I kind of knew that,” I said slowly. “But I’m not sure I understand what living in sin really means.”

“It means… an adult kind of relationship between men and women,” said Dad. He rubbed his eyes again. “The kind of relationship our heavenly Father reserves only for marriage.”

“You mean…” I almost didn’t say it, because I was afraid of getting in trouble. “You mean like a, a sex relationship?”

Dad stared at me really hard for the longest time. “Yes, Mallory,” he said, “Like that.”

“So… are you saying you don’t want me to go there?” I was almost in tears.

“I didn’t say that, either,” he said. My heart jumped!

“Listen, Mallory,” he said, “Jason Hanson has done a lot of good things here, too. Remember that benefit for Lizzy Severson? He spent his own money putting on that concert, didn’t keep a dime of the proceeds, and raised more money than everything else we did put together. He also joined the volunteer ambulance squad a few months ago. I think deep down he’s a good man but he’s just… you know… lost. You could help.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, but that was a lie. I knew exactly what he had in mind.

“It’s your time to be a witness, Mallory,” he said. “Show Julie Hanson the effect of God’s good works through you. Show how much your special relationship with God through the blood of his son Jesus Christ enriches your life and multiplies your happiness ten thousandfold, and how she can enjoy the same thing. Once you’ve shown her salvation, the two of you working together can show her father the way. You can save two souls from Hell.”

“So I can go?”

“Definitely. I’ll call Mr. Hanson after dinner and see to any details. Now go ahead and eat before the food gets cold.”

I was floating on a cloud! I gulped my dinner down, hardly tasting a thing.

I was hoping to listen in on Dad’s conversation with Mr. Hanson, but he made the call in his office. I hovered in the living room and watched TV with my mom. When he came out he waited for a commercial before he said anything.

“I just talked to Mr. Hanson,” he said. “He wanted to know if you had a bike you could bring, because Julie wants to go biking with you on Saturday if the weather is good. You’ve never ridden on streets before, so you’ll need to remember to watch for cars. I’ll throw your bike in the pickup tomorrow morning and leave it at the school bike racks for you. You’ll just go with Julie to her house after school. Mr. Hanson wanted to know if there was any food you were allergic to and I told him no, but you remember to be polite even if they serve something you don’t like, understand?”

“I’ll remember,” I promised.

“Mr. Hanson also said that he doesn’t care how late you stick around on Saturday, but you do have church Sunday morning. Your mom or I will pick you up before dinner.”

I pumped my fist in the air and squealed with delight.

“Mallory!” my mom snapped. “Indoor voices!”

“Sorry, Mom! I’m gonna go pack now!”

I raced upstairs to my room and packed a change of clothes, pajamas, my hair brush, and the travel toothbrush kit my grandma got me for when I stay at her house. I went back downstairs and did my piano practice, and then I sat down to write in my diary.

It’s late now, and I’m not quite as happy as I was. I’m still super-excited about spending Friday night and most of Saturday at Julie’s house, but that other thing that Dad talked about is floating around in my brain. You know, witnessing. Spreading God’s word. That’s supposed to be a Christian’s most important job, right? Turning other people into Christians? The Bible says so, in lots of places.

But honestly, I don’t think I’m a very good Christian. Dad said I should show Julie my special relationship with God, but I don’t feel like I even have one. When everybody at church is talking about feeling the presence of the Lord, I don’t feel anything. I’ve never seen anything that looked like a miracle to me. When I pray every night, I feel like I’m just talking to the ceiling.

Dad also said something about showing Julie how it increases my happiness, but it doesn’t! I hate church. Sunday School is better because we do fun stuff, and I like Vacation Bible School in the summer. But most of the church events are boring, the services are worse, and the songs are dumb.

And you know what? My parents are all about being Christians, but I don’t think they’re happy at all! I don’t know if Jason Hanson is a Christian or not, but he doesn’t go to church, and every time I’ve seen him he looks like a really cheerful guy. Julie’s really bouncy and fun, too. She’s probably happier than I am, so how am I supposed to show her that being a Christian will make her happy?

Of course, there’s the Hell thing. If you’re not a Christian, you go to Hell. For some reason that’s not bothering me so much. And it should, right? I mean, if Julie doesn’t get saved we don’t get to spend eternity together in Heaven, and she has to be punished in Hell. That should be terrifying to me, but it’s not. Maybe… I don’t know.

I’m having a hard time even thinking about Heaven and Hell as real places all of a sudden. When I picture them in my head, it’s like something off Cartoon Network.

I need to stop thinking about this. This is taking me someplace really scary, and I don’t like it. I’m going to sleep now, and tomorrow I’m just gonna go to Julie’s house and have fun with my new friend. If I see a chance to talk about God and the Bible maybe I’ll try it, but I’m not going to stress out if it doesn’t happen.

On to Chapter Two!

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

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

Chapter Five: Daphne Joins the Siren

Marianna, I, and a few others transferred to the Majestic. The Siren would stay out of the harbour but within signal range. I was relieved to see the harbour was clear of other ships, though it quickly became obvious that all was not well. We could see smoke billowing high in several places, and the breeze carried the sound of musket fire.

“Mister Halcombe,” I said, “signal the Siren to follow us after all and call the hands to quarters.”

No sooner had we dropped anchor than a boat left the jetty and headed towards us. I was astonished to see my old friend John Rudge standing in the thwarts.

“My God, I thought that was the Siren astern,” he said directly as he came aboard. “And you, Captain and Marianna, both safe and well after we thought you had perished. A fisherman reported seeing you in battle with the King’s Navy. We’ve heard no more of you since that day and feared for the worst.”

“We are fine, John, but I feel the same cannot be said for here. What is happening?”

“Slave trouble. A few dozen have gone on a rampage here in Road Town. We fear that more might join them. We have been able to hold them back in some places, but I’m not sure we can for much longer.”

“Tell me, John, would we be allowed to land my men? We can assist your small garrison.” He was quick to agree.

We used every ship’s boat plus a few sent out to us. Soon, there were about a hundred heavily armed men gathered on the foreshore. An extremely relieved-looking sergeant and his squad lined up in front of us.

“We have them cornered in one section of the town, but I don’t have sufficient men to attack,” he said. “I believe they may be ready to break out again anytime soon. That’s when others may be persuaded to join them, and then things will really turn nasty.”

I suppose we presented a motley-looking crowd. Pirates haven’t the slightest notion of how to march. But they know how to make a lot of noise.

The shouting and jeering from behind the barricades came to a sudden stop when the slaves saw the mass of muskets and swords pointed at them as we rounded the corner.

Davy rolled the small two-pounder swivel cannon out in front of us. The master gunner had mounted it on a set of wheels. Now he sighted it on the largest barricade, making a great show of loading it and holding a smoking taper above the touch hole.

I called for quiet, waited for thirty seconds, then, “Prepare to fire.” I raised my sword high in the air.

The first musket flew over the barricade and clattered to the ground. Others, together with pistols and swords quickly followed. A couple of shots still came from another barricade. “Resight the gun,” I ordered. “And sergeant, have your men fire a volley at that barricade, but aim high if you please. I’m aiming to frighten them out, not to kill them.”

Twelve muskets make a lot of smoke and noise when fired in unison.

As the smoke cleared, I repeated my previous orders. The gunner began to lower the taper towards the cannon. I thought for a moment that this time we were going to have to fire. But once again, weapons were thrown out.

The sergeant shouted the order, “Present.” Twelve reloaded muskets aimed at the barricade.

“Don’t give the order to fire, Sergeant.”

More weapons were thrown. Then the barricades started to come down before slaves slowly emerged with their hands held high in the air. They were in a pitiful state, most of them underfed and overworked. I turned to the sergeant and John.

“It’s the owners of this lot that want shooting,” I said, “not these poor buggers.”

The sergeant nodded his head, but then said, “I hope they haven’t killed anyone though, or they’ll hang… the lot of them!”

It was a dreadful sight. I could fully understand why there were revolts, and I was developing a deep hatred of slavery.

The rebels were soon rounded up and marched away, the fight completely gone from them. A few, no doubt, had managed to steal away. Some bore wounds, but thankfully, I saw no dead.

“Where can I get horses, John? We must get to the M & B.”

A short while later, my men were all back on board the two ships. Halcombe had thought I might grant them some time ashore by watch. But I thought not, as tensions were still running high. The last thing we needed was any of our lot getting drunk and causing trouble.

I took six men with us who were capable riders. It wasn’t very long before we arrived at the plantation gates – Tortola is not a large island. We were met by Josh and a few others, all brandishing muskets. I saw the relief on Josh’s face when he recognised Marianna and me.

There was a sudden screech, and Daphne, flying through the doors, rushed into Marianna’s waiting arms.

***

A meeting with Josh and John established that, at least for the time being, the trouble was over. John intended to pursue a point of censure with the island’s proprietary council against the two owners of the slaves who had taken part in the revolt, whose barbaric treatment could only lead to further troubles.

Marianna told Josh she was gifting him the plantation, as she was now wealthy enough that she no longer needed it. All that was required was John’s reassurance he could work out an agreement.

Daphne came to see us whilst Marianna was collecting a few more of her things. “I want to come with you,” she said. “It’s driving me mad here. I must get away.”

How would I explain to the men that I was bringing yet another female aboard? Marianna hit on the answer. “They don’t mind Anne being on board. In faith, she’s probably the most dangerous among us. They see her as a true pirate. She doesn’t seem to be getting any better, not as the surgeon thought. Could we not say that Daphne has been engaged to care for her?”

It was a grand idea. Quite what we would do with Daphne later on, I was uncertain, but I supposed we could postpone a decision on the matter.

I was surprised when Josh and his wife seemed happy enough to let her go.

“They have found out about my wanting a woman to love,” Daphne explained. “My mother wants me gone. She do love me, but she don’t want the shame. It’s how they be.”

Thus it was settled. She would come with us.

Back in Road Town, a crowd of citizens gathered to see us off. The elected head of the council proclaimed we were welcome in Tortola, whenever and whatever our circumstances. “And bugger the British!” he added.

We also gained another eleven experienced crewmen, which would ease Jensen’s under-manning problem.

Our story explaining Daphne’s presence raised no comment, although she did get a few whistles. Had she been white, I’m sure, we would have seen her blush. She scampered off with Marianna as fast as possible.

Our carpenter had built a small cabin for Anne. He now added a top bunk for Daphne. It was a tight squeeze, but there was little enough room on the Siren. They would have to manage.

Daphne was shocked at Anne’s appearance. She quickly checked the invalid’s pulse, looking into her eyes and mouth. She seemed to know what she was doing. Then she sniffed and tasted the tonic the surgeon had left. She shook her head. “No good,” she said. She would fetch something better if there were time enough for Davy to take her back to the jetty.

Later, we caught the evening breeze, which was strong enough to put us on a good north-easterly course and give us a wide berth around the most northerly islands.

***

We had been beating slowly north for six days when daybreak revealed a small ship almost on a collision course with us. The entire crew must have been asleep, or drunk, for no alarm was given as the Siren and Majestic came either side of her.

We hoisted our black colours before firing a blank charge. That brought the crew pouring onto the deck. Half a minute later, she hoisted her own colours, a full skeleton on a black flag. Not a flag I knew. One man, obviously the captain, looked about, sizing up his situation. He wisely decided on discretion being the more sensible course.

“Captain Lowther of Happy Delivery.” He wasn’t sure which of our ships to address.

I may not have known of his flag, but I certainly knew of George Lowther, if only by reputation. He was said to be reasonable and fair. It was his first mate, Low, who was nasty business, somewhat akin to Charles Vane, but worse.

I was about to reply when he turned to speak directly to me. “That flag – you’re the Siren, I’m thinkin’. Is it Captain Bren I have the honour of addressing?”

We spoke of a few minor matters before he asked if I were heading up the Carolinas way. In response to my affirmative, he called, “May I suggest, Captain, you might want to reconsider. There is nowhere safe to harbour. The coastal counties have joined forces to clamp down on piracy. At least thirty have been hanged this last six months. We are heading south, for Venezuela.”

“It’s just as bad in the Caribbean,” I warned him. “Take a wide berth before you cut to the mainland.”

When he had gone on his way, I summoned Jensen.

“We have a problem, Tom,” I said. “We have to keep out of sight for three months. North, it seems, is now out of the question.”

“Could we not return to the safe anchorage we used on the Amazon river? No one is likely to stumble across us there.”

“We could, but it will be a long and tedious wait for the men. Perhaps I will have to ask them. Return to Majestic and bring her as close as you can, the sea is flat enough. I would prefer all the men hear what I have to say at the same time.”

When the crews were gathered on deck, I told them of the dangers we faced both north and south. I reminded them of the possibility of a pardon that might be coming our way, which would allow them, legally, to take what was owed them and do as they wished.

“I want to take us back to the Amazon and hide away for three months. It will be a difficult time for us all, but we will be safe. The potential reward is huge. Will you take ten minutes to discuss and decide?”

They took barely five. It was nearly unanimous. South we would go.

*** 

We found a corner of the bay that we hadn’t observed on our previous excursion. It seemed ideal. Here, the water was clear of the mud from the Amazon, and neither was it salt.

For the moment, though, each ship dropped only one anchor. I sent out four patrols, each with six well-armed men who were to scour the area to at least a two-mile distance to ensure we were alone. Certainly, the beach showed no signs of anyone having been there for a considerable time.

One patrol reported a native village three miles to the west, close to the main channel of the river. It was fortunate Taylor had led this patrol, as, being a calm and deliberative sort, he was apt to observe strangers before drawing his sword. He told me the villagers were not the least warlike, as Roberts had suggested they were. They were mainly fishermen, but they knew the forest well. They spoke some Portuguese and a little Spanish. A village elder had told Taylor we were welcome in the bay and the surrounding forest, but we were not to come to their village.

He then went a bit shy on me. “What is it, Taylor? Is there something wrong?” I asked him.

“Not so as you’d say, Cap’ain. The old’un said that some of their girls might want to visit with the men, if you knows what I mean. But not the men to go there. Er… there were some good lookers an’ all.”

I decided we were safe enough here. I would have a few shelters built among the trees. It would be better than being confined to the ship the whole time, though I did insist that there be one watch on board at all times.

It appeared Daphne’s medicine was indeed more effective than the Navy doctor’s. Anne seemed to be improving, though she remained weak. I had a small hut built for her, reasoning the fresh air under the trees might help.

“Have you seen how Daphne is with Anne?” Marianna asked me one sultry evening. “She’s become most possessive. I don’t believe Anne has noticed yet.”

“Yes, I have seen, and I think you’re wrong about Anne. I saw her reach for Daphne’s hand and hold it as she went into a sleep. I think we made a good choice, letting Daphne come along.”

***

Daphne awoke with a start. She ached from having fallen asleep in the chair alongside her patient’s cot. She let go of Anne’s hand to rub her neck and have a good stretch. Glancing down, she found Anne staring at her. 

Anne had hardly ever spoken, nor did she now. Instead, she reached out with a trembling hand to Daphne’s cheek, touching it briefly. Then she struggled to move her body to one side of the cot. 

“You wish me to lie with you, yes?” Daphne asked.

Lifting her hand again, Anne gave the merest nod.

Daphne took the offered hand. “I been waiting for you to ask.” 

Daphne lay down beside Anne and snuggled herself close. Anne had closed her eyes, but there was a weak smile on her face. Daphne summoned her courage, then leaned closer to press her lips to Anne’s cheek. Anne gave Daphne’s hand a slight squeeze before they both went to sleep.

The next morning Daphne was up early heating water, for she intended to give Anne a proper wash. A sound from the hut made her rush inside. Anne was trying to prop herself up in the cot. It was the first time she had attempted to sit up.

“Good morning, Miss,”’ Daphne said. “You seem stronger today. Shall I fetch you some water?” 

Parting her lips, Anne struggled a moment, then managed to ask, “Is there any coffee?”

Daphne gasped and seized Anne’s hand. “I like how you talk,” she said. “It sound strange, but I do like.”

“’Tis Irish,” Anne said, with a rare smile. “You kissed me goodnight; would you kiss me good morning and stop yer jabbering?”

This time, Daphne leaned in and gave Anne a proper kiss, soft and protracted. When she pulled back, Anne was once again staring at her. “You and me girlie, are we gonna fuck when I have the strength?”

Daphne clapped her hands. “Oh, yes, Miss Anne, we fuck for sure.”

“And you’re not a shy one. We’re gonna do just fine, I can feel it. Now, about that coffee?”

“I fetch. Then I give you a proper wash.”

The brew revived Anne’s spirits and gave her strength enough to sit up. Daphne spread towels on the bed and removed her charge’s soiled gown, pleased to see the unmistakable sign of convalescence – a bit more weight here and there. Anne never took her eyes off the girl’s face, probing the desire in her eyes. For the first time in her life, she felt tenderness and realised she didn’t just want to fuck this pretty black girl, she wanted to love her. What’s more, she wanted her love in return. It was an astonishing revelation. Even in her poorly condition, she felt the familiar stirrings as Daphne washed her body. Her nipples stiffened under the girl’s touch.

“Are you going to wash me, or rub my tits away?” she asked.

“Sorry,” Daphne replied, “but they so nice.” With that, she lowered her head and took a nipple into her mouth. Her tongue circled the hard tip, then she sucked. Glancing up, she saw Anne’s eyes were closed. The look of pleasure encouraged her.

With a sigh, she lifted her head. “I must behave and let you rest while I wash.”

She bathed Anne from top to tail before easing her legs a little wider. She paused for a moment, then fetched her barbering kit. This was a task she was well familiar with. Anne’s unruly thatch was quickly tamed, and Daphne’s expert razor made short work of what remained, leaving just a tidy stripe. 

Daphne sat back and admired her artistry. “There. Your pretty pussy is now to be seen. Now I finish your wash.”

“You are very skilled at that,” Anne said. 

Daphne realised that, of course, Anne knew almost nothing about her. “I worked for Doña Marianna. I have done it many times. I am no longer her maid. It was my choice to come and look after you.”

By now, Daphne was gently sponging Anne’s pussy. She hesitated when she saw the clit, not daring to touch it until Anne whispered, “Please.”

Her resolve instantly dissipated. She savoured the warmth as she bent low to draw the swelling nub between her lips, her heart pounding all the while. At least, she had at last found someone who might become hers alone. She sucked and teased more insistently, and Anne raised a soft moan. Now Daphne would use all her skills. She would make this woman hers.

Gently, she eased two fingers into Anne’s cunt, a slow, rhythmic pumping as her tongue worked its magic. She didn’t want to prolong Anne’s arousal, though. The woman wasn’t yet strong enough. She needn’t have worried, for Anne, deprived of lustful delights for an age, could not hold out. A hand fluttering at Daphne’s cheek, a whispered “Fuck!” – and she was coming.

Daphne watched as Anne relaxed. The woman’s eyes remained closed, and within seconds she was asleep. A final gentle wipe with the sponge, and Daphne pulled the light sheet up to cover her. Outside, she picked a forest blossom, fetching it back to lay it on the pillow beside her lover’s head.

***

The weeks slipped by without incident. The men seemed remarkably at ease with their situation, and the food was good. The natives had shown them how to catch wild boar, which they roasted over an open fire. They built more permanent huts, although no one was quite sure why. Many learned to swim, something that very few seamen were actually capable of. Others were happy to sit on a rock, fishing and smoking a pipe of the natives’ outstanding tobacco.

An ancient tribeswoman came to see Anne. With much foul-smelling smoke, potions and incantations, she worked her own sort of magic. No doubt it was the potions, rather than her guttural chanting, but Anne’s health improved rapidly. The first time she made an appearance outside her hut, there were shouts and cheers from the men present. She gave them the finger, and the cheering redoubled. Where once she would have scowled, now she smiled. Anne was back from the dead, yet changed.

A few nights later, as we sat around  fire on the beach, she told the story of her and Rackham’s capture.

“We were at Jamaica, anchored at Bry Harbour. There weren’t many on board that night. Them that was, was stone-drunk. They been out on the town with a gang of turtle fishermen and some other mates. Then Jonathan Barnet heard tell we was there and found us.

“He attacked with cannon first. Jack cut the anchor cable and tried to run, but it was no bloody good. The crew were too drunk to man the ropes, and Barnet boarded us in short order. Those cowardly drunks had gone and hid below. What the fuck good they thought that would do, fuck only knows.”

She paused for a moment’s reflection. “There was only three of us sober – me, Noah and Mary. We screamed at the curs to come up and help us fight, but they stayed put, shiverin’, no doubt. We fought alone. Three against twenty was hopeless, and we was soon done for.

“We were taken to Port Royal. I only saw Jack the once, the day they took him out to hang. I told him blunt, ‘If you’d fought like a man, you wouldn’t be hanging like a dog.’”

She turned to face me. “You, Cap’n, you told him to stay away from Jamaica. He didn’t listen, and now they’s all dead.” She looked at Daphne, sitting close by her side, “All except me. You lot rescued me. This girl saved me.”

There was silence. We had all liked Calico Jack, but the manner of his capture was a shock. Most would have expected better of him.

Anne got to her feet. “I’m feelin’ spent. You want to help me, sweet girlie?”

Some of us gave a knowing look, but none spoke. The men were now accustomed to seeing women together. Besides, few dared comment within the hearing of Anne Bonny.

***

At last, our exile was over. It was time to sail for Bermuda and to discover where our future lay.

We had lost only two men, lured away by native girls. Even the thought of the gold they were giving up didn’t tempt them. When I saw the girls, I understood. They were quite beautiful. And as Davy said, such men would likely have drunk themselves to death.

We left our sanctuary and eased slowly into the Amazon. The lookouts reported no sails in sight. The current further from the shore assisted the light wind in whisking us out to sea.

Getting to Bermuda was sure to be dangerous. We’d have to pass many islands, almost none of which would look kindly on our presence. I decided on a northerly route that would take us around the western tip of Cuba. We would then have a relatively straight eastward run out into the Atlantic. The most pressing danger would come from the Spanish ships plying the lanes between Florida, New Spain and Cuba.

Experienced Caribbean sailors know that a powerful current sweeps easterly just above Cuba. It then swings sharply northward up the coast of Florida. It could add almost five knots to the speed of a ship. Once again, we would be passing our hidden treasure. I pondered on whether we should stop to check on it, but decided not. Nothing would change the gold being there or not, and we might draw attention to its location.

Luck was with us, or so it seemed. We had safely rounded Cuba and were beating east, making good time in a stiff breeze. Then, as the sun broke the horizon – “Deck ho, many sail to larboard.” And a moment later: “They’re all over the place, too many to count and there’s land behind ’em!”

I knew at once I had misjudged the current and allowed us to be pushed too far north. That land must be Florida, and we were running headlong into a Spanish flotilla.

“All hands, action stations! Mister Halcombe, look to the sails, as much as we can carry. Master, bring us to a southeasterly course.” The hands complied, and the Siren and Majestic flew across the waves.

Maybe, just maybe, the Spanish might decide there was little to gain by pursuing us. But it was soon apparent that two large frigates were giving chase. I was at a loss as to why they were bothering, but the fact remained: we were in trouble. I wracked my brain for an answer but could find only one, and it was folly. We would head directly for the Bahamas, which would put us at risk of running straight into even more powerful British ships.

My main concern was that if we lost the Florida current, the Spaniards would quickly overtake us. Even now I could feel the Siren slowing. The Spanish captains almost certainly knew these waters better than I, for they didn’t follow us directly. Rather, they kept their ships to a slightly more northerly course, running parallel to us and gaining on us by the minute. Soon, they would tack and cut across our bows.

One initiated a manoeuvre, while the other carried on. What were they doing? Then it dawned on me. The first would cross close to our stern, and the second would head across our bows. We would be caught between two broadsides, and much bigger than ours. I guessed they carried thirty guns apiece. Our only chance was to more or less repeat something we’d done before – with one crucial difference.

“Signal Captain Jensen to tack to larboard — now.” I waited only until the signal flags were ready and on their way up.

“Mister Halcombe, let wind slip from the sails to slow us quickly. Then we will tack. Majestic and Siren will approach the Spaniard on either side of her. Guns, load the twelve-pounder with chain shot and aim for her masts. I shall veer away to give you an early shot. Then we’ll come back on course. Ready the nine-pounders with chain-shot as well.”

The difference between this engagement and our attack on the English frigate would be the twelve-pounder aimed at the rigging. With the Englishman, we had fired at the waterline.

I hoped Jensen had thought to load with heavy shot, but it didn’t matter much. I was out to disable the frigate, not sink her.

The second Spaniard had by now overshot us by a mile. He was out of the fight, at least for now. For the moment, we had but one to contend with.

On to Chapter Six!

Note from JetBoy: You may remember Rosey M from her delightful tale of the confusion and joy of first-time lesbian love, “What’s With That Girl?” I’ve hoped ever since to see her grace us with something new, and now she has: the first book of a novel that draws heavily on her own experiences as a young girl, growing up gay with her lesbian sister and disturbed mother. It’s very different from her previous story and, in my humble opinion, even better. Don’t miss this one, readers.

I should mention that this is a slow burning story, one that takes its sweet time getting to the actual sex. If that’s a problem, go read something else, preferably at a different website. The rest of you, please stick around — it’s going to be well worth it.

Rosey wishes to extend heartfelt thanks to BlueJean for editing this story.

by Rosey M

March 14, 1996 – Ashley

It’s funny; I remember that night like it happened just yesterday. I was lying on the floor in my room when Mom threw the door open and told me that her water broke. She was upset and in pain, and I had no clue what I was supposed to do.

I called Mom’s friend Heather, and she wanted to know where my dad was. I told her truthfully that he’d already left for the bar. She didn’t sound very happy about it, and Mom took a break from hyperventilating to shoot me a warning glare. What, was I supposed to lie? She assured me the baby would be fine, which wasn’t something I was all that worried about to begin with.

Eventually Heather came to pick Mom up, and I was left behind to track down Dad.

I dusted off the Yellow Pages to start calling bars in the area, and eventually found the one he was in. After a quick explanation he hung up the phone, and half an hour later came by the house to grab some things for Mom. He cracked me upside the head shortly after he got in for ‘saying things I didn’t need to be saying’. Apparently he called the hospital to check in, and Heather got hold of the phone to chew him out. Eventually he left, and I went to bed.

I didn’t want to consider the ways my life was about to change, and I fell asleep thinking about how unnecessary this new member of our family would be. I barely registered in my parents’ eyes; no way would this kid get treated any better.

***

Dad came home in the morning to tell me my new sister was born, then without any other details, told me to clean the house while Mom was gone.

I did as he said, and in addition to the cleaning, I prepared quick meals for both of us, because he wouldn’t cook.

I had to wait until he left the house before I could vacuum the floor – he absolutely hated the noise; especially when he came home late, reeking of booze. Listening to the crackle of the vacuum across the carpet, I couldn’t stop thinking about this sister I now had. Why were they getting her? Was I not good enough for them? I mean, I know Dad didn’t think I was worth more than the crud on his boot soles, but I thought Mom valued me at least a little!

I spent the rest of the day fuming about how little I mattered to anyone. Late at night, as I was lying in bed, I did my best to stifle my frustrated sobs, the sound of the slamming front door resounding through the house as Dad returned from one of his drinking sessions.

***

The following day, my mom called and told me that I could come and see them.

Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the car with my dad, trying to ignore the smoke from the cigarette between his fingers. He complained about all the trouble this new kid would bring into our lives; how there would be less money and food for everyone, how the screaming and crying would keep us all up at night, how I’d have more responsibility, and how all the attention I usually got would go to my sister instead. It was too early to risk the smack he was trying to goad me into earning, so I just bit my tongue.

Besides, what attention? In the seven and a half years of my life up to that point, Mom and Dad hardly noticed me. Heck, I can barely remember the times when they did. Mom loves to brag about what a well-behaved girl I was, like she had anything to do with it. But that aside, Dad made some good points. I already hadn’t wanted a little sister; now I wanted one even less.

We eventually got to the hospital and found our way to the maternity unit. Once we reached Mom’s room, my eyes immediately locked onto her face. She looked tired, but so happy and content as she held the baby to her exposed breast. I felt a twinge of jealousy as I watched them; Mom never looked at me like that.

Once the baby was done suckling, she motioned for me to come closer. I approached the bed and let her place the baby into my arms. “Ashley, this is your little sister, Rhonda.”

As I looked down at the bundle in my arms, I was immediately struck with a feeling of revulsion. This… this thing was supposed to be my baby sister? I figured it must be some sort of weird joke. But nobody was laughing, and it eventually dawned on me that they were completely serious.

Mom reached over to lightly hug me against her for a moment, then took Rhonda back. She was showing so much love and adoration for this creature. She even began talking to it in a stupid baby voice. “Rhonda, that’s your big sister Ashley! She’s gonna protect you, juuuuuust like a big sister should!”

I had to hold back a snort. That was never going to happen.

***

February 25, 1997 – Ashley

A lot had changed over the course of a year. Mom cooed and fawned over Rhonda for the first few months, while I did my best to make myself scarce around the little beast. My hair certainly doesn’t miss the feel of those grabby little monster hands as they roughly grasped handfuls back in those days. The smile she’d look up at me with was the only thing stopping me from getting too mad whenever she did it.

Mom eventually started bugging me to help take care of Rhonda – I guess the excitement of having a new baby doesn’t last forever. Especially when the constant crying began, and Rhonda would go at it for hours. I wanted to scream back at her to just shut up, but somehow I always stopped myself. I mean, it wasn’t the baby’s fault that Mom didn’t know how to take care of her.

Oddly enough, Rhonda would always stop crying if I was the one to hold her and try to calm her down. Her hands would cling to my hair – thankfully, she was a lot gentler by that point – and she’d settle down and cuddle into me. Mom said it was ‘meant to be’, and that’s why it was ‘only right that you spend more time with your sister’. I was taught how to change her diapers, how to prepare her food, how to play with her, and even how to bathe her.

At first I hated it. I hated how my whole life had changed because of a choice my parents made, and how their responsibility was pushed on me because they didn’t care enough to bother. I could barely find time to go outside and play, because there was a baby at home who I knew wouldn’t be looked after properly if I stayed out for too long.

Once I found a way to balance school and look after my baby sister, I found I was okay with how things turned out. The first time Rhonda pointed at me and addressed me as “Ah!” was one of the best days of my life, and I wouldn’t have that memory if she hadn’t been born.

By then, I was happy to be there for Rhonda; she’d never have to experience being alone, wondering if anyone cared about her. I loved her more than anything in the world; she’d always have big sister Ashley to look after her.

That day, I was sitting watching TV while Rhonda sat by my feet playing with her blocks on the floor. She looked so adorable crawling around in front of me, wearing the red jumper I picked out for her that morning.

Then Mom entered the room, interrupting our peaceful time together. I was immediately hit with the smell of cheap booze. She and Dad had started fighting again, and she always got hammered after an especially bad one. It was so gross to have to be around that kind of thing, day in and day out.

“How are my girls doing?” Mom slurred, scooping Rhonda off the floor and rocking her in her arms.

Rhonda started crying and reaching her arms out toward me. “Ah! Ah!”

She’d only been in the room a few seconds, and already managed to upset Rhonda. I angrily held out my hands toward my mother. “You made her cry. Give her to me.”

Mom made no move to hand her over, so I stood up and pulled Rhonda out of her arms. She didn’t try to stop me. Instead, she slumped onto the couch and put her face in her hands, sobbing almost as loudly as Rhonda. I cradled my sister in my arms, whispering words of comfort to her until she finally stopped crying.

I smiled down at Rhonda, giving her cheek a little poke. She giggled back at me as she swiped for my finger. “Ah!”

“Yes, it’s your Ashley, Rhonda!”

Rhonda laughed happily and called out, “Ash!”

She’d just said my name!

Mom was still crying, the hitch of her voice growing more frequent after my baby sister’s unexpected first word. Maybe she was upset because it wasn’t ‘Mama’ or ‘Dada’ Rhonda had called out, I don’t know. But of course Rhonda would say my name instead of theirs. She was mine, after all.

I bounced Rhonda in my arms, cooing to draw her attention while Mom sobbed next to us. Thankfully, I had my little sister’s chubby little cheeks to keep me occupied as she smiled lovingly up at me.

She was so cute; the only thing that made me feel like my life meant anything. If only it could last forever.

***

June 6, 2001 – Rhonda

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch!”

“Fuck you!”

The sound of glass smashing always triggers one of my earliest memories, and I can’t help but think back to that night. It was what finally made me take my blanket with me as I crawled under my bed to curl into a ball.

I hated when my parents would fight like that; their constant shouting only got worse as the night dragged on. I was scared, but I couldn’t do anything to stop them.

A couple of months prior, I tried to get in between them after they’d started drinking, but Dad screamed at me, swatting me on the butt so hard I cried. My sister Ashley shrieked and launched herself at him, but he struck her in the face, knocking her to the ground. Mom got even madder and started throwing things at him. Everything gets hazy after that.

I couldn’t stand the fighting, but when I tried to intervene, I always seemed to make everything worse. I could never do anything right with them.

I wasn’t able to fight my tears, body quivering as I quietly cried in the safety of my hiding spot. My bedroom door opened a crack and a small, silent figure slipped in. Bare feet came to a stop in front of my bed, and I felt myself tensing. I was pretty sure it was the one person I could always rely on to comfort me, but I could never be completely certain without hearing her say my name.

“Rhonda?” a gentle voice called out to me, and I could feel my body immediately relax.

“I’m down here, Ashley.”

My eleven-year-old sister fell to her knees to peer under the bed, her dark eyes gleaming in the glow of the streetlight outside. I could just barely make out the design of her apple-print pajamas, and the loose black hair that hid part of her face until she brushed it back behind her ear.

She shimmied under the bed to join me. I didn’t resist when she took one end of the blanket from me, pulling it over herself. I felt one of her arms wrap around my shoulders to draw me near, and I huddled against her; melting into the warmth and safety she offered.

As long as I can remember, Ashley has been there to protect me. Mom and Dad never seemed to have much time to spend with me, too busy screaming at each other to even look in my direction. But not Ashley – she’s the best sister a girl could ever want.

She’d listen to me whenever I’d tell her all the fun I had playing with my friends, or ask me what I learned at school that day. She was always happy to play silly games, or sit and watch my favorite movies with me. When I cried, she held me and wiped my tears, her hugs so tight I felt like she wanted to squeeze and squeeze and never let go.

I never minded that all-encompassing embrace. To this day, I love how protected it makes me feel. She’d laugh when I did something funny, and was always smiling when she saw me happy. She was there when I needed to be told everything is okay, and I always believed her.

I don’t know how long we’d been lying there when I realized the house had gone quiet. Ashley’s fingers were stroking my hair as I rested my head against her.

“Do you think they’re done?” I murmured.

My sister’s fingers paused for the briefest of moments before continuing their soothing task. “Yeah, they’ve either made up or passed out. But they’re not going to shout anymore tonight. You’re safe, Rhonda. I’m here.”

The calm surety of her words helped erase some of the lingering tension in the air, and I could feel myself getting sleepy as we lay under the bed together. “Can you stay here tonight?”

I heard Ashley’s small laugh as she tightened her arms around me. “Of course, Rhonda. I’m not leaving you.”

I whispered, “Good night. I love you, Ashley.”

I could feel her body tremble against mine before relaxing. As I dozed off, my mind dimly registered Ashley saying, “I love you too, Rhonda. I’ll love you forever.”

She’s always been so sweet…

***

February 13, 2003 – Rhonda

As I entered the classroom that day and took my jacket off, I noticed the teacher had put all kinds of colored construction paper and art supplies on our desks. I’ve always loved art. Maybe not as much as my sister Ashley does, but she taught me how fun it could be to make things with your own two hands.

Our teacher Ms. Walker waited for everyone to take their seats before she addressed us. “Okay, class! Since it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, we’re going to be making cards to take home to our families.

“Everyone take a few pieces of construction paper, and start thinking about what you want to make. I’ll be going around the room to check on you all, but if you need any help, just raise your hand.”

After a minute of deliberation, I grabbed four different colors. I wanted to make a red and pink card for Mom, and a black and orange one for Ashley. She’s always loved spooky and dark things, so I was sure she’d like it!

I went to work, deciding to do Ashley’s card first. After a while, Ms. Walker approached and knelt down to examine my work. “That looks really nice, Rhonda! Is Ashley your sister?”

I nodded enthusiastically in response. “Yup! I love her a lot, so I want to make a card with her favorite colors on it!”

Ms. Walker squeezed my shoulder and said, “Well, I’m sure she’ll really appreciate the personal touch! Let me know if I can help with anything, okay?” But even as she moved away to check on my classmates, I knew I would never ask. That was mine to work on; nobody could make a card for Ashley but me!

***

The next day, I gave Mom her card before school. She thanked me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Ashley’s class was on a field trip that day and she had to leave early in the morning, so I had to give her the card after school instead.

In spite of barely getting to see Ashley, it was a very fun day! We had paper bags shaped like hearts taped to our desks and everyone went around putting Valentine’s Day cards into them. Everyone seemed to like the Sailor Moon cards I gave out, and I got some really cool ones, too! The Monsters Inc. ones were probably my favorite; I adored Sulley!

It didn’t hurt my good mood that the chocolate and cupcakes we had in class were really good as well! I always thought it was so cool how some of the kid’s parents would bring in treats like that for all of us. I couldn’t wait to see Ashley to tell her all about it!

I could hear the TV playing loudly in the living room as soon as I got home. I quietly hung my jacket, then tiptoed through the hallway so I could surprise Ashley. Right as I reached the door, she called out my name. How’d she know I was there!? I leapt into the living room yelling, “Here I am!”

Ashley shrieked and bolted upright, pulling her hand hastily out from under her skirt, then flattening the fabric against her thighs. “Rhonda! When did you get home!?”

I stood in front of her, puzzled. “What do you mean? You knew I was home; you just called out to me.”

Her cheeks reddened. “A-anyway! Never mind that. What’s up? How was school today?”

I wanted to ask why she seemed so flustered, but I shrugged it off and smiled at her. “It was amazing! I got lots of cards, and we ate chocolate. Oh! I have a gift for you! Let me go get it!”

I hurried to my room to grab her card. When I brought it over to the couch, my sister was looking far more calm and composed than she’d been thirty seconds before.

As I sat next to her and handed over the card, I felt the warmth of her body through the fabric of her skirt. Ashley opened up her Valentine’s gift and just stared in silence at what I’d written. I started to get nervous. Didn’t she like it?

“Is something wrong, Ashley?”

She turned her head to gaze at me, and I was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “No, nothing’s wrong. I love it, Rhonda. I love you. Thank you so much for the card. Wait right here.”

She bolted off the couch and went to her room, returning a short while later to hand me a chocolate heart wrapped in red paper. Wiping her eyes, she gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Rhonda. I wish I’d thought a little harder this year, and made you something as nice as you made me. But this is all I got for you.”

I took my gift and put it on the coffee table, then launched myself into her for a big hug. “This is plenty! You know I love chocolate, Ashley. Thanks so much!”

Ashley held me tightly, and we lay on the couch together, contentedly enjoying each other’s warmth in front of the TV until Mom got home and shooed us upstairs to tidy up our rooms.

***

September 17, 2004 – Rhonda

I giggled as I skillfully evaded my friend Maria’s swiping hand. We were at the playground playing cops and robbers with other kids from school, and I’d quickly proved my mettle as one of the quickest thieves around.

Our backpacks were scattered into various piles on the ground as bags of loot, and my skill at snatching them up and safely making it back to home base under the slide was unparalleled. I was the greatest!

I deposited my ill-gotten gains and jumped back into the fray.

I sprinted toward the farthest pile, untouched since nobody else was willing to risk the extra distance. As I grabbed one of the bags and began to make my journey back, I was set upon by three kids at once, all intent on stopping the most notorious robber in the realm. Didn’t they know they could never catch Rapid Rhonda!?

I faked like I was going to run past to the left, then as they moved to stop me, broke fast and rushed past their right side instead. As they hollered and gave chase again, I laughed triumphantly, reveling in their futile attempts to apprehend me.

Suddenly, I thought I felt the weight of a familiar gaze on me, and in that moment turned my head to look back at my hapless pursuers. I can only assume that lapse in concentration caused my foot to hit a loose scattering of pebbles. I slipped and began to tumble forward, my hands held out in an attempt to break my fall. My right hand and knee scraped along the rough concrete as I came to an abrupt halt.

A voice was yelling my name, but I couldn’t focus on it due to the stinging pain. Everyone winced and sucked air through their teeth before crowding around to see if I was okay.

Thankfully, the backpack in my left hand cushioned the fall, preventing any further injuries. I let it go and rolled over to grab my leg, rocking back and forth in pain. It was only bleeding a little, but the skin on my knee was bright red and badly scraped, as was the palm of my right hand.

My eyes watered from the stinging sensation, but in the distance I saw a dark figure sprinting across the playground toward us. It was Ashley.

As she got closer, the crowd parted, and she immediately dropped to her knees to inspect the damage. The panic in her face slowly evaporated when she saw the extent of my injuries, and she cradled my body against hers. “Oh, Rhonda. That looks like it really hurts! Are you okay?”

I nodded, trying to put on a brave front, but my tearful eyes gave me away. Ashley wrapped my arms around her neck, then hoisted me onto her back as she straightened up. She asked Susie to go get my backpack for me, so my friend hurried off to retrieve it.

As Ashley told them I was done playing for the day, and that she’d be taking me home, I found myself tuning everyone else out, until only my big sister was left. All I could focus on was the warmth of Ashley’s body, which made the throbbing in my hand and knee seem unimportant.

Ashley released one of my legs to take my backpack from Susie, hanging it on her arm while she supported my body. I waved mutely to the other kids as we left. What must they have thought of me for getting so cocky, then wiping out like a dork? God, I was so embarrassed I could die!

I buried my face in Ashley’s neck as she carried me from the playground and onto the sidewalk. I breathed in her familiar scent, and found it helped keep me from worrying about my cuts and scrapes. Nothing else has ever soothed quite like being close to my sister.

But I couldn’t figure out why she was even there to begin with. She was sixteen by then; much too grown up to want to play kiddie games with us, and I hadn’t seen her at any point before or during. “Were you there the whole time, Ashley? I didn’t see you.”

She gently squeezed my thighs, a chuckle escaping her lips. “Yeah, I was watching the whole thing from the bench across the playground. I wanted to check up on you. You were fast! Faster than all the other kids. Sucks about your fall at the end there; it’s a drag your streak ended like that.”

“But aren’t you too old to watch us play? Must’ve been boring.”

Ashley gave a thoughtful hum, then shrugged. “I mean, I wouldn’t watch if it was just a bunch of random kids, but it’s never boring when you’re there. I love watching you in your element like that; you always look so happy.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that, so I just allowed my sister to carry me the rest of the way home, warmed inside by the sweetness of her words.

She brought me into the bathroom, where I was gently deposited onto the bathroom vanity. Turning to face me, she reached into the medicine cabinet above my head, her boobs now at eye level.

I’d watched the swell of her breasts slowly increase over the years, and couldn’t help but peek at them whenever they were in my line of sight. Ashley had caught me looking several times, and would just smile and thrust her chest out, almost like she was offering her titties to me. I always figured she was making fun of me, so I’d scowl in protest. Ashley, she’d just laugh it off.

Now I could only sit transfixed as Ashley’s tits lightly brushed my face while she leaned forward to grab some things from the top shelf. She brought down cotton balls, a box of bandages, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “This is gonna sting, okay, Rhonda?”

Making a face, I slowly nodded. Ashley poured some of the rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball, then took my right hand, holding it tightly as she wiped down my scrape. Hissing in pain, I tried to pull away, but she held me fast until the job was done.

Bringing my hand up to her lips, Ashley pressed gentle kisses against my sore palm. It felt really soothing, and I was glad it was my big sister doing this.

She looked up at me, concern written on her face. “This next one’s really gonna hurt, Rhonda…”

I couldn’t keep from crying out when the soaked cotton came into contact with the scrapes on my knee. I was still whimpering a little when she tried to talk me through it. “Shh, shh, Rhonda. It’s almost over. This one was a bit worse than your hand, but I’m almost done, okay?”

I yelped when she took another cotton ball to my knee. When she was finished, she knelt and began kissing the scrapes on my knee to make me feel better.

My pain began to fade as her lips slowly trailed from my knee and began peppering my thigh, the ticklish sensation making me giggle. Ashley would get so sweet and loving when we were together like this; treating me like I meant everything to her.

When she gets married and has a baby, that’ll be the luckiest kid in the whole world, I told myself.

Then I had another, less happy thought. When she leaves you to take care of someone else.

I remember how that thought made my heart ache. I wished we could stay like that forever; that I could be the only one she ever looked at. Like she was looking at me in that moment, her gaze so brilliant I thought I might burn from its intensity.

Ashley paused in the midst of lavishing my leg with kisses, but her mouth remained where it was, pressed to my skin. She inhaled deeply, as if smelling something intoxicating, then released a shaky breath. With that, her kisses resumed their journey up my thigh until her lips grazed the hem of my shorts.

The feather-light sensation of her lips finally got to be too much for me. I laughed as I put both hands on Ashley’s head and pushed her away. “Knock it off, Ashley! That tickles!”

She stood up with a smile, kissing my brow before stepping back. “Hop off the counter and go lay down for a bit, okay? I’ll be in my room for a while, then maybe we can make dinner together.”

Ashley helped me to my room so I could rest, then went back to her own.

I remember lying there trying to make sense of the confusing thoughts I was having about my sister – wanting to be her one-and-only, of hoping she never got married or went to live with anyone else. Of needing to be with her forever.

As I did my best to ignore all these feelings and take a nap, I thought I heard a stifled moan from somewhere nearby.

On to Chapter Two!