Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls, and has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. She and her former lover, author Terry Wilder, suspect the involvement of police chief George Fronse, but have no proof to back it up. Meanwhile, she has finally consummated a burning desire for Terry’s preteen daughter.

For a more detailed breakdown of the first eight chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

“Goddamn it, I told you not to trust that bastard.” George Fronse’s face was red. I regarded him coolly from my seat at the opposite side of his desk.

I’d awoken from that same stupid fucking dream at around three AM, just barely stifling a scream. Halee, sleeping beside me, had stirred but not awoken. I’d managed to get to the living room before dissolving into tears, and had stayed up until it was time to awaken Halee. I made her breakfast while she showered, and then we made out a little, leaving us both a bit breathless as she departed for school.

After she left, I lay down on the couch and promptly slipped into a restless slumber, only to be thrown out of it by a phone call from George an hour later, asking if I could come right down to his office. And this was how he opened?

“Which bastard did you have in mind?” I said, carefully keeping my voice neutral.

“You know exactly who I mean. Look, the first person you blab to about this is Terry Wilder, and then what happens… one more case just a few hours later, and it all dries up. Not a single case all weekend.”

I put on a shocked expression, clapping both hands to my cheeks. “Oh, no. We went two whole days without any kids going into unexplained, life-threatening distributive shock. Tragic, I tell you.”

George’s face got even redder, a feat I would not have sworn was possible. “Dammit, Nettie, I don’t want more kids getting sick either, but if somebody’s behind this and you just drove them into hiding, we might have lost our chance to catch them.”

By this time, I was pretty sure my own face was getting a little red. “And if you don’t chill out, I’m going to leave. I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.”

George’s eyes widened. He clearly wasn’t used to people telling him what they did or didn’t have to listen to.

“Besides,” I said, “you know as well as I do how supplies work for the better class of street drugs. Out here you only get enough supply for maybe a week or two, everyone goes nuts and ODs on it, and then it’s over for awhile.” It struck me that I’d just had this exact same conversation with Terry the evening before.

“Even if you’re right,” I went on, “and we tipped somebody off, it’s one hell of a leap blaming Terry. I talked to five hospitals, six ambulance services, and the county Sheriff’s department. The Sheriff’s people would have talked to every city police department in the county, and probably the Sheriff’s departments in the neighboring counties. Hundreds of people got clued in on Friday.”

George’s face was still red, every muscle in his jaw tight. “Nettie, I know he’s your boyfriend, or whatever you two are calling it at the moment, but you can’t tell me you don’t have questions. I checked him out when he moved to town, you know. Has he told you that his ex-wife has been to prison on drug trafficking charges and an attempted homicide, and is barred from seeing the kids unsupervised? That she hasn’t seen the kids in over four years? And then there’s his career… best-selling novels, and major film producers fight over the chance to work with him. He gave that all up, and for what? Bronning? The guy is worth a fortune, makes over half a million a year in royalties, but he’s living in a house that’s like a hundred and fifty years old and drives either that old shitkicker pickup, or a Chevy crossover if he’s got his kids along. It doesn’t make sense, Nettie. Nothing about him makes sense.”

George’s words came out in a rapid-fire rush, leaving me with the feeling that he’d been dying to say this to somebody for a good long time.

“George,” I said, trying for a conciliatory tone, “are you listening to yourself? Terry’s barely been in town for four years, he’s already the single most active ambulance volunteer we have, and you’re practically accusing him of being a drug kingpin.” I ran a tired hand across my face.

“Look, even if you’re right, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’s on the damn ambulance squad; there’s no way I could have gotten the word out without him hearing about it.”

He was fiddling with a pencil. “Maybe getting the word out at all was a mistake.”

I folded my hands in my lap, leaned back, and stared at him for a long moment. “Please tell me you’re kidding. This is crazy dangerous stuff, George. I almost lost Samantha Jensen. And you’re telling me I should have kept it to myself? What the fuck?”

“A lot more people will be at risk if whoever’s behind this isn’t caught.”

I sighed. “If there’s even anybody behind it. Did you just call me here to throw accusations around, or was there something you needed?”

George opened his mouth, closed it again, and rapped his knuckles on the desk a few times. Holy crap, he’s totally on edge.

“Look,” he said at last, “you did a really good job of putting some clues together and coming to a conclusion last week. I was wondering if you’ve seen or heard anything since then that we can add to it.”

I had, of course, but I was damned at this point if I’d to breathe a word to George about the place Halee called the locker. “Nothing comes to mind,” I said. “Anything else?”

“If you do think of anything, I’d appreciate it if you come to me and no one else.”

“I can’t promise that.” I pushed myself out of the chair. “You can play cloak and dagger games if you want, but my patients come first.”

George reddened again. “On your own head be it. At least clue me in as soon as possible.”

I shrugged, turned on my heel, and left the office.

Zipping my coat as I stepped out into the chill morning air, I tried to still the turmoil in my mind. I set off for my apartment building, doubt and indecision swirling through me like a cyclone. Reviewing what I knew about Terry, I reluctantly acknowledged there were huge gaps. Outside of generalizations about his work, Terry never talked about the past. I don’t even know where he grew up.

It wasn’t exactly news to me that Terry was loaded. Neither his house nor his vehicles were new, but there were telltale clues like the expensive booze, the jacuzzi in the big bathroom, and his kids getting the best of everything. I hadn’t known about the royalty income, but it explained a lot; not even Terry’s kids seemed clear on what he did for money. So what DOES he do for hours on end in his office?

I realized with a start that my apartment building was less than a block away; in my musings I’d lost all sense of space and time. I shook my head to clear it.

“Nettie!” a voice called out. “Hey, Nettie!”

Looking to my left, I saw Lori Henderson in her yard, setting potted plants out in the sun. Lori, a heavyset divorced woman with graying hair and four children, is second only to Terry when it comes to putting in on-call volunteer hours for Bronning Ambulance.

Right then, I would have preferred to be left alone, but I diverted course, crossing the street and stepping gingerly into the slowly greening grass of Lori’s sizable yard. Out here at the edge of town, the houses are spread pretty far apart.

“Hi Lori,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Can you believe Robbie’s retiring?”

I shrugged. “It had to happen sooner or later.”

“Well, sure.” Lori extracted some more pots from her tray of plants. “But I think we all expected a little more notice.”

Saying nothing, I grabbed a couple of the pots and placed them in the sun next to the others Lori had already laid out.

“Thanks, dear, but you don’t have to do that,” said Lori. “I just wanted to talk to you about picks for the new ambulance director. I’m on the committee for that, you know.”

I continued transferring pots from the tray to the grass. “Honestly, I haven’t thought much about it, Lori. I think everyone always assumed that it’d eventually be either you or Nate.”

Lori gave a high-pitched little laugh. “Honey, I’m raising four kids by myself, I work forty hours a week, and I’m on the city council. I don’t have near enough time. As for Nate, he doesn’t want the job. I’m guessing you don’t, either, or you’d have spoken up by now.” She paused. “We were thinking about talking to Terry Wilder.”

I blinked in surprise. “Terry?”

“Think about it, dear. Robbie’s been the director for going on thirty years. No matter who we get, the transition is going to be a little bumpy, don’t you think? We need someone who’s a good organizer, and knows how to work with people. Think about all of the other EMTs on the squad. Is there anyone else that wouldn’t just be a disaster?”

I considered for a moment. Lori had a point, but still…

“That’s not going to sit very well with some people,” I said. “Terry’s still new in town, and he’s only been on the squad three years.”

“Oh, I know. But everybody likes him, and he’s smart as a whip. So far the only person who’s applied is Stacy. Now, how good a job do you think she’s going to do?”

I made a face. “Oh, God.”

“Exactly. You know Terry better than the rest of us. Can you ask him if he’d be interested?”

I dusted a bit of potting soil from my hands. “I don’t expect he’ll say yes, but I’ll talk to him.”

“That’s all I ask, dear.”

I cut across Lori’s lawn, arriving less than a minute later on the front steps of my apartment building. My mind was churning even worse than before. Stop it… you know Terry. George is full of shit. Even he probably knows it. 

But is he? And do you really know Terry as well as you think?

I pulled the glass door about halfway open, then released the handle, letting it slip back closed. Turning around, I set off across town again. Towards Terry’s house.

***

When Terry answered the door, his hair was tousled and his eyes puffy. He was wearing a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt.

“I can come back,” I said.

“Naw,” he said, waving me in, “I stayed up later than I expected to last night, is all. After I shoved the kids out the door this morning, I lay back down for a bit.”

I almost asked him what had kept him up, but decided that way lay madness. I really didn’t want to know who he might be fucking.

“Are you on call?” he inquired.

“No,” I said as I followed him into the kitchen, “but if you’re about to offer me a drink, let’s not. I’m going to try to mostly stay sober at home until this overdose thing is over. If I drink, I can’t hop on for calls.”

Terry was taking two mugs from the cupboard.

“A little caffeine, then?” he suggested.

“That I’ll take.”

Settling onto the living room couch with my coffee, I tried to organize my tangled thoughts. Terry eased into his recliner, regarding me over the top of his steaming mug.

“What’s up?” he said at last.

So much, I thought. My mind was a jumbled disaster. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to fuck him, I wanted to never see him again. There were so many things I wanted to say. I chose the simplest.

“Lori wanted me to ask if you’d be interested in the ambulance director’s job,” I said.

Terry set his coffee down. “Run that by me again?”

I shrugged, finding myself in the awkward position of arguing in favor of something I wasn’t entirely sold on myself.

“It’s a weird situation,” I said. “Robbie was one of the first people in town to get his EMT after the state mandated licensed providers for medical transport, way back in the seventies. He’s been with Bronning Ambulance literally since it became a thing. Did you know there were only four of them, at first? Their jobs let them be on call at work, and they did heel-and-toe twenty-four-hour shifts. They were on literally half the time.”

“Jesus,” said Terry. “And we bitch about the amount of on-call time we’re doing.”

“Right,” I said. “And Robbie is only the second director. He’s had that job for over thirty years. I think we all just kind of liked to pretend that he’d never leave, but if it crossed our minds at all, we figured either Lori or Nate would eventually take his place. They’ve both been on the squad for a long time, and they’re really active. But it turns out Nate doesn’t want it, and Lori’s got too much on her plate. The only person who’s submitted an application so far has been Stacy.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Fuck that up one side and down the other,” he said. “I understand why nobody wants her to get the job. But why me?”

“For somebody who thinks she’s an idiot, you sure don’t mind pinning her to the sheets,” I said.

Terry raised his eyebrows, but let the comment pass. He simply sipped at his coffee, waiting me out. I glanced down at my hands, then forced myself to meet his eyes.

“You’re really good with people,” I said at last. “And you’re organized. I remember when you came in to practice skills for your EMT class, and you had all of your notes in that neat little binder, sorted by topic. They’re looking for someone who can smooth over arguments and problems, keep people working as a team, and who’ll get the paperwork done. I think the ambulance committee figures you check those boxes.”

Terry considered that as he sipped more coffee.

“Still,” he said, “I’ve only been here a few years, and I know how things are in a town this size. People still refer to this house as the Jensen place, and even in ten years it will most likely have failed to become the Wilder residence. I’m the new guy in town, and that won’t change for a long time. My presence as head of the ambulance squad would probably cause some friction all by itself. Nate may not want the gig, but I can tell you right now he’ll be less than enthused if it goes to me.”

I shrugged. “Probably. Look, I’m not arguing for or against it, Terry. I’m just relaying the message.”

Terry nodded slowly. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’ll give Lori a phone call later today. I’m not sure I want the damn job, but if people really think I’m the right man I’ll at least give it some thought. Is that what you came here to discuss?” His eyes said that he knew damn well it wasn’t.

I nursed my coffee, pondering. Terry and I had our problems, it was true, but he’d never given me reason to distrust him. I cursed myself for letting George’s rantings make me paranoid. If only I wasn’t so goddamn tired.

“I saw George right before I came here,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“He seemed really on edge. And he has the idea that if I hadn’t talked to you, the cases wouldn’t have stopped.”

Terry stared at me, openmouthed. I had to suppress a grin. He’s usually so damned imperturbable that I took a certain underhanded pleasure at seeing him rendered speechless. It took him a few seconds to find his voice.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that he considers me a suspect? I knew he didn’t like me, but…”

His voice trailed off. I sighed, weighing how much I ought to say. In for a penny, in for a pound, I decided.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of dislike,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “But let’s be honest, Terry. You’re kind of a mystery. Everyone knows you had this amazing career before you came to Bronning, and they wonder why you gave it up. And where your kids’ mom is. You’ve never even told me that stuff. Plus, George checked you out, when you first came here. He spilled it all to me this morning. I got the feeling he’d been wanting to get it off his chest for a while.”

Terry leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. His eyes were boring holes through my skull. It was everything I could do to avoid looking away.

“Spilled what, exactly?” he asked in a low, serious tone.

I bit my lip. “He says you’re rich… worth millions, and that you still get a significant income in royalties. Which seems weird, considering that you live in this old house and drive that old pickup. He says that your ex has been to prison, and that she can’t see the kids unsupervised.”

Terry was watching me impassively. “I’m not surprised that he went digging.” he said. “Most small-town cops would probably have done the same thing. As for the rest…”

Pushing himself out of his chair, he crossed the room in a few swift strides. Gazing out the window, he went on.

“I haven’t told you or anyone else very much about my past,” he said, “because I wanted the nearest thing possible to a fresh start. For all that I was successful in California, my life was very much akin to a breakneck runaway freight train over which I exerted limited control, at best. I wanted to slow down, regain some perspective, and stop devoting more time to my career than I gave to my children.”

He turned from the window, and came over to sit beside me on the couch. He put his hand on my knee. I hesitated a moment, then placed my hand over his and squeezed.

“You must have been aware, on some level, that I’m financially well-off,” he said. “Certainly you’ve spent enough time here to read the signs. I have assets parked all over the place, and even lacking that, you don’t want to know what I get in quarterly royalties. With those alone I could buy half of Bronning, and the half worth buying at that. I try to avoid calling undue attention to it.”

“What about your wife?”

Terry shrugged. “I met Kathryn at a very posh event that she was hosting. I’d just had one of my books picked up by a major film company for the first time, which took me from Chevy to Mercedes overnight. The producer invited me to this thing, and I was just bowled over by how expensive and larger-than-life everything was, especially our charming and beautiful hostess.”

He smiled a little at the memory. “Christ knows what she saw in me; she obviously had money and I was still living in a studio apartment in the worst part of LA. But we were a thing by the end of the week. There was a heat between us of sufficient intensity to peel paint. The movie took off… well, you know that, it was The Angira Conspiracy. I went from dirt poor to modestly wealthy in a matter of months. Anyway, long story short, we ended up married before the year was out.”

He hesitated, and I squeezed his hand as I sipped at my coffee. This was a story I’d been waiting three years to hear.

“Anyway,” he went on, “she told me her money came from investments, and I guess I believed that, because she did have a fair chunk of change in the markets, and it was all yielding very nice returns. As it turns out, the money she had to invest in the first place was from her position as the lynchpin of an international heroin smuggling operation. Like, tens of millions of dollars a year worth of product moved. And she kept on with it, right under my goddamn nose, for the entirety of our marriage.”

“God,” I said. “That sucks. Do the kids know?”

“Halee knows everything. Naomi knows some. Dawn is vaguely aware that her mom has been to prison, and Maya… I don’t think she has a clue. Of course, Maya has no memory of her mother, and Dawn’s is hazy at best.”

“How did it end?”

“She got caught,” he said simply. “I was on location on an island just off of South America; I’d flown down there to do some hasty rewrites on a couple of movie scenes. The kids were at home with the nanny, and Kathryn was ambushed by federal agents along with several of her compatriots in the middle of finalizing a deal. To make matters even more exciting, she had a gun in her purse, and took a shot at one of the agents.”

“Is that when you stopped writing for Hollywood?” I said.

“I could hardly continue at the pace I’d been going as a single father,” he said, “especially considering that I was long past any point of needing the money. Kathryn copped a plea to tip over some other people that had been on international wanted lists for years, and got the mandatory minimum instead of the fifteen years or so she’d otherwise have been slapped with. All the same, she went to prison, and I got custody without breaking a sweat. She hasn’t seen the girls since.

“Even if I wasn’t willing… which I am… part of the conditions for my moving out of state with the kids was a court order mandating that I make them available for supervised visitation at regular intervals, in a place where Kathryn’s probation allows her to go. She has yet to take advantage of it, despite the fact that we go to California twice a year so the kids can visit their relatives on her side of the family. I’ve reached out to her every time we’ve gone to Cali, with no response.”

I realized that we had shifted, and were sitting close enough now that our bodies were touching. We were still holding hands.

I was trying to think what would be the right thing to say, when I was saved by his ringtone.

“This is Terry,” he said. I could hear a female voice on the other end, but couldn’t make out anything it said.

“With what symptoms?” he inquired. More chirping on the other end.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll be there to pick her up in a few minutes.” Another pause. “No, not at all. She gets the benefit of the doubt. I’ll be right there.” He signed off.

“Halee is at the nurse’s office at school,” he said, rising to his feet. “She’s complaining of nausea and chills. The nurse says her color is good and she’s not running a fever, and suspects that it’s an act. I’m going to run over and pick her up.”

Terry was already going for the foyer. I got up and followed, with a funny little lurch in my stomach.

“Do you think it’s an act?” I said.

“I don’t know,” said Terry, seating himself on the bench and tugging his shoes on. “How did she seem this morning at your place?”

“Fine,” I said. “Unusually cheerful, if anything.” It was true enough, even if I wasn’t about to tell him why. 

Terry nodded as he tied a shoelace. “That aside,” he said, “Halee almost never gets sick. Nor is she one to play hooky, or duck any sort of responsibility. If she’s trying to get herself out of school, there’s a reason.”

I sat down next to him on the bench, and reached for my sneakers. “I’ll go with you.”

***

I waited in the passenger’s seat of Terry’s Chevrolet crossover while he ran into the school to fetch his daughter. A feeling of dread I couldn’t define settled over me like a shroud.

It was only a few minutes before Terry strode from the building with Halee close on his heels, flinching a little as she stepped into the chill wind. Terry was carrying her backpack.

“Dad,” Halee said from the back seat, after we had pulled away from the curb. There was a frantic sort of urgency to her voice.

“I know,” said Terry. “You’re not sick. What test did you fail to study for? And what hell shall I rain down upon you for playing sick to get out of it?”

By his tone it was obvious that he was pulling Halee’s leg, but for once I didn’t find him amusing.

“Dad,” said Halee desperately. “You’re not funny. Listen to me. Something’s going on. There’s like six or seven high school kids that are out sick today, and most of them are names I put on that list for you last night.”

Terry signaled left and rounded the corner onto his street. His house is only a few blocks from the school, and we were there before a minute had passed.

“Are you sure they were called in as being sick?” he asked, as he pulled up to the curb.

“Yes! I heard them talking about it when I was walking past the office. Ms. Coombs was saying there must be some bug going around or something.”

Terry put the car in park, but left the engine running. His eyes met mine.

“What do you think?” he said.

I pondered for a moment. “All of those kids live in the service area,” I replied slowly. “If any of them had gone to the hospital by ambulance, we’d both know about it.”

Terry nodded slowly. “True. Which begs the question: where the hell are they, exactly? Are they all at home? That would be the first thing to determine, and it’d look pretty damn peculiar if you and I just started walking around banging on doors looking for allegedly ill teenagers.”

“Dad, what do you think is happening?” Halee put in from the back seat.

Terry twisted around and looked his daughter in the eye.

“I have no idea, kiddo,” he said. “That’s what we’re trying to sort out, and you’re not going to be here for it. I want you to go in the house, and stay there. Everyone thinks you’re sick, remember? I don’t even want you taking Lanie for any walks. I’ll take care of that when I get back.”

“Back from where?” the girl pressed.

“Damned if I know,” he replied. “Listen, Halee… one thing. I want you to really think. Any conversations you’ve heard about this place called the locker. Can you think of anything anyone has said about it, other than what we already know? Anything that might give us an idea where or what it is?”

Halee leaned her head against her seat and closed her eyes. Then she opened them again.

“I don’t think it’s very far,” she said. “I’ve heard kids from town talk about walking there. And…” she hesitated, closing her eyes again for a moment. “All I can think of was hearing somebody talk about things hanging from hooks. And something about cows. I’m not even sure it’s related.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. There was something tickling at the back of my mind, just brushing the edges of my consciousness.

“All right,” Terry was saying to Halee. “Listen… I’m proud of you. You did exactly the right thing today. Now, in the house with you. I’ll walk that mange-ridden beast of yours when I get back.”

“Just for that, I’m going to brush her on your bed,” said Halee. There was a smile playing about her lips, and I was relieved to see the tension come down a notch. Halee slid out of the car, shouldered her backpack, and trudged up the walk.

After the front door had closed behind the girl, I turned back to Terry, still racking my mind for whatever secret it held.

“Hooks and cows,” he mused.

“I feel like it means something,” I said, “but I can’t quite figure out what. You know, like when there’s a word on the tip of your tongue but you can’t quite remember what it is?”

“Yeah,” said Terry, “but if it doesn’t come to you pretty damn quickly, there’s only one immediate place to go. George Fronse’s office. Somebody needs to verify whether those kids are at home or not, and it can’t be us.”

I saw motion through the windshield out of the corner of my eye, and glanced towards it just in time to see a City of Bronning patrol car round the corner and accelerate towards us.

“Speak of the devil,” said Terry. The cruiser drove the half block to where we were parked, then pulled in alongside. The driver’s-side window slid down, and Terry thumbed the window button on his armrest. He and George Fronse stared at each other through their open windows, mere feet apart.

“I was about to call you, Nettie,” said Fronse without preamble. “But then I saw you here in the car. Listen…” he hesitated, eyeing Terry with overt suspicion. He sighed heavily.

“A bunch of kids are out sick at the high school, and somebody out on the north edge of town called in and said he saw a group of teenagers walking up Pine Point Road. I did a little discreet checking, and none of those “sick” teens are where they’re supposed to be. So I drove out along Pine Point, and I didn’t find anyone. Did you hear me page fire out for a search?”

I winced, mentally kicking myself. “No,” I said. “We’ve got our pagers, but not our radios. The pagers don’t get the fire dispatches.”

George dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “We’re going to start searching all those little back trails, and the woods if we have to,” he said. “Quietly for the moment; I haven’t alerted the general public. But I have called in some help from the Sheriff’s Department.”

“Do you want an ambulance staged for it?” Terry broke in.

George looked right past Terry. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, Nettie. I’d like to get an ambulance in the vicinity, and I’d prefer not to officially page it out just yet. Besides, I don’t want to use the on-call crew. I was hoping you’d be willing to find a partner and stage with the B rig at the Lake Randall boat ramp out on Pine Point.”

“Is that where you’re putting your command post?” I wanted to know.

“That’s right,” he said. “The fire department is staging there now. I have to go brief them, and get things moving. Will you help?”

I touched Terry’s arm. “You up for it?”

“Let’s do it,” he said easily.

George’s face gave eloquent testimony to exactly what he thought of Terry’s participation, but he didn’t give voice to his thoughts.

“Then I’ll see you at the CP,” he said, and quickly pulled away.

***

As the ambulance garage door closed behind us, Terry set the rig’s radio to the city channel and spoke into the mic.

“On-call crew and anyone else with their ears on, be advised: Rig Two will be participating in an activity with Fire and Law Enforcement on Pine Point Road, with an ALS crew. We are still in service, so we will be available to take calls if Rig One goes out.”

“On-call copies,” Nate Hauss’ voice came back.

Terry nudged the accelerator, easing the rig off of the concrete apron and onto the street.

“I don’t know the back roads north of town all that well,” he told me. “What’s out there?”

“Not much,” I said. “It’s hilly, so most of it never got cleared for farmland. The sewage treatment lagoon is set up in just about the only large flat area, about half a mile northwest of town. Then there’s this valley where they used to do open-air cattle auctions. The auction pit is still there; mostly old bleachers that’d probably give you tetanus if you looked at them from twenty feet away. The only building still standing down there is…”

I broke off, realization flooding into my mind.

“Oh, my God, Terry,” I said in a whisper.

“What?”

“The old meat locker. It’s been closed down since before I was born, but it’s a brick building with steel supports so it’ll probably still be standing when time stops. It’s…”

“The locker,” Terry said, cutting me off. “Goddamn it. Hooks from the ceiling. Cows. They’ve been going to this closed-down meat locker.”

I was furious with myself. “Jesus Christ, Terry,” I fumed. “I should have seen it.”

Terry slowed, signaled, and eased the rig onto the narrow gravel of Pine Point Road. “Give yourself a break,” he said. “Have you ever been out there?”

“Kids used to hang out over there during the summer and drink,” I said. “I was there two or three times. Nobody ever got into the building that I know of; it was secured pretty well. No windows to speak of, and the doors had big iron bars holding them shut. Somebody got hurt in the auction pit the summer before my senior year, and the cops started keeping a closer eye on the place. My understanding is that people stopped going.”

Terry shook his head. We crested a rise, and were treated to a spectacular view of Lake Randall. The ice had broken and the center of the lake was clear, but it was still iced over all the way around up to about fifty yards from the shore. About a mile distant we could see the boat ramp, with Fronse’s command post trailer already set up, a number of fire/rescue vehicles and ATVs, and a milling crowd that looked to be pretty much the entirety of Bronning’s volunteer fire department. As the road dipped again, the trees blocked our view of the lake and the ramp.

“Cops only stay vigilant about such things for so long,” said Terry. “That was what… eight years ago? I’d bet they’re not watching so closely now. Who the hell knows what goes on down there?”

He plucked the mic from its clip. “EMS to law enforcement on the city channel.”

“Fronse here.”

“We have some new information, George. Don’t dispatch any search parties yet. We’ll be arriving at the CP in about two minutes, and will relay it in person.”

George was standing outside of his command trailer when we reached the boat ramp, and he waved us over to the vacant spot next to it. Two county sheriff’s deputies were with him, and another county cruiser was pulling in. Terry brought the ambulance to a halt alongside George and rolled down his window.

“I was about to get people moving,” George said shortly. “What have you got?”

“We have some reason to believe that those kids might be heading for the old meat locker,” said Terry.

“What… the meat locker?” George’s eyes were disbelieving, then suspicious. “I’m surprised you even know about that place, Terry.”

“I didn’t, until a few minutes ago,” he said. “Nettie told me about it. But long story very short: we think that’d be the first place to check, and with all hands on deck.”

“What the hell makes you think they’re going there?”

“I repeat, it’s a long story,” said Terry. “Right now we can teach, or we can do. What’s your pleasure?”

George’s eyes narrowed to slits. “All right. We’ll get everyone headed in that direction. Do you guys know how to get there?”

I saw Terry’s thin smile at George’s transparent attempt to trap him into admitting knowledge of the location. He turned to me.

“You’ve been there before,” he said. “Can you find it?”

“The times I was there, we cut through the woods,” I replied. “By road, I’m not sure.”

“More like trails than roads,” said George, “but it’s just barely dry enough that we should be all right.”

“We’ll follow someone, George,” said Terry. “It’d be kind of stupid for EMS to be first in, anyway.”

Fronse nodded and turned to go, but then a thought struck me.

“George,” I said. He turned back to us. “I…” the words stuck in my throat. I shook my head and tried again. “I think you should page both rigs out for this,” I said.

George’s eyebrows went up. “Take both trucks out of service when there aren’t even any patients yet?” he said incredulously. “Come on, Nettie, stop holding out on me. What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything,” I shot back. “Not for sure. For fuck’s sake, George. You’ve known me my whole life. I’ve single-handedly kept two people close to you from dying. Do you trust me, or not?”

George held my gaze for a long moment. Slowly his hand moved to the collar mic attachment for his belt radio.

“Franklin County, this is Bronning PD one. I need EMS paged out; two ambulances to stage in the area of 55242, County Road Two.” The whole time he was speaking, his gaze never wavered from my face. Now he turned his attention to Terry.

“You know how to get to County Two?”

“Vaguely,” said Terry, “but I’ve got Nettie here to navigate. We’ll be good.”

The pager chimed. “Bronning ambulance rigs one and two, your call to stage near 55242, County Road Two is at 10:23. You’ll be assisting law enforcement from that point.”

“Rig Two copies,” said Terry into the mic.

“Rig One copies,” came Nate’s voice.

“All right,” said George. “There was gravel leading down to the old auction yards a long time ago, but it’s pretty grown over now. Last time I was out there you could still get a cruiser down it if you were careful, but that’s been five years or better. If you go to that address on County Two, there’s a field approach you can pull into while we go down and get a look. If the road is passable, and the scene looks secure enough, we’ll signal you down. The first thing you’ll come to when you enter the valley is the auction pit. Use that as your cold zone while we approach the building. If it looks like the cold zone might turn warm, I’ll give you the word to retreat.”

Terry and I both nodded; this is standard procedure. EMS personnel are never to risk our necks under any circumstances. Providers who became patients can’t help anybody and tie up resources.

George turned away, and Terry rolled up his window, put the truck into gear, and pulled out.

Up and coming: Chapter Ten!

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls, and has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. She and her former lover, author Terry Wilder, suspect the involvement of police chief George Fronse, but have no proof to back it up. Meanwhile, she has finally consummated a burning desire for Terry’s preteen daughter.

For a more detailed breakdown of the first seven chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

***

by Rachael Yukey

“Are you sure about this, Nettie?” Terry’s tone was heavy with skepticism.

Seated on the couch in his living room, I could hear him in the kitchen, removing a bottle from the selection of fine whiskeys he stored in his liquor cabinet. Glasses clinked, and there was a gurgling sound as he poured.

“What’s the poison of the evening?” I asked.

“This,” he said in reverent tones, “is a twenty-five year old Glenfarclas, and it will restore life to the dead, if administered within a reasonable length of time.”

“Seriously, though,” he went on, returning to our main topic as he crossed through the dining area and into the living room, a drink in each hand, “how does this even make sense? Eight cases in a week, one more goes to Jordan Friday afternoon, and then bupkis for the rest of the weekend? How the hell does that work?”

He handed me a glass, then sat. “Cheers,” he said, raising his.

I clinked glasses with him, and took a sip. “Holy shit.”

He sipped his own drink, then smiled. “Umm hmm.”

“You just ruined me, you bastard. I’ll never be able to buy budget Scotch again.”

It was Sunday evening, and I’d just arrived back in Bronning following my weekend tour at Thormleton. I was still wearing my work polo, and tactical pants stuffed with supplies. I’d spent the whole weekend at work, picking up a Saturday nightshift to make up for a lack of personnel. For the entire thirty-six hours, if I hadn’t been with a patient, my mind had been on my Friday evening tryst with Halee, and my body was a hot steaming mess.

My mind wasn’t in a much better state. Guilt and shame were directly at war with elation. One minute I was proud to have made Halee’s first experience with a partner a happy one, the next I was wracked with remorse at having violated a child. Yet even in the most profound depths of contrition, little gears were whirring, planning our next meeting. I knew I had lost. Even sitting here in front of the man whose trust I’d breached, I wondered where in the house she was, and how I could spirit her back to my place.

With an effort, I wrenched myself back to the matter at hand. “The fall-off in cases isn’t as weird as you think it is,” I said. “It’s a pretty normal pattern, at least out here in the middle of nowhere. There’s always meth and weed floating around, but we don’t get the steady stream of higher-end narcotics like they do in the metro. We talked about this last week, remember?”

Terry nodded, idly swirling his drink around in the glass.

“Anyway,” I went on, “a new supply of heroin or whatever comes in, we get hammered with overdose calls, and then it goes away until the next batch shows up. It’s not so strange.” I took another sip of my life-restoring drink.

Terry sipped at his own, looked away for a moment, and then met my eyes again. “You don’t find it oddly coincidental that we told a whole slew of people what you’d noticed, and it suddenly went away?”

“You’re the one who just used the word ‘coincidental’. Just because something happened before–”

“I know, I know,” he broke in. “It’s the classic fallacy: post hoc, ergo propter hoc. I get that. I still think this is one hell of a coincidence. And I’ve officially ceased to trust George Fronse.”

“Why?” said a voice from the bathroom. Both my head and Terry’s jerked around in unison.

Halee stood there framed in the bathroom doorway, wearing a yellow bathrobe that came only to her knees, a towel wrapped around her hair. She looked clean and wholesome and achingly desirable. In seconds, my heart was hammering in my chest.

“Jesus, kiddo,” said Terry. “You’ve got to stop sneaking up on people.”

She frowned. “I told you I was taking a bath.”

“And I spaced it. How much of the conversation did you hear?”

“All of it.”

Terry pursed his lips and gazed at the ceiling. Then he met his daughter’s eyes. “Sit down for a minute.”

Halee crossed the room and settled into the big recliner.

“Halee,” he said, speaking slowly, “has there been any talk at school about any kind of new drug… or anything some of the older kids might be using? Someplace new they might be going? Or anything at all unusual, aside from Jason Bixley’s death?”

Halee looked thoughtful, then nodded. “Sometimes when the high school kids are around, you hear them talking about going to a place called ‘the locker’. I think it’s new… I mean, I haven’t been hearing about it for very long. I just figured it was a cool new hangout.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I regarded my little lover. “Do they say anything about what goes on there?”

“Nope, I’ve just heard them talking about it in little groups. I do remember someone saying the best shit… sorry Dad, that’s their words… is at the locker. I guess that’s how people talk about drugs, isn’t it? They’re pretty quiet about it, now that I stop to think. I just noticed it because… I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Because you’re a good listener,” I said. “What was the last thing you heard about it?”

“Ummm… it was Friday. That the locker was going to be closed this weekend.” Her eyebrows shot up with dawning realization. “This has something to do with all those cases you were talking about, doesn’t it? The cases that haven’t happened since Friday. Cases of what?”

Terry was sitting ramrod straight. “Halee,” he said, ignoring his daughter’s question, “when did you start hearing about the locker? How long ago?”

“Maybe a month or so ago.”

“Before the cases started,” I mused.

“What cases?” said Halee. “Come on, Dad, what’s…” Her eyes widened. “Wait a minute. I just remembered something.” She pulled her legs in under herself, careful to hold the end of the bathrobe down. I forced myself not to stare at the place where her thighs disappeared beneath the fluffy yellow fabric. “One of the volleyball players… it was Sam Jensen… she was out of school the first two days of last week because she had some kind of allergic reaction or something. She’s one of the kids I’ve heard talking about the locker.”

Terry and I shared a long look.

“And come to think of it,” Halee went on, “the night she went to the hospital was the same night last weekend when you guys went out on an ambulance call.” She fixed her gaze on me. “It wasn’t an allergic reaction, was it?” the girl pressed. “She’s one of your cases.”

Terry rose to his feet, circled around the coffee table, and gazed down at his daughter. “Listen to me, kiddo, and take it seriously. Nothing we say is to leave this room, understand?”

“I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“You’d damn well better be. What happened to Samantha Jensen was no allergic reaction, and it might be related to what happened to Jason Bixley. It’s happened to a handful of other people in their late teens or early twenties, although I don’t think any of the rest are kids who attend your school. You with me so far?”

Halee nodded.

“We don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s dangerous as hell. This is something that can kill you. If you get an invitation to the locker, the only answer is fuck, no. If you hear anyone in your grade talking about going there, we need to know about it as quickly as possible. In fact, if you hear anything unusual, anything at all, you come to either Nettie or myself right away. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” said Halee. Her eyes were wide.

Terry returned to the couch and sat down. “Just don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t ask questions, or try to persuade anyone not to go. Don’t do anything you don’t normally do. If you hear something, great, but don’t go out of your way to hear anything. Make sense?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you list the names of everybody you’ve heard talking about this?” I asked.

“I think so. It actually hasn’t been very many people.”

I dug in one of the cargo pockets of my pants, pulled out my notepad, and tossed it to Halee. I followed it with a pen.

Halee began scribbling in the notepad. Suddenly she looked up. “If I can’t find one of you, who should I talk to?”

“I’ll give you my old flip-phone,” said Terry. “First try calling me, then Nettie if you don’t get me. Unless someone is going to die if we take our hands away, we’ll answer. You good with that, Nettie?” I nodded.

Halee regarded us, her expression even more serious than usual. “You really don’t want me talking to anyone else, do you? Not even Chief Fronse.”

“It’s complicated,” I said. I flashed her a surreptitious look that I hoped she understood to be an apology.

“Very complicated,” said Terry, “and I’m not going to explain it all to you at the moment. I need you to trust us on this one. Say nothing to anyone… just tell one of us if you hear anything. Can you do that?”

Halee nodded. She got up and crossed to the couch, where she handed me back the notepad and pen. “These are the ones I can think of.” She held my eyes for a moment, with startling intensity.

“Thanks, kiddo,” said Terry. “Now, I want you upstairs, with both the stairway door and your bedroom door closed. No eavesdropping. Got it?”

Halee’s face was the picture of pinched dissatisfaction, but she didn’t argue. “Lanie, come,” she called out. The Boston terrier trotted out of the bathroom, where it had been sprawled on the throw rug next to the tub. Halee scooped up the dog and entered the stairway, pulling the door shut behind her.

Terry downed the remainder of his scotch in a single gulp. “The locker. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Never heard of it.”

“It could be nothing,” he mused. “One of those back-country hangouts where small-town kids go to drink beer and make out. And it could be that Halee’s just now hearing about it because she’s getting a little older, and rubbing shoulders with the high school kids more often. Could be that we just scared the living bejesus out of her for nothing.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Not even a little bit. Another drink?”

***

Terry and I sat up for about another fifteen minutes, looking over the list of names Halee had given us. There was nobody there that either of us knew well enough to just walk up to and hit with questions. We’d just tentatively agreed to call the sheriff’s department the following day when we heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

I glanced down the hall in time to see Halee emerging from the stairway door.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m not eavesdropping; I just need to use the bathroom.”

“It’s all right,” said Terry. “I think we’re just about at a point where we might as well table the discussion till tomorrow. What do you say, Nettie?”

“Is that code for you’re getting too old to stay up late and need your beauty rest?” I teased.

“Look at me,” said Terry. “Clearly the beauty rest is paying dividends. Besides, I have to get up and get kids to school in the morning.”

“Dude,” I said, as a snickering Halee disappeared into the bathroom, “it’s not even eight, for God’s sake. But it’s okay. If you’re too decrepit to keep up, I’ll go home and watch a movie or something.”

Terry chuckled, raised his glass to me, and sipped. “You won’t,” he said. “You’ll just play that godawful noise you call music until you fall asleep on the couch.”

“Yeah, I don’t really watch a lot of movies at home,” I said. “It’s not as much fun alone. You don’t have anyone to talk about it with.” That’s not really true; I’m just not that much of a TV person at all. It’s one thing that Terry and I have very much in common. But a wicked plan was forming in my mind. I sipped slowly at my drink, stalling for time. We heard the toilet flush and the water run, and a moment later Halee came out.

“What are you planning to watch?” she asked, eyeing me speculatively.

Holy shit; she’s thinking the same thing I am! “I haven’t decided,” I said. “What’s good these days?”

“Well, there’s a new Top Gun coming out,” she said, “and I haven’t seen the first one. I’ve been meaning to get around to it.”

“Damn,” I said. “I saw that when I was a little kid, but it’s been so long I don’t remember much. Maybe I should watch that.”

“There you go,” Terry broke in. “It is a school night, but you’ll have time to watch it together if you start soon. I even have that one on my Prime account if you want; Halee knows the password.”

I felt a delighted grin fighting to break free, and Halee was making a visible effort to keep her own emotions in check. Terry himself had just made it easy for us.

“What time do you want her home?” I asked.

“I usually expect her in bed by ten-thirty on school nights,” Terry replied.

“What if I just bring some school clothes and crash at Nettie’s place?” said Halee, wearing a secretive little smile that she didn’t let her father see.

***

“Now that Dad’s not around, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Halee inquired as we trudged the five blocks to my apartment, our shoulders hunched against the wind. My Kia was still parked in front of Terry’s house; I couldn’t exactly drive it home after downing three shots of his wonderful yet highly potent Scotch.

I hesitated, pulling my scarf more tightly around my neck. How much to tell? It wasn’t a matter of trust; I just wanted to protect her. Halee’s mature for her age, but she’s twelve, for God’s sake. Besides, there wasn’t much I could tell her that she didn’t already know.

“I can’t tell you very much,” I said slowly, “because I don’t know very much. You’ve heard the gist of it; kids are overdosing on something weird and new, and it’s more difficult to treat than most overdoses. Oh, and the whole thing seems to be centered around Bronning. That’s… really all I’ve got.”

“What about the stuff with Chief Fronse?”

Damn. “That’s hard to talk about, because I’m not really sure of anything,” I told her. “It’s just that there’s been some weirdness about the whole thing that seems to involve the cops. It’s probably nothing. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

She didn’t look entirely satisfied, but chose not to press the point. We walked the rest of the way in silence, throwing little glances of anticipation at each other.

Once the door was bolted securely behind us, I scooped Halee into my arms, lifting her feet from the floor as we came together in an open-mouthed kiss. I carried her that way into the living room, supporting her by her buttocks, then tumbled backwards onto the couch, taking her with me. Using her position atop me to take control, Halee rained kisses on my cheeks, forehead, and the corners of my eyes. I slipped both hands beneath the Bauhaus t-shirt she wore, running my fingertips up and down the ridges of her spinal column.

Now her mouth was on my neck, driving me wild with desire. I brought my leg up between hers, planting my foot on the couch. Halee pressed herself against my thigh, starting a slow, rhythmic humping motion that didn’t stay slow for long. In moments her cheek was pressed against mine, lips slightly parted, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as she gyrated against my leg with an increasing urgency. She threw her head back, and I could see beads of sweat on her forehead.

Suddenly she stopped. “H-hang on,” she said, obviously struggling to get enough air to speak. “Where’s your TV remote?”

I blinked, completely brought up short. “Wait, what?’

She rolled off of me, landing on the floor. “Ow,” she muttered, massaging her butt cheek with a rueful expression. Then she looked up. “Your remote,” she repeated. “We should turn that movie on. That way if Dad gets into his Prime account, it’ll pop up on his home screen and he won’t wonder what we’re really up to.”

I stared at her in awe, then laughed. “You’re some kind of evil genius, you know that?” Plucking the remote from the end table, I tossed it to her.

While Halee logged out of my account and into Terry’s, seated on the floor with her back to the couch, knees drawn up, I placed one foot to either side of her, massaging her legs with my toes while restlessly toying with her hair. As she pored through her dad’s purchased films in search of the cinematic blockbuster in question, I let the tips of my fingers drift down to caress her jawline.

“You know,” she said a little breathlessly, “this would go faster if you weren’t making my hands shake.”

My chuckle came out a bit breathy as well. “I like making your hands shake.” Finally locating the movie, Halee got it started, then pressed the mute button, dropped the remote to the floor, and twisted her body around until she was looking up at me. She smiled. “Your bedroom? I’d rather do this without Tom Cruise watching.”

I rose from the couch. Halee reached up, and I took her hands in mine, helping her to stand. I pulled her close, caressing her belly.

“Tell you what,” I said. “I just got off a thirty-six hour shift, and I’m still in my work clothes. I know you had a bath earlier, but how about taking a shower with me?”

“Mmmm…” she said, as if savoring something particularly tasty, “That sounds great.” Then she twisted her head, looking up at me with a frown. “Did you really not get to shower for thirty-six hours? Gross!”

I chuckled as I unwrapped myself from her. Taking Halee’s hand, I led her towards the bathroom. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I said. “We have bedrooms and a shower at the station. I took one yesterday morning.”

“How much do you get to sleep?”

“That depends.” Now in the bathroom, I closed the door, turned on the ceiling fan, and then took her into my arms. “Management doesn’t care what we do if we’re not running, so if we get our asses kicked at night, we can crash between calls during the day. It works out all right – most of the time, anyway.”

What I didn’t tell her was that I really hadn’t slept well at the station this weekend. Not because I didn’t have time; it hadn’t been busy. And not because of the dreams; they’d been mercifully silent these past few days. No, it was because every time I closed my eyes, visions of Halee’s gorgeous naked body came calling, consuming me in equal measure with shame and lust. I’d masturbated to an explosive orgasm the previous night in that crappy little bedroom at the station, but sleep? Not so much.

Dana Fraser had been riding as a third on my truck for the entire tour, and I’d been tempted to see if I was right about those speculative looks I’d seen her giving me. As I’d predicted, she was already sleeping with Darren Tanner, but he was off-shift, and I figured it was way too early for them to be exclusive. But I restrained myself, thinking it better to at least wait until she’s no longer my trainee.

Now I leaned down to kiss this lovely creature in my arms, intending to keep things easy, slow, and sensuous. It didn’t stay that way. Halee turned up the heat in a hurry, kissing me with a desperate longing that made it clear she was as primed as I was. Her fingers found the bottom of my work polo and lifted. I raised my arms, hoping I didn’t smell too bad. Once she had it up as far as she could reach I took over, freeing it from my arms and casting it to the floor. She placed delicate little kisses along my collarbone as she reached around to unclasp my bra.

A funny thought interrupted my rising passion. “Last week when you were here, I told you I didn’t need a mommy to dress me,” I whispered, as she let the undergarment fall. “Do you think I need one to undress me now?”

A delighted smile cracked her face. “Have you been a good girl… or a bad girl?”

“I’m feeling pretty naughty at the moment… ohhhhh!” I moaned as she took one of my nipples into her mouth and sucked, teasing it with the tip of her tongue.

“Well, then,” she said primly, tilting her head up to meet my gaze, “I guess you have to take your bath and go to bed without dessert.”

“I’m going to eat you for dessert,” I announced, pressing my open mouth to hers. Our tongues met and clashed, then she pulled away. Her increasingly ragged breathing was music to my ears.

“You’re being a BAD girl,” she said, already short of breath.

She let go of me and bent down, twisting the faucet handle in my bathtub. She held her fingers under the water, adjusting the temperature as it warmed. Once it was set to her satisfaction, she stoppered the tub.

“No shower?” I wanted to know.

“No, young lady. I’m giving you a bath, and you’re going to like it,” she pronounced in imperious tones, barely suppressing a giggle.

I was already turned on, but at this proclamation I became instantly and impressively wet. I’ve never been much into roleplay – not that I’d ever had a partner who’d displayed more than token interest in such games – but little Halee playing Mommy to my wayward child is one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced.

“Fine,” I pouted, my attempt at petulance falling a little flat due to a basic inability to steady my voice. “You can make me get in the bath, but you can’t make me wash up.”

Halee put on an exasperated air, also spoiled slightly by her breathiness. “I have to do everything,” she muttered.

She unbuttoned and unzipped my tac pants, then squatted to tug them down my thighs. Leaving the pants around my ankles, she trailed her fingers up my legs, stopping just short of my plain white cotton panties. Then she caressed the large damp spot I’d left, making me shiver and go up on my tiptoes.

“Naughty girl,” she intoned, no longer able to keep her voice from trembling, “You got your underpants all wet.” She pulled them down, too, dropping them on top of my pants. I lifted one leg, then the other, letting her pull the clothing out from under me, then I repeated the procedure while she got the socks. Neither of us said a word during this process, which was followed by Halee dipping her fingers into the now half-filled tub.

Finding it satisfactory, she stood. “In you get,” she said. Her voice was steadier now.

I stepped into the tub, and sank down gratefully into the wonderfully hot water. Lying back, I felt instantly renewed and refreshed, my aching level of arousal momentarily forgotten in the sheer pleasure of the moment. Then Halee passed a trembling thumb across my mouth, and it was all over for me, the impulse to relax instantly forgotten.

I caught her thumb between my lips, sucking it into my mouth. Halee let out a little sigh of pleasure and closed her eyes. Then she gradually withdrew her hand, shaking her head at me.

“No playing around, little lady,” she whispered. “Bad little girls have to be cleaned up before they get to have any fun.” Casting her eyes over the various items arrayed on the shower surround shelves, she selected a sponge, anointed it with a little body wash, then began the slow, torturous, exquisite process of cleansing my body. She did my torso, avoiding my tits for the moment. Then she made me sit forward and washed my back, using unhurried circular motions that drove me wild.

Then Halee instructed me to lie back. Setting the sponge aside, she shampooed my hair, her hands gliding sensuously across my scalp. After using the spray nozzle to rinse my long black mane, she took up the sponge once more, this time going to work on my tits. She spent some time there, delicately teasing my nipples with the sponge until I was ready to scream, then moved to my legs.

For someone who was brand new to sex with a partner, Halee turned out to be a natural fucking tease. She lifted one leg, then the other, slowly bringing the sponge up the backs of them until it was just below my buttocks. Then the outsides, then the insides. Slow, sensuous, ever-so-sweet torture. She came to within millimeters of my pussy, then backed away. Every time she reached the top, I lifted my hips, more impatiently each time. Then I was letting out little moans every time she came close, then sucking in my breath and shuddering from head to toe when she ran the sponge across my aching center.

She flashed that same shit-eating grin that she uses when she beats me at cards, pressed the heel of her hand against the sponge, and began a fast back-and-forth motion. I use an extra-slippery aloe vera soap (the perfect accompaniment to bathtub masturbation), and in combination with the texture of the sponge, I was squealing, gasping, and bucking my hips like a pissed-off rodeo horse.

Halee dipped down to take a nipple in her mouth, sucking ferociously, and my midsection went off like a nuclear warhead. I writhed up and down, barely aware of water splashing over the edge of the tub. Finally my orgasm subsided, and I lay back in the cooling water, eyes closed, face barely above the surface and knees drawn up. An unfortunate reality of being six feet tall is that you don’t fit into a standard American bathtub.

Gradually I became aware of fingertips tenderly caressing my cheekbones. I opened my eyes to see Halee’s face less than a foot from mine, cheeks flushed and her breath coming in gasps. She was wet all over; my orgasmic thrashing had splashed water all over her.

I emerged from the tub all at once, towering over her like a great hulking monster. Halee backed off as I stepped out, dripping and naked. I bent over and scooped her up, carrying her from the bathroom and down the hall to my bedroom, kissing her face and neck all the way.

I dropped her onto my bed. Without a word, she sat up and yanked the t-shirt over her head. I shoved her back, undid her jeans, and tugged. She raised her butt from the bed as I tugged the jeans and panties off in one smooth motion.

Then I was all over her, my hands roaming Halee’s body, my mouth scouring her belly, her neck, and her barely-there tits. Her breathing was heavy and labored. I rolled her on her back, began landing kisses there, and suddenly became aware of a fresh-looking bruise on her left buttock. I froze, slid my hand down to that sweet little ass and caressed it with my fingertips.

“You’re bruised,”

Halee giggled. “It’s been aching ever since I fell off your couch,” she said.

Relief washed over me. I’m not sure what I’d been thinking, but in my line of work you see enough abused kids that you can’t help but have a bit of a reaction to such things.

I ran my fingertips along the crack of her ass, and she shivered deliciously. “I’ll have to kiss it and make it better,” I said.

“So you’re the mommy now,” she replied, her voice coming out as a breathy giggle.

“Damn right,” I replied, kissing my way down her spine. Delicately I kissed and licked the cheek with the contusion, then attacked the other side with more gusto, adding little love bites to the mix. I then ran my tongue down one side of her crack and up the other. Halee was humping the bed, her every breath a moan.

Finally I flipped her over, letting my  fingertips roam up and down her legs, all the while eyeballing her gorgeous pussy lips, with their light dusting of dark brown curls. I bent to nuzzle her chest, lingering long enough to run my tongue across each nipple in turn, then kissed her tenderly on the mouth.

Bringing my lips to her ear, I whispered: “I want to taste you.”

“You mean, my…”

“Yes.” I was caressing her pussy lips now, and lightly nibbling at her earlobe. “Uuuummmmm…” is a rough approximation of the sound she made. “Are you ready for that?” I whispered.

Halee didn’t speak; merely nodded. I kissed my way downward, circling her belly button with my tongue on the way by, tracing a delicate pathway down her belly and between her legs. I licked her outer lips, then took one after the other into my mouth. Halee was shivering, trying to hump my mouth, and making odd little mumbling noises.

I finally settled between Halee’s legs, wriggled my tongue into her dripping slit, thrusting it in and out a few times, then flicked it across her clit. Halee moaned, mashing her delicate little treasure into my mouth.

I went to work with my tongue – responding to her, picking up the pace as her gyrations became more urgent. Her hips thrust into the air, then she settled back, pressing her backside deep into the mattress. I rode with her through it all, my tongue never letting up in its assault upon her clitoris.

All of a sudden Halee went up on her feet and shoulders, arching her body up from the bed. I went with her, grabbing her ass with both hands to hold her up as she came, those now familiar “uh… uh… uh…” sounds emanating from her lips.

Halee’s body went limp, and I carefully lowered her to the bed. Then I stretched out alongside  her, snuggling with my lover. She tucked her head into my shoulder, still gasping for breath. Finally lying quiet and still she looked up into my eyes.

“Was I a good girl, Mommy?” I inquired in my best cute teen voice.

“You can come out of time out now,” she said, and we both laughed.

“So what’s it like?” she asked. “I mean, licking me down there?”

“You’re welcome to find out anytime,” I told her, giggling a bit.

“Do you want me to now?”

“Tempting, but probably better not,” I said. “You do need to get some sleep, after all. Have you ever tasted yourself, like on your fingers?”

She shook her head.

“Want to know what it tastes like? You’re all over my face.” I leaned in to kiss her, moving slowly so as to give her ample time to abort. She met my lips tentatively, hesitantly – then darted her tongue into my mouth.

She pulled back and giggled. “God, I can smell it.”

“Does it gross you out?”

She shook her head. “It’s nice.” She licked my lips, then around the outside of my mouth. She smiled at me, sampled the flavor from her own lips, then engaged my mouth in a passionate kiss. Finally we broke apart, resting our heads on the pillows. Reaching down, I pulled the top sheet and comforter up to cover us both.

“You know,” she said, “this could be a thing. We can be movie buddies, and Dad’ll never think twice about it.”

“I had that thought. What time do you need to get up?”

“Well,” she said, “I’m definitely going to need a shower in the morning.” She giggled, then sobered. “Say about seven?”

“All right,” I kissed her forehead, then slipped from between the sheets, getting to my feet.

She grabbed my wrist. “Hey, where are you going?”

“To get my phone, goofus. I need to set an alarm for tomorrow.” I leaned in and kissed her. “I’ll be back in a few.”

I found my phone, got the alarm set, killed the TV as the movie credits were starting to roll, then took a brief detour to the toilet. By the time I returned to the bedroom, Halee was out cold.

On to Chapter Nine!

 

by C. Cat

Note from JetBoy: This part of the story features a character who made her first and thus far only appearance in Chapter Two: Jordan, a teenage girl who works in a Victoria’s Secret shop. She helped Amanda and her eleven-year-old daughter Katie pick out enticing lingerie for Amanda’s first date with Katie’s dance instructor Caroline (the date itself takes place in Chapter Three).  At the time, both mother and daughter were quite turned on by the cute shopgirl… and Jordan seemed to take an interest in her customers that went far beyond the desire to make a sale.
For a helpful summary of the story thus far, please consult the Chapter Links.

***

Jordan sighed.

Her last summer before going off to university wasn’t turning out nearly as well as she’d hoped. Oh, she’d hit the town with her mates on the weekends, but they were only interested in going places to hook up with boys – the last thing in the world she wanted!

Now taking a rare afternoon off from her job at Victoria’s Secret, Jordan sat in the back of a little coffee shop on the high street, nursing a latte and wondering what to do with the rest of the afternoon.

At least it wasn’t all dull. Back-to-school season was in full swing, so there were lots of pretty girls strolling past the window in breezy sundresses, snug stretch pants or tight tops and tiny shorts. She found quite a few of the little ones particularly interesting, even some who looked to be younger than ten.

Plenty of the mums were worth a second glance, too – especially those with lithe legs, tight bums, and willowy figures. She’d always had a thing for ballet dancers, which might have explained the feelings she had for undeveloped young girls.

There was a gentle but steady throb pulsing between Jordan legs as her attention shifted from one female passerby to the next. The fun part was imagining what each would be like in bed. She saw herself getting fucked with a strap-on by the platinum blonde in the stylish navy blue pantsuit… then she was undressing the little girl in snug cutoffs and a tank top, delighted to realise that the girl had gone without panties.

Unbelievable, she thought, rolling her eyes. I take some time to myself, and what happens? All I can think about is having it off with half the women I see… and three-quarters of the girls!

***

Upon realising she was a lesbian, Jordan had done a lot of surreptitious reading on the subject, hungry to learn more. She quickly noticed that most girls who came out as gay claimed to have known from an early age, but that wasn’t true for her. Maybe I should have known, she told herself. I mean, the signs were all there. Sometimes, for all her supposed intelligence, she couldn’t help but feel utterly naive.

For one thing, as far back as she could remember, the sight of pretty girls had made her feel all fluttery inside. To her, it seemed perfectly natural. Girls were soft, sweet and smelled nice, while boys were more or less the opposite – didn’t everyone feel that way?

Her friends going boy-crazy had been a surprise at first, but it didn’t seem like that big a deal. It wasn’t like she hated boys or anything like that… she just didn’t think about them much. Anyway, she knew it was normal for some kids to mature faster than others, and figured it wasn’t yet time for her to develop an interest in the opposite sex. It would happen soon enough.

Then Jordan’s life took an unexpected turn after her thirteenth birthday, not long after she discovered the delights of masturbation.

It began when a friend from school let her borrow a steamy romance novel she’d filched from her mother. That night, tucked up in bed, Jordan turned to the first page and began to read.

The author didn’t waste much time on the plot. By the third page, the female protagonist was undressing, then stretching out on the sofa to fondle herself to images of some mysterious guy – anyone, really, besides her prick of a husband.

Jordan took no notice of the woman’s fantasy – instead, she followed along step-by-step, as if it was an instruction manual, touching herself just like it was happening in the story.

Right away, her tentative caresses sparked something deep inside.

It felt lovely, but Jordan needed something more satisfying than the image of an anonymous man – she didn’t know exactly what, but more than that. As her fingers continued to explore, she came up with a more satisfying fantasy – instead of being the woman in the book, Jordan pretended to be watching her.

When she found the nub of her clit, a quivering shock ran through Jordan’s body. A quiet “Yes!” slipped through the teen’s lips; her fingers moved faster. Soon the book was on the floor and her imagination ran wild as she pleasured herself for the first time, picturing a beautiful naked woman doing the very same thing

Without warning, the woman in Jordan’s fantasy suddenly became one very specific person – her maths teacher, Miss Parker.

She was no longer naked, but instead of her typical blouse and skirt, Miss Parker was dressed in the tight jumper and plaid skirt uniform the girls at school were obliged to wear.

As Jordan watched, her imaginary teacher slowly lifted the jumper, showing her flat belly and trim waist, then paused for a moment, gazing into Jordan’s eyes. Then she tugged the plain white blouse even higher, soon uncovering her breasts. They were full and creamy, topped by pert nipples. Casting her top to one side, Miss Parker began to hike up the skirt, showing more and more of her gorgeous legs until her knickers were on display.

Jordan’s mind seemed to cloud over as those familiar, wonderful feelings grew, deep in her core – but more intense than ever. The image of Miss Parker undressing for her filled the teen’s thoughts. Her teacher’s body was soft and inviting, but those deep, dark eyes were what made Jordan melt inside. A low guttural moan escaped from the teen’s lips as she came.

It was only after Jordan’s head cleared that questions began to form. There was no denying it – she’d been fantasising about a woman while touching herself, and it had been incredible.

Jordan thought she already knew what a lesbian was. She’d heard the whispers in school about the “dykes,” and “queers,” but they were all tomboys or athletes – wasn’t it only in movies where ordinary girls like her were gay? Maybe, she thought, I sort of have a crush on Miss Parker. It doesn’t make me a lesbian, does it? It’s not like I want to have sex with my teacher… right? 

Switching off the light, Jordan tried to convince herself that she was making a big deal out of nothing. But even as sleep approached, she knew that these thoughts weren’t going to simply evaporate.

The next day at school, she took her laptop to a remote corner of the library and began to type “how do I know if…” Chills ran down her spine as she pored through the very first article. It was like the author knew Jordan more intimately than she imagined anyone could.

She slumped back in her chair. Oh, my God.

***

A few years had passed since that day in the library, and Jordan wasn’t that naive and scared little girl anymore. In a lot of ways, things were better, but one difficulty remained – she was desperately lonely. Finding a playmate for casual sex wasn’t particularly difficult. What she longed for was a true lover and a genuine romantic relationship.

It didn’t help the situation that Jordan wasn’t yet “out” to her family, or most of her friends at school. Her mother, in particular, was fixated on her getting a boyfriend, as if her lack of a potential husband disgraced the family name. She’d already heard her mum making annoying comments to her nosy friends, like, “She’s too brainy for her own good – it scares the fellas off,” or haranguing her to the tune of, “Why can’t you wear some lipstick for a change, sweetie?” or some such nonsense.

I’d be disowned for sure if Mum ever sussed out the truth, Jordan knew. That, she hoped, would be much less of a problem once she went off to university. Oh, I’ll probably still be disowned, but at least I’ll have a bloody roof over my head.

That wasn’t her only problem, though. For years, she’d expected to outgrow her fantasies about preteen girls, but it never happened. If anything, the thoughts of naked little nymphs seemed to occupy her secret fantasies more than ever. There was something about their immature, developing bodies that drove Jordan wild with helpless desire.

Like that adorable girl who came into the shop a few weeks back, the one helping her mum shop for a hot date with another woman… Kate, wasn’t that the girl’s name? Mind you, I wouldn’t have kicked the mum out of bed, either. That Kate, though… what was she, ten or so? And so proud of her mother being gay!

Jordan imagined what it would be like to make love to her – to undress her and fondle her smooth, thin legs and pert bum… to tease, then suck those candy-like nipples… then finally, spread the girl’s legs open and take that sweet bare slit into her mouth.

It was a crazy daydream, and destined to remain one, but this constant obsessing on underage pussy was complicating her life – even getting in the way of finding a serious partner. The last time Jordan had gone out on a date, she’d been distracted in a big way by a young nymph in shorts who couldn’t have been more than eight. Her date had noticed, too. Thinking fast, she came up with a lie, explaining that the child resembled her younger sister… a sister she didn’t have, by the way.

So, there she was, alone in a bistro with a tepid coffee, succumbing yet again to the temptation of those little girls and their mommies, wondering which of them would star in her fantasies later that evening.

***

With just a few weeks left before the school term started, Amanda didn’t have much time to arrange for the move to Latchmore. Thankfully, the school engaged a company to maintain her house and store the things she and Katie wouldn’t be taking with them, but there were still plenty of details she preferred to take care of herself.

That day, Katie was attending Caroline’s dance class, where Amanda would be picking her up later in the afternoon. Needless to say, Amanda was very much looking forward to seeing her occasional lover once more. Until then, she had time to do a little shopping.

Amanda no longer had much use for the office attire in her closet, most of which she planned to donate to Oxfam. Her natural shyness and insecurity had been reflected in her old wardrobe, and Miss Cindy had encouraged her – instructed her, really, during an evening of torrid sex – to embrace a new look.

Amanda had been happy to oblige. Her cute new pixie haircut was a good start – soft and feminine, yet also bold. Even better, she acquired some clothes that struck the same delicate balance. Today, she felt especially attractive in a leather a-line skirt and a low-cut white blouse with sheer lantern sleeves. It wasn’t a stereotypical lesbian look, but it certainly wasn’t intended to conceal her sexuality. A pair of earrings with a subtle Venus-symbol design added just the right touch to her ensemble, also serving as a hint for any woman who happened to pick up on it.

She couldn’t wait to show off her new look to Katie’s teacher. It had been a couple of weeks since their last sexual encounter, and Amanda wanted them to be face to face when she told Caroline the news: Katie had been accepted as a Latchmore Fairy, she herself was now employed as a Latchmore House mother – and most exciting of all, she and her daughter had become lovers.

Katie had looked forward to regaling her dance instructor with this chain of events, and she’d pouted a bit at first when Amanda asked if she could be the one to break the happy news instead. Finally she relented, saying, “I guess it’s okay. She’s your girlfriend, after all.” Then, her eyes bright with excitement, Katie added, “But then you have to let me join in some time when you fuck, okay?”

“Mmmm… I like that idea,” Amanda replied. “I’m sure Caroline will too.” Rolling over in the bed, her naked daughter now on top, she gave Katie a heated French kiss.

Now strolling along the sidewalk, Amanda felt a pleasant tingle, recalling the pleasures she and her child had enjoyed after that kiss… and anticipating the fun she’d be having with Caroline

She glanced at her watch. With half an hour to spare before she picked up Katie, Amanda detoured into a coffee shop. All the tables were occupied, but there was a little nook in the back that held two large, comfortable chairs with a small table nestled between them. One of the chairs was occupied by a girl who was looking out the window, and the other one appeared to be available.

Amanda made her way to the back of the room. “Pardon me,” she asked the girl, “is this seat taken?”

The teen started, caught by surprise. “Oh! Um… no, no. Go right ahead.” She looked up, then broke into a huge smile when she recognised Amanda. “Well, hi there!”

It took Amanda a few seconds longer, but she recalled the cute Victoria’s Secret sales girl.

Seating herself, she extended a hand. “Oh, my… hello yourself! It’s Jordan, isn’t it? From the mall? You and my daughter helped me pick out lingerie… oh, about a fortnight ago. I’m Amanda, by the way.”

Jordan nodded, “I remember you – and your daughter.” she said. Actually, I was having dirty fantasies about your little girl not fifteen minutes ago. She felt a little flutter in her tummy, knowing this beautiful woman remembered her, too. More than once since that day at the store, Jordan’s private fantasies had returned to this particular mother and daughter. Now Amanda had a new haircut and a very stylish look, which only made her even more enticing than Jordan remembered. “You were shopping for a big date… I hope it went well.”

“It was wonderful – a night to remember, I must say!” Amanda replied. “I have to thank you for helping me. There’s nothing like the right outfit to give your confidence a boost, and it had been so long since I’d had a date…”

“Aw, thanks, but I can’t believe you need my help. I mean, you’re gorgeous… and I’ve got to say, that new haircut suits you perfectly!”

“You’re too kind. Truth be told, I was anything but confident, but I’m doing my best to change… the new hair is meant to be part of that. It may sound silly, but I don’t want to hide who I am anymore. It’s time for the world to see the real me.”

“That’s not silly at all,” Jordan insisted. “God, I so want to be my real self! But when you’re my age, still living with your parents… well, it – it isn’t easy.” She sighed, staring down at the table, then quickly rallied herself. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to–”

“No need to apologise,” said Amanda, covering the teen’s hand with hers. “Listen, Jordan… I can see that you’re struggling with something. Why don’t you tell me about it? It sounds like you need a friend, one who understands what you’re going through… and I promise, you can be your real self with me.”

Jordan gazed at the beautiful older woman, at a loss for words. “I… I would like that, yes. Very much.”

“Good,” was Amanda’s only reply.

Taking a deep breath, Jordan began to speak. Normally she avoided talking about herself or personal matters in general, but something about Amanda made her want to open up. The mix of honesty and vulnerability that Amanda embodied was a breath of fresh air. For the first time in her life, Jordan began to share her intimate secrets.

Amanda let the girl talk. At times she would add a word of motherly support, ask a question, or open up a bit about herself, but mostly she simply listened.

What the girl had to say about her fears, feelings of insecurity and her oppressive home life resonated with Amanda in a big way. Her own mother had never been able to accept the attraction she had for girls, just as she’d refused further contact with her sister Eileen upon discovering her sister was gay. Losing Aunt Eileen had broken Amanda’s heart… and she had to keep that sorrow hidden, lest Mum find out that she and her aunt had been sexually intimate.

That loss, more than anything else, was the foundation of the wall Amanda had built around herself. She even pushed herself into entering relationships with men, to the point of a marriage that collapsed in less than a year. Her struggle for a heterosexual life foundered, but left Amanda with the gift of her beautiful little girl Katie… a child who, at the age of eleven, would become her lover.

It had taken half Amanda’s lifetime, but those walls of inhibition had finally been razed to the ground.

As Jordan described her own situation, Amanda began to suspect that what the girl wasn’t saying might be the most important part. The girl seemed to have built some walls of her own, and it became increasingly clear what lurked behind them… and what to do about it.

“My mum would go mental if she knew,” Jordan was saying. “She’s always trying to fix me up with boys. Or nagging me to wear dresses. And my friends…” She shook her head. “I’m sure some of them would be okay with me being gay, but some wouldn’t – and they’d all know, no matter who I told. That bunch couldn’t keep a secret to save their sodding lives.”

“Grown women aren’t much better about that kind of thing, believe me.”

“Wow, thanks so much for listening, Amanda,” Jordan said. “I must’ve talked your ear off! But it helped me a lot.”

Amanda nodded. “I’d love to chat again some time.” She thoughtfully studied the girl, suddenly struck by a very intriguing idea.  “Listen, Jordan… I hate to sound like I’m hitting you with a cheap pick-up line… but would you like to come over for dinner this Saturday? I’m sure Katie would love to see you again, and her new girlfriend Rayne will be there too.”

“Her girlfriend?” Jordan said with raised eyebrows, trying to seem curious without showing too much of an interest.

Amanda had to suppress a smile. “Yes, can you believe it?” she said. “I was worried about coming out to Katie, but it seems that apple didn’t fall far from the tree! It seems to have happened overnight, too. Wish it had been that easy when I was her age! Anyway, she found herself a lover, a little redhead sweetheart named Rayne. Those two are madly in love and utterly adorable. You have to see them together.”

Jordan’s memories of Katie were still vivid, and the thought of that underage cutie in bed with another little girl made the tingle between her legs mount into a throb. She pictured the two girls naked, entwined, and sharing passionate kisses, with a smiling Amanda gazing approvingly at the scene. Then she imagined that Amanda was nude, too. Okay, that’s an image I’ll be coming back to later.

“This Saturday night?” Jordan replied. “I’d love to.”

***

Jordan took a deep, calming breath as she stood before Amanda’s door. This might not be a date, but she wanted to look her best. After an hour of poring through her wardrobe, she had settled on a coral red miniskirt with a knit white halter top, adding a loose-fitting summer jacket to make it less obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

She rang the bell, and the door opened almost immediately to reveal a beaming Amanda. “Welcome!” she exclaimed, ushering Jordan inside. “Come, take a seat. Care for a glass of wine? I’ve just opened a lovely Cabernet.”

“Um, sure, that sounds great,’ Jordan said, taking in the sight of her hostess. Amanda wore a sky-blue dress that fit her like two coats of paint, an apron tied in front. No way has she got knickers on under that, Jordan told herself, eyes glued to the woman’s bum as she followed.

A squeal came from the nearby stairs. “Jordan!” Katie rushed down to give the teen a hug as if they were long-lost soulmates. A redheaded girl of about twelve was close behind. Stepping back, Katie announced, “This is Rayne, my girlfriend. Rayne, this is Jordan, the girl I told you about who sells sexy underwear!”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jordan murmured, only to be surprised when Rayne hugged her the same way Katie had. That spurred Katie to join the embrace – so now Jordan had two girls in her arms.

“Do you need help with anything, Amanda?” Jordan asked, feeling a tiny bit awkward.

“Oh, I’ve got it all under control. Why don’t you girls get better acquainted? I’ll let you know when the food is ready… you and I can chat later.”

Katie seized her hand. “C’mon – we can hang out in my room!”

Jordan couldn’t have refused if she’d wanted to, especially with such delicious young things leading the way. She accompanied them upstairs, letting them guide her into a bedroom that had to belong to a teenage girl.

Katie and Rayne jumped onto the bed, bouncing a few times before seating themselves against the upholstered headboard, about a foot apart. “Come sit with us, Jordan!” Katie said, patting the space between them.

Jordan had masturbated more than once to images of going into a girl’s pretty pink bedroom, pushing the stuffed animals to the floor and indulging in sexy playtime with an adorable preteen nymph. The very thought of relaxing on the bed with these underage lesbians brought those fantasies back with a vengeance. It also took her back to the days of schoolgirl sleepovers – except in this case, she wouldn’t have to endure any obsessive discussions about boys.

Climbing onto the bed, Jordan crawled over to join the girls. It made her positively light-headed to be nestled between these enchanting young creatures. Just the smell of them was enough to make her cunt drip… and sure enough, her knickers were already wet.

It isn’t like we’re going to be having sex, she admonished herself. Not with Katie’s mum just downstairs! Try to think about something, anything else.

“So, did you two meet at school?” Jordan asked.

“Sort of,” Katie replied, “I’m starting at Latchmore School this term, and Rayne already goes there. We met at a tea party in the gardens when I was visiting with Mum.”

Jordan’s eyes brightened. “Latchmore House? What a wonderful place! I went there a few times when I was littler, and loved it. The trails, the flowers, the big fountain… But most of all,” she added with a shy smile, “I loved the fairies.”

“I knew that would be your favourite part! Did you ever get to spend time with a fairy?” Katie asked.

Jordan shook her head. “I never met one, but I saw a fairy in the woods the last time I was there. She was so pretty it made me ache inside. She tried to get me to follow her, and I really wanted to, but my mother wouldn’t let me.” She sighed. “Mum never took me back after that. She didn’t approve of the fairy costumes. Said they showed too much of their bodies…”

Resting her head on Jordan’s shoulder, Rayne let out a dramatic sigh. “That’s a shame. I know how you feel about the fairies, though. There’s this one fairy there who I just can’t stop thinking about. She’s got the prettiest legs. I’d follow her anywhere.”

Jordan smiled. “I hope that doesn’t make Katie jealous.”

“She’s not… besides, I happen to know she’s got a favourite fairy of her own!”

“Yep,” Katie agreed. “She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen… but she can be naughty, too.”

“I love the idea of naughty fairies,” Jordan said. “The ones who like girls, that is.”

Katie laughed. “Fairies love everything pretty and sweet – of course they’d feel that way about girls!”

“Well, I’d like to visit Latchmore House again someday, now that I can go there on my own… How do you get to meet a fairy?”

“You never see them unless they want to be seen, but they can be really playful, and even a bit naughty… once they feel safe.”

“How do you make fairies feel safe, then?”

“They just have to trust you,” Katie said with a shrug. “A fairy needs to be sure that you won’t hurt her, or tell her secrets.” She smiled. “And if she can tell you want to play… well, that’s even better!”

Jordan nodded – then something clicked in her mind. “Wait a minute…” She studied Katie for a moment. “You’re not just a student at Latchmore, are you? You’re a fairy!”

“That’s right.” Katie wore a bad-girl grin that spoke volumes.

Jordan turned to Rayne. “And you…?”

“I’m a naughty fairy,” Rayne replied, her eyes dancing with mischief.

The younger girls burst into giggles, then Katie leaned in to trace a line down Jordan’s bare arm with the tip of her index finger. “So… what sort of fun were you thinking of having with a naughty fairy, eh?”

Omigod, is this really happening? Jordan asked herself, glancing nervously at the open bedroom door. “Uh, your mum… what about her?”

Rayne drew close to nuzzle Jordan’s neck from the left. “Oh, don’t worry about Amanda… unless you want her to join us. That would be very naughty, wouldn’t it?”

On Jordan’s right, Katie’s lips brushed her ear. “I know my mum totally wants to gobble you up, but she has to wait her turn. For now, you belong to us… and we’ve got a lovely game to play. It’s called Middle Sister.”

“I d-don’t know that one,” Jordan stammered, her heart racing like mad.

“It’s easy!” chirped Rayne. “And since it’s your first time, you get to be the Middle Sister. How it works is, I do something to you, then you have to do that same thing to Katie. Then, she does something to you, and you do it back to me. So, if I bite your ear like this…”

“Oooh!” Jordan gasped as the young girl gave her earlobe a playful nip.

Rayne knew how much Katie loved having her ears toyed with, so she was delighted to see her girlfriend squirm and let out a soft little moan when Jordan nibbled at the lobe, then gave it a swipe with her tongue.

Of course, Katie knew Rayne’s weaknesses when it came to making out, so she leaned in to place several open-mouthed kisses on Jordan’s neck. This was a double thrill – not only could she see how much Jordan loved the attention, but the anticipation in Rayne’s eyes made it even better.

Jordan was certainly enjoying herself, but at the same time she realised this was more than just a naughty game. These two underage girls were making love to each other through her, an open invitation to join in their intimacy.

When Rayne’s turn came, Jordan responded with a passionate tongue kiss. She felt the love in that kiss, a love that was both tender and intensely hungry. The two slumped back against the headboard, their tongues caught up in a tarantella of unbridled lust.

When they finally broke apart, Jordan turned to Katie. She seized the girl, practically dragging her into a fierce embrace. No point in being hesitant or bashful now. Jordan tongue-fucked that sweet little mouth, and Katie hummed her approval, blindly groping for the older girl’s breasts.

When they drifted apart, Jordan gazed into the girl’s eyes, eager to give herself to these young lovers. Her inhibitions, her fears already seemed like distant memories, easily cast aside.

Raising two fingers, Rayne brought them to Jordan’s lips. The teen took them into her mouth, wondering if she was right about what was going to happen next.

She was. As Jordan gently sucked, she felt Katie reach beneath her skirt to grasp the waistband of her panties. Raising her bum, she allowed the girl to tug them over her hips, down her trembling legs and off.

Delighted with her silky prize, Katie pressed the sodden knickers to her face, sighing blissfully as she breathed in Jordan’s thick scent, then turned to Rayne.

“You go first,” she told her girlfriend. “I want to watch you fuck her.”

Jordan gawped as Rayne reached out to caress her exposed vulva. The feel of those fingers sliding expertly between the folds of her labia in long, gentle strokes drove her frantic with desire. These were feather-light touches that barely grazed her clit, and they teased her mercilessly. She longed for more.

Sensing the older girl’s need, Rayne slowly eased a finger into her cunt. Determined not to be rushed, she began a slow, rhythmic motion, driving Jordan closer to the edge… but not quite enough.

I won’t fucking beg her… I won’t! Jordan was clenching her teeth, hands balled into tight fists, her body taut as piano wire. It felt wonderful, yet maddening.

In her haze of ecstasy, she felt something else. Opening her eyes, she saw it was Katie – the girl’s hair was brushing against her thighs, lips so close that Jordan could feel warm breath caress her pussy.

Jordan entreated Katie with her eyes, making it clear how desperately she craved the sweet emptiness of orgasm. Still, the little minx didn’t move, just observed Jordan’s cunt as if she was studying a rare flower..

“Do you want Katie to lick you? Remember, her mummy is just downstairs,” Rayne whispered as she increased the tempo of her thrusting fingers.

“Yes!” Jordan cried. “Fucking do it! LICK ME!”

With that, Katie let her tongue glide through Jordan’s slit. This sent an electric jolt through the teen’s body, but she knew this was only the beginning of her ecstasy. The girl continued to trace a pathway that led to Jordan’s throbbing clit.

“Oh, yes!” Jordan gasped. “Don’t s-stop, don’t stop! Oh! Ahhhh!”

She felt Katie’s lips capture her clit, the preteen’s tongue toying with the throbbing bud like a kitten playing with a catnip mouse. She closed her eyes as tiny but growing shocks of pleasure jolted through her body, coming so swiftly that it made her dizzy.

Lost in a mounting ecstasy, it took Jordan a moment to notice that Rayne was unfastening the buttons of her top, spreading it open to bare her breasts. Soon the young girl was caressing, teasing, and suckling Jordan’s puffy nipples while Katie ate her pussy.

My God, Jordan told herself, they’re incredible. Even at their tender age – Are they eleven? Surely no older than twelve, she reasoned – each of the girls would be a wonderful lover, but working as a team, they were nothing short of amazing. Now if only they’d let me fucking come!

Instead, Rayne and Katie kept Jordan on the edge of release for what seemed an eternity.

Rayne must’ve been in need of stimulation, because she sat up and whipped off the t-shirt she wore, which left her completely nude. Jordan only got a quick glimpse, though, before the girl straddled her face. Looking up, Jordan saw the most flawless bare slit imaginable, glistening with juices like rose petals in the morning dew.

This is it. My first taste of a little girl. My dream is coming true. Raising herself slightly, Jordan extended her tongue to sample the warm nectar.

“Ooooh, yes!” Rayne cried as she fed her cunt to the older girl.

Much as she longed for her own release, Jordan was determined to bring Rayne off first. Latching on to the girl’s clit and fondling her bottom with both hands, Jordan matched the pace of her licking to the girl’s gasps. Within seconds, Rayne was pumping her hips in time with her lover’s tongue.

When Jordan felt Rayne’s thighs clamping her head between them, she knew the girl was seconds away from coming.

Katie was well familiar with the sounds Rayne made during sex, enough to know those little squeaks meant she was on the verge of getting off. It’s going to be a big one, too! she told herself. Returning to Jordan’s clit, she gave it a light nibble.

“Yes, fuck, yes!” Rayne yelped as she let go.

A muffled cry came from Jordan as every muscle in her body went rigid. A wave of heat radiated out from the girl’s core as la petite mort consumed her. The two girls came simultaneously, caught up in a beautiful storm that raged and soothed, tore apart and bound together, destroyed and renewed.

Slowly, slowly Jordan drifted back to the present, soon realising that the soft, bare bodies of the little girls cuddling up to her wasn’t a dream. She felt their lips adorning her face and neck with delicate kisses, their fingers caressing her breasts. I’m supposed to feel ashamed, I guess, she mused, but how could something this tender and beautiful feeling be wrong? A happy sigh escaped her lips, and she briefly drifted off.

Some time later – how much, she had no idea – Jordan felt a warm hand gently stroke her brow. Opening her eyes, she looked up to see Amanda bending over the bed.

There Jordan was, minus panties, a dress hitched up far enough to leave her cunt fully exposed and lying between two nude underage girls, one of them Amanda’s own child.

There was ample reason for her to be terrified, but the warmth of Amanda’s smile told Jordan that she need not worry.

“You three are beautiful together,” Amanda said. “I was tempted to let you rest a while longer, but dinner will be ready soon.” She pointed to a plush white robe, draped across a nearby chair. “That’s for you. I’m sure you’ll want to take a shower before coming downstairs. Just don’t take too long. We can talk after dinner and, maybe, do other things.”

“H’lo, Mummy,” said Katie, sitting up and taking a long, luxurious stretch. Her first good look at the young girl’s bare upper half gave Jordan a renewed twinge of desire. I haven’t licked her nipples yet, she realised. Maybe I’ll get to do that before I leave.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Amanda murmured. Seating herself on the edge of the bed, she took Katie into her arms. “My, don’t you smell nice.”

“That’s Jordan you smell,” the grinning girl announced, giving the blushing teen a wink. “She’s delicious, Mummy. If you kiss me, you can get a taste of her!”

“How can I refuse an offer like that?” said Amanda. Leaning in, she claimed Katie’s mouth in a tender but very ardent kiss.

Jordan could only stare as mother and daughter came together in an incestuous embrace. Amanda was licking around Katie’s mouth, purring with delight as she sampled and savoured the rich, thick flavour of cunt. My cunt, Jordan thought.

They slowly parted, and Amanda turned to give Jordan a sultry smile. “You’re right, sweetie… she is delicious.”

“Got room in there for me?” Rayne had roused herself, climbed out of bed, and wandered over to join the others.

“Of course, darling.” Amanda invited her into their embrace. She kissed the girl, her hand sliding down to cup Rayne’s bare bum.

So fucking wild, Jordan thought. I can’t believe I’ve stumbled into something like this! She pushed herself into a sitting position, intent on joining in the group fun. She was a little tender between the legs, but her desire had reawakened in a way that couldn’t be denied.

Before she could make her move, though, Amanda pulled away. “Let’s not start anything we can’t finish, girls,” she said, standing up. “Dinner will be served in” – she glanced at a cat-shaped clock that hung on the wall – “fifteen minutes. I don’t think there’s time for each of you to shower, so you’ll have to take one together.” She smiled. “Don’t have too much fun in there, now. Plenty of time for that after dessert.” She made her way to the door and exited with a wave.

“Shower time!” Katie squealed. “C’mon, let’s go!” Seizing Jordan’s hand, she led the way into an adjoining bathroom, Rayne close behind. She marched over to a generously sized shower cubicle and switched on the water, then turned back to Jordan.

“Will you help us get clean like Mommy does?” Katie said, wearing a look of perfect innocence on her face as she stood holding hands with Rayne.

Jordan knelt before the girls. “Of course I will. But first, just… let me look at you.”

As Katie and Rayne posed for her, Jordan marvelled at their lithe bodies, just beginning to blossom into womanhood. Experienced as they were as lovers, it was hard to believe they were still practically little girls… but here was the proof, on full display.

Leaning forward, she planted a kiss on each of their puffy nipples, eliciting blissful sighs from both girls. She resisted the temptation to let those kisses trail further down Katie’s body for a taste of her sweetness, but she did give each girl’s bottom a caress, teasing their nether holes with her fingertips before she got to her feet. “You two get under the water now, and I’ll wash you all over.”

“But you still have clothes on,” Rayne protested. Reaching out for Jordan’s halter top, she stripped it off, once more exposing the older girl’s generous breasts.

Katie couldn’t resist the urge to touch them again. “I hope my titties grow as big as yours,” she said before leaning forward to lick each nipple.

Rayne had gone straight to Jordan’s skirt, deftly undoing the catch. It slid to the bath mat. Now all three of them were naked.

Jordan knew they couldn’t dawdle in the shower. Nonetheless, she intended to make sure the girls were thoroughly clean. She soaped their bodies first, gleefully allowing her fingers to wander into their most intimate areas, then rinsed them off with the detachable shower head.

Going down on her knees, she nuzzled Katie’s wet belly. “I already got to lick Rayne’s pussy… I want to taste you now.”

“Okay,” the eleven-year-old whispered, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Placing her lips against the bare slit, Jordan gave it a gentle kiss, pleased to feel Katie shiver in response. She tilted her head to one side, then extended her tongue, trailing it between the girl’s labia like the careful stroke of a painter’s brush. There was a warm wetness there that didn’t come from the shower, and the hint of flavour made Jordan thirst for more.

She began to lick harder, going down on Katie like a lover possessed. The girl’s juices were tart and sharp, luscious like sour candy. Soon the teen had her mouth locked to the pink crease, sucking the dripping flesh in between licks. Katie’s hands were knotted in Jordan’s hair, the nails biting into her scalp. It hurt, but she wasn’t about to stop.

Jordan wondered what Rayne was up to, then got her answer when a pair of hands suddenly spread her bum open, then a slippery tongue bathed the crack of her arse.

She would have cried out in astonishment if her mouth hadn’t been occupied pleasing Katie. These girls are into some kinky shit, she thought. Jordan had been wanting to try rimming a lover, but hadn’t yet had the opportunity – and she’d never had her own bum licked. Fuck me, that feels bloody amazing!

By then, Katie was tottering on her feet, her breath coming in harsh gasps… and Jordan knew it was time to bring her off. She attacked the girl’s clitoris, taking it between her lips and rapidly flicking it with the tip of her tongue.

“FUCK!” Katie cried, then gave a cry that quickly mounted into a shriek as she exploded in orgasm. Her legs gave out, and Jordan had to keep the girl pinned to the wall so she could finish the job. Rayne was still eating her arse, pressing her tongue against Jordan’s rosebud as if seeking entry.

“Okay, s’enough,” Katie blurted, and Jordan gently lowered her to the tiled floor with aching arms. Turning around, the teen seized Rayne and kissed her. She had no idea what the girl’s mouth would taste like, but all she detected was a faint hint of pussy.

Now seated in the steamy cubicle, the three lovers came together in a tender embrace, sharing kisses. “Now we get to wash you,” Rayne told Jordan.

So Katie and Rayne stood Jordan up and covered her body in sweet-smelling soap. They spent more time between her legs and on her tits and bum than anywhere else, but Jordan was in no mood to complain.

Emerging from the shower, Jordan carefully towelled each girl dry, helped them slip into gauzy nighties Katie fetched from her room – going completely bare underneath, of course – then brushed their hair. Once the girls were presentable, Jordan reached for the robe Amanda had left for her – a pink silk kimono that hung just below her bottom and barely closed around her chest. “Sooo sexy!” Rayne exclaimed at the sight of her, and Katie gave an enthused nod.

Jordan did feel sexy, and her cunt was already tingling with anticipation as she followed the girls downstairs, enjoying the sight of their cute bottoms on the way.

Amanda had also changed, opting for a short silk kimono much like Jordan’s, only in baby blue. Her breasts might not have been large, but Jordan thought the way the silk flowed and draped over them was even more erotic.

The meal was delicious, but Jordan was distracted by thoughts of what was to come. Amanda was perfectly calm, betraying no sign of urgency. And though the dinner conversation was playful and flirtatious, nothing was rushed. Jordan finally caught the relaxed mood, and was able to fully appreciate the homemade fruit tart Amanda served for dessert.

As Rayne finally put her fork down, she slipped into Amanda’s lap. “Will you come play with us, Mummy Amanda?”

“Yes, Mummy!” Katie chimed in. “Would you, pretty please…?”

“Now, girls… don’t you think we should leave that up to Jordan? She is our special guest, after all.” Amanda replied. It was plain to see she liked the idea, though.

Katie found her way into Jordan’s lap. Resting her head on the older girl’s soft breast, she said, “You want to have sexy fun with Mummy… don’t you?”

“She’s the best,” Rayne added. “You’ll love her just as much as we do!”

“Oh, you girls,” Amanda murmured, a little embarrassed. “Let her decide.”

This was so different from any experience she’d had before. Jordan felt uncharacteristically shy, but she wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. “That sounds good to me,” she said. “Let’s all enjoy ourselves.”

“Well, then,” Amanda glanced at Jordan’s mobile phone, which rested on the edge of the table. “Maybe you should call your mum and tell her you’ll be staying over.”

“Yes… I think I will,” a grinning Jordan agreed, already making the call.

As Jordan struggled through the conversation with her mother, a certain little minx in her lap was determined to make the task as challenging as possible. In addition to kissing her neck, the girl slipped a hand inside Jordan’s robe to caress her breasts.

“She wants t-to check with you…” Jordan said, barely restraining a gasp as she handed Amanda the phone.

Rayne was something of a minx as well. Not only did she pepper Amanda with kisses, she reached beneath the table to touch that woman between her legs. Amanda managed to maintain her poise throughout, exchanging introductions and pleasantries before saying. “No, it’s no bother at all… Jordan is a darling girl, and I know we’ll enjoy having her.”

Amanda’s wink when she said those words made Jordan laugh. Oh, yeah, she told herself, the fun is just getting started.

After taking the phone back and saying her goodbyes, she looked up at Amanda with a sly smile of her own. “Mum says I’m supposed to do whatever you tell me.”

A round of giggles erupted from the girls.

“Girls,” Amanda tapped on Rayne’s nose, “Why don’t you play with Jordan while I tidy up a bit? I’m sure you can think of something fun to do.”

The girls sprung to their feet. “Come on!” Rayne cried, taking Jordan by the hand. They dashed from the room, and soon Amanda heard a chorus of giggles as the girls ran back up the stairs.

Amanda resisted an urge to follow. In part she savoured the anticipation of lovemaking to come, but she was also surprised by a lurking feeling of uncertainty. She’d enjoyed herself with much younger girls than Jordan, but Latchmore felt like a different world, where the normal rules didn’t apply. Could she really allow herself to indulge in the same freedom outside its walls?

Miss Cindy had warned her: breaking loose of society’s rules could be a real challenge, especially for an adult. There was no question that she’d chosen the right path, but guilt, shame and inhibition could take a lifetime to unlearn. She could almost hear Miss Cindy’s voice saying, “The only way out is through… you need to live your new life to the fullest, my sweet.”

Reminding herself of the cool confidence her mistress embodied, Amanda searched inside for her own spark of self-assurance, using it to banish any lingering doubts. Smiling to herself, she knew Miss Cindy would be proud of her for what she was about to do.

Walking upstairs, she peeked into Katie’s room. The youngsters were seated on the floor, surrounded by Katie’s Barbie dolls. Jordan was nowhere to be seen, but the girls’ game was far from innocent, judging from the positions the dolls were in. Surely they were up to something… but what was it?

Moving down the hallway to her own room, she spied Jordan. The teen stood at the foot of Amanda’s bed, facing the entrance. Still wearing the silk kimono, Jordan now had her long red hair in cute pigtails.

The sight gave Amanda a sharp, sudden twinge of lust. Jordan was very much a hot, sexy young woman, but the new hairstyle and a certain look of innocence in her eyes suggested a shy young girl.

Somehow, Amanda knew that Katie and Rayne had done the teen’s hair like this… for her benefit, she suspected. Those little scamps do know how to turn me on…

Crossing the room, Amanda stood before Jordan, reading the desire in those bright green eyes. She gave a tug on Jordan’s belt and watched as the kimono dropped to the floor, leaving the teen nude.

Amanda licked her lips while she appraised the teen’s breasts. On the slender girl, they were utterly magnificent. She must drive boys wild… too bad for them, then.

“You really are beautiful,” Amanda said, giving Jordan a hungry look as she studied the girl’s body. “And I have to admit,” she added, trailing a fingertip down her arm, “I’ve thought about this more than once since we first met.”

“Me too,” Jordan said, biting her lip in anticipation until the two women came together, mouths meeting in a passionate kiss as Amanda’s own robe fell to the carpet.

Amanda’s kisses trailed from the girl’s lips to the neck, then down to her chest. Much as she loved little girls with their lithe bodies and flat chests, the soft womanly curves of a fine set of tits never failed to delight her. She sucked on each nipple in turn, teasing them to aching tautness.

Laying the girl back on the bed, her kisses travelled downward, crossing Jordan’s belly and beyond. The teen parted her legs in anticipation, but Amanda didn’t intend to rush. Instead, she paused to enjoy the aroma of aroused cunt before stretching out alongside her.

As Amanda’s fingertips slid up the girl’s thighs, she gave her young lover another kiss. “My little darlings are quite taken with you, you know. I hope you don’t think less of me for letting them have their fun first.”

“Mmmm… no, no!” Jordan gasped as she squirmed beneath Amanda’s touch. “They’re so lucky, your girls. I wish I’d had, well… someone just like you, b-back when I was their age.”

“Thanks, love,” Amanda said. “You know, when you took Katie into the changing room that first time we met, I got so fucking excited. I imagined you kneeling down in front of my little girl, sliding her knickers down, running your tongue up and down her slit… that was before she’d ever made love, even though she liked girls by then. Just think – you could’ve been the first to taste Katie’s honey.”

Jordan’s head swam. After all the fantasies she’d had of playing with little girls in the changing room, the realisation that at least one of their mums had thought about the same thing sent a shock through her womanly core. She closed her eyes to imagine the scene. The way her eyes shine as she watches me take off her knickers – then the taste of her coating my lips… 

Amanda continued, “Whenever you see a pretty little girl in the store, I bet you imagine yourself lifting up her skirt and touching between her legs while Mummy waits outside.”

Jordan nodded as she felt Amanda’s hand slide over her thighs, the woman’s lips grazing her ear as she spoke.

“What if Mummy wanted to watch, though? Would it be a bad thing if she got wet thinking of you giving her little princess a proper fucking… so much that she wanted to see it happen?”

Jordan bit her lower lip while Amanda gently stroked her clit. “She… she would b-be a very naughty mummy,” the girl managed to say.

“I bet you’ve thought about fucking some of the mothers as well… haven’t you?” Amanda looked into Jordan’s eyes as her fingers twirled in a steady rhythm.

“Yes, I have!” the girl gasped, a wave of warmth sweeping through her when the woman’s thumb brushed her clit.

“I’m glad,” Amanda said as she slipped two fingers deep into the teen’s wetness. “Because this mother wants you to fuck her.” She leaned in to kiss Jordan again.

“Oh, God… fuck… yessss,” Jordan moaned. She clawed at the bedspread, squirming in response to Amanda’s touch, every atom of her body craving release.

This was a new experience for the teen, being taken on a long, slow ride on the way to what promised to be a massive orgasm. Practically all of Jordan’s past flings had been furtive affairs with bored housewives she’d caught eying her while they browsed for skimpy lingerie. An afternoon visit to a suburban home, a quick romp in the sheets, then a hasty exit before the husband got home. It scratched the itch, but little more. Now, for the first time, Jordan was with a lover who genuinely cared about her needs and desires.

She watched her legs being spread apart. Amanda licked her lips at the view, then got down on her belly. Jordan could feel the woman’s breath. Every nerve in her body was tingling in anticipation as Amanda’s hands slipped under her bum to draw her closer. Then she felt it. The soft warmth of a lover’s tongue dipping between her labia, then pressing into her womanly core.

Jordan felt a sob rising in her throat. She’d had her cunt licked before, but this was different. This was lovemaking as she’d always wanted it, the heat of fucking tempered by the gentleness of a caring partner. Clutching Amanda’s shoulder, she steadied herself as the world spun like a crazy pinwheel.

Whatever Amanda was doing drove Jordan frantic. The woman’s tongue seemed to flow like water – seeking, probing, filling, teasing the teen to distraction. “P-please!” was all she could say, barely able to get even that much out – but Amanda paid her no heed, just continued to lick.

Jordan felt pressure build inside until she was consumed by the need to come. Her hands were shaking, eyes squeezed shut, a hoarse moan escaping her throat. Then, as if Amanda knew the teen had reached the point of no return, she fastened her lips to Jordan’s clit.

The effect was like a switch being thrown inside, one that opened the floodgates of Jordan’s release. In an instant, her tension broke and ecstasy flowed, bathing her with waves of pure bliss that immersed her completely. Her sense of time vanished; she was pushed this way and that until the need to breathe brought her back to here and now.

Once her head had cleared she found herself cuddling with Amanda, who was giving her feather-light kisses. This woman, such a passionate lover a moment ago, was caring for Jordan like the mother she’d always wished for.

She’d never felt so satisfied… or safe. Tears of happiness threatened to well up in her eyes — but Jordan choked them back, unwilling to blubber like a baby in the presence of her new lover. After all, I haven’t got her off yet! Even after two orgasms, the raw desire she felt for the sexy single mother had yet to be quenched.

Rolling her over, Jordan straddled the woman and bent forward, dangling her breasts nearly within reach of Amanda’s lips. She reached up to touch them, but Jordan had other ideas.

Seizing Amanda’s wrists, she pinned her lover to the bed. “No,” she said firmly, “You just lie there… it’s my turn to play.”

“Yes, Miss Jordan,” Amanda said in her meekest voice, the thought of the teenager taking charge sending an electric rush through her body.

Jordan could read the hunger in Amanda’s eyes. Leaning forward, she let each nipple barely brush against the woman’s lips before taking them away. Having big tits can be a pain in the arse, she thought, but they sure are useful for teasing a lover. She bent down again – but this time, she guided Amanda’s face into her cleavage.

Sliding down a bit further, Jordan took hold of her breasts, carefully letting the tips graze her partner’s nipples.  With the slightest of movements, she made them trace little circles, tickling Amanda’s areolas, making the woman gasp and squirm.

In the mood for a little more tit play, Jordan scooted lower, spread Amanda’s legs and slipped a nipple into her dripping wet pussy, sliding it back and forth a few times before repeating the trick with the other nipple.

Sitting up, she considered feeding Amanda her own juices, like a nursing mother giving milk – but couldn’t resist the chance to taste them herself. With Amanda watching intently, she took each nipple between her lips in turn, sampling the flavour.

“Mmmm… “ Jordan said, as she licked her lips, “your pussy tastes fuckin’ incredible!”

Positioning herself, she made sure to sweep her hair to one side so Amanda would have a good view, then lowered her mouth to the woman’s beautiful cunt.

Amanda moaned as the girl’s tongue slid over her wetness to tease her clit.

Jordan was lost in pleasuring her adult lover, so it took a moment to notice a very nude Katie, kneeling next to her on the bed. “Can I help?” she said. “I really like how Mummy’s pussy tastes.”

“Of course, sweetie!” Jordan sat up to give Katie a brief but lustful kiss before scooting over to make room for the little girl. They exchanged wicked grins, then got to work.

“Oh God, yes,” Amanda moaned as her daughter and Jordan feasted on her cunt, kissing each other as often as they licked her.

Where’s Rayne? Jordan wondered. That little minx must be up to something… there’s no way she’d pass this up.

She got her answer right away. As she centred her attention on Amanda’s vaginal cleft – while Katie nursed at her mummy’s clitoris – Jordan felt a pair of small hands caressing her bum before spreading the cheeks apart. The teen tensed with excitement, raising her hips in anticipation of whatever kinky game Rayne wanted to play. Is she going to eat my arse again?

A hand slipped between Jordan’s legs to cup her sex, the fingertips just barely grazing her clit. She let out a gasp, her hands tightening on Amanda’s thighs as the tension built.

Then she felt it. The tip of something seeking entrance to her cunt, something too large to be a young girl’s finger. Besides, both Rayne’s hands were now resting on her hips.

I can’t believe this, Jordan told herself. I’m being fucked – actually fucked! – by a little girl, while I help another little girl go down on her own mum. I must’ve died and gone to Perverted Dyke Heaven…

She longed for a photo of the lewd scene – her mouth buried in the minge of a sexy woman, little Katie providing assistance, and Rayne, a strap-on cock snugly fastened round the waist, rogering her from behind.

Just then, another two inches of the fake cock got fed into Jordan’s vagina – and it drove all rational thought from her mind. She let out a gasp, somewhat muffled by Amanda’s sex. She’d been fucked a couple of times before by women sporting strap-ons, but those encounters had been clumsy and awkward, nothing like this. Rayne’s movements were gentle, yet confident… the rubbery shaft easing into Jordan’s body until it touched something mysterious deep inside her. My soul, maybe.

By then, Rayne had fully penetrated her with the toy, right up to its base. The eleven-year-old paused to let Jordan adjust to its length, then began to move her hips, working the slippery cock in and out.

It felt incredible, with sparks flying behind Jordan’s eyes at every stroke. Despite having come twice in the last two hours, she was surprised to sense that familiar storm rising once more.

She felt Katie’s lips seeking hers for another kiss. Their mouths met, tongues entwining in a lustful dance, swapping Amanda’s flavour back and forth.

Jordan was first to break away. She bent to suck Amanda’s clitoris, determined to get the woman off before she came herself. From the corner of her eye, she saw Katie eagerly dipping her tongue into Mummy’s pussy. This time, the two girls worked in tandem, quickly developing a mutual rhythm.

Amanda’s moan increased in pitch as her body shivered, then tensed an instant before she exploded in a frenzied orgasm. Jordan held on as best she could, trying not to bump heads with little Katie, who was still licking frantically at her mum.

An especially deep thrust from Rayne made Jordan cry out loud – and then she was coming herself, her voice mingling with Amanda’s in a lewd duet. The pleasure swiftly rose to a peak, then everything vanished into a tiny pinpoint of light.

When Jordan awakened a moment later, she was nestled between the girls, her head resting on Amanda’s belly.

The woman’s hand touched her face. “Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah,” Jordan mumbled. “Bloody hell… my cunt is sore.” Everyone laughed, Jordan included.

The four lay intertwined for a long, wonderful while, enjoying the warmth and tenderness of each other’s bodies, basking in the lingering fragrance of their lovemaking. Katie helped Rayne unfasten the harness of the strap-on, then the girls licked it clean together before rejoining the group cuddle. Occasional kisses and caresses were mixed with whispered words of affection until slumber claimed them all.

When Jordan awoke, Amanda was spooning her from behind, the woman’s hands gently cupping her breasts, lips touching her neck.

In the dim light filtering through the window, she saw the two girls sitting, facing each other with their legs intertwined. Their kisses were sweet and tender as they rocked their hips, grinding their bare slits together. Far from the wild sex they’d shared a few hours before, Jordan could tell this was a private moment between two girls in love.

As much as she desperately wanted that sort of love for herself, she felt no jealousy. Instead, she was filled with resolve. From this day on, she wouldn’t hide her sexuality from anyone, not even her parents. It’s time to be me, Jordan told herself.

“I hope you had a good night’s rest,” Amanda said as Jordan stretched. “Seems like you needed it.” She got out of bed, slipping into her silk kimono. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stroked Jordan’s shoulder. “Rest a little longer if you like… breakfast is ready when you are.”

“Oh, I’m plenty rested,” the teen murmured, sitting up. “Mind you, that was quite a workout we had!”

“Here – this is for you,” Amanda said, draping a bottle-green dressing gown over the back of a nearby chair. “Have yourself a shower, if you like… then come down to eat.” Blowing the girl a kiss, she made her exit.

Minutes later, squeaky clean and wearing the dressing gown, Jordan was enjoying a large breakfast with Amanda and the girls. As she ate, it struck her how the scene at the dining table was surprisingly normal. Katie and Rayne were laughing and chattering like any girls their age, their mum was relaxing with toast and coffee, and as for Jordan herself… well… she was something like a big sister. It was very different from the detached environment of her own home. This was the kind of family she’d always wanted.

“You know,” she said, looking up at Amanda, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to know each other sooner. God, I’m going to miss all of you when I start at University. After last night, it’ll be hard to go back to my old life.”

Amanda took her by the hand. “Then you need to make a new life, with people who accept who you are. They’re out there… you just have to know where to look.”

Jordan sighed. “I’d love that… but how many others can there be who have the – the kind of feelings I do?” She glanced at the girls, feeling that all-too familiar twinge of wistful desire. “I… I didn’t ask to be this way. It’s just part of who I am. I need a lover who won’t hate me ‘cos I like, um, young girls.” She gave Rayne and Katie a yearning look.

“Did you never hear the stories about Latchmore House, and how it got started?” Amanda said, giving Jordan’s hand a squeeze. “It’s what got my daughter and me together… and brought Rayne into our lives.”

“So… you’re saying that they could – they could help me?”

Amanda nodded. “I am, sweetheart. Latchmore is much more than gardens and fairies… it’s a way for women and girls to find love with one another. And we have friends everywhere… even at your university.”

Jordan leaned forward in her seat, eyes alight with interest. “Tell me more.”

Soon to come… the thrilling conclusion: Chapter Eleven!

by Rachael Yukey

I slipped the thick sheaf of paper back into the manila folder, tucked it under the head of the cot, then took a moment to study the monitor. Nothing had changed. Without much conscious thought, I scanned the displays on my infusion pumps and checked the readout on the ventilator. Finally, my eyes came to rest on the comatose young man in front of me. His arms were heavily tattooed, hair cropped close. He had a tube down his throat, and most of his abdomen was covered with a bulky dressing.

Goddamn fools.

Calls for any kind of violence in Franklin County are mercifully rare, and this was one of the dumbest incidents I’d seen. A young husband and wife, ripped to the tits on meth, fighting over who got to pick the next movie to watch. He’d smacked her upside the head, and she’d come at him with a kitchen knife. A big one. According to the medic who’d responded to the scene, Tattoo Boy’s guts had been hanging out. He’d been brought to Pinewood hospital on the 911 call, and was now being transferred to Centracare in St. Cloud.

A flash of lightning split the darkness in the back window of the ambulance, followed by the crash of thunder. It was nine o’clock on Friday morning, but the heavy clouds and the steady sheet of rain rendered the sky nearly black. The rare early spring thunderstorm was the reason this particular gentleman was in an ambulance instead of a helicopter. He was stable for the moment, and I had little to do, but if the hasty patchwork they’d performed in Johnstown came undone en route, I was most likely going to lose him.

The patient stirred a little. I inspected his face, noting tearing around the eyes. I increased the infusion rate on my Ketamine drip, then selected a carefully labeled syringe and pushed a couple of milliliters.

“You’re all right, buddy,” I said. “I just gave you a little extra medicine. You should feel better in a minute or two.” I don’t know if talking to a person under sedation is helpful or not, but legitimate research suggests that it might be. So I always try to do it.

Putting the syringe aside, I pulled the laptop closer. I didn’t anticipate having to do much, and there was over an hour to go. I could probably get most or all of my report done on the way. Then my phone rang. It was on the bench seat next to the narc box, and I glanced down. Terry. I picked it up and swiped the accept button.

“Gotta make it quick,” I said.

“Ah, shit… are you with a patient right now?”

“Relax,” I said. “It’s a tubed transfer patient, and I’m just doing maintenance drugs. I wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t have a minute to talk. What’s up?”

“I just had the most fascinating conversation with George Fronse.”

“And?”

“He was absurdly cordial. Offered me coffee, made small talk. Pretty much exactly the opposite of how he normally behaves towards me. But that’s not the fascinating bit. The fascinating bit is that he didn’t seem at all surprised by what I had to say.”

I leaned back against the cushions affixed to the wall of the ambulance, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Really.” As I spoke, my eyes roved the equipment, mindful for any changes.

“Really, but oh, that’s not all. He acted exactly the way you described him from the Bixley interview. Evasive, hesitant. It wasn’t like him at all.”

“Did he have anything to say about what you showed him?”

“He asked me who else we’ve talked to. I told him you were planning to speak with hospitals, EMS medical directors, and the county mounties this morning. Speaking of which, how much of that did you get around to?”

Frowning a little at a change on the monitor, I made a small adjustment to the vent settings. “I talked to our medical director at Thormleton, also Dr. Murphey over at Pinewood. They’re going to help me spread the word to the other hospitals and ambulance services. I was about to call the sheriff’s department, but that’s when shit started to go down. I won’t be back in Johnstown till this afternoon.”

“Well,” said Terry, “I also had a little chat with Robbie Wachinsky. You should be in Bronning by seven this evening, no?”

“If I don’t get fucked by a last-minute transfer. Why?”

“Robbie’s doing an emergency meeting to brief the ambulance squad on this. Doc Stantin will be there, too. I’ve been making phone calls, and I think we can get one hundred percent participation. If you can be there to give the briefing, that would be ideal.”

Watching the monitor closely now, I bumped the infusion rate on another of the pumps a bit higher. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Um, I’d better go, Terry; shit’s getting weird on me. Anything else you need?”

“One quick thing: I’m on call today, and all the surrounding services have been getting their asses kicked if the radio chatter is to be believed. If I see another one of these cases but can’t get an intercept, is there anything I can do at my level?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “Drive fast and pray,” I said. “As an EMT, you have no tools for this. See you tonight, Terry.”

“See you.”

I made another adjustment to the ventilator, then took the patient’s hand. “Come on, man,” I said aloud. “Hang in there. Only another hour and you’ll be in surgery. Don’t crump on me now, you hear? You can do this.”

***

“If you see the combination of symptoms I’ve just outlined,” I said, “or anything even close, get your ALS intercept coming before you load. You’ve got a patient suffering distributive shock, they’re already starting to decompensate, and as an EMT there isn’t a damn thing you can give them except for oxygen and high-flow diesel fuel.”

Seated around the conference table at the Bronning ambulance station were ten Emergency Medical Technicians and two Emergency Medical Responders. Add myself, standing before them at the whiteboard, and you have the entirety of Bronning’s hopelessly understaffed volunteer ambulance service. The two EMRs can’t be alone in the back of an ambulance with a patient, and mostly just serve as drivers. Keeping a two-person crew on call at all times is a major pain in the ass for the director, and the EMTs with the most availability – Terry and two others – do over three hundred hours a month of on-call time each.

Sitting on one of the couches at the edge of the room was medical director Dick Stantin, an ED doc at Melville. George Fronse sat next to him, still in uniform, his back ramrod straight.

I took a deep breath and went on. “If it’s reasonable to go to Johnstown from the scene, do that. It’s worth going in that direction even if it’s, say, an extra five minutes to get there. We have ‘pressors on the Thormleton trucks that no other medics in the area have access to, so a Thormleton intercept can really make a difference in these cases. But if the difference is more than five minutes, go emergent to the closest facility.”

My eyes swept the room. Stacy Logan was seated next to Terry. I wondered if they were sleeping together again. On Terry’s other side was Nate Hauss, his hands begrimed from his job as a heavy truck mechanic. Then there was Robbie the old-timer, Jessie the noob, and all the rest.

“Dr. Stantin,” I said, “is there anything you’d like to say?”

The prim middle-age man in the designer suit stood up. “I think Nettie has done a really impressive bit of detective work here. We’ve seen two of these cases up in Melville now, and we’ll certainly be on the lookout for more. I think everything I would have said has been covered, except that no matter how serious the situation appears to be, don’t neglect to look after your own safety. Drivers especially should remember not to take unnecessary risks.” He nodded once and sat down.

“One last thing,” I said. “When I’m home I’m going to be keeping my radio on, and I’ll jump on any calls for altered mental or reduced LOC. That way you’ll have ALS available without having to call for an intercept. If I can make it, I’ll let you know via the city channel. If you don’t hear from me, just go.”

I took my seat. All eyes turned to the head of the table, where Robbie Wachinsky sat. “Thank you, Nettie, and Dr. Stantin,” he said. “I have to say, I haven’t seen anything like this in all the years I’ve been an EMT. It’s pretty late and I imagine we all want to be getting home to dessert, but we can spare a few minutes for discussion. Anyone have any questions, or anything to add?”

Nate Hauss cleared his throat. “How sure are we that this is being caused by a narcotic?”

“We’re not,” I said. “It could be a really weird virus, or some kind of poison lots of people are getting into. Unfortunately most of the cases are only getting a standard tox screen, and it comes back negative. Whatever was in Jason Bixley’s body hasn’t been identified yet, to the best of my knowledge, and we can’t be completely sure that his case is related to the rest of these anyway. I have my opinions, but I don’t think anyone can say for sure.”

Nate nodded once and sat back.

Robbie inclined his head. “Anyone else?” A few heads shook, but nobody spoke.

“Then I have an announcement to make before we call it a night,” said Robbie. “This will be my last month as an active volunteer on the Bronning ambulance schedule. My license doesn’t expire till March of next year, so if anyone is really hard up to get a shift covered until then, I’ll try to help you out. Other than that, I’ve had it. I’ve been at this for over forty years, and I want Jason Bixley to be the last local boy I have to watch die.”

I took a quick glance around the room, trying to keep my face impassive. Mouths were hanging open. If Bronning Ambulance is a family, Robbie Wachinsky is the father.

“I informed the city today that I’ll be remaining in the director’s role until the end of June,” Robbie was saying. “Anyone interested in the position should talk to Cindy at the city offices right away. They’d like to pick someone as soon as possible so that person can work with me for the next couple of months and learn how it’s done. It has to be an EMT, or a paramedic if Nettie decides she wants to apply.”

Fuck that.

Robbie stood. “I’m not inviting discussion of it tonight; we can talk about it more at the monthly meeting. Good night, everyone.”

Robbie picked up his folder full of papers, leaving a roomful of people gaping at his back. The outer door closed, and the room exploded in a cacophony of voices.

***

I was just stepping out of the shower when I heard a rapping on my door. I’d split the meeting as soon as I decently could, hastening home to clean myself up before Halee arrived. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but I knew I needed to get the stink of a long day on the bandaid box off before finding out.

Dammit. While showering, I’d pondered what to greet her in, fretting over what I should wear like a high school freshman on her first date. I’d been debating the merits of digging out some of my seldom-used lingerie. What I hadn’t expected was to let her in wearing a bathrobe, hair wrapped in a towel.

I unbolted the door and opened it, then stopped dead for a moment, just looking Halee up and down. She was wearing one of her seemingly endless supply of short black skirts, fishnet stockings underneath. She’d done something with her hair to make it wavier than usual, her wrists were adorned with what looked like Hot Topic jewelry, and she had just a touch of that blackish lipstick on. In short, she looked ravishing, and there I stood in a frumpy old bathrobe.

“Come in,” I said. “I’m sorry, Halee, we had that last-minute meeting and…”

Closing the door behind her, she reached up and put a finger to my lips. “Shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay. Say, I just thought… do we need to be worried about people seeing me here?”

I snorted. “We’re in meth central,” I told her. “This building takes HRA benefits, so literally everybody but me is a welfare recipient from out of town. They don’t even know anyone outside the building, and nobody knows them. It’s the safest place in Bronning to hook up.” I took Halee by the hand and led her towards the living room, acutely conscious of what I’d just said. Was that really what we were doing – hooking up?

Luckily, Halee let it slide. “So why do you stay here?”

I shrugged. “It wasn’t like this when I moved in. At the time I’d just become a paramedic and was moving out of my mom’s house. It was cheap, and the neighbors weren’t bad; just old, mostly. But the older residents are mostly gone, and they got replaced with the HRA crowd. I keep thinking about moving, but haven’t got around to it yet.”

Stopping in the middle of the living room, I turned to face Halee, taking both her hands in mine. “You look amazing,” I told her.

“So do you.”

I laughed. “Bullshit,” I said. “I look like a frump. I was just getting out of the shower when you knocked.”

“You could have just come as you were,” she said with a sweet little smile.

I felt my face warm at the thought of her seeing me naked. Part of me wanted to drop the bathrobe right then and there. I’d been determined to play things by ear, go slowly, and not take things too far in one sitting, but those hazel eyes were robbing me of my resolve in a hurry.

I led her to the couch. “Why don’t you make yourself comfy,” I said, “and I’ll go and get dressed.”

She sat, but wouldn’t release my hand. “Don’t go,” she implored. “I don’t care what you’re wearing. Stay with me.”

I gave in, sitting down beside her. I made no pretense of trying to avoid contact, wrapping an arm around Halee and pulling her close. She snuggled up. I let my fingertips caress her upper arm and shoulder.

I looked down, gently turning her head and tilting it up to face mine with two fingers under her chin. I realized she was trembling.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She nodded. “Mm-hmm. Kinda nervous, I guess.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” I assured her. “We can just sit here like this. Or we could play rummy, or… whatever you want to do.”

It was easy to say, but my body insisted otherwise. I was vaguely aware of moisture gathering between my legs. Halee gave me a knowing smirk.

“You don’t want to play rummy,” she said flatly.

I chuckled hollowly. “No, not really.”

“Good,” she said, “because I don’t either.”

“So what do you want?”

“I think,” she said, eyeing me appraisingly, “I want to kiss you.”

Still cupping Halee’s chin. I brushed my thumb across her lips, and she smiled. I leaned in, my face inches from hers – leaving the first move to her.

Slowly, hesitantly, she closed those last couple of inches and pressed her lips to mine.

It wasn’t much at first, as kisses go. We just sat there for a long moment, lips together, frozen in time. The only movement was my fingertips caressing the back of her neck. But for me, it was the fulfillment of ages-suppressed longing, and my body responded in kind. It was all I could do to keep myself from ravishing her, right then and there.

Then she parted her lips. Just a little bit, trying it out. Firmly reminding myself that this was her first kiss and that I had to go slowly, I let my own lips go slack, then gently took her top lip in between them. A funny little noise escaped her throat as she opened her mouth wider.

Restraint, I reminded myself, gently teasing her lips with mine. She began copying my movements, sucking first on one of my lips, then the other. Unable to restrain myself for another second, I slipped my tongue between her lips. Not too far, just a quick, exploratory dart and a withdrawal. She didn’t pull away, so I tried it again, and this time Halee met my tongue with hers.

Slowly, languorously, the tips of our tongues engaged in a sexy dance. I let it go on for a few seconds, then pulled back, looking down into her eyes. Her breathing was strained, and mine wasn’t exactly steady.

“Is this okay, Halee?” I whispered.

“It was until you stopped,” she informed me, the corners of her mouth barely forming a smile.

I leaned in again, this time planting a kiss at the corner of her jaw. I nuzzled my way to her chin, then moved downward, tipping her head back and planting little kisses on her neck and collarbone. Her hands gripped the back of my head, knocking away the towel I’d bundled my hair in. Her breathing was becoming increasingly harsh. I snaked my tongue out, running it along her jawline and around to her chin. Halee, clearly having had enough, ducked down to capture my mouth with hers.

This time there was no hesitation; our mouths opened and our tongues came together. Halee was awkward and uncertain at first, but she followed my lead. Within moments, she was kissing me back with increasing urgency and confidence. Then her mouth was on my neck, kissing me the way I’d been kissing her moments ago.

I’ll give away a little secret: if you want to fuck me, go for my neck. It’s my most insane erogenous zone, and Halee’s hot little mouth blazed a trail across it, licking, kissing, and laying down little love bites. When her lips found their way back to mine, I scooped her into my arms and pulled her halfway onto my lap. We kissed long and passionately, and finally I forced myself to break away.

“Halee,” I gasped, “unless you’re looking for a lot more than just a kiss, I… I need a minute here.”

A delighted smile illuminated her face. “Does that mean I’m doing a good job?”

“Honey, I’m having a hard time believing you’ve never done this before.”

She beamed. “That’s good,” she said, “because I am looking for more than just a kiss.”

I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, and cupped her face in both hands. “What were you hoping for?”

Her mouth twisted. “Well, I don’t know about you,” she said, “but if I was alone right now, I’d be… you know…”

“Masturbating?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to do it together? Just watch each other?”

She tilted her head to one side. “I was more thinking we’d do stuff to each other. Isn’t that how this is supposed to work?”

God, I wanted those hands on my body. For the thousandth time, I reminded myself not to rush this.

“Eventually,” I said, “but this is new for you. I think it would be better if we take it slow.”

She nodded. “Guess I’ll take what I can get. Can we go to your bedroom?”

I led her down the hallway. After closing the door to the bedroom I drew Halee to me and kissed her, leaning down and bending her backwards just a little. She’s tall for her age, but I’m six feet, you know?

We pressed our bodies together as we kissed. When we came apart, Halee put a tentative hand on one of the trailing ends of my bathrobe sash. “Can I take this off?”

I slowly nodded. Halee tugged on the sash, releasing the bow. She pulled the slipknot loose and let the robe fall open. Placing both hands on my shoulders, she eased the robe over them until it slid down my arms and to the floor. Then she stood back, regarding my body with something like wonder.

Stepping forward to take Halee in my arms, I pressed my nude body against her clothed one, and we kissed again. I almost began undressing her right then, but held back, not wanting to risk making her feel pressured.

With an effort of will, I let her go, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Can I see you?” I asked. “If you’re ready, that is.”

Without a word, Halee slipped her shirt over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra; there isn’t really enough there to justify it yet. I couldn’t tear my eyes from those tiny nubs… until her hands moved downward, that is. She unfastened her skirt and let it slip to the floor, then pushed those fishnets down along with her panties. There she stood before me, legs slightly parted, hands on hips. There was only the slightest hint of dark pubic hair. I beckoned her to sit with me on the bed. She joined me, we kissed slowly and tenderly for a moment, then I pulled away.

I crawled onto the bed, lay back, and spread my legs wide apart. Halee’s eyes were immediately riveted to my exposed pussy. I spread the lips wide with the thumb and fingers of one hand to give her a good look.

“It’s… different from mine,” she said in a quavering voice.

“Can I see yours?” She nodded, so I sat up, eased Halee onto her back, then gently opened her legs. Her lips parted only slightly. “Will you let me look inside?” I asked.

Halee made a face. “You don’t have to keep asking permission before you — you do stuff to me, okay?” she protested. “Nettie: I want this. If you do anything I don’t like, I’ll tell you… okay?”

I was speechless at first, but finally managed to say, “I guess that’s fair.”

“Good.” She relaxed into the sheets, parting her thighs even further. “Now, I believe you were hoping to… get a look?”

I knelt before her. My trembling fingers trailed up her leg, then slid down the crease of her pelvis. Halee raised her hips up from the bed and moaned. I traced a path down the outside of her slit, thrilling at the moisture that coated her lips. Dear God, she’s wet. Halee was practically panting, pressing herself against my fingers.

I spread her lips apart. The inner labia were small and pink, the prominent nub of her clitoral hood standing out boldly, begging for attention. Everything glistened with the evidence of Halee’s arousal. I traced the insides of her lips, letting the moisture coat my fingers. My earlier resolve was gone; there was no way this would end the way I’d initially planned.

My fingers found her slippery entrance, and began a slow circular motion, opening her up. Halee was thrusting her hips at me, whimpering with every breath. I leaned in to kiss her, and she met my mouth with a hunger that left me breathless.

I ran a finger up and down the entrance to her pussy, taking care to avoid her clit. My wandering mouth found Halee’s collarbone, then stole downward to the tiny beginnings of her breasts. She whimpered as I delicately licked each nipple.

“Nettie, please,” she moaned.

My index and middle fingers, each stroking one of her lips, came together in the middle to tease her clit. Halee wailed.

I began a circular motion with my fingers, pulling her tightly against me with my free arm while I peppered her chest, face, and neck with little kisses. I knew this was a first for her, being intimately touched by someone else, and I wanted her to feel warm, safe and loved.

Her breath was coming in starts and hitches, with occasional moans. Then the moans increased in volume and frequency, then her body suddenly went rigid. Burying her face in my shoulder, she convulsed in the throes of her orgasm, little “uh… uh… uh” noises escaping with every exhalation. Finally, she went limp.

Halee lay in my arms for a while, pressed snugly against me. My body was raging with unrequited need, but I was overcome with a tremendous satisfaction that more than made up for it. I’d given this sweet little angel what she so desperately needed, and her sighs of contentment were more than enough for me.

Once she’d caught her breath, Halee lifted her head and looked into my eyes. “Wow,” she got out, “that was… whoa.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” My words came out as a ragged whisper.

The corners of her mouth curled upwards. “You still need something,” she said.

“Kinda,” I said with a dry chuckle.

“Do you want me to…”

“Only if you want to, Halee. If not, I can take care of myself.”

“Can I touch your boobs?” There was a hesitant tremor in her voice.

“You can touch me anywhere you want,” I breathed.

She extended hand slowly, tentatively. Her fingertips trailed around the underside of my left breast, then the other. She shifted position, enabling her to reach in with both hands, cupping and then caressing. When she found my nipples, my already urgent need got jacked up a few notches. I pressed my thighs together, sending little pulses of pleasure through my core.

When her tongue flicked across a nipple, I moaned, “Oh, God, Halee…”.

She spent a few minutes licking and sucking first one nipple, then the other, while I writhed, gasped, and whimpered. Then she pulled away, trailing her hands across my belly as she repositioned herself to get a good look down below.

I never saw myself as a raving beauty, but do have what I consider to be a beautiful pussy. I’m just barely an outie, my inner labia extending just a few millimeters beyond the outer lips, taking on a bluish tinge at the extremity. Halee brushed across the inner lips, and I involuntarily moved towards her fingers. She eased a finger into my slit, found the hole, then paused at the entrance, delicately stroking me there. I ached for her to go inside.

“You can put it in me, if you want,” I encouraged.

Giving me a delighted, naughty smile, she penetrated my vagina with one steady stroke. I shuddered.

“Have you ever put a finger inside yourself?” I groaned.

“Just a little ways. I’m kind of scared to do more. Wow, it’s really gooey in there.” She slid her finger in and out, and my breath hitched.

“You could p-put another one in,” I stammered.

I felt a second finger join the first, then she began to up the tempo.

“That’s right, sweetie,” I breathed. “Fuck me.”

Halee’s grin got bigger. “That’s what I’m doing, isn’t it? Fucking you! Am I doing okay?”

“Yeah,” I got out. It was becoming increasingly hard to talk. “If you want to see fireworks, curl your fingers so your palm is rubbing my clit.”

Five seconds later, I was moaning in ecstasy, waves of pleasure engulfing me with every motion. I was dimly aware that Halee’s breathing had gone ragged again, and found myself wondering if she was capable of another orgasm.

My hand dipped. She was kneeling on the bed as she finger-fucked me, and I cupped her backside, my long fingers delving between her legs and into her dripping cunt. Finding her clit with my fingertips, I went to work, and her first cry of pleasure was all it took to push me over the edge.

Surges of unimaginable rapture lifted me up and carried me away, my body jerking spasmodically until, barely able to breathe, I pushed her hand away. Halee’s fingers eased themselves from my dripping cunt, and she laid her head on me, burying her face in my boobs. A few seconds later she was coming again, her body convulsing as she made those same little noises as before. Finally she collapsed in my arms and was still.

We lay there like that for long moments, holding each other, sharing occasional caresses.

I finally lifted my head and looked into Halee’s eyes. I saw no sorrow there, no uncertainty. Perhaps for the first time since I’ve known the girl, she seemed perfectly content.

“That was further than I meant to go,” I told her.

She smiled. “I’m not sorry. Are you?”

I had to laugh. “I’m not if you’re not.”

“But there’s a lot more we can do,” she said. “Maybe not tonight, but soon?”

“Count on it,” I said with a grin.

“You know what’s weird?” she said. “I’m starving now. I think I’m going to have to raid the freezer for ice cream when I get home.”

“Why wait till you get home?”

So we got ourselves ice cream, me in my long green bathrobe, her in my short pink one. We ate in silence, smiling at each other across my tiny round kitchen table. After we’d finished she got her clothes back on, preparing to depart. We embraced in my entryway, holding one another close, and came together for a long, slow, satisfying kiss. And then she was gone.

On to Chapter Eight!

by BlueJean

It’s a strange thing to awaken and find yourself underwater.

You know there ought to be a sense of panic, but as the quilt floats away from your body and the entire contents of your bedroom bob around, a strange acceptance creeps over you. Yeah, this is okay. The ocean has swallowed up my aunt and uncle’s house and common sense tells me I should be drowning, but somehow I’m still able to breathe. Well, why not?

So I float out of bed and down the spiral staircase. I consider visiting the bathroom to have a pee, but I’m not sure how that would even work beneath the waves, so I hold it in for the moment. I check my aunt and uncle’s room but there’s no one in there.

“Aunt Rita? Uncle Derek?”

Oh. I can talk underwater, too? That’s handy.

I sink downstairs, open the cottage door and swim out to the edge of the peninsula. “Oh. My. Days…”

The harbour town has become an amazingly vibrant underwater seascape. Huge coral reefs of pink, white and blue festoon the spaces between brightly coloured houses. Bubbles float from chimneys instead of smoke; shoals of tropical fish swim through the streets. The whole vista is infused with shards of sunlight that pierce through the water from above, lending it an azure glow.

I push off from the cliff and swim down towards the harbour. When a vast teeming ball of butterfly fish envelops me, I find myself swimming through a tunnel of the colourful creatures, emerging to discover a huge blue whale and its calf gliding past me. I raise a hand in greeting. “Morning!”

The Mal De Mer has become an old shipwrecked galleon illuminated by neon lights and bioluminescent jellyfish. I swim past the pub and head down towards what used to be the beach (but now qualifies as a seabed, I suppose), then further onwards towards the ring of fossilised trees.

The seals are waiting. They dart around playfully, batting at me with their flippers and nibbling my toes. A particularly bold seal with red fur swims up close, its whiskers tickling my nose. It peers at me with emerald eyes that seem to dance with mischief, then whispers, “Wakey wakey, sleepy Hailey.”

My eyes fluttered open to find Aunt Rita standing over me.

“Hey,” I croaked.

She lifted a foot up onto my bed, the movement causing her robe to fall open, then put a hand to her mouth in a childlike display of pantomime scandal. “Oopsies…!”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and considered the contours of my aunt’s naked form – the soft swell of her breasts and her wide belly dancer hips. She scissored fingers through her cunt, drawing them back up to leave her dark bush glistening with dew.

“What if Uncle Derek catches us?” I whispered. Our ‘special time’ was usually reserved for when he was away on fishing trips. My aunt wasn’t usually this reckless.

Her sticky fingers hovered near my face. “Shhh… Your uncle’s fast asleep.” She smeared her essence upon my lips and my tongue emerged to sample the musky tang. Her fingers returned to her cunt briefly, then found their way directly into my mouth. “Taste me,” she murmured.

“What’s got you so excited?” I asked as she dipped her digits back inside herself.

That earned me a dirty smile. “We’ve been invited over to Madeline’s later. For a lunch date.”

“Oh. That sounds nice.”

Knowing Madeline, I suspected the only thing we’d be dining on would be each other. But lunch at the doctor’s house would serve a dual purpose: today was the day I would give back her sealskin, so she could finally return to the ocean.

Aunt Rita pushed back the quilt that covered my body. “Pull your jammies down for me.”

I did as she asked, pushing my pyjamas and knickers down past my knees. She reached between my legs, slick fingers lubricating my labia as they brushed back and forth. I thrust my hips out to meet her touch, and she in turn thrust hers towards my face.

“Lick me, Hailey.”

With an eye towards the door and a nagging concern that my uncle might wander in, I propped my head up with pillows and drew my tongue up the length of Aunt Rita’s creamy pussy lips. Our intimacy had cemented a bond between us so powerful that I knew her by taste and smell alone: the earthy, tart flavour of her cunt, the heady animal scent that clung to the air. And something unquantifiable – a glamour that I could only assume was true love.

As I licked my aunt, her fingers plunged inside me – one in my pussy; another up my arse. “This is just a warm-up, Hailey,” she murmured. “A sneak peek of all the dirty, wicked things we’ll be getting up to later with Madeline and little Isla.

“I-I can’t wait,” I groaned, grabbing her wrist in an effort to encourage more force from her. She pumped her fingers deeper and faster, until the dull ache of my orgasm oozed to the surface, its lack of urgency creating a pleasant thrum through my half-awake body.

Tendrils of pleasure still rippling through me, but also aware of my aunt’s own needs, I lazily returned my mouth to her cunt while she strummed her tender clit to an ever-increasing tempo. Her climax emerged hissing; snarling – a ravenous, feral creature thrust out unceremoniously into the world. “Fucker!” she wailed, then clapped a hand over her mouth to silence herself until the convulsions had subsided.

I followed a bead of pussy juice as it trickled down my aunt’s inner thigh and dripped onto my pillow with a barely audible plip. She placed a finger to her lips and whispered, “Our little secret…”

A short while later I was dressed and downstairs in the kitchen with my aunt and uncle, happily munching away on a piece of toast slathered with honey.

Uncle Derek was grumbling into his phone. “Come on, you old coot, answer.”

“What’s up?” Aunt Rita asked him as she piled crockery into the dishwasher.

“Bloody Sully. I’ve been trying to get hold of him all morning. Probably forgot which button to press again. I’d have more luck sending a homing pigeon.”

I had a feeling Sully was avoiding his captain. I’d persuaded the old man to show me where he’d hidden Madeline’s sealskin, but I knew it went against everything he and my uncle stood for. A sailor’s oath is not to be taken lightly. I hoped he wouldn’t go back on his word, though.

Uncle Derek put his phone down on the kitchen table with a grunt. “Ah, well. What’re you girls up to today? I thought we could all mosey on across to the mainland and get a bite to eat. Maybe find a good museum or something.”

“Sorry, oaf. Me and Hailey already have a date,” Aunt Rita said as she massaged my uncle’s head. “Lunch with the good doctor.”

“Oh, fair enough. How come I never get invited to your little soirées?”

My aunt flashed me a wink. “Well, you’re just so uncouth. Who’d want to take a great brute of a man like you anywhere?”

My uncle seemed to relish his wife’s heckling. “You can fuck right off!” he said with a wide grin. “Stick me in a tuxedo and I’m like James feckin’ Bond. Bet you’re afraid all the ladies’ll be sniffin’ around, that’s all. Back me up here, Hailey.”

I giggled at my aunt and uncle’s exchange. For all their bickering and mutual mockery, it was clear to me how fond they were of each other. But his attempt to rally my support fell on deaf ears. “Nah, I think Aunt Rita’s right. You’d only end up breaking something.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is, eh? All girls together. Well, bugger the both of you. I’ll stay at home and fix some fishing nets, then.”

“That’s the spirit,” my aunt said and gave him a pat on the head. She sauntered round the table and rested her hands on my shoulders. “You’d be bored to death, anyway. It’ll just be us girls. Doing girl stuff… Right, Hailey?”

Her hand disappeared beneath the table and found its way between my legs. I looked up at her, shaking my head, mouth forming a silent, “Don’t.”

But she continued stroking me through my leggings while Uncle Derek browsed through his newspaper, oblivious to his wife’s ministrations. “‘Cause girls just wanna have fuh-un… Oh, girls just wanna have fun…” my aunt sang.

“Hmm? Ya, okay,” my uncle mumbled, barely paying attention.

“No place for fellas,” Aunt Rita crooned, her fingers sliding through my pussy lips. “Just ladies… and naughty little girls… together…”

Uncle Derek slapped his paper closed and found his feet. My aunt quickly pulled her hand from between my legs and smiled sweetly at him.

“Yep. Good,” my uncle said, then stretched his great big arms aloft in a yawn. “Right, I’m off down to the boat for a bit.”

“B-bye!” I squeaked, then gave my aunt a look of stinging rebuke.

She laughed at me, kissed me on the nape of the neck, and then breathed into my ear, “Let’s get ready, little girl…”

***

As we made our way downtown towards Madeline’s lair, I couldn’t help but notice Aunt Rita was quieter than usual. When she kept giving me the occasional side-glance, it was clear that something was on her mind.

“What?” I asked.

“You okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You know what we’re gonna be doing at Madeline’s, right?”

There was that hint of condescension again. I’d thought we were past that. It warranted a thorough roll of the eyes, in my opinion. “Yeah, I’m not dense. Sex, of course.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I’ve done stuff with Madeline before, haven’t I? And you and me do sex all the time. Why would I be bothered?”

Aunt Rita was silent for a spell, and I took that as an end to the discussion, until she answered with, “I dunno, because you’re only eleven? And, to be honest… I’m not sure I want to share you.”

I took her hand in mine. “I’m quite mature for my age, y’know? And I dunno if I want to share you either, but it might be fun for a change.”

My aunt seemed content with that. She nudged me playfully, and shot me a smile. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Thanks for the talk, kid.”

A short walk later and we were standing at Madeline’s front door. Six-year-old Isla opened it and greeted us with a huge gap-toothed grin. “Ello! Me an’ Mummy are watching naughty videos!” the little girl said with enough volume to inform the entire town.

“Shhh!” my aunt and I hissed in alarm.

“Isla! Get in here!” Madeline appeared behind her daughter, then ushered us through into the lounge. “How many times have I told you? We have to keep things like this secret.”

“No one even heared me!” a put out Isla insisted. “There wasn’t anybody out there.”

Madeline sank down into her leather recliner chair. “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to get us all into trouble if you’re not careful.”

My eyes were drawn to two things: firstly, the usually light and airy lounge had been darkened with drawn drapes, creating an oppressive, ominous space. Secondly, a hardcore lesbian movie was playing on the huge TV. I’d binged my fair share of porn, easily circumventing my mother’s attempts at internet parental controls. But dirty videos while adults were present? Well, that was just a bit outside my comfort zone. I was willing to work with it, though.

Aunt Rita gave Madeline a cute little wave. “Hey, bitch.”

“Hey, bitch,” the doctor shot back.

“Say hello, Hailey,” my aunt reminded me.

“Hi, bitch,” I blurted out, my attention directed towards the TV. “Uh, Madeline! I meant Madeline!” I amended hastily, causing the two women to laugh.

Isla marched up to the TV screen to give me a rundown of events. “Hailey? You see this lady here, with the blonde hair? In a minute she licks the other lady’s bottom. And then the lady with the red shoes rubs her boobies all over the blonde lady’s puss-puss, and then they… the… the blonde lady… um… no, wait… not…what do they do again, Mummy?”

“No giving the plot away, little madam,” Madeline said. “Come sit on Mummy’s knee so I can put my hand down your panties.”

The giggling six-year-old climbed into her mother’s lap. Madeline lifted the little girl’s dress and slipped a hand inside her baby blue knickers while Aunt Rita and I nestled down into the couch.

My aunt wasted no time in loosening the buttons on her jeans. “Why don’t you take your leggings off?” she said, so I slipped them down my legs and kicked them away. She reached across and rubbed me through my panties, her fingers forcing the plain white cotton between my pussy lips with each firm stroke. “You’re so wet,” she told me, and true enough, the damp spot on my knickers gave me away.

“Bring them to me,” Madeline commanded from her throne.

Aunt Rita turned to the doctor. “Huh? Bring you what?”

Our host tutted her impatience, a reprimand comically mimicked by her young daughter. “Your niece’s knickers, of course. Bring them to me.”

“What am I, your servant?” Rita replied.

Madeline narrowed her eyes. “You want to have your way with my little girl today, don’t you?” she asked pleasantly, an almost imperceptible dash of menace in her voice. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To taste her pussy? To have her taste yours?”

Every interaction I’d witnessed between the two women had painted them as equals in my eyes. Madeline was a dominant woman, I knew, but Aunt Rita could give as good as she got. But the facade slipped in that darkened living room – a fleeting glimpse behind the curtain that momentarily revealed the true dynamic of their relationship. Madeline was in control, I realised.

Some emotion flickered briefly across my aunt’s face – anger? resentment? uncertainty? “I… Yes. Yes, I want that,” she conceded.

Madeline gave a satisfied smile – a small victory. “Then bring me Hailey’s panties, will you?”

My aunt turned back to me. “Let’s take these off,” she said, sliding the damp material down my legs. She gave my bare pussy a single light stroke, and with her usual mischievous demeanour restored, offered my knickers to the doctor.

Madeline accepted the damp tribute with a smug air. Crushing them to her face, she breathed in my adolescent scent without a hint of reserve. “I can smell your excitement, Hailey,” she told me, taking delight in my self-conscious fidgeting.

Aunt Rita unfastened the remaining buttons on her jeans, pushing them down her legs along with her panties. She sauntered up to Isla and prised her labia open. “I have a treat for you, little girl.”

Madeline guided the six-year-old towards her friend’s hungry cunt. “That’s it. Lick Rita’s puss-puss. Licky licky licky.”

Aunt Rita offered herself to the child – a communion of flesh and fluid received with an eagerness that spoke more of Isla’s need to please than any real desire to go down on an adult. I suspect the distinction was unimportant to my aunt. With eyes tight shut, she threw her head back and surrendered to Isla’s kitten tongue. “So. Fucking. Good…”

I sauntered over to where the magic was happening, the doctor stalking me with wild eyes. “Well, we seem to have a little visitor,” she purred. “Why don’t you take your t-shirt off, so we can see that beautiful budding chest?”

I tugged my top over my head and stood there, naked but for my socks. Madeline raked her fingers down my bare torso, drawing a shiver from me, then Aunt Rita was kissing me hungrily on the mouth.

Isla – seemingly unable to sit still for any length of time – slipped from her mother’s lap and onto the floor. My aunt sank to her knees behind the little girl and peppered her neck with kisses, eliciting squeals of delight from the six-year-old.

“I think this pretty little dress needs to disappear!” Rita trilled, grasping the hem and hoisting it up.

“No!” giggled Isla, pushing the frock back down.

“I think so–o!” my aunt insisted.

The child stood steadfast and defiant. “No, naughty Rita!”

Madeline pushed herself up from the chair and unzipped her own dress, allowing it to cascade to the floor. She wore sheer black stockings, heels, and a lacy bra that could barely contain a pair of pillow-like breasts. Fingertips weaving vermicular patterns across Isla’s hips, she cast a spell of compelling words. “See? Mummy’s taken her dress off. Don’t you want to be a big girl like Mummy?”

Isla relented with a big cartoon sigh. “Oh, all right, Rita. I’ll let you take it off.”

I think Madeline could’ve convinced anybody to do just about anything. Such was her power over mere mortals.

Up came the brightly coloured party dress, up and over the child’s head to be discarded on the floor with an ever-growing pile of clothing. Aunt Rita shivered at the sight of the six-year-old in nothing but her panties.

“Give Rita a big grown-up kiss,” Madeline told Isla, so the little girl swung both arms around my aunt’s neck, closed her eyes, and then pushed her lips out in an exaggerated pout.

My aunt cupped a tiny pair of buttocks as she drew the child against her breasts. The two of them shared a deep kiss, Isla humming softly as she allowed my aunt’s tongue to explore freely. When they parted, Rita gently lowered the six-year-old onto her back, then tugged the child’s soft cotton knickers down her legs. “It’s time for kitty to have a kiss now,” she said, then took Isla’s peach-like mound into her mouth.

“Why don’t you get down there and lick your aunt’s cunt, Hailey?” Madeline suggested, so I sat on my heels behind Aunt Rita and feasted on her pussy while she licked Isla.

It wasn’t long before the salty tang of Rita’s orgasm filled my mouth. I pulled away as juices oozed from her quivering pussy, and watched as she collapsed against the rug and rolled onto her back with laboured breaths.

“I didn’t say you could come, Rita,” Madeline said.

Rita’s reply was as dry as a desert. “Crap… rumbled by the orgasm police again.”

Isla bounced onto her feet and gave us her best pout. “Rita didn’t make me do the nice feeling, though.”

“Patience, child,” Madeline told her. “Go turn the TV off, then Rita can finish what she started.”

Isla made to run off but clearly forgot her knickers were still stretched around her knees. She tumbled to the hard floor, then froze for several seconds while her mind caught up to her plight, as small children are wont to do. After a brief shocked pause, she screwed her face up and burst into tears.

“Oh, sweetie!” Aunt Rita fussed as she and I picked the little girl up.

“Are you okay, Isla?” I asked the wailing six-year-old – because obviously that’s the most sensible thing to ask someone who isn’t okay.

Madeline dusted off her daughter’s knees, then gave her a half-hearted pat on the bum. “Well, that wasn’t ideal, was it?”

“I-I don’t want to pl-play anymore!” Isla sobbed.

“Nothing’s fallen off as far as I can see,” was Madeline’s diagnosis as she poked and prodded the child. I didn’t think much of her bedside manner. “I’m recommending a big wet tongue in your kitty until you get the nice feeling. Nurse Rita, administer the treatment, please.”

“Right away, doctor,” Aunt Rita replied, then turned to Isla. “How does that sound, munchkin? Would it be okay if I had another little lick?”

The six-year-old peered out from teary eyes, a little smirk forming in the corners of her mouth. “I don’t mind…” she allowed, wiping snot from her nose with a fist.

Madeline tugged the offending panties down to the child’s feet. “Let’s get rid of these,” she said, pausing to wipe Isla’s wet face with them, then hurled them across the room, much to her daughter’s amusement. “Naughty knickers!”

My aunt removed the rest of her own clothes, then lay back against Madeline’s Persian rug. “I want her on top of me.”

I stood there, intrigued. “So… what are we doing?”

“Do you know what a sixty-nine is, Hailey?” Madeline asked.

I almost put my hand up – the way we did in school when we had the answer to a question. “Yeah, it’s when…” On second thoughts, I didn’t think I wanted to get into the mechanics of it, really. “Uh… yeah, I know what it is.”

“Good. Arrange Isla on top of your aunt in that position, please.”

“I know how to do it, Mummy,” Isla said, stepping across Aunt Rita, then getting down on hands and knees, her bare bottom mere inches from my aunt’s face.

Rita prised the little girl’s arse cheeks apart, clearly eager to tuck in.

“Uh uh uh, Rita!” Madeline said, breasts spilling free from her bra as she pulled the cups down. “Where’s your manners? You don’t start until I say.”

“I need to taste her,” my aunt groaned.

Madeline took hold of my shoulders and guided me around the tangle of bodies beneath us. “Get down there and rub your pussy on Isla’s arse while you aunt eats her out,” she told me, so I sank to my knees behind Isla.

“Now you may eat my daughter, Rita,” Madeline said, and from the hungry wet sounds beneath me, I judged Aunt Rita had begun in earnest.

I ground myself on the six-year-old’s bum, and was rewarded with both the occasional lick of my pussy from my aunt, and the musky taste of Madeline’s hot cunt as she sidled up and thrust herself into my mouth. When she was done with me, she lay back on the floor and snapped her fingers impatiently. “Sit on my face. Now!”

I squatted over the doctor and offered her my cunt. She ploughed her tongue through my pussy, applying enough pressure to leave me twitching at every writhing undulation. Then lighter licks, the tip of her tongue eliciting a wholly different kind of sensation as she flicked and flickered and teased.

As my arousal reached critical levels, I became more acutely aware of the soundtrack of our collective lovemaking: mouths attacking pussies, muttered obscenities and murmured endearments – whimpers and groans and sighs.

I could bear it no longer. I thrust my hips out towards Madeline’s mouth, my climax rattling out of me with a desperate wail.

Isla gazed across at her mother with glazed eyes. “Mummy, I’m… I’m g-getting the funny feeling again…”

“Are you going to come too, poppet?” Madeline cooed. “Let it all out. Do a baby come for Rita.”

The six-year-old stiffened suddenly and arched her back, my aunt’s mouth still attached to her puffy vagina. Legs frantically treading air, a squeal emerged from her lips. “M–mum–mee–eee…!”

Madeline pushed me away like something to be discarded. “Well, that’s the kids sorted,” the voracious woman said. “Now I think it’s time for the adults to have some fun again, don’t you, Rita?”

Aunt Rita gave Isla’s bottom a final kiss, then licked her lips like a pleased cat. “I wouldn’t say no to some TLC.”

The two women found their way to the couch and sat back, legs spread wide. They beckoned us over with hooked fingers and wicked smiles.

Isla rolled onto her feet and stuck her arms behind her head in an adorable stretch. “What game are we gonna play next, Mummy and Rita?”

Madeline perched a finger against the corner of her mouth. “Hmm… shall we show Hailey how to play Lucky Dip?”

Isla turned to me wide eyed, with an even wider grin. “Oh, Hailey, this game is soooo rude!”

“Is it?” I sat on the edge of the coffee table, my legs still weak so soon after my climax.

“I dunno if I can handle Hailey, so I’ll take Isla, okay?” my aunt said to Madeline.

“Works for me. Show Hailey how it’s done, Isla.”

Isla held a hand up for me, closing her fingers tightly together, thumb squeezed underneath the other four digits. “Hailey, do this with your hand, all right?”

I mimicked the six-year-old and held my flattened hand out in a gesture of oath. I couldn’t imagine where this was heading.

Poised at the entrance of my aunt’s cunt, Isla pushed her fingers into the fleshy glove inch by inch. “Now just relax, Rita,” the child said. “You might feel a little sting, but it’ll be over soon.”

It’s only now I realise the six-year-old must have been imitating her doctor mother – an obscene game of Doctors and Nurses, if you will.

Aunt Rita played the part of patient awfully well, though. “Keep going, cutie. Keep going…”

Isla’s hand had all but vanished now. She turned to me, beaming proudly. “It’s quite difficult to get your whole hand in, but you can do it if you try hard,” I was told. She squeezed a thumb alongside the other fingers, and the rest of her hand suddenly popped inside, drawing a growl of pleasure from my aunt.

“Bloody hell…” I muttered under my breath. “That’s mental…”

“Hay–leee…” Madeline sang. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to reach me from over there.”

Reluctantly, I approached Madeline, my hand still foolishly raised, as if I wasn’t sure whose it was or what I was meant to do with it. What, this? In there? 

“It looks like it might hurt,” I thought I should point out.

That seemed to amuse her. “When you’ve experienced seven pounds of baby travelling through your birth canal and out the other end, the average hand doesn’t pose much of a threat.”

“You sure?”

“Doctor knows best.”

Isla tugged at my arm with her free hand. “Hailey, when you’ve putted your whole hand inside, then you have to make it be a ball, okay?”

“She… she means a fist,” Aunt Rita was barely able to explain.

Madeline took my hand and began feeding my fingers into her sopping cunt, until my knuckles slipped inside with a squelch. “Now make a fist and move your hand backwards and forwards, but don’t pull it out.”

I rolled my fingers into a fist, the doctor’s cunt a hot moist cocoon that smouldered around my hand. “A little harder,” I was told, so I forced another inch of myself inside.

Isla sang a little song beside me as she fisted my aunt. “Luh–kee dip! Luh–kee dip! What will we find? Drippity drip! – It’s fun, isn’t it, Hailey?”

I think that song will haunt me for the rest of my days…

“Such good little girls, aren’t they?” Madeline purred, then leaned across to kiss my aunt, their tongues engaging in a lurid choreography.

I fucked Madeline with my fist for what seemed like an eternity. For some reason, my adolescent mind decided to reduce the whole obscene affair down to a singular image: the creamy froth of Madeline’s pussy juice that encircled my wrist like a mother-of-pearl bracelet. A bracelet like that would really suit me, I remember thinking.

Then the doctor’s pussy was constricting around my fist, attempting to eject me. She grabbed my wrist, making sure I was going nowhere. “Don’t you move that fucking hand! Just… keep it… right… there… Oh, Christ!”

It felt like my fingers would melt under the hot pulsing lava of her climax as she held me steadfast and cried out in desperate bliss.

Next to the convulsing doctor, Aunt Rita was snarling at little Isla below her. “Fuck me, Isla! Pump that chubby little arm in and out! Gonna… come… so hard!”

Isla looked a little concerned. “Rita, you better not—”

“I’m coming!”

The six-year-old let out a panicked cry, yanking her hand free with a loud pop. But it was too late – a gush of fluid erupted from Aunt Rita’s vacant cunt and sprayed Isla across the face. My aunt pushed out a shrill screech, causing Isla to flinch from both the piercing sound and the sudden deluge of ejaculate.

“Oh, my God…” Rita whimpered, her eyes rolling back in their sockets.

“Not again…” a drenched Isla seethed. “I hate you, Rita!”

***

Having dressed and cleaned ourselves up, Madeline pulled the curtains back and slung open the windows to air the room, and as the afternoon sunshine filtered into the lounge, it seemed to me as if we had returned to our own world after visiting some bizarre alternate universe where the rules didn’t matter, where sex with children was perfectly acceptable. I’d taken my share of enjoyment from our erotic journey, for sure, but I confess it was a relief to come back down to Planet Earth.

Aunt Rita slipped her shoes on, then leaned over to kiss me on the mouth. “Ready to head home?”

Glancing at my phone, I realised with some alarm how late it was getting: 2:40pm. I had twenty minutes to get down to the seahenge to meet Sully. “Um, I might hang around here for a bit, actually,” I told my aunt as casually as I could.

She seemed a little hurt at that, as if she thought I preferred Madeline’s company to hers. “Oh, okay. No problem. I’ll see you back at the cottage later, then.”

I wanted to tell her the truth: that I would have chosen her over Madeline every time; that I was trying to help someone get home, just trying to do the right thing. But when you’re eleven it’s not always easy to articulate how you feel, to say all the things you want to say. So I said nothing and let my aunt walk away.

Madeline sauntered into the lounge and opened up the sliding doors that overlooked the beach. “You didn’t want to go back with Rita?” she asked me.

I stood up; bunched my fists together. “Madeline. I need you to come with me right now, okay?”

The doctor gave me a bemused look. “Excuse me?”

I took hold of her arm and pulled her towards the door. “I don’t have time to explain, but we need to go to the seahenge. I have something to show you and it’s really important.”

“Don’t be silly, child,” Madeline scoffed, brushing me away. “I’m not your playmate.”

“Listen to me! We have to go now! Please!”

If she refused to go with me, I would have no option but to retrieve her sealskin and bring it back here. Thankfully Isla saved the day. “I want to go to the beach, too. Can we, Mummy?”

Madeline relented via an exasperated sigh. “Oh, all right. Let’s humour Hailey and her little game.”

The tide had receded when we arrived – a handful of minutes later than expected – and the great fossilised monument had emerged from the sea. Thankfully Sully had the good grace to wait for us, and evidently had decided to bring Odette and Jack with him, for what purpose I couldn’t fathom.

Everyone, of course, was well acquainted with the local doctor, so greetings were exchanged and small talk passed around, though Sully didn’t seem pleased that I had brought Madeline along. Considering what he and my uncle had done to her, perhaps he felt uncomfortable and ashamed in her presence.

I spoke quietly to the old man. “Where is it?”

He sparked a roll-up and took a long tug from it. “In a sea cave not far from here. Why’d you bring the doctor?”

He thought I would come alone, then – probably thought he could pass the sealskin along to me and then quietly slink away without answering for what he’d done. I wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. I wanted him to see the look on Madeline’s face when I gave her skin back. “You know why she’s here! Why did you bring Odette and Jack?”

Sully pointed to two shovels propped up against a rock. “There’s some heavy work to be done. Shouldn’t take long, but the doc stays here, all right?”

I did my best to convince Madeline not to go anywhere until we returned. “You just stay here for a bit,” I told her, quite unintentionally adopting the voice of a carer speaking to a senile old lady. “I won’t be long. Everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”

Madeline narrowed her eyes at me, hands firmly planted on hips. “Why are you talking to me like I’m a child? Did someone tell you it’s my birthday or something?”

I gave her a patronising pat on the arm. In retrospect, I don’t think Doctor Madeline was a pat on the arm kinda gal. “No, but it’s a surprise, and if you leave you’ll spoil it. So just… stay right here. Please?”

We left Madeline and Isla at the ancient monument and continued on towards the caves. I realised why Sully had chosen this hour to meet: the tide was at its lowest point, the only time of day the caves were accessible. A good place to hide something you didn’t want found.

“What we looking for?” Jack asked, shovel slung over his bare torso.

“Treasure,” Sully answered without humour.

Odette gave him a side-glance. I think she was as curious as her young shipmate, but wise enough not to ask questions.

The old man came to an abrupt halt and stood peering into the wide mouth of a cave. “In here.”

The sea cave extended back thirty metres or so, and though the entrance gave us some measure of light, it still wasn’t sufficient to see what we were doing, so Odette switched on an electric lamp and the four of us picked our way to the rear of the grotto.

Sully gestured to a spot on the sandy floor where a shaft of sunlight beamed down through a hole in the ceiling above. “Dig,” he told his shipmates.

“You and Hailey will kill us and bury us here, no?” Odette joked.

Sully wheezed out a chuckle and slapped her on the back. “Nah, I promised Jack’s mum I’d get him home before teatime.”

“Fuck off,” Jack hollered, his words echoing off the stone walls. Then, muttering to himself: “I can stay out as late as I want…”

The two of them put shovel to ground and began digging, making easy progress through the soft wet sand. I wasn’t sure why Sully thought he needed help until Jack’s shovel hit something hard and he and Odette struggled to lift out whatever the object was.

“Christ, it weighs a ton,” Jack grunted. “What the hell is it?”

“Just keep pulling, you little shit!” Odette told the boy. Despite her considerable strength, even she was struggling.

With no small effort the two of them managed to haul the large object out of the hole, accompanied by huffs and puffs.

“It’s a treasure chest!” I gasped.

And so it was. The old wooden chest sat illuminated by the shaft of light above. It looked old, but I suppose anything buried under wet sand for any length of time wouldn’t have looked its best.

“Aye,” Sully grunted. “It’s lined with lead. Derek thought it’d hide what was inside better. Dunno if that’s true.” He placed the lamp on the ground and fished a large key from his pocket.

“It must be hundreds of years old. Probably left here by pirates,” a thrilled Jack mused.

“Nope,” Sully replied as he unlocked the chest and pushed back its creaky lid. “Bought it at a car boot sale in Staines about ten years ago. The bloke threw in a free table lamp too. Quite the bargain.”

The old man carefully lifted out something wrapped in sackcloth, and we followed him as he strode towards the mouth of the cave and back out into the sunlight. He lay the object down on the sand and when he glanced over at me, I thought I saw a glint of moisture in his eyes. “It’s up to you now, Hailey. I dunno what’s gonna happen but I know this is the right thing to do. Thanks for helping me find my balls.”

Jack looked more confused than normal. “What? Your balls is in there? I don’t get it…”

Odette whacked him round the back of his head. “Putain! You are thicker than a whale omelette!”

“Ow! Stop hitting me, you ugly old trout!”

I squatted down and reached a hand out towards the object, but hesitated for a second. Taking a deep breath to steel myself, I pulled back the cloth.

And there it was. A Selkie sealskin. But it wasn’t what I’d expected. The skin was black and shrivelled, and when Jack asked Sully why he had kept a dead seal hidden in a chest I couldn’t blame the boy for thinking as much. I picked it up, then screwed up my face. “It smells a bit. I hope she can still use it.”

We made the short walk back to the henge and I was relieved to find Madeline still there, skimming stones across the water with Isla. I marched up and held the sealskin out, fully expecting her to snatch it up and transform into a Selkie there and then.

Instead, she recoiled in horror. “What on earth is that?!”

“It’s yours! Take it!”

“It’s a dead animal! Get it away from me!”

“Don’t be scared, Madeline! I know what you are! Put on your sealskin and return to the ocean! Swim free!”

A concerned looking Isla reached up and took her mother’s hand. “Mummy, why is Hailey saying silly things? Is she drunk?”

I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and turned to find Sully sporting a look that conveyed both sympathy and amusement. “You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree there, girl.”

“Huh? But Madeline… she’s a Selkie… isn’t she?”

“Sully?” Jack said in a small voice.

“Mmm?”

“You did say not to tell Derek about this, right?”

“Aye, boy.”

“It’s just, he’s coming down the beach. And he looks a bit pissed off…”

“Some shit will be thrown at the fan now, I’m thinking,” Odette added helpfully.

True enough, Uncle Derek was heading our way, but it was Aunt Rita I noticed first. She strode towards us with a purpose, and for some reason was shedding her clothing piece by piece, a trail of garments scattered on the white sand as she approached.

“Rita! Stop!” I could hear my uncle wail as he hurried after her.

Aunt Rita closed the distance between us and kicked away her knickers, leaving her entirely naked.

Jack’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “I dunno what’s going on,” I heard him mutter, “but fuck me, that’s a bonus!”

My aunt reached out towards the sealskin, her fingers teetering uncertainly, as if she doubted its very existence. “Hailey…” she whispered.

Uncle Derek placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Rita… Don’t. Please.”

Aunt Rita whirled on him, hissing like a wild animal. “Back, oaf! I don’t belong to you! I never did!”

My uncle’s eyes pleaded with her. “I never wanted to own ya, Rita. I love ya.”

She touched my uncle’s cheek, but kept him at arm’s length. “And I love you. But I’m not a bird to be kept in a cage, you fool! I almost forgot who I was!”

“I–I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

Aunt Rita took his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the brow. “It’s your lot to fall for my kind – so it’s ever been. But if you truly love me, you’ll let me go.”

My aunt turned back to me and took the sealskin from my arms, the realisation of what was happening slowly beginning to dawn on me. “Thank you, Hailey.”

Then something extraordinary happened. It took my mind a few seconds to catch up with my eyes, but I soon realised that Aunt Rita’s dark hair was turning a fiery orange colour, bleeding outwards from her roots like red dye spilt upon blotting paper. And something similar was happening to her eyes – the dark brown of her iris metamorphosing into a bright emerald hue. The dry, shrivelled skin in her arms was undergoing the same transformation – black fur turning red, undulating and expanding as if the waters of life were being drawn back into it. The newly restored vessel seemed to shimmer and shine with vitality.

“It was you…” I murmured, astonished. “You were the Selkie.”

My aunt – or the creature I’d always thought of as my aunt – gave me a mischievous smile. “I enjoyed our time together, kid. I really did. But I have to go home now.”

I took a step towards her. “You don’t need to go. You could stay if you… if you wanted…” I trailed off awkwardly. For a brief moment I saw things from Uncle Derek’s perspective. I had fallen in love with Aunt Rita, just as he had. And like him, I was reluctant to let her go.

But I saw the wrong of it. To deny this wondrous child of the ocean her freedom wasn’t love, not truly. It was obsession masquerading as love.

So I did what my uncle could not: I let her go. “I hope I see you again, Aunt Rita. I love you, okay?”

But she didn’t return the sentiment. There was no kiss; no farewell embrace. Her eyes were fixed on the ocean, and the seals whose heads emerged from the water just offshore. I wasn’t so sure they were mere seals anymore.

“I might visit you both one day,” she told my uncle and me in a distant voice. “But it’ll be on my terms.”

Uncle Derek sank to his knees. “Rita… don’t leave me…”

My aunt stuck her neck out and a liquid sound emerged from her mouth, rolling off her tongue. “It’s Reeta, you buffoon! Reee–taa! You never could say it right…”

And then she was striding down to the water’s edge, sealskin in her arms. The last I saw of my Aunt Rita was her clambering over the rocks of the stone pontoon to disappear behind a huge plume of seaspray. It wasn’t her who glanced back at us briefly across the beach, but a beautiful red seal with emerald eyes. The creature dived into the water to join its own kind and then vanished beneath the waves.

***

So what is there left to tell?

Well, my uncle took it hard, of course. I helped him through his pain as best as I was able, but how can an eleven-year-old possibly know what a grieving man needs? I kept him fed and made sure he wasn’t cooped up in the cottage alone. It was all I could offer him. Time would do the rest.

Madeline was not the Selkie but, I discovered, a creature almost as strange. Her husband – a merchant navy captain – had died at sea several years previously while Madeline was heavily pregnant with Isla, and the doctor had never really recovered from the tragedy. It was no secret amongst the townsfolk how she would visit the beach during the small hours, staring out at the ocean, longing for something that would never return. On occasion she would sing a siren song, imagining perhaps that it would guide her lost love home.

But her grief had turned to bitterness and despair, and she learnt to despise the ocean for taking her lover. When Uncle Derek carried my unconscious aunt to the doctor’s house one stormy late night, and swore her to secrecy, Madeline – knowing what Aunt Rita truly was – took it upon herself to corrupt the Selkie. You see, in Madeline’s twisted mind, Rita was her hostage – a creature from the same world that had taken her man. And if the ocean would not give her husband back, then it would not have Rita back either.

But the strangest thing happened after Aunt Rita departed: Uncle Derek and Madeline formed an unlikely friendship. I can’t honestly say if there was a sexual element to their relationship, but regardless, their loss had somehow aligned their paths, and together they were able to help one another heal. My uncle also became a surrogate father of sorts to little Isla, and I truly believe that finally enabled him to heal an even older wound: that of his and Aunt Rita’s short-lived child – The One Who Got Away.

And me? My time at Morcant-On-Sea eventually came to an end. I returned to my mother, but our relationship deteriorated. She sent me away to boarding school and it was the best thing she ever did for me. I thrived in education, knuckling down in my studies and learning how to be independent. I left school at sixteen and then moved on to college to study journalism and English literature.

So here I am standing on the top deck of the ferry – a confident woman of eighteen with all the world before me. I smile to myself as the harbour town comes into view, all the colourful houses stacked atop one another, or so it seems to me.

I’ve come back to live with my Uncle Derek. I have a job lined up at the local newspaper while I chip away at my first novel. I’ll head up to the cottage soon, but first I need to make a little detour.

I step off the ferry and head along the pier, past the small parade of shops and The Mal De Mer pub on the corner, then down to the seafront and along the beach, past the café and underneath the huge natural rock arch. Then across the sand and round the cove until I reach my destination: The Seahenge. The tide is out as I knew it would be. The fossilised monument glistens with an emerald glow.

My heart soars when I notice the seals basking on the huge upturned trunk, and I’m delighted to see they have babies with them this time.

But try as I might, I don’t see a red-skinned seal anywhere amongst them. Not this time. I tamp my disappointment down.

Then I feel a slender hand upon my shoulder. It should give me quite a start, but somehow I was expecting it. I close my eyes and smile.

“Hey, kid,” she murmurs.

We both had come back on our own terms, I suppose.

The End

by Rachael Yukey

My fingers were working furiously between my legs. Once again I was in my favorite place, sprawled against the arm of my couch, wearing an open bathrobe and nothing else.

Bone-crunching riffs pounded forth from the speakers. “Hellbound and down!” Todd la Torre roared. That’s where I’m going at this rate, I thought, hating myself. I wasn’t even trying to purge the pedophilic imagery from my head.

I’d run into Chelsey Milne on the street not an hour before, just as dusk began to fall. It was the first I’d seen of her since the accident. Her aunt had been pushing her in a wheelchair, her left arm and leg both wrapped in heavy braces. Chelsey had thanked me for helping that day, then beckoned me closer. When I leaned in, she’d wrapped her good arm around my neck and kissed my cheek.

That simple kiss sent me into a tailspin. I forgot about the shopping I still had to do and rushed back to my apartment, feeling sick and ashamed. My cheek was on fire where Chelsey kissed me, as if she’d branded me there, and the remembered image of the girl’s bare vulva in the back of my ambulance was one I couldn’t excise from my brain. A stiff drink and a shower only seemed to make it worse, and now here I was.

The powerful sensations thrummed through my body, my fingers were dripping with juice, and I was just about to teeter over the edge when the goddamn phone went off.

Cursing under my breath, I twisted, scrabbling around on the end table behind me, succeeding in knocking both the phone and the empty whiskey glass to the floor. I snatched up the phone, realizing an instant too late that I’d used the still-slippery hand I’d been masturbating with.

Gritting my teeth at my own clumsiness, I took in the caller’s name. My eyebrows arched in surprise. I’d gone to medic school with Valeria Diaz, and we’d been an item both then and for quite a while afterwards. She worked for the hospital-based ambulance service in Melville, where Terry and I had taken that mysteriously tripping teenage girl the previous weekend. Swiping the accept button with the hand that hadn’t been mauling my twat, I lifted the phone to my ear.

“Hello, Val,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. My breathing wasn’t quite steady yet.

“Hi, Nettie,” said the light, musical, slightly accented voice. Valeria is first-generation Mexican, a rarity in an area where the vast majority of the population is still white. “How’ve you been, girl?”

“Doing okay,” I said, hoping she wasn’t going to spend too much time on small talk. A large chunk of my brain was mourning the loss of a good orgasm – throwing a screaming tantrum over it, in fact. “Hold on a sec.” I rose, crossed to the wall of stereo equipment and turned down the volume.

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “I’ve missed you. I haven’t even seen you in the ED lately.”

“That’s because I gave up slumming.” I returned to the couch and collapsed onto it. “What’s up?”

“Well… remember that girl you brought into Melville last weekend with Terry Wilder? The one who was high?”

I sat up straight. “Yeah… what about her?”

“I was just curious if you’d ever got a follow-up on that. Because I just brought in another one like it, a sixteen-year-old boy. Only mine’s in a coma, and the docs are worried about hypoxic brain damage.”

She had my full attention now. “Where’d you pick him up?”

“Funny you should ask. He was in Gregard, and that’s what… a little less than two miles northwest of Roers? Another mile south, and it would have been a Bronning call. But he’s probably alive because of you. I heard you give your radio report on that girl last weekend, and when I saw this kid and got his vitals I knew it was the same thing right away.”

“You’d have figured it out.”

“Sure, but how fast? This dude was decompensating hard. His systolic was below forty on my first pressure. I didn’t even bother with a bag; I went straight to Epi.”

I drew my knees up to my chest. “Did he go into SVT?”

“Yeah, but I got lucky. The Adenosine worked. I didn’t have to cardiovert like you did.”

I hesitated before speaking again, trying to collate all the disparate bits of information in my mind.

“Hey, Valeria?”

“Yeah?”

“I had another one like it… uh… Monday, it was. Two days ago. I was at work, and intercepted with Bronning. Big fat guy in his early twenties. That one was easier because I had my work stuff with me and was able to give him Levophed.”

“I didn’t know you had Levo at Thormleton,” she said with a laugh. “We’re still stuck with Dopamine or Epi.”

“So get out of that pit and come work for a real ambulance service.”

“What, Thormleton?” Valeria put on a mock-childish voice. “Oh, look at me, I have Levophed and a Hamilton vent, but I’m missing half of the tube sizes because the supply budget ran short last month!”

I snorted laughter; there was truth to her sarcasm. Thormleton has a forward-thinking medical director who gives us a lot of leeway and keeps us on the cutting edge, but working for a privately owned, profit-driven ambulance service comes with its own set of problems.

“Anyway, I was just wondering if you’d gotten any follow-up on yours,” Valeria continued. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this, and it seems to be kind of going around, huh?”

“My girl’s stuff got sent to the cities,” I said. “They found a substance they haven’t identified, at least they hadn’t last I heard. The docs in Johnstown were going to send out the bloodwork for that guy I transported Monday, but I haven’t heard back on that. Do you know what their plan is for your guy?”

“Not a clue, but I can find out. What do you think it is, Nettie?”

“I dunno, but I think tomorrow I’m gonna call some people I know at North and at Trinity and find out if they’ve seen anything similar. Are you still at work?”

“I,” she informed me in dignified tones, “am at home having a glass of wine and trying to decide which movie to watch.”

I idly wondered if she was still living in the same crummy apartment in Melville. Probably not… that was a long time ago. I hadn’t seen her outside of the Melville emergency department in over three years.

I let the memories wash over me for a moment. Val had been a decent enough girlfriend, and in bed she was all fire and passion. It had ultimately fizzled, but on good terms.

Thinking back on my relationship with Valeria, I realized I was still horny. Holy hell, lady, you’ve been like a loaded cannon lately. If we hadn’t both been drinking, I might’ve considered asking if she wanted to meet up. But there were other options, weren’t there? Valeria and I had lived thirty miles apart during our time as a couple, and had become expert at handling things at a distance when we couldn’t be together physically. And maybe this will help get those damn underage girls out of my head.

“Hey, Nettie,” Valeria was saying, “you still there?”

“Yeah,” I said. I threw one leg up onto the couch, letting the other flop languorously over the edge. My bathrobe hung wide open. I put the phone on speaker, then held it high, zooming the camera so it captured everything from my exposed pussy to the top of my head. My breathing was already getting a little ragged.

“I’m going to text you a picture,” I said, “and then I challenge you to give me one good reason we shouldn’t move this conversation to video chat.”

***

Minutes later I was sitting naked on my bed, laptop open in front of me. A digital camcorder I purchased years ago for a long-since-abandoned video blog stood me in good stead now; it was at the end of my bed on its tripod, the tilt and zoom controllable with a remote at my side. I was enjoying a long-shot panorama of Valeria’s living room with her in the middle, slowly and seductively lifting her t-shirt to reveal the bare belly beneath.

Like any experienced emergency provider, my situational awareness is sufficiently fine-tuned that I can take in peripheral details on autopilot, and I couldn’t help but notice that Val had moved up in the world. Her living room was high-ceilinged and well-lit, with tasteful furnishing and decoration. All was pastels and frilly, lacy things; Valeria is a lipstick lesbian through and through.

Val herself is a slender, delicate thing, standing all of about five foot two. I stared at the laptop screen, licking my lips as she lifted the shirt slowly over her head, briefly obscuring the seductive smile on her face. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Tossing the shirt aside, Val trailed both hands up her belly, letting them rest on her perky little tits. She gripped each nipple between thumb and forefinger and tweaked them, her lips parting. Through my headphones, I could hear her unsteady breathing as I zoomed in for the close-up.

“That is so fucking hot,” I said, my voice more than a little wobbly. I was completely ready and could probably have come in just a couple of minutes, but I knew it would be more fun if I gave Val time to catch up. My hand was playing across my chest, stroking each nipple in turn as my other hand worked the remote, focusing the camera in on my breasts.

“You like watching me play with my tits?” she was asking me. “Does it get you nice and juicy?”

“You know it does, you wicked bitch,” I said. “What do you think of these?” I focused in so my chest area would fill her entire screen. I then let go of the remote and began trailing my fingers across my boobs, kneading and caressing them. As my finger brushed a nipple, I groaned.

“Ooh, you dirty girl,” she said. “You’re about ready to go off, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” I moaned.

“Well, then… let me watch you play with yourself while I get these pants off.”

Her right hand dropped to the button of her jeans. My eyes still glued to the screen, I fumbled for the remote, then tilted the camera angle downward. Spreading my legs wide apart, I zoomed in on my aching cunt.

“Oh God,” she said in a ragged whisper. “Look how wet you are for me.”

Not just for you, I thought. Sorry, Val.

“All for you, baby,” is what I said out loud. I opened my cunt for her, using the fingertips of the other hand to caress first the outside, then the inside of my labia. Valeria was pushing the waist of her jeans down to her thighs, then allowing her fingers to glide across the front of her panties. Her hips swayed. She rotated slowly and bent over, smacking one ass cheek and then the other.

My breath was coming in ragged gasps. Still avoiding my clit, I slipped a finger inside of myself and moaned. Val straightened, her back still to me, and twisted her head around so she could see the screen.

“There you go,” she breathed. “Fuck yourself for me.”

Moving slowly and deliberately, I worked my finger in and out, squishy wet noises accompanying every stroke. I added another, and shuddered as a wave of pleasure rushed through me. Even without touching my clit, I was getting close to total meltdown.

Val pushed her panties down to her thighs, spreading her butt cheeks wide open for me. Little moans escaped my lips as I continued to fuck myself, but I carefully held back, not yet ready to come.

Finally she turned back to face me in a single, abrupt motion, and I knew that the striptease was over. Once Valeria reaches a certain point of arousal, all subtleties go off the table, and a howling demon emerges. She shoved her panties and jeans the rest of the way to the floor and shed them with a vicious kick. Hungry animal noises escaped her throat. This side of her never fails to drive me wild, and I had to pause my busy fingers to keep from going off right then.

Val parted her legs, thrusting a hand between them. As her fingers found her clit, she let out a shuddering wail.

“Oh, God,” I groaned. Two fingers still inside me, I cupped the upper part of my vulva in the palm of my hand, applying pressure but willing myself not to move. The slightest extra bit of stimulation, and I was going to explode.

Valeria brought her other hand into play, plunging two fingers into her pussy. Both hands moved furiously, the wet slapping providing a steady rhythmic accompaniment to her uninhibited shrieks and moans. Finally she went up on tiptoe, and I knew it was time to head for the finish line.

I began to violently drive my fingers in and out, palm slamming against my clit, crying out with every thrust. A few seconds later, we both went off like rockets. Valeria let out a high, keening wail and fell to her knees. I arched my body up from the bed as my orgasm slammed through me. I shuddered, cried out loud, then howled again as a second climax took me by surprise.

Finally it passed through me, and I collapsed back onto the bed. Valeria was still on her knees, fingers buried in her vagina, gasping for air.

After a few seconds, she looked up at me and grinned. I smiled back.

“Well, Nettie,” she said primly, “it was very nice catching up with you. We simply must do it again sometime,” then dissolved into a fit of giggles. It was infectious, and I found myself laughing with her. Ten minutes later we’d exchanged goodbyes, and I was out like a light.

***

The bike trails that run through the woods just outside of town are smooth and well-kept, maintained as they are with state money. It’s the perfect place to jog, and that’s where I found myself the next morning, dressed in gym shorts and a halter top. It was only a bit chilly, the first time this spring it had been mild enough to wear the shorts.

I do my damnedest to keep in shape. An unfortunate occupational hazard in my line of work is a tendency to go to flesh, and I’m determined to keep that from happening to me. For most of the long-ass Minnesota winter I’m stuck indoors with my elliptical, but I always prefer to run if the weather allows.

I was enjoying the exercise and the solitude until I rounded a bend, startled to see someone sitting on one of the park benches situated every couple of miles along the path. When I realized it was Halee, I came up short.

She said nothing, just fixed me with that sardonic little smile of hers as I walked the last twenty yards or so to where she sat.

“What are you doing out here?” I said, still a bit winded.

“I saw you take off where the bike trail goes into the woods on the other end of town,” she said. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch up, so I just went straight to the other end of the trail so you’d come to me. I figured it’d take you a while, what with all the twists and turns.”

I let out a sigh and joined her on the bench, making it a point to sit far enough away that we weren’t touching.

“So… what’s up?” I said after a moment.

“Well, for starters, you promised we’d talk. It’s been a few days, if you haven’t noticed.”

I ran a hand over my face. Goddammit. I opened my mouth, realized that I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and closed it again.

I decided to put the ball in her court. “I’m listening.”

“I like you,” she said simply, “and you like me. So… what do we do?”

Half a dozen ways to dodge that one came to the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them all. Halee deserved better. The direct approach was the only way.

“And by liking, you mean attraction,” I said.

She cast her eyes downward. “Yeah.”

I registered that, in contrast to the goth clothing she’d been affecting of late, Halee was wearing an ordinary pair of blue jeans and sneakers. She was wearing the leather jacket, however. Her cheeks were a little flushed from the chill air. Jesus, she looked stunning.

“What do you think we should do about it?” I asked her before taking time to think about the implications of the question. Whoa, girl. Dangerous territory here.

“I think we should do exactly what we want to do,” she said, lifting her head and boldly meeting my eyes. My left hand was resting on the bench, and suddenly I was aware of Halee’s little finger touching it. Then a slight motion; a caress.

I should have stopped it right then; I really should have. It wasn’t too late to pull back from the brink.

Staring back into her eyes, I placed my hand on hers, stroking it. Looking back now, I think this was the moment of no return. I twined my fingers through hers, then gave her hand a squeeze. She gripped me back, tightly.

“I know what I want,” I said, my voice just above a whisper, “but I’ll need you to tell me what you want.”

She shifted closer to me on the bench, pressing her thigh against our clasped hands. “Everything,” she said in a husky tone. “I want to do everything, and I want to do it with you.”

My hand moved, almost of its own accord, trailing upward until it rested on her thigh. She wriggled in closer until our bodies were pressed together. I slid my hand inwards and down, my fingers continuing their delicate, back and forth motion, but now on the inside of her thigh. Halee’s breathing was becoming shallow.

“Are you ready for everything?” I breathed. “Have you even been kissed?”

Halee shook her head, then tilted her face up towards mine.

It would have been so easy to move that handful of inches and press my lips to hers, but there was still a shred of rationality left in me, coldly reminding me that this was not the place to swap tongues with a girl of twelve. By this time I was firmly cupping Halee’s inner thigh, only centimeters away from her center. Her breathing had gone from shallow to ragged.

“Not here,” I got out in an unsteady voice. “All it would take is someone come around that corner and see us.”

Closing her eyes, she let her head loll as far back as it would go. “You’re right,” she finally whispered.

I thought fast. “Can you find a way to come to my place tonight?”

She shook her head. “Not tonight,” she said. “Dad’s on call, so I have to be home with my sisters in case he gets paged out. I could do it tomorrow, easy. He never checks on where I tell him I’m going.”

“Then come,” I said. “I’m not going to make any promises as to what we’ll do, but we can see where it takes us. Okay?”

She smiled up at me. “It’s a deal.”

I gave her inner thigh one more caress, and was rewarded with a slight shudder. I pulled my hand away and stood. “I’d better get back to my run,” I said, “before I get fat.”

Not giving her a chance to reply, I took off. A few minutes later, the woods spilled me out near the assisted living facility on the edge of town, and I headed straight for my apartment building. After locking the door behind me with shaking hands, I got myself to the kitchen and poured a drink, then gulped it straight down. What the fuck did I just do?

***

Hours later I sat alone at my tiny kitchen table, the printout of a map in front of me. I’d been drinking steadily, but had done what I felt was a sterling job of keeping the rate under control. I was pleasantly buzzed, not hammered. The stereo blasted Megadeth; brutality was the order of the day.

After returning — some might call it retreating — to my apartment, I’d slammed two shots, stretched out on my couch for half an hour, and then made a few phone calls. I know people at every ambulance service in the area, and nobody turns down an opportunity to share their latest war story.

The information I’d obtained was very interesting indeed. Bronning sits at the center of a rough circle, with five towns sporting small hospitals around the periphery. Each of those towns has an ALS ambulance service, and four of them had seen similar cases. The patients ranged in age from fifteen to twenty-two.

The map before me encompassed Franklin county and the counties immediately surrounding it. Using a pencil, I marked upon it the locations at which the cases had been picked up. Two Bronning calls… three, if you counted Jason Bixley. One Melville call; Valeria’s unfortunate young man, who was not expected to wake up. John Cameron at Thormleton had picked up another just last night; score one for Johnstown. Trinity Ambulance in Jordan had seen two such cases, and yet another had been transported by North in Perry.

Eight cases, all in the past week. I wondered idly if anyone else had made the connection — and then I saw something that made me drop my pencil, rub my eyes, and look again.

Not a single case had occurred on the other side of the city it had been transported to. They were all on the Bronning side. More than that, of the ones that had not been Bronning calls, most of them had occurred within a few miles of the Bronning Ambulance service area.

Bronning is the center of the circle.

***

Terry opened the door, and I brushed past him into the foyer. Taking a moment to kick off my sneakers, I strode down the hall towards the dining nook. I stopped halfway, looking back at him expectantly.

“Come on in,” Terry said dryly, still standing there with the door hanging open. “Take your shoes off. Make yourself at home.”

I rolled my eyes. “Cute. Look… just close the door and come check this out, will you? I’ve got something you really need to see.”

Terry closed the door, and made his way up the hall. “You know, normally when a lady comes into my house with something she urgently wants to show me, it’s under her clothes, thus requiring their removal.”

“I can hear you,” a voice piped up from the living room.

I looked to my left, and saw Halee peering at us over the back of the couch. Terry fell in beside me and grinned at his daughter. “Hell,” he said, “I thought you went upstairs.”

“That was Naomi. You couldn’t tell from the stream of invective directed at bedtime?”

I smiled in spite of myself. “Jesus,” I said, turning to meet Terry’s eyes. “She’s starting to talk like you do.”

Terry shrugged. “She’s a young lady of exceptional taste and profound wisdom, and only chooses the very best role models for herself.”

I felt the tension draining out of me. The urgency that had driven me here with such haste seemed a little silly, now that I’d arrived. I looked towards Halee and rolled my eyes. “One of these days I’ll figure out how to shut him off.”

Terry wiggled his eyebrows at me. “You have to turn me on before you can shut me off.”

“Oh-kay,” said Halee, getting up from the couch. “I’m going to the bathroom so I can throw up everything I’ve eaten all day. Then I’m gonna go to my room and cry myself to sleep. You just ruined the rest of my childhood.”

Squaring her shoulders with great dignity, she marched into the bathroom and closed the door. Terry sank into a kitchen chair, a rueful grin on his face.

“Dammit,” he said. “I’m still not used to her being old enough to pick up on innuendo.”

“Is it just me,” I said in a low voice as I pulled up a chair, “or is she starting to develop a sense of humor?”

Terry’s tone was equally soft. “I’ve been seeing some exciting signs to that effect just lately.” Halee came out of the bathroom, tucked her dog under her arm, and made for the stairs.

“Hey, kiddo,” said Terry, “it’s early. You don’t have to go to bed yet.”

Checking her forward motion at the foot of the stairs, Halee peered over her shoulder at us. “Oh, I’m not going to,” she said, “but I’m sure not sticking around for this conversation. I’ll find something to do in my room. Like look into how you go about joining a convent.” Turning away, she closed the stairway door behind her.

Terry met my eyes. “What’s so damned important, anyway?”

I set the map that was clutched in my hand down on the table.

Terry picked it up and inspected it. “Hmmm,” he said. “It’s a map of the area that’s been scribbled on by a dyslexic rhesus monkey. So?”

I slapped his arm. My handwriting was, admittedly, a bit shakier than usual. Blame Johnny Walker, not li’l old me.

Taking the paper from him, I laid it on the table and indicated an X I’d drawn on County Road 70, labeled ‘MVA 4/9; Bronning’. “That’s where Jason Bixley bought it.” My finger moved up to Roers. Another X, another dated label. “That’s Samantha Jensen.”

Terry pulled the paper closer to him, and pointed to another mark a little south of town on 225. “That’s where I picked up –”

“Yep.”

His eyes narrowed. “Wait a damn minute. Are these all cases of the same thing?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And all within the past week.” He rocked back in his chair.

I cocked my head. “Notice anything else?”

Terry picked up the paper again, tracing a finger from one labeled incident site to the next. Suddenly he blinked. “I’ll be goddamned.”

“It took me awhile to see it, too. Every single one of those calls is within fifteen miles of town. We’re right in the middle of a neat little circle of weird-ass OD cases.”

The look he gave me was one of frank admiration. “You put all this together yourself?”

I shrugged, trying not to look smug. “Valeria Diaz from Melville phoned me up last night.” I looked down at the table, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his gaze. “She… she brought one of these in, and wanted to know if I’d had follow-up on Sam Jenkins. Which I hadn’t, at that point, except for the lab results from the twin cities. So I got curious to know if anyone else had seen anything like it, and I made a few phone calls.”

Terry set the paper on the table. “When you say you hadn’t gotten a follow-up at that point, can I take that to mean you’ve obtained one since then?”

“So glad you asked,” I said. “I called both hospitals right after I talked to the EMS services. Neither one of our patients claimed to have any recollection of the last eighteen to twenty-four hours prior to the 911 call. Whatever else this is, it’s a retrograde amnestic, except I’ve never heard of one that impairs such a large time period.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient. What’d they do for testing on that second one we did?”

I could feel my face turning sour. “They were going to send his bloodwork out, but his insurance doesn’t cover it.”

“Figures.” Terry drummed his fingers on the table. “What about the others?”

“Nobody else I talked to has heard anything back, and they probably won’t. You know how it is; you only get follow-up if you ask for it. Val’s patient got flown out, so we won’t hear anything back on that. He was in a coma, and they don’t expect him to wake up.”

“Damn, that sucks. How old?”

“Sixteen.”

“Jesus fuck. Are any of the others that bad off?”

I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”

Getting up and making his way to the kitchen, Terry popped open a high cupboard. “What’ll you have?”

“I thought you were on call.” I thought it best not to add that I’d heard that bit of news from Halee.

“I swapped shifts with Lori. What’ll it be?”

“Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”

Terry selected a bottle of bourbon. “Who else knows about this?” He got out two matching glasses and filled them with ice.

“I just now worked it out,” I said.

“So why tell me? Why not take it to George Fronse or somebody?” He poured the drinks as he spoke.

I stared at him, wounded. “Maybe because I wanted to run this by somebody first, and I thought we were still friends. My mistake.”

I started to rise. Terry set a drink on the table in front of me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“For Christ’s sake,” he said, “don’t be so damn touchy. Have a drink.” Our eyes locked. I was overreacting and I knew it. Goddammit, I’m just so fucking tired and confused. I sank back into my chair.

“What we are and are not,” Terry said, his hand still on my shoulder, “isn’t a conversation I’m willing to have right at the moment. I’ve been your boyfriend, I’ve been your lover, and I’ve been your friend. You haven’t made any of it particularly easy. My door is still open to you… you might consider taking that as a good sign.”

I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again. Tears threatened, and I was damned if I’d let them fall.

Terry sat down and held up his glass. “Cheers?”

I touched my glass to his, and Terry took a long swallow. I put my drink to my lips in anticipation; Terry always has the best liquor. I tried just a little, then followed it with some more. I closed my eyes, letting it roll around on my tongue.

“Holy crap,” I said, “I’m not even going to ask how expensive this is.”

A ghost of a smile played across his lips. “Probably better that way.” His finger roamed the map. “I think you’re onto something here,” he said. “I wonder if anyone else has made the connection.”

Grateful to put the personal exchange behind us, I considered that for a moment. “I doubt it. Not because I’m Sherlock Holmes, but because I don’t think anybody else has all of the pieces. I transported Jason Bixley. I saw two other cases. And I still don’t think I’d have put it all together if Valeria hadn’t called me last night.”

Terry looked doubtful. “A few of the docs have to be getting curious, though… don’t you think?”

I smiled a tight little smile. Terry is smart as hell, and pretty well tuned into the local wavelength for a man who has lived urban for most of his life, but his perspective on the region’s hospital system is still limited at best.

“What you have to realize,” I said, “is that the cases are divided up between four dinky little country hospitals with level three or four EDs. Most of what they see is geriatric problems; you know that. Anything serious gets transferred out. Each place has seen one or two cases, and it’s probably a different ED doc in every instance. The labs are fucked up, but the tox screen comes back negative. The patient can’t remember a damn thing. What do you think is actually going to happen?”

“Fair point. All of which cries out to me that this would be a really good time to spread the word. Cops, hospitals, and EMS medical directors.”

I nodded. “I’m working tomorrow. I’ll talk to our medical director, make some phone calls, and maybe see if the sheriff’s office will send a deputy over to talk to me.”

“We could call up George Fronse right now. He is, after all, the Grand Almighty Poobah of the indefatigable Bronning police department… and judging from your map, I’d say this just might be a Bronning problem.”

I tried to keep a straight face, and failed. Then I sobered somewhat as a sudden realization penetrated my mind. I don’t want to talk to George about this.

“It’s kind of funny to hear you, of all people, suggesting that we should go talk to George about anything,” I said.

Terry sipped his drink and smiled. “I have nothing against George, you know. The man is an epic square, but I respect the hell out of him. The entire police force here in town is him and a part-timer, and he makes it work on top of heading up the fire department and helping out on the ambulance. If by some happy miracle the stick were to fall out of his ass, I’d be delighted to sit down and have a drink with him. Except I doubt he drinks. Hell, eating is probably too vulgar for him. It might lead to pooping, and I don’t think his sense of propriety would stand for that.”

Our eyes met, and we both cracked up. I took another sip of the wonderful drink. Terry polished his off, and got up out of his chair with glass in hand. “One more?” he asked.

I handed him my glass. “I didn’t want to ask. I have to think whiskey that good comes in a decanter laced with flakes of gold.”

Terry poured the drinks with a smile. “Let’s just say that booze of this caliber requires a manager’s key at the liquor store.” He handed me the glass and sat back down. “George is the logical guy to start with, but you seem less than enthused about bringing this to him. Why?”

I looked at my hands. “I’m not sure,” I said. “He seemed… I don’t know… off somehow when he was interviewing me about the Bixley accident. Kept hesitating, seemed really uncomfortable. It was weird. And then —”

“Wait a second. You didn’t mention that to me at the time.”

“Because it was probably nothing,” I said, clamping down on my irritation. “And because I was annoyed at you for needling him, I guess. You guys just barely get along as it is, and you were pouring gas on the fire.”

“Did I mention that you don’t make anything easy, ever?”

I held my temper in both hands, wondering just who the hell I was angry with. I rubbed my eyes. “Fine. I’m sorry. But then there’s the way he just magically appeared at that call in Roers.”

Terry’s eyes widened. “Almost like he knew they were related.”

“Yeah.” Sipping my drink, I leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. “But that’s crazy. I mean… Jesus, I’ve known George my whole fucking life, Terry. I was a flower girl at his wedding when I was five. I helped with the potluck when he became Chief of Police. He’s… well… like you said, he’s a square. But he does more for this town in a month than most people do their whole lives. I can’t seriously believe he’s mixed up in anything hinky.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve only known him for four years, and I can’t either. But you’re right, it’s fucking bizarre.”

“Did he show up at that call on 225?’

Terry spread his hands. “Yes, but so what? That was an overdose call just a couple of miles from town. I’d have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up.”

“Yeah…” Something was tickling at the back of my mind. It came to me all at once, and I pushed myself out of my chair. Tugging my phone from the pocket of my jeans, I leaned against the wall and opened my texts.

“It wasn’t an overdose call,” I said.

“Say what?”

“Well, it was… but if I remember right, that is not what you got paged out for. Give me a sec.”

I found the thread in which all Bronning calls were sent to my phone as voice texts, and scrolled back to Monday. Finding the right one, I hit play.

“Franklin County to Bronning Ambulance, please respond to 13242 State Highway 225 for a twenty-year-old male with an altered level of consciousness, your time is 1333.”

Terry got to his feet, and came to stand beside me. “I’m an idiot, and you’re Nancy fucking Drew.”

“You got paged for altered LOC, not an overdose,” I said. “George comes to help with those if they’re right in town and he’s not busy, but since when does he go out of town for them?”

“Punch me in the balls and call me stupid,” said Terry, “because it never even occurred to me. By the time he got there, I knew I had an OD patient in front of me, and I didn’t stop to think about the page he was actually responding to.”

I straightened, and our eyes met. “We still need to talk to him,” said Terry. “If you talk to the Sheriff’s department tomorrow, the first person they’re going to call is George, and then he’s going to want to know why you didn’t come straight to his office. Besides, we’re most likely jumping at shadows here.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

“Tell you what,” he said. You go to work tomorrow and talk to everyone you were planning to talk to. Once the kids are in school, I’ll go talk to George.”

“Is that a great idea? You guys aren’t exactly best friends.”

“Noooo… but, to be blunt, I’m much better at gauging people’s reactions than you are, and at choosing my words. If either one of us is likely to get an inkling of whether we’re onto something or not, it’s me. And if he is actually involved in something here, we have to be damned careful.”

I nodded. Much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right. “I have to work in the morning,” I said. “I’d better go home and get some sleep.”

“Yeah, you’d probably better.”

He really isn’t going to invite me to stay. I’m not sure I’d have taken him up on it if he had; the situation with Halee had changed the dynamic quite a bit for me. All the same, by not making the offer, Terry was drawing a line that had never existed between us before, and oh dear God did it sting.

He walked with me to the foyer, standing in silence as I put on my shoes. When I straightened, he put a hand on my arm.

“I am still your friend,” he said.

I put my hand over his and squeezed, then let go. Not trusting myself to speak, I gave him the best smile I could manage, nodded once, and slipped out the door.

On to Chapter Seven!

By BlueJean

The Mal De Mer was a rowdy but friendly pub, until someone looked at someone else the wrong way, or a careless word was uttered after one too many drinks – and then all hell broke loose, as is often the way of harbour-town establishments.

The night before Uncle Derek was to set out on another fishing trip, he and his crew had gathered at the pub to observe the ancient maritime ritual of getting as shit-faced as possible before heading out to sea. Always partial to a few beverages herself, Aunt Rita had joined them, and I was introduced to my first taste of Morcant-On-Sea hospitality.

My uncle bought the first round: A pint of Guinness for himself and another for Aunt Rita, lager for Jack, something brown and murky for Sully, and a large red wine for Odette – apt for a French woman, I suppose, but somehow I had her down for a beer drinker. I had no option but to settle for a Coke when my request for a small white wine had been scuppered.

We sat around a table in the corner of the bustling pub and listened to Jack drone on about his mythical fighting prowess. “He comes up to me, right? He comes up and he’s, like, ‘You wanna piece of me, do ya?’ So I fuckin’ drop-kicked him, and he goes flying ‘cross the road, and he’s got this stunned look on his face. I says to him, ‘Stay down, mate. Stay down’.”

Odette offered the boy a pat on the back. “Oh, you are a tough guy, no? But it is not nice to beat up dwarves.”

Uncle Derek slapped the table in amusement. “HAHAHA!”

Jack went red-faced and gave Odette a scowl. “Very funny. He weren’t a dwarf. He was at least six foot.”

“It might have been a dwarf standing on top of another dwarf,” Aunt Rita chipped in, rousing another roar of laughter from everyone.

“Or a dwarf on stilts!” I chirped.

“Or a really tall dwarf,” Sully said in a deadpan voice, which drew a few odd looks. “With a parrot,” the old man added.

“Er… good one, Sully,” Uncle Derek told his first mate.

“Look, there weren’t any fucking dwarves,” Jack protested. “Not a single one. He was a big stocky bloke with these weird starey eyes and a tongue that kept lolling out.”

We all remained tight-lipped, and tried our best not to laugh at the poor boy, until Uncle Derek put his arm round Jack’s shoulder and broke the silence with, “Down syndrome fella, was he?” causing the rest of us to fall about laughing.

Even Jack couldn’t help but smile. “Bastards.” He got up and headed towards the bar. “S’pose it’s my round. Not that you lot deserve it.”

As the evening wore on and the glasses piled up, jokes were shared and songs were sung. Sitting there sipping my Coke like a fine wine, I felt like I belonged – that this was where I was supposed to be, warm and safe among this group of ragtag folk.

Until a large tattooed man with no neck and a handlebar moustache approached our table, and the congenial atmosphere turned sour in an instant.

“I’m still waitin’ for you to take a look at my motor, Rita,” the ugly-looking brute grunted.

Aunt Rita didn’t even bother looking up. “I ain’t fixing it.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you never paid me last time. And you’re an arsehole. But mostly ’cause you didn’t pay me.”

No-Neck rested his gorilla knuckles on the table. “You tellin’ me I need to take it to the mainland to get it fixed?”

“I don’t give a shit where you take it. No one screws me over.”

Uncle Derek laid a hand on No-Neck’s arm and smiled a humourless smile. “Away you go now, Petey. You’ve asked your question and you’ve had your answer.”

No-Neck-Petey glared at my uncle. “You best take your hand off me, Derek.”

Uncle Derek’s hand remained where it was. “We really doing this again, Petey? You sure about this?”

It’s strange how an entire pub full of people can instinctively sense when the shit’s about to hit the fan – a hair raising, adrenaline primed sixth sense of foetal position inducing weirdness that fills the air like a contagious wave, triggering that good old primal fight-or-flight instinct.

Everyone found their feet all at once. Odette hunched her shoulders like a bull ready to charge, while Jack eyed the nearest exit with an air of self-preservation that suited him far better than the bravado he tried to project. Sully pulled me backwards away from the table and shielded me with his arms.

“I’ll tell you one more time, Derek,” No-Neck-Petey rumbled. “Take. Your. Fucking. Hand. Off. My—”

Aunt Rita’s fist flew through the air and landed squarely on the ape-man’s jaw with a crack. “Take that, fucker!” she yelled.

No-Neck, realising he couldn’t hit a woman back – not in a busy public house, at least – thumped Uncle Derek instead, knocking him back towards the bar and into a weaselly looking man, who promptly spun around and smashed his beer glass over my uncle’s head. Odette lurched towards her captain and hoisted up his scrawny assailant, throwing him across the bar like a sack of spuds.

And then, of course, everyone else either ran for the door or simply joined in, leaving me to duck under the table as a chair flew over my head.

As chaos erupted all around me, I stuck my hand up and groped about until I found a glass, pulling it back under the table and gulping the contents down before anybody could notice. Red wine – full bodied; fruity with floral notes.

Sully headbutted a smart looking gentleman in a three-piece suit as I crawled on all fours over to the next table.

Half a glass of gin and tonic – lipstick round the rim; garnished with a slice of lemon. Dry but refreshing.

Jack came sliding towards me on his belly, having been swung round and hurled across the floor by a fat man with a comb-over. He regarded the empty gin glass in my hand, then flashed me a knowing grin – as if he didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to.

“Don’t tell, okay?” I appealed to him, a finger to my lips.

But then the handsome young fool was gone, dragged out from beneath the table and tossed in some new direction.

A quarter of a glass of Mojito – rum, sugar, lime juice, club soda. Finished with freshly picked mint leaves, slices of lime and two rapidly melting ice cubes.

And there went Aunt Rita, riding on the back of No-Neck-Petey with her teeth clamped round one of his ears, while the great brute of a man thrashed about and howled his outrage.

Time to move. I scarpered through a storm of flying fists and glasses to the safety of the next table.

Half a pint of dry cider – a faint aftertaste of stale tobacco.

Uncle Derek seemed to have pissed off two young women who had caught him in a pincer movement, slapping him repeatedly while he roared with laughter.

One third of a glass of Pernod & Black – Pastis liqueur; blackcurrant cordial. Strong aniseed base with fruit undertones. Soggy pork scratching optional.

Quite unexpectedly, a loud shot rang out, deafening within the confines of the public house.

Everyone cowered at the sudden blast and followed it to its source: Sheila the landlady, standing on the bar, shotgun in hand – loaded with blanks, I later found out. “Everyone! Out of my pub!” the irate custodian wailed.

Those who hadn’t already vacated The Mal De Mer when the first fists were thrown did so now, until only myself, Aunt Rita, Uncle Derek and his crew remained.

“Rita! Derek! You’re both barred! Again!” came Sheila’s decree.

Aunt Rita furrowed her brow as she surveyed the battleground. “Uh… I appear to have lost my niece.”

The table I was hiding under levitated off the floor, and Uncle Derek loomed over me with that big grin of his. “She’s over ‘ere.”

“Peek-a-boo!” I squeaked.

Aunt Rita took the glass from my hand and sniffed its contents. “Oh, dear…”

You’ll forgive me if my recollection of the rest of the evening is a little hazy. I remember dancing outside the pub with Aunt Rita. Oh, and singing – there was lots of singing. I’m pretty sure I fell over a couple of times. Uncle Derek piggybacked me up the steep cobbled streets, and I seem to recall throwing up down the back of his shirt.

Somehow we made it back to the cottage and my uncle carried me upstairs, laying me down on my bed before disappearing to tend to his wounds. Aunt Rita undressed me and tucked me in, then made me drink a big glass of water.

“Can I live with you forever?” I asked her as she swept my hair from my eyes.

“Why would you want to stay here forever?”

“‘Cause it’s nice. And my mum doesn’t love me.”

Aunt Rita gave me a sad smile. “Love is a cage. You walk into it and the door locks behind you,” were her final words, before a drunken slumber claimed me.

***

I awoke the next morning feeling like death incarnate. My head thumped; nausea enveloped me. I made the solemn vow that every inexperienced drinker makes the first time they wake up with an apocalyptic hangover: Never again. Ever. Until the next time.

Stumbling out of bed, I slithered down the spiral staircase towards the bathroom to relieve myself. I considered throwing up as well, but somehow managed to keep it down. My reflection stared back at me in the cabinet mirror, so I poked my tongue out at it for its insolence. “Naaaaah!”

I heard a voice coming from somewhere in the house, and thought it was Aunt Rita on the phone until I drew closer to her room. Her door was half open, leaving me free to peer inside. I gasped in shock.

She lay sprawled on the bed, naked but for her socks, legs spread, knees apart, a large veiny silicone cock buried in her vagina.

I pushed open the door without thinking and stood there in just my knickers. “Hi…” I said and gave her a silly wave.

“Did I wake you?” an unfazed Aunt Rita asked me as she idly fucked herself.

I shook my head.

“How do you feel?”

“Not good,” I admitted.

My aunt chuckled. “Serves you right.” Withdrawing the large toy from her cunt, she brought its head to her clit, using it to tease and stimulate the sensitive nub. “Your uncle sailed out this morning. It’s just you and me again.”

I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, then leant back against it.

“Would you like to help me?” my aunt asked.

“How?”

She beckoned me over with the crook of a finger. I padded across the room and climbed onto her bed. To say I could smell her arousal would be an understatement. Her scent was strong – almost unnaturally so, and I wondered if that awful hangover had amplified my senses, as often they do. Regardless, I was giddy with the aroma, my own pussy awakening with a throbbing need.

Rita took my hands and placed them on the silicone cock sticking out of her. “Fuck me with it.”

I knelt between her legs and grasped the toy, slowly feeding it into her.

“Deeper,” she demanded, so I burrowed further still, her hungry cunt devouring the greater portion of the dildo’s veiny length. I drew it back out and watched in fascination as her inner labia clung to it, as if reluctant to let go.

“That’s it,” my aunt groaned. “In and out. In and out. A little faster.”

I found a steady rhythm, pistoning back and forth as my aunt sat propped up against the pillows kneading her full breasts, legs spread wide to allow my labours to continue unobstructed.

“You smell so nice,” I murmured, intoxicated by her thick musk.

“You like smelling Aunty’s pussy?” Rita growled.

“Yeah.”

“Dirty little girl.”

I liked hearing her call me that. “Say more naughty things to me.”

“Shove that cock into Aunty’s cunt, little girl,” she hissed. “Fuck me good and hard.”

I gave my aunt an innocent look, fluttering my lashes at her. “Shall I take my panties off for you, Aunty?”

“Ooh, yeah. I wanna see your bare pussy while you fuck me.”

I left the dildo half buried in my aunt’s cunt while I stood on the bed and slowly peeled my knickers off. Kicking them away, I spread myself open for her. “D’ya like that?”

Aunt Rita murmured her approval.

I hunkered down and took the toy into my hands again, liquid sounds accompanying each sordid thrust as I continued to drive it back and forth.

Aunt Rita reached a hand beneath herself and pushed a finger into her bum. “If I play with my arsehole while you fuck me with that cock, I’ll go off like a firework.”

“That’s so rude.”

“But y’know what would be even better?”

“What?”

She unsheathed her engorged clitoris and gave me a hungry look. “If you suck on my clit while you fuck me.”

Face poised between my aunt’s legs, the humid, animal heat of her arousal enveloped me. I took her tender node between my lips to nurse upon it like a nipple.

Aunt Rita thrust her hips out, a finger attacking her arsehole while I ate her clit and fucked her with the dildo. “Fuck… Gonna come so hard…!”

And she did. Rippling contractions ejected the toy from her spasming cunt, vaginal juices spraying my face and chest. She gave an ear-piercing scream, her body frozen in ecstatic contortion.

“Holy shit…” I whispered, my aunt’s musky fluids dripping from my chin. I hadn’t expected a deluge like that.

With laboured breath, Aunt Rita opened her arms in invitation. As I fell into her naked embrace, her hands moved with a strange attentiveness across my face and through my hair. Then her fingers were inside my mouth, swirling around my cheeks and across my tongue while she whispered words that I couldn’t quite make out. Before I could ask what she was doing, her lips found mine, and I was returning the kiss with all the passion I could muster.

When we broke apart, my aunt settled back against her pillows with a look of pure satisfaction. “Thank you, Hailey.”

“Ah… you’re welcome, I guess.”

“Was it okay that we did that?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, definitely. I really like doing sex stuff.”

“I need to taste you,” my aunt crooned as she gently pushed me back onto the bed. Prising my knees apart, she craned her neck to get at my pussy, breathing in my scent first, then working the tip of a finger through my outer labia. When her tongue finally made contact with my aching cunt, I shivered with delight, surrendering to her touch.

I could feel the inevitable seismic shift of my orgasm rumbling beneath the surface, but Aunt Rita would not allow its release just yet. With a sly smile, she rolled me onto my side and forced my arse cheeks apart, giving me some clue where her tongue was headed next. Sure enough, I felt her probe the taut opening of my bum, the sensation strange and new but certainly not unwelcome.

She attacked my pussy and arsehole with a relentless ferocity, her tongue lashing against me with such force and celerity that it seemed to be everywhere all at once. My body was slave to the sudden brief rigor mortis of climax before erupting into uncontrollable spasms, my headache blooming with a raw intensity. A long-drawn-out groan escaped my lips, both of pleasure and of pain.

Aunt Rita hissed her delight. “Yes! Come for me, you dirty little girl!”

Waves of ecstasy rolled over me, each one less intense than the last, until finally I could function to some degree of normality.

My aunt peppered my inner thighs with kisses. “How was that?”

“Sick,” I replied earnestly.

“Eh?”

“It means ‘awesome’,” I explained. “Actually, I do feel a bit sick. Can I have a couple of painkillers, please?”

Aunt Rita fetched a glass of Alka Seltzer, and I gulped down the unpleasant tasting liquid as rapidly as I could.

We spent the rest of the morning lounging naked in bed, me nestled between my aunt’s legs while she wove iridescent pearls into strands of my unruly hair. A cool breeze stirred the net curtain over the bedroom window, blowing across my skin and drawing a wistful smile from me.

“When I daydream,” my aunt murmured, as she took a soft brush to my hair, “sometimes I imagine doing this with The One Who Got Away.”

“The One Who Got Away… I keep hearing you and Uncle Derek say that. What’s it mean?”

Placing the hairbrush down on the bedspread with a thoughtful reverence, Aunt Rita looked off into the distance. “She was our baby girl,” she told me softly.

I sat up and turned to face her. “You had a baby? I – I didn’t know that.”

“She didn’t stay with us for long. We didn’t even have time to name her.”

“What happened?”

“She… she wasn’t made for this world – her little webbed hands and feet; skin so thin it was almost translucent.” A flash of anger flittered across my aunt’s face. “The doctor said she was deformed. He actually said that to my face. I smacked him in the mouth for it. But she wasn’t deformed, Hailey. She was beautiful. She was our daughter.”

“Oh my God, Aunt Rita. I’m so sorry.”

“So the doctors and midwives left us alone, and we held her and murmured words to her and kissed her. And then she died in my arms. She… got away.”

Tears streamed down my aunt’s face. I wrapped my arms around her as she quietly wept.

“It broke your uncle. He found ways to blame himself, as men always do. I tried to guide him through his grief as I was dealing with mine. And I knew I couldn’t leave him.”

“Leave him? Why would you leave Uncle Derek?”

My aunt wiped her tears away and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She climbed off the bed and slipped her knickers on. “Get dressed. We can head to the beach for the afternoon, if you like.”

***

We strolled down to the beach café for cappuccinos and a shared bacon sandwich, then made our way across to the pale white sand at the water’s edge, sea birds flying to and from their cliffside nests and the soft sound of waves lapping against the shore.

We spoke of many things, my aunt and I. Love and loss, soaring happiness and broken hearts, of running away and of staying put, of swimming with the tide and swimming against it. And hand in hand, I realised we had reached a new understanding, not just as aunt and niece, but as friends.

Aunt Rita led me round the peninsula to a secluded stretch of beach where, to my amazement, we found ourselves confronted by a ring of fossilised tree stumps.

“Whoa! What’s this?”

“This,” Aunt Rita told me, “is a seahenge.”

“Like… like Stonehenge?”

“Yeah. Except this one is made from wood. It’s only visible for a couple of hours each day when the tide is out.”

I wandered around the circumference of the circle and counted forty-five smaller trunks, with a gigantic upturned tree stump settled squarely between them. “Who put it here?” I asked my aunt.

“The ancient Celts. With a little guidance…”

“It’s amazing.”

“It is. And it’s where our little girl rests.”

It took me a brief moment to fathom the meaning of her words. “The One Who Got Away?”

Aunt Rita gave a nod. “The sea protects her now. The sea… and those little rascals.” She gestured to the water’s edge and I gasped in amazement.

The seals lumbered ashore and found their way up onto the large flat trunk in the centre of the circle – seven of them altogether, various sizes and mottled hues: greys and blacks, whites and browns. I found myself entertaining the notion that Madeline might be there amongst them, looking back at me from the dark eyes of her seal form.

“Aunt Rita?” I called as my aunt began heading back towards the town.

“Hmm?”

“I… I don’t think Madeline is human.”

My aunt gave a brief snort of laughter. “Well, that’s a bit mean! Come on, let’s go home.”

I ran after her, and together we strolled along the sand towards the harbour. My aunt turned and walked backwards, then hollered to the basking seals, “Look after her, okay?!”

I wasn’t sure if she meant Madeline or her lost baby.

***

My life in Morcant-On-Sea settled into a familiar rhythm. Uncle Derek would come and go, leaving Aunt Rita and me to enjoy each other’s company, both socially and sexually. I didn’t see much of Madeline, other than the occasional visit to the cottage or chance meeting around town. My infatuation with her had somehow diminished since my aunt and I had become intimate. I wondered if I’d come to be a substitute friend for Aunt Rita too, given the dwindling amount of time she spent with the doctor.

When I wasn’t exploring the beaches, swimming in the warm waters of the shallow bays, or delighting in the seals as they basked upon the great fossilised tree trunk, I would sometimes help Aunt Rita as she tinkered with her cars, and often we would end the day gleefully covered in oil and grime.

The nights were our ‘special time.’ Some evenings she would come to my room, other nights I’d go to hers, and together we would explore our burgeoning desire in ever more inventive ways.

On occasion, I’d catch the faint voice on the wind and sneak out to follow it down to the harbour, but I never found Madeline on the beach again, if indeed I hadn’t dreamt her there to begin with.

One late evening though, when I should have been tucked up in bed, I found Sully sitting on the harbour wall with a bottle of bourbon in his hand. The old man was quietly sobbing, and at first I considered turning round and sneaking back home, but empathy and curiosity drove me towards him.

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Sully?”

The old sailor gave a start and turned to me, wiping his rheumy eyes with the back of a hand. “Hailey? What’re you doing up at this hour?”

I didn’t see the point of lying. “I sneak out sometimes. I like it down by the harbour when it’s quiet. And I hear singing.”

“Singing?”

“Yeah. I think it’s Madeline.”

Sully gave me an odd look. “Right… If you say so.”

I sat down next to him. “Why’re you crying?”

The old man shook his head sadly. “Oh, Hailey. We’ve done something terrible, me and your uncle.”

“What did you do?”

It spilled out of him – a confession of sorts, as if he needed to tell someone, even if that someone was an eleven-year-old girl. “Me and Derek, we was out to sea – those were the days before Odette and Jack joined up. It was a rough trip – seas were choppy; haul too small to make a profit. So, on the last day we was bringing up the nets as usual, but… there was something in there. We thought it was a dead body at first, ’till I sees the seal flipper down where her legs should’ve been.”

“A Selkie…” I whispered.

Sully gave a single nod of the head. “Aye. I knew what it was. I begged Derek to throw it overboard, but once that stubborn fool gets an inklin’ into his head, he takes hold like a barnacle.”

If it wasn’t for the distraught look on his face, I would just as easily have assumed that Sully was playing one of his pranks on me.  “Jesus Christ on a two-stroke moped! I bloody knew it!”

“Derek turned the boat round and headed back to Morcant. Then he… he peeled the sealskin away from her body. He gave it to me, told me to hide it, so’s no one could ever find it.”

“What did you do with it, Sully? Where did you hide it?”

He hung his head in shame. “I can’t say, girl. Your uncle made me swear an oath.”

I gripped the old man’s arm. “What you and Uncle Derek did was wrong, okay? She needs to go back to the ocean, and she can’t do it without her skin! You have to tell me where it is so I can give it back to her!”

“I ain’t had a decent night’s sleep since we found her, Hailey. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t feel the shame of it.”

“Where’s her sealskin, Sully?! Tell me!”

Finally, the old man relented. He blew out a big breath and turned to me. “You’re right. It’s time I made amends.” Pulling himself to his feet, he regarded the bottle with disgust, then went to hurl it into the harbour.

“Put it in the bin!” I told him, and he gave me an abashed look.

“Meet me at the old seahenge, three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, all right?”

“And you’ll show me where you hid her skin?”

“Aye. But say nothing to your uncle. Breaking a seaman’s oath is no small thing.” The old man stumbled away muttering to himself and disappeared up the steep cobbled street.

I sat on the harbour wall, trying to take in what I’d just been told. Madeline was a Selkie. It was all true. Did that mean little Isla was a Selkie too? Half Selkie? Would she be able to follow her mum into the ocean, or would she be abandoned forever?

Those questions would have to wait. All that mattered now was returning Madeline’s sealskin and righting a wrong.

“Hold on, Madeline,” I whispered to myself. “I’m gonna help you get home.”

On to Chapter Five!

Note from JetBoy: This story is a sequel to Karin’s story “By Invitation Only,” which itself is a sequel to her “Only One Wish.” You can enjoy this story without feeling obliged to read the others… but honestly, those stories will enhance your appreciation of this one.

by Karin Halle

After we came to the realisation that having separate apartments was a serious waste of money, my girlfriends and I elected to combine our resources and get a place together.

That’s right – girlfriends, plural. And by girlfriends, I really mean lovers.

My lovers are Alex and her sixteen-year-old daughter Louise. Plus me, Karin. That’s three women – okay, two women and a girl, to be precise. The three of us have been lovers for two years now, although Louise and her mother had been sexually intimate for a couple of years before I met them.

Sure, it’s unconventional, but it works for us. It gets tricky at times, because Louise and I are the true ‘couple’, but because she’s underage, Alex and I are the couple in the eyes of the world, and Louise is our adorable daughter. Complicated? Maybe, but it works.

We have lots of sex, but only do threesomes every once in a while. It’s agreed between us that we prefer giving undivided attention to just one lover at a time.

The main thing we all share, apart from each other, is a passion for art, which is why we set up a corner of the apartment where the light is best to use as a studio. Louise is a photographer, while Alex and I prefer painting, although we both sometimes indulge in photography as well.

Actually, Louise and I first met at a photographic exhibition that featured nude photos of a very-underage Louise – taken by her mother, who I’d met in an art class. That was when our crazy, tangled relationship began.

A few weeks ago, as Louise was nearing her sixteenth birthday, she got an idea stuck in her head about documenting herself in photos as she reached the age of consent. Several elements formed part of this project, but the centrepiece was to be a series of photographs that Louise planned to take of herself, naked and in extremely provocative poses. And Louise was very capable at being provocative.

The photo session commenced at five minutes before midnight, while Louise was still fifteen, and ended ten minutes later, by which time she was officially a year older. All the photos were only appropriate for publication in adult magazines, and she was underage in some of them, making those pictures theoretically illegal. The remainder of the shots, however, were not.

She set the camera to run automatically and capture a shot every five seconds, then adopted various poses for a continuous ten minutes. For some shots, she posed on a chair or some other prop that had been placed beforehand. The result was 120 shots – and once she’d developed them, the little minx complicated things by removing the date stamp from the images, then jumbling and retitling them with randomly selected letters, making it virtually impossible for anybody, even Louise, to distinguish the underage images from the legal ones with any certainty.

Louise selected twenty-five of the best photos to blow up and frame, then she booked space in an art gallery for an exhibition. That isn’t as big a deal as it sounds – the gallery was owned by her aunt Deanna, Alex’s sister. In fact, the room where Louise took the photos was in Deanna’s gallery. Like her niece and sister, Deanna liked to push boundaries – she had staged the exhibition at which I had first met Louise, an exhibition that featured many nude photos of young teens and children in addition to Louise. It had been a private showing, since the subject matter constituted what more than a few people would have labelled as child pornography.

Louise had ten prints made of each of the twenty-five original photos, intended to be sold as limited editions, personally signed and individually numbered by the artist herself.

The exhibition proved to be a successful one, and Louise ended up selling a generous number of her prints.

Alex, Deanna and I were all having a chat with Louise when she was approached by a woman who wanted to buy a print.

“It – it’s not for me, you understand,” the woman said. I couldn’t help but feel amused. Did she think we’d judge her for wanting an image of a beautiful naked girl?

Louise offered to add a personal dedication to her autograph, asking, “Who will I sign it to?” We could tell that she was teasing the woman a bit, but to the prospective buyer the enquiry sounded perfectly sincere.

We were all surprised when the flustered woman mumbled, “It’s for Chantel… she’s my daughter.”

Well, the woman looked to be a little younger than me, so she had to be somewhere in her mid-thirties. Which meant any daughter of hers would likely be no more than mid-teens, probably younger than Louise.

Obviously feeling a need to explain herself, the woman said, “My daughter likes girls, you see. She’s got pinup pictures of naked girls – you know, from magazines – on the back of her bedroom door. Anyhow, she has a big birthday coming up, and I wanted to get her something really special…” Her voice trailed off.

“How old will she be?” Louise asked. “Does she have a girlfriend yet?”

The woman’s face was unreadable as she quietly said, “Um, not yet, no. Chantel’s still so young. I’m sure she has crushes on girls she knows, though.”

“Ohhh! How sweet!” Louise exclaimed. The amount of empathy she was able to put into those few words amazed me, even though I already knew her so intimately.

Resting a hand on the woman’s arm – and I saw the woman shiver ever so slightly – Louise said, “That’s very thoughtful of you… so considerate. How do you spell her name?”

As the woman spelled out Chantel’s name, Louise wrote on the bottom margin of the print, To Chantel for her 13th birthday, with my congratulations and warmest wishes. Love, Louise. Each print had already been hand-signed with her name, so this extra message was a nice personal touch.

Introducing herself as Moira, Chantel’s mother was overjoyed to receive the photo, gushing, “Oh, thank you so much, Ms Whitcomb. She’ll really love this!”

Giving the woman an especially sultry look, Louise murmured, “If you are okay with allowing your daughter to come here, bring her in tomorrow and I’ll have something extra special for her — an exclusive photo. Not a print – a one-of-a-kind image.”

Overwhelmed, even blushing a little, the woman took the print that Louise had rolled up and popped into a protective tube, promising all the while that she would be back the following afternoon, Chantel in tow.

Even as I told Louise that she’d done a wonderful thing, I made it clear to her that I was far less naïve than the woman. And more suspicious. “Just what are you up to, my sweet?” I added.

“Oh, not much,” Louise replied casually – but not innocently. “I just thought that now that Chantel is a teenager, she just might be ready to get fucked.”

***

You have to understand: sexual exclusivity is not important to Alex or Louise.

I’m not like that – The notion of seeking out other sex partners has no real appeal for me. I’m quite satisfied with my two lovers. (Only two? Only?)

But as I’m not Alex’s girlfriend, I have no claim on her – she can do as she pleases.

Okay, so it’s a bit different with Louise – we are a loving, romantic couple. But I know that she sometimes has sex with girls at her school. I can accept that because I know she loves me and only fucks them for amusement. Mind you, that acceptance wasn’t always easy to achieve, as my upbringing was far more conventional than hers. Still, I don’t get jealous. There’s no need.

Admittedly, there is a gnawing feeling deep inside that someday Louise might meet and fall in love with someone else – someone who isn’t old enough to be her mother. If that does happen, it’ll hurt, but the pain will be easier to take if I can accept that it’s in her nature.

***

The following afternoon, Chantel and her mother arrived at Deanna’s gallery. As soon as they walked through the door, Louise spotted them and hurried over to introduce herself. She then made a point of taking the younger girl on a personal tour of the exhibition. Alex and Deanna were also showing little clusters of guests around, but Louise gave her new friend special VIP treatment.

That left me with Chantel’s mother, and we chatted a bit while strolling about, viewing the multiple images of a naked Louise. I found that very interesting – she’d seen the exhibit the day before, after all. Yet there she was, taking it all in as if for the first time.

“You have a lovely daughter,” I told her. “I’m sure she makes you very proud.”

“She’s the light of my life,” she told me. “Since my divorce, it’s just been the two of us.” She paused before an especially explicit shot of Louise, thighs spread apart and a hand resting about an inch from her vulva.

“I think it’s great that you’re okay with Chantel liking girls,” I told her. “Lots of mothers wouldn’t accept that at all.”

Moira blushed slightly. “I’m gay myself, actually,” she confessed. That surprised me; I’m usually spot-on when it comes to recognising lesbians. “It’s just that… well, I’m not quite as open about it as my daughter.”

“Girls like Chantel are the lucky ones,” I said. “They grew up in a more understanding time.”

Gazing across the room at her daughter, Moira nodded. “Chantel’s impatient for her first sexual experience. She hasn’t told me so, but I can tell.” With a wistful sigh, she added, “Her first lover will be one incredibly lucky girl. Or woman.”

Okay, that caught my interest in a big way. I didn’t really know this woman, and had only briefly met Chantel, but something about Moira made me wonder if she was sexually attracted to her daughter. She clearly adored the girl, though I sensed something more than just motherly affection.

Let’s face it, I was in a better position to recognise that kind of desire than most. I was in a romantic triad with a young girl who was also her mum’s lover… and my introduction to the lesbian life had been at the hands of my late daughter Larissa, who persuaded me to teach her everything about sex when she was terminally ill.

Does she really want Chantel that way? I asked myself, watching Moira carefully as she drifted from one erotic photograph to the next. Or is it just material she draws on for the occasional masturbation fantasy? 

Once we reached the last image, Moira sighed once more, closed her eyes for a few heartbeats, then turned to me. “Karin,” she said. “I have some errands to run… and, well, Chantel asked me earlier today if she could stay here in the meantime. I hate to ask, but could you…?”

“Look after her?” I replied. “Certainly, Moira. I’d be glad to.”

“She won’t need much looking after. Chantel is very mature for her age.”

“Not a problem, honestly. We can even provide lunch. I brought baked ziti, and there’s way too much for the staff and management.”

Taking my hand in hers, Moira gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Karin. You’re making a sweet young girl very happy.” She leaned in close, her lips brushing my cheek, then left me with a shy smile. I watched her depart, admiring her figure. She had a lovely arse, and I wondered how it would feel in my hands.

Drifting over to where Louise and Chantel were standing, I let my lover know about Moira’s departure. Of course, that fitted quite nicely with her wicked plans for the daughter.

“This show is awesome,” Chantel declared, spreading her arms wide. “It’s so brave of you, Louise, doing something so… so important.” She had a determined set to her jaw. “I want to make art like this one day!”

That was Louise’s cue. “Would you be up for doing something truly daring in the way of art, then?” she asked. “If you mean what you say, I’ve got a project in mind that you’d be perfect for!”

“Maybe,” the barely teenaged girl answered, a bit cautiously. “What do you have in mind?”

So said the prey to the predator, I thought.

“I want to make a series of pictures, about girls loving each other,” Louise began, and I felt my knees start to tremble. “Very frank and sexual, not really suitable for display… something private. A personal kind of art, only allowed to be seen by a select few.”

I’d no idea whether Louise was getting anywhere with Chantel, but she was making my knickers damp.

“Sounds… interesting,” Chantel murmured, her expression giving nothing away..

“Are you game?” Louise purred, giving the girl an enticing smile.

“Hmmm. Well, I like girls… and I like pictures of girls – but you’re asking me to be in these, right? And I’d be, er, making love with another girl?”

Louise nodded. “Something like that.”

Chantel was mulling it over. “It sounds nice, but I’ve never done anything like that before. Don’t you want someone who, um, knows how? And I’m still just a kid, really. If you take pictures of me having sex, that could get you in huge trouble, I bet!”

I was impressed. This youngster was every bit as bright as she was beautiful.

Unfazed, Louise was quick to respond. “It’s true – photos of a girl your age having sex would be illegal. That’s why we’d keep them private, and no one would see them but people I trusted. And someone who’s never made love before is exactly what I want for this project.” Chantel opened her mouth to reply, but Louise raised her hand. “Take some time to think about it. Right now, I’ve got a special surprise for you… did your mum mention it?”

“A surprise? No,” Chantel answered, looking somewhat puzzled. “All Mum said was that she wanted to take me to this show, ‘cos she was sure I’d like it. So, um… what’s this surprise?”

“Come with me, and I’ll give it to you,” Louise said, leading the way to a door that led to Deanna’s private office suite. “Join us, Karin,” she added, glancing at me.

The prey was straying into the predator’s snare… and I realised that somehow, I’d been captured too. But I didn’t know just how trapped I was, not yet!

Louise invited us to sit on Deanna’s plush slate-grey sofa while she retrieved a small folder from a drawer in the coffee table. It contained the original prints of all the pictures that Louise had taken at her photo shoot, some colour, some black and white. “Here,” Louise said, handing the folder to Chantel. Pick out any one of these to keep. I’ll even sign it for you.”

To say Chantel was thrilled to bits would’ve been the understatement of the year. In fact, she seemed about to spontaneously combust as she pored through the folder’s contents, sighing and cooing over the many images of Louise in the nude. If I hadn’t already known Chantel was a budding lesbian, I certainly would have figured it out then.

The photo she finally chose was one that wasn’t selected for the exhibition. Louise had rejected it because she didn’t like the expression on her face. I couldn’t see anything wrong with it and, apparently, neither could Chantel.

The pose Louise adopted for that shot was pretty extreme. It was a colour photo of her casually seated in an armchair, one leg hanging over the arm, the other foot on the floor. Since she was naked with her legs open, Louise’s shaved pussy was in full view.

Louise certainly knew how to start Chantel’s motor. After going through all those pictures, the girl was visibly aroused, moving restlessly in her seat. I found myself wondering how wet her knickers were.

Taking the photo, Louise slipped it into a large display frame, then signed it, Thank you for liking me so much. I hope this picture brings you pleasure. With love, Louise Whitcomb. She even added a few X’s and O’s, then stood to give Chantel her prize.

Chantel was thankful beyond words. All but leaping up from the sofa, she hugged Louise – which was almost certainly what my wicked lover had been waiting for.

She returned the hug, then began moving her hands over and around the girl’s blooming body, dipping her head to place a tiny kiss on Chantel’s neck. Then another.

Before my eyes, Louise was seducing this beautiful young girl. There were no doubts about what my lover had in mind, and I suspected that my presence had been an integral part of her scheme. Now that Louise was making her move, I sensed it was time for me to leave.

I stepped towards the door, but Louise raised her head, making eye contact with me. She shook her head, mouthing the words “Don’t go.” I froze in mid-step as her mouth found Chantel’s, and they drifted into a slow, sensuous kiss. I knew those kisses well; they never failed to get my motor purring.

Feeling ridiculous, I stood where I was, waiting for Louise to give me some kind of hint about what she was up to. More than just a quick fuck with her new friend, I felt certain, but what else?.

The kiss was getting hot and heavy when Louise gently broke away and took the flushed girl by the hand. “You are exquisite, Chantel. Will you make art with me?”

Chantel said, “Um… okay,” but I heard her voice quiver a bit. She glanced at me, then back at Louise.

Opening the desk drawer once more, Louise extracted four glossy sheets that turned out to be proofs of some of the images from her portfolio – thirty small images printed on a single page, for easier comparison. The entire portfolio was on those few pages.

Handing the proofs to Chantel, Louise said, “This is what I want. Two people naked, in casual poses. There’ll be touching involved – probably a lot of touching, and even more, if you like. And we’ll be capturing it all on film. That’s why Karin’s here. She’s somebody I can trust.”

The explanation seemed to clarify things for Chantel, while it left me flattered, but puzzled. I’d learned a lot about photography since meeting Louise and becoming her lover, but I was nowhere in her league. Could I wield the camera skillfully enough to do justice to her vision?

“Karin is my lover, and I trust her completely,” Louise added, then smiled, “So, Chantel – are you game?”

When Chantel said, “Okay,” again, I noticed that she already sounded less apprehensive than she had mere moments ago. It appeared that our underage guest wanted what my lover was offering.

Louise led the way into the studio, which appeared not to have been used since she’d done her portfolio session there two weeks earlier. In fact, all the props were still in place. Opening a cupboard, Louise selected a camera which she passed to me, then she went over to where Chantel was standing.

Looking deep into the younger girl’s eyes – Is she trying to hypnotise her? I wondered – Louise said, “I’m going to undress you now, then I’ll take my clothes off. Karin will be taking photographs of us. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, I – I think so,” Chantel told her.

“Good. Would you be more comfortable if Karin was naked, too…?”

That startled me. “Hey, wait! What?”

It wasn’t being nude that bothered me, just that events were unfolding so rapidly that I was having trouble keeping up. Still, I couldn’t deny that Louise’s suggestion appealed to me in a big way. Being naked with my sixteen-year-old lover and the even younger object of her wicked desire – was Chantel even thirteen yet? – was getting me dangerously hot.

Since my relationship with Louise began, I’d only had sex with her and her mum, Alex… which does sound quite kinky when you put it that way. Now I was convinced that Louise had plans to include me in her seduction of young Chantel, and it struck me that I was keen for it to happen.

My suspicions were confirmed when she told Chantel, “In fact, I think she ought to be included in these pictures. Would you like that?”

I could see arousal in the young girl’s eyes when she looked at me… though I wasn’t sure if she was really into sex with an older woman, or just thrilled with the whole erotic setup that Louise had staged. I didn’t know whether Chantel had ever done anything sexual… but with Louise calling the shots, she was certainly going to be engaged in a full-on carnal experience. I only hoped it wouldn’t be too much for her.

Taking her time with it, Louise undressed me. As she pulled my panties down, she quietly said, “I can smell you, lover – God, you are so ready for this!”

I don’t know whether Chantel heard that, but by then I didn’t care.

As I stood naked and on display, I saw Louise tearing up. “God, you are beautiful!” she said. “I love you so much, Karin.”

So what if I’m forty now, and not as firm and toned as I once was? If Louise approves, nothing else matters.

Reaching out, she lightly touched my vulva, thrilling me to the core. And knowing Chantel was watching Louise masturbate me only made it better. What a lovely girl she was. Though she was practically still a child, my longing for her was getting stronger by the second.

“You’re so wet!” Louise gasped. “This is turning you on big time, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes!” I panted.

“Good, because you’re going to be very important to this session… essential, even.”

If I was going to photograph Louise making love to Chantel, what she said was the absolute truth. But knowing my scheming little lover as well as I did, my sixth sense told me she was keeping something back. I needed to find out what I was missing.

Folding my arms, I tried to compose myself – no easy task, seeing as Louise was still fondling me. “Be straight with me, love,” I said. “There’s more going on than you’re telling. What are you up to?”

Her response was to slip two fingers into my cunt. I gasped, my legs suddenly feeling very unsteady, and that was when Louise told me, “You’re going to be the one who fucks our guest, my love. I’ll be taking the pictures.”

I parted my lips to protest, but she interrupted me. “Listen to me, Karin. It has to be you. You’ll be sweet and gentle – it’s the way you always are, my love. You couldn’t ask for a better choice to make Chantel a woman.”

Before I could stammer out a reply, Louise hastened over to Chantel. “Will you let my darling Karin make love to you? She’ll make it wonderful.” She touched the girl’s cheek. “We will get together, you and I, but I’m afraid I might be a little too… let’s say intense for your first time.”

Nothing could have prepared me for what Louise told Chantel next. “You know, Karin once knew a teenage girl who was dying… and she wanted to experience sex before she was gone. Karin made that girl’s wish come true… It was a glorious experience for them both, and it will be for you, too.”

I shivered. Louise didn’t mention that the girl was my precious child Larissa, who was taken from me two days after I made love to her.

Cupping Chantel’s face in both hands, Louise kissed the girl, then added, “I’ll take some beautiful pictures of your first sexual experience… and you’ll get copies of them to treasure forever. Are you okay with that?”

She was making her wild scheme sound so reasonable that Chantel didn’t seem to need much in the way of persuasion. Of course, Louise was also fondling the girl’s arse while she spoke.

“Yeah, I guess,” Chantel breathed. Then in a more deliberately stated tone, she added, “Yes.”

I wasn’t entirely on board, though. “But I’m with you now, Louise,” I said. “We’re a couple.” Of course, I was also intimate with her mum, but that was really more of a loving family thing. Besides, I didn’t dare admit to that in Chantel’s presence. “It feels like I’m being unfaithful to you. I mean–”

Louise’s eyes smouldered with a deep intensity. “You’re not, though. I’ve thought about this for a long time, Karin. I want to watch you introduce a girl to the beauty of sex. To teach a virgin how to be a woman; how to love a woman. It’s something you’d be perfect for. Me, I’d be too much for a girl’s first fuck. You know how wild I get when we make love.”

She punctuated her remarks by trailing a finger through my slit, using the fingernail to scratch between my labia. I gasped. She enjoyed getting rough with me, but always made it seem as romantic as a passionate kiss. I love it, but then I’m used to Louise and how she gives pleasure.

And I realised that she was right – my lover was in no mood to be gentle with Chantel, even if it was the girl’s first time.

“You’ll do this, won’t you?” Louise whispered, her lips teasing my ear. “For me?”

What else could I do? Taking a deep breath, I gave her a nod.

With my surrender, Louise returned her attention to our guest. “Can I get you naked now, gorgeous?” she cooed.

“Yes,” Chantel replied, blushing slightly. I knew she wanted this, though..

Louise pointed to the camera and told me, “You take these first ones, Karin.”

I positioned myself, peering through the viewfinder, then readied myself for the first shot.

Meanwhile, just as slowly as she’d removed my clothes, Louise undressed young Chantel.

However old she was, this girl was ripening beautifully into womanhood. Her breasts were small, and had only recently grown past mere swellings on her chest. There was still a hint of plumpness around her middle, and the patch of dark blonde pubes wasn’t thick enough to conceal her sex.

I photographed the scene carefully, using the camera to document each part of Chantel’s body as it was teasingly revealed. I also took shots of her face, capturing the girl’s excitement. Her eyes shone, her tongue emerged to moisten her lips, her hands grew restless, as if she wanted to touch something.

Taking the nude adolescent by the hand, Louise led her over to me. “You two get started… I’ll take over with the pictures.”

Was I the canvas and Chantel the paint, or were those roles reversed? The only certainty was that Louise was making use of both in her quest to merge sex and art.

You have to understand that Louise wasn’t ordering either of us around… and I wasn’t humiliated by the thought of being used and displayed, even though this particular work would never appear in a catalogue, a museum or her portfolio.

In fact, Louise loves to show me off to her friends – the ones who shared her sexual interests, of course. Until a few weeks ago she was underage, and we had to keep our relationship a secret.

She has pool parties so I can make an appearance in a skimpy swimsuit, one she insists makes me look “luscious.” Her friends might not be as impressed as Louise is, but I couldn’t care less. I’m beautiful in her eyes, and that’s all that concerns me.

Now my lover was deploying me for a new, more thrilling purpose, and what resistance I had was rapidly evaporating like morning mist on a summer’s day. I was to guide this exquisite girl – who had to be at least a year younger than my poor Larissa had been.

By then, I was certain that Chantel was willing to participate in Louise’s art project, but I also suspected she only had vague ideas about what to do. So it was up to me to bring this potential masterpiece to life.

I knelt down in front of the timid preteen, so we were eye to eye. For an instant, I wondered whether to tell the girl what I was about to do… but that would be like asking her permission, so I quickly dismissed that idea.

Cupping the girl’s lovely face, I drew her to me for a kiss. A long kiss, one I hoped would build in sensuality, perhaps even result in her lips parting to receive my tongue. It didn’t happen, but I wasn’t discouraged.

Still kissing her – mostly pressing our lips together, really – I put the tips of my finger and thumb to her nipple and gave it a delicate tweak. That got a shiver.

Chantel still didn’t open her mouth, but began to work her lips against mine.

Taking a chance, I parted my own lips to see what the little girl would do. When her tongue came out to play, she didn’t slip it into my mouth – just traced my lips, the top then the bottom. So far, so good, I told myself.

I was hardly an expert at lesbian seduction… in fact, I’d never enticed anyone into bed. With my daughter, it had been a response to her heartfelt desire, and that experience had been far more about love than sex. As for Louise and her mother Alex, those two simply swept me off my feet.

So this was the first time I would ever initiate something purely sexual with a novice. Naturally, I had to be mindful not to rush things and risk ruining the entire afternoon for all of us, possibly even frightening Chantel.

With our mouths still pressed together, I took my left hand away from Chantel’s face and trailed it down her back, drifting over the girl’s bare body until I was cupping her unimaginably soft bum cheek. I felt her stiffen slightly, but her lips and her tongue didn’t falter.

Clutching her bum, I lightly pulled her hips forward, towards me. That got a bigger reaction.

Chantel sighed into my mouth, and her tongue followed the sigh. Now we could really kiss.

It was important to let Chantel set the pace and she was still learning, but I touched my tongue to hers a few times, drawing her into the dance. Soon we were kissing like real lovers.

I was playing with the girl’s stiffening nipples while my right hand explored the contours and crevice of her bottom. She had both arms hanging limply at her sides, but after a moment Chantel became adventurous. Raising her hand, she hesitantly placed it on my breast.

She broke the kiss to ask, “Is this all right?”

I murmured, “Yes, it is,” and she kissed me again, now with a greater intensity.

I allowed my right hand to drift down, slowly gliding between her cheeks and lower, where I could get at her pussy from the rear. Carefully extending a finger, I trailed it through the girl’s slit, thrilled to realise how wet she was.

Chantel whimpered into my mouth and her knees buckled a little, then she thrust her bum out – as if she wanted to force her vagina onto my finger!

That didn’t happen, not quite – but it made me feel somewhat nervous. Was I expected to literally take this young girl’s virginity? I looked over Chantel’s shoulder to see Louise, camera in hand, recording the scene. She met my anxious gaze, smiled and mouthed the words, “It’s okay… keep going,” then went back to work.

Suddenly I wondered whether Louise had ever intended to perform with Chantel for these photos… or if it had been her intention to set me up with this underage girl from the very start. After a moment’s reflection, I decided it had to be the latter.

If I hadn’t been swapping passionate kisses with Chantel, I’d have shaken my head in awe at Louise’s ability to make me dance to her tune with a snap of the fingers.

Still, it occurred to me that Chantel might still have her hymen – and if so, I didn’t want to break it, even if she wanted me to. So I decided to pleasure her another way. Placing both hands on her hips, I guided her just a bit to the side. That enabled me to slip my left knee between her legs. Then I drew her slender body into mine until she was straddling my thigh.

Oh, God, Chantel’s slit was so warm and wet against my bare skin, and the scent of her… intoxicating! Then there was the ecstatic expression the girl wore as she began to grind herself forward and back, her breath growing ragged as she rode my leg.

Louise broke her silence. “Christ… that is so fucking hot! Keep doing that; it’s perfect! Oh, damn, I have to get my… just don’t stop, okay?”

She turned away for a moment, then turned back, clearly searching for something. Looking back at me, she insisted, “Don’t get her off, Karin, not yet! Don’t let her come.”

With a cry of triumph, Louise found what she was looking for. Dashing across the room, she seized another camera, one mounted on a tripod, then hastened behind my back to set it in place. I heard her fiddling with the setting, and wondered what she was up to.

Then Louise was back in view again. Now she was kneeling at Chantel’s back, her camera pointed directly at the place where the girl’s smooth vulva made contact with my thigh.

“Okay, that’s good,” Louise said, though I could detect a tremor in her voice. “Go for it! Chantel, you can come whenever you like.”

With her head on my shoulder, her lips brushing my neck, Chantel humped me faster. I felt her body tremble against me, the rasp of her breath hot in my ear… she was close to going off.

Suddenly a hard jerk raced through Chantel’s frame, she inhaled sharply… then a hoarse cry broke from the throat of my underage lover as she came.

She whimpered and shook, thrusting her sex against my leg, riding me without once breaking contact. I felt her hot juices trickle over my skin, as if she was marking me, claiming me.

And all the while, Louise was recording the entire lurid scene.

At last Chantel slumped against me, panting and sweating. “Oh… oh, fuck!” she gasped.

“Well, sort of,” Louise agreed. “But that’s just the first part. Now I want to take some pictures of you on your own.”

Somewhat frustrated that Chantel had been permitted to climax while I was left high and not at all dry, I watched as Louise led the girl to some of the props she had gathered for the occasion.

Unless Louise had plans to somehow involve me further in her game, I would have to sit by and watch. Upon reflection, I realised that in some ways, that was fine with me.

As appealing as it might be to have Chantel attend to my pleasure, I didn’t want to be a trial run for her to learn about making love to a woman. Much better to leave that to the two teenagers.

Me, I preferred to wait until that evening, when I would be brought to multiple orgasms by the nimble fingers and mouth of my darling Louise. For the moment, though, she was absorbed by leading Chantel through the next segment of the photo session. She had no idea just how hungry I would be for her in a few short hours. Just thinking about making my lover work overtime to get me off was enough to put a smile on my dial.

By that time, Louise had her underage model stretched out on the sofa, legs spread wide open.

“Okay, Chantel… It’s time to make yourself come. Do whatever you like, and I’ll be capturing it on film. Rub your pussy, play with your nipples, spread yourself for the camera, finger yourself! How does that sound? Want to fuck yourself? Take your cherry while we watch?”

God, I loved Louise’s dirty imagination. Was Chantel going to do any of those things? Or all of them? Was she still intact … at whatever age she was? I still had no idea.

Not that it mattered whether she still had her hymen or not. This girl was no longer truly innocent – not after she’d rubbed herself off against me.

I was suddenly curious about what Louise had been shooting on the second camera, the one she’d started up just before encouraging Chantel to come. I wandered over to the tripod, where she’d left it. The camera was still running, but there was nothing in its focus, so I switched off the automatic shutter control, then checked the memory.

The sight took my breath away. Louise had gone for a close-up of Chantel as she came. Every expression on her beautiful face, every instant of the young girl’s rapture had been captured… and preserved for eternity!

Hearing a soft cry, I looked across the room to where Louise was photographing Chantel, who was frigging herself, then back at the images of the child on the camera.

Viewed simultaneously, these images sent an almost violent wave of arousal through me. I slumped to the floor, both legs wide apart, and set about getting myself off. It took less than a minute.

Afterwards, we three climbed onto the huge sofa and snuggled up together. Chantel announced, “Wow, kissing that way is really nice… and you’re both soooo good at it.”

From there, it seemed completely natural for us to drift back into kissing, exploring all kinds of lovely games that the lips and tongue could play. In the midst of our fun, Chantel wanted to know how Louise and I had become lovers. We did make a rather unusual couple, after all.

Louise told more of our story than I’d expected. She didn’t say anything more about my daughter and me, but did end up admitting she’d been introduced to lesbian sex by her own mother Alex – and that they were still occasionally intimate.

Chantel was staggered by that particular reservation – thankfully, not offended. In fact, once the initial shock had dispersed, she was clearly intrigued by the idea, asking questions such as, “What’s it like, then – sex with your mum?” So Louise told her. Needless to say, she had a way of making incest seem as natural as the sunrise, and every bit as beautiful.

The talk was getting very randy – and so was our mood. Before long, we were getting hot and heavy again – and Chantel was enjoying her first threesome.

I got down on my knees and nuzzled a pathway between the girl’s legs, determined to get a real taste of her pussy. Burying my nose in the softness of those sparse blonde pubes, I plunged my tongue into her, rolling it around.

Chantel’s flavour was divine… even ambrosial! By then, I’d come to love the sweet, sharp tang of a young girl’s nectar, and our underage guest had plenty for me to enjoy.

An upward glance told me that Louise and Chantel were still swapping passionate kisses, but a moment later, Chantel got my attention in a big way when she asked my lover, “What Karin’s doing t-to me… er, can I try it on you?”

“Are you sure, sweetie?” Louise murmured. “Don’t feel you have to… pay us back or anything.”

Chantel was having a difficult time keeping her voice steady, but she managed to get out, “No, I – I want to learn everything.” She panted for a few breaths, then added. “All the, the things g-girls do together! Ohhhh…”

Louise smiled. “I guess you’re ready, then.” Quickly kneeling on the sofa, she straddled Chantel’s face, then lowered her hips, feeding her cunt to the girl.

As I went down on Chantel, I tried to imagine what it was like for her at that moment, giving her first oral to a firework like Louise, tasting that luscious pussy. I’d been in that position many’s the time, as Louise really enjoyed riding a lover’s mouth. She could get pretty intense with it, too – literally fucking your face when the mood took her.

I could hear Louise egging the girl on: “That’s it, Chantel, lick my cunt… ooohhh, m-make me come in your face. Mmmm, yes, yes, fuck me with that hot little mouth. Oh. OH!”

Louise was the only one of us who had yet to come, and I knew she had to be skating awfully close to the edge. Chantel was approaching her second orgasm, and I decided to ease up on her until she got Louise off. Then I’ll make her scream my name, I thought.

“S-suck my clit!” Louise blurted – and thirty seconds later, she was wailing like a banshee, twisting and tugging her nipples with both hands. Finally, spent and swaying from side to side, she dismounted Chantel’s face and collapsed in a shaking, sweaty heap at the end of the sofa. As for our lesbian novice, she was panting for breath and couldn’t speak, but the hunger I saw in her eyes told me she was ready

Now it was my time to shine. I started with long, deep licks that began near the anus and swept up to her clit, then I pressed her legs up and back, then thrust my tongue into the crack of her arse. “Fuck!” Chantel gasped, caught by surprise.

I rimmed her for a minute or so, then homed in on the girl’s clitoris, taking it between my lips. She came right away, her ragged cries of ecstasy music to my ears.

***

By the time Chantel’s mother returned, the photo session was finished. So was Chantel.

Alex brought Moira through to the studio, and after some banal chat, Louise said she had something to show from our session.

I panicked at the thought of what my lover might have decided was appropriate – from what I’d seen, there couldn’t have been very much.

Turned out I was wrong. Louise’s artistry is remarkable. She had several poster-sized pictures ready to present to Chantel and her mum.

One was of Chantel’s face, caught in the very instant of ecstasy. The picture had been carefully cropped and edited to ensure that nothing but the girl’s face was in the frame.

Another picture showed Chantel nude, perfectly replicating the pose that Louise had adopted in the photo-print Moira had purchased for her daughter’s birthday when we first met her. Of course, it had been signed by Louise.

On the border at the bottom, Louise had added a special message – To Chantel for her 13th birthday, with my congratulations, love and warmest wishes. Louise.

The third poster was smaller, a gift for Chantel’s mum. In it, her daughter was nude, sitting demurely. She had an arm across her chest, although one breast was partially visible. Her pubic hair could be seen, along with a hint of something that might have been either a shadow or the tip of her slit.

Moira was overjoyed to the point of shedding tears, thanking Louise and me again and again… and I wasn’t the only one who noticed the way she kept looking at the naked images of her child. I recalled how I’d wondered if Moira took a more than motherly interest in Chantel, and Louise gave me a very significant glance, as if to say, Very interesting.

As for Chantel, she had a glow about her that practically said “freshly fucked,” but her mum didn’t seem to notice. If she did, would Moira even be upset? I asked myself.

I noticed Louise whispering to Chantel, but couldn’t hear what she was saying. The girl nodded eagerly, and my curiosity was aroused. What were they planning?

***

Despite the sex Louise and I had already enjoyed, the sheer eroticism of our experience with Chantel all but guaranteed that we’d both be in severe need once Alex got us back to the apartment.

Once indoors, Louise and quickly I excused ourselves. I told Alex that Louise and I were tired and needed to rest before dinner. Of course, Louise had to tell her, “Mum, we need to fuck!” Alex’s laughter followed us up the stairs as we made our escape.

After a couple of lusty and unladylike romps in the sheets, Louise and I lay together quietly together, our lust slaked for the moment.

But Louise had a confession to make. “I always intended for you to be with Chantel – you know that, right?”

“Well, yeah – now I do.”

“I thought you might like to give a girl her first experience with a woman. I mean, I know you did that for your daughter, but that was different. That was about love, not sex, and you were helping her because she was sick and in need. I wanted you to have something like that again… but under happier circumstances.”

Uncertain about my feelings at that moment, but recognising the kindness underlying Louise’s gesture, I simply said, “Thank you.”

“You and Chantel were amazing together, too! I got some incredible footage. Know what else?”

With Louise it was never possible for me to ‘know what else’, and I told her as much.

“Well…” She spoke softly, as if unveiling a national secret. “You know all those photos that I took of you and Chantel? I’m going to make them into a new exhibition. Not all of them, of course – there’s a few hundred images, so it’ll only be the best ones. And of course I’ll crop them so they don’t reveal any faces.”

I’ll wager I went an unhealthy shade of grey right then, but Louise didn’t notice. “But that’s not the really big news!”

What more could there possibly be? I was too nervous to ask, so I let a helpless shrug ask for me.

“There’s more shots that I want, so Chantel’s coming to Aunt Deanna’s studio again on Saturday. She really wants to be with you again, Karin. And this time, I’ll get some really hot photos of you fucking each other.”

“For the exhibition?” I gasped, “You can’t… you wouldn’t be allowed to exhibit pictures like that! It would be  straight out child pornography!”

“Oh, those won’t be for the exhibition, silly! Chantel wants them for her private collection!”

There was an unusual squeaking sound, like a rusty gate opening – and it was coming from my throat. I’d never made a sound like that before.

“But I might put some of the purely sex pictures into a limited edition book that I can sell privately. You know, to ‘special’ art collectors. I might make a fortune – well, we might. You and me and Chantel. It’ll be a three-way split.”

The whole notion was insane, but when Louise began to rub my still-wet pussy, her insanity didn’t seem to matter so much.

“Sometimes I feel a bit guilty for fucking my friends, ‘cause you don’t have any lovers besides me and Mum. But now you’ll have Chantel… she’ll be your little piece on the side!”

Now Louise slipped a finger into me, and all good sense seemed to pack up and vacate my head. At that point, if my lover asked me to go down on Chantel on the gallery floor as part of her exhibit, my only questions would be, Which room?

“And did you notice the way Chantel’s mum looked at those pictures?” she continued, thrusting that finger in and out. “Oh, I know that look. That Moira woman has a major thing for her daughter! We’ve got to figure out some way to get her involved in this…”

Withdrawing from my cunt, Louise applied that finger to my needful clit as she continued her spiel: “Can you imagine it, seeing Chantel and her mum make love for the first time? God, that would be the hottest! Maybe we could start by asking Moira to pose for us while Chantel is there…?”

My lover continued to rub me to what I knew would be a mind-destroying orgasm, all the while drawing me deeper and deeper into another one of her crazy, forbidden, enticing schemes.

The End

Author’s note: I am, once again, grateful to Jetboy for applying his editing skills, for his suggestions and contributions, and for his amazing ability to make any additions fit in so seamlessly.

by Rachael Yukey

“Nettie, do you have anything to add?”

Every fiber of my being silently screamed no. The people occupying the circle of chairs in the big conference room swam in and out of my vision, transmogrified into bizarre little fat frog people, then snapped back into focus.

A handful of cops, a veritable horde of firefighters, and the crew of the rig that had transported the dump truck driver, one of whom was Terry Wilder. I’d spent the entire meeting avoiding his eyes.

The four meeting facilitators were seated together, wearing dark polos with Crisis Incident Stress Management logos on the left breast. Other than Terry and the facilitators, most of those present were people I’ve known for as long as I could remember.

Robbie Wachinsky and Jessie Kramer flanked me on either side. Had the three of us really made the mad dash to Johnstown only two days before, the wreckage of Jason Bixley laid out before us? It seemed like a lifetime.

I hadn’t slept since fleeing Terry’s house that morning. The day had passed in a hazy cloud of booze, with a soundtrack provided by a litany of heavy metal albums, mostly recorded before I was born. Around noon I’d taken a bath, whiskey bottle in hand and the bathroom door open so Judas Priest could filter through, Rob Halford calling out to me, warning that “In the dead of night, love bites.” You bet your ass it does. I’d masturbated to a joyless orgasm in the tub, not even trying to block out images of Halee, dissolving into tears as it subsided.

Returning to the living room naked and dripping, I’d checked my phone. There was a text message from Terry. He’s the only person I know that texts in full sentences.

It seems you must have remembered a VERY early appointment at the last minute. I would ask you if everything’s OK, but I guess I know better than that. I hope you’re still thinking about the debrief tonight. It really would help a lot of people out if you were there, and dare I suggest that it might not be so bad for you as well? Take care.

It had taken a few minutes for the subtext of it to seep into my exhausted, booze-addled brain. This was the last straw; Terry had been flaked on one too many times.

The tears came once more, this time with shocking force. My legs had buckled, and I’d huddled naked in a ball on the floor, shaken by great braying sobs that threatened to tear me apart.

Now there I was, seated amongst this circle of humanity, completely hollowed out. My head ached, I was still carrying a light buzz from the last-minute drink I’d tossed down just before leaving my apartment, and I was so exhausted it was almost impossible to think.

We’d been here for well over an hour, talking through the horrendous events of two days prior. The discussion flowed easily around the room as people shared their thoughts, feelings, and recollections. Grown men wept. Jessie, seated to my right, had been running the waterworks the entire time and seemed in no hurry to turn them off.

I contributed little, speaking only when spoken to. A nod here, a word of affirmation there. And now, the facilitator, who happened to be somebody I worked with on occasion at Thormleton, wanted to know if I had something to add.

Sure, I’ve got something to add, you fat fuck. I’ll add garlic and barbecue sauce to your nuts when I roast them over an open fire, how about that?

I straightened, ignoring the wave of pain, and forced a transformation. When I spoke, it wasn’t the drunk, tired bitch who’d spent most of the day drowning in a puddle of booze mixed with a generous dollop of her own tears. It was Antoinette Hastings, critical care paramedic, and I spoke in a voice both strong and authoritative. At least that’s what I tried for.

“If you’re asking for my clinical assessment,” I said, “we were presented with a hopeless case. He bled out before the extrication was completed. Probably before the rescue crews even made it to the scene.”

My eyes circled the room, making eye contact with each man or woman in turn. “I was very impressed with the extrication crew,” I went on. “I work all the time with bigger, better equipped services than this one, and I don’t think anybody could have gotten him out of there any faster. Especially considering that the car was on fire. You guys did a fantastic job.”

I paused, drawing in a deep breath. Every word seemed a tremendous undertaking.

“I guess that’s all I really want to say. The firefighters got the car cracked open as quick as it could have been done, and once we had him I doubt it even took forty-five seconds to get him into the rig. Robbie and Jessie did… hell, I’d go as far as to say a perfect job assisting me during the resuscitation effort.”

I looked to the right, my eyes falling upon Jessie. The girl looked as if she hadn’t slept in two days.

“You really did,” I said. “We lost a young man on Thursday, and nothing anybody can say will make that any easier. But everybody in this room did work they can be proud of trying to save him.”

I settled back, exhausted.

The meeting wrapped up, and people began trickling out of the room. Hands were shaken, hugs were shared. More tears were shed. Stuck in the epicenter, I did my best to be gracious. Almost everyone approached me before leaving the room, thanking me for coming with tears in their eyes, sometimes drawing me into a hug.

I felt husked out, incapable of emotion. Finally, I was able to leave. As I stepped through the conference room door and into the ambulance garage, I saw Terry Wilder standing next to one of the rigs, speaking with a small group of firemen. He shook their hands as they passed on. Jessie Kramer approached him hesitantly, and he swept her into a hug. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders heaving. Terry said something to her that I couldn’t hear, squeezing her tightly in his arms.

He’s good at this, I thought. I wish to God I was.

I got my brain in gear, and my feet followed with alacrity. I strode towards the exit door. Terry caught my eye, and held up a finger. Damn it; what the hell does he want? I considered making a run for it, then decided I’d done enough of that for one weekend. Moving to the side, I leaned against the wall of the garage. The hangover was beginning to take shape, and it was going to be a bruiser.

Terry let Jessie go, shook the hand of a Sheriff’s deputy who was passing by, and beckoned me to follow him. We crossed to the other side of the garage, and Terry punched in the combination code that opened the door to the office.

It was a good-sized room, with walls of old cinderblock and office furniture that looked as if it hailed from the Woodstock era. The flatscreen monitor and the big, modern fax printer seemed out of place. Terry settled into one of the two old office chairs, and I took the other.

He fixed his gaze upon me in the harsh light of the office fluorescents, eyes widening. “Jesus, Nettie.”

“What?”

“How shall I put this? You look like hell.”

“You’re not exactly Brad Pitt yourself,” I said, trying to sound flippant. Even to my own ears, it came out flat and dull.

He peered at me intently. “First I thought you must have been crying, then I thought you must have been drinking, but my unparalleled powers of deduction are now suggesting that it’s both.”

“What do you care? We’re just fuck-buddies now, right?”

Terry’s face hardened. The chair creaked as he put all his weight against the back.

“Fine,” he said. “The reason I snagged you is that you forgot about the labs that were being faxed over from our call last night. I got to thinking about it around noon, strolled on over here to get a look, and lo and behold – there upon the fax machine lay the besainted object of your forgotten desires.”

He handed me a small stack of papers from the desk.

“Labs and tox screen both. I thought you might still want to see it. Besides, I’m kind of curious myself, and most of what’s in there might as well be pig latin to me.”

Leaning forward, I took the papers from him without a word, but in my mind humiliation and self-loathing chased one another across the neural pathways. You forgot about Jason Bixley’s labs and autopsy too, you idiot.

Terry seemed to be reading my mind.

“Did you get the Bixley info?” he asked.

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak, and forced my bleary eyes to focus on the lab reports in my hand. I could feel my eyes narrowing as I sifted through the sheaf of paper. My mind shifted to a higher gear, and the clouds faded a little.

“Something interesting?” Terry asked.

“A lot of things.”

I flipped from the labs to the tox screen, then back again. “How much of this kind of thing do you actually understand?”

“Just barely enough to be dangerous,” he said. “Didn’t you know EMTs are like monkeys? You can teach us to use tools to a limited extent, but expecting us to comprehend things? Dat just be crazy talk.”

“Then I’ll spare you the details,” I said. “The labs are… all over the place. Some stuff is elevated as hell, other stuff is a lot lower than it should be. The LFT… that’s liver function test… is particularly screwy. It’s what you’d expect from a fifty-year-old alcoholic, not a seventeen-year-old volleyball player. I sure hope there’s no long-term damage. The tox screen is negative, and there’s no way that can possibly be right. Sam Jensen was on something. The ED staff apparently thinks so too. There’s a note from Doctor Benson on the bottom that he’s going to talk to the state poison control center and see if they can get an answer.”

Terry sat forward and rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand. “So what does it all mean? Remember: monkey. Primitive tool usage, not deep understanding.”

“It means that wherever Sam was before she wandered home at 2 AM, they were messing around with something a standard tox screen won’t pick up on. We might be looking at something new.”

Skepticism was written all over Terry’s face. “You’re seriously going to tell me that there’s something floating around Franklin County that hasn’t already made its way through the major population centers? Perhaps my primitive monkey brain is preventing me from grasping the larger picture with ultimate clarity, however – oh, never mind. I call bullshit.”

I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. The last of the buzz had faded, and all that remained was the rotten throbbing in my temples.

“I’m not trying to tell you anything, Terry. I don’t have a single fucking clue what it is. I’ll call about Jason Bixley’s stuff tomorrow, I guess.”

“Nettie…” My eyes flew open at his tone. “I’m going to say it,” he said at last. “You need to get some help, or do something. You’re not well. This is not a new problem; I’ve seen you sleeping. It was worse than I let on Thursday night, and it’s hardly the first time.”

“Just… just stop.” I got up, and a wave of nausea assailed me. I stood still for a moment while it passed, leaving a vague queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I turned to leave, but Terry was by my side, a gentle but firm hand on my arm.

“Hear me out, Nettie,” he said. “You owe me that much. This isn’t the first time I’ve had cause to worry about you, but it is the scariest thing I’ve seen so far. Forgetting to follow up on a patient of interest isn’t like you at all – as in I can’t believe it’s actually happening. How far does this go before you’re not even capable of doing your damn job anymore?”

I looked away. “Leave it alone, Terry. I’m fine, it’s just… I’m fine.”

My stomach heaved. Knowing that I’d never make the bathrooms, I fumbled the door open and ran for the big garbage cans at the far end of the garage. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that the place had emptied of people during the few minutes we’d spent in the office. Thank god for small favors.

I batted a lid aside, and leaned over the can. My hair fell forward, and I felt it being pulled back a split second before the contents of my ill-used stomach came up in a hot, loose rush. I vomited for what felt like forever, until nothing was left but wretched, aching dry heaves. I was crying again, weary tears falling straight into the can to mingle with the smelly mess inside.

I straightened, casting a glance over my shoulder. It was Terry holding my hair back; of course it was. Now he was guiding me towards the worktable near the exit door, taking some tissues from a nearby Kleenex box, and gently wiping my eyes and mouth. He tried to draw me into an embrace. I almost surrendered to it, I wanted to, but instead I placed my hands on his chest, holding him at bay.

“I have to go.” It came out as a strangled whisper.

“Bullshit,” he said. “Come back to my place. We’ll set you up in the guest bedroom if that’s how you want to do it, but the last thing you need is to go home alone right now.”

I wavered, and nearly succumbed. His long, slim hands gripped my upper arms. It would be so easy to let those hands pull me close, to collapse into his embrace. But what would become of me then?

I screwed up the last vestiges of my resolve. “No, Terry,” I said. The tears were flowing freely. I realized this was the first time he’d ever seen me cry, and the shame ran deep. “I’ll — I’ll see you on the ambulance.”

A cold, steady drizzle had set in during the debriefing. Pulling the hood of my sweatshirt up, I set off.

“Did you walk, Nettie? At least let me give you a ride,” Terry’s voice called out from behind me. I kept on moving. Looking over my shoulder from two blocks away, I could see him still standing under the eaves of the ancient building, his hands shoved into the pockets of his reflective coat, watching me go. Resolutely facing forward again, I forced myself to pick up the pace.

***

I stumbled into the lobby of my apartment building, fumbling in my jeans for the keys. Looking up, I started at the sight of a figure leaning against my door, arms folded across her chest.

“Halee,” I said. “What…” My voice caught in my throat. Halee was the pinnacle of gorgeous young gothiness in a knee-length black denim skirt, ankle boots, and a leather jacket. Just a touch of dark coloration adorned her lips, and I wondered if she’d dare to wear that lipstick in her dad’s presence. She peeled herself languorously off the doorjamb and took a step towards me. Then she stopped, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline.

“You look awful,” she observed.

I got my keys out of my pocket, awkwardly separated out the one to my apartment and shoved it into the lock. “What are you doing here?” I got out, ushering her ahead of me into the entryway.

“I had to see you,” she said. “I was kind of a bitch this morning, and I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Forget about it,” I said, dropping to the couch like a rag doll. I rested my aching head on a throw pillow and closed my eyes. “Halee, does your father know you’re here?”

She scoffed. “God, no. I told him I was going to a friend’s house.” She was standing over me, concern written all over her face. “Nettie, you look sick. Is there any way I can help?”

I stared up at her. Halee had always struck me as being about five years older than she really was, but never so much as right now. I reached up, caught hold of a hand, and squeezed.

“I just need to down a big glass of water and sleep,” I told her. “That’s all. I’ll be okay by morning.”

“Then come on,” she said, tugging at my hand. “Let’s get you to bed, and I’ll bring some water.”

I let Halee pull me to my feet, groaning as a wave of pain washed over me. Halee was casting her eyes around the room, trying to figure out what was where, and it dawned on me that she’d never been in my apartment before.

I gently pulled my hand away. “I can find my own way to bed,” I assured her. “I have to use the bathroom, anyway.”

“Then I’ll bring you something to drink,” she insisted. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“End of the hall,” I informed her as I hauled my tired ass towards the bathroom. Even tired and hungover, the idea of Halee entering my bedroom made my stomach tighten.

I peed, cleaned up a little, and with a final effort of will, got my teeth brushed. When I made it to the bedroom, Halee had just placed a steaming mug on the nightstand.

“I found teabags and some honey,” she said. “I thought if you’re not feeling good, maybe this would go down better. Where do you keep your pajamas?”

I groaned. I didn’t give a wretched rat’s ass about pajamas at that particular moment in time. “Who needs ‘em?” I said.

She looked me up and down. “What, you’re going to sleep in your jeans and sweatshirt?”

I sat down heavily on the bed. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” I mumbled, lifting the steaming hot mug to my lips. Halee was right; the hot, honey-sweet beverage soothed both my mouth and my stomach.

“C’mon, where?”

I gestured towards the dresser. “Middle drawer. But I don’t need a mommy to dress me.”

Halee crossed the room, opened the drawer in question, and selected a fuzzy blue top-and-bottom set. She smiled a little as she returned to the bed. “I kind of like the idea of being your mommy,” she said primly. I gaped at her.

“Here, put ‘em on,” she said.

“You gonna just stand there while I undress?” I replied.

“Yup.”

I pulled the hoodie over my head, followed by my t-shirt. Halee’s eyes were fixated on my chest, and I debated about the bra for a moment. Of course I wasn’t going to sleep in it, but it might be… well… safer to not take it off in front of her. The only problem with that was I liked the way she was looking at me. Fucked up as I was, I was still getting turned on by her scrutiny.

I reached behind my back and slowly, deliberately, unclasped the bra, pulled it free of my chest and tossed it to the floor. Halee’s lips were parted, just a little. Her eyes looked a little glassy.

“Like what you see?” I taunted in a low voice.

“Yeah.” It came out as a croak. I tugged the pajama shirt over my head and down. It’s one of my favorites, soft and comfortable. Then I stood, unzipped, and pushed my jeans to the floor. Stepping out of them and kicking them away, I reached for the pajama bottoms. I took a little longer than I needed getting into them, but not too long. There was something incredibly erotic about all this, but I really was at the end of my endurance.

I sat on the bed again, this time positioning a couple of pillows so I could prop myself into a sitting position against the headboard. Lifting the mug, I took another sip of tea.

“Thanks, Halee,” I said, meaning it. “I think I’m just going to read for awhile while I drink this, then sleep. You should get home before your dad decides to check up on you. And I’m sorry about the way things went this morning. I really am.”

“Can we talk about it sometime?” Her voice broke as she said it. Her eyes were desperate, pleading.

“Soon,” I promised her. I knew it was a bad idea, something that could lead us down all the wrong roads, but I was just too tired, too fucking beat to care. “Halee?”

“Yeah?”

“I need something to keep me awake while I drink this. There’s a book on the big shelf in my living room called Mechanical Ventilation. Could you bring it to me?”

Halee left without a word, returning moments later with a large hardcover book that’s nothing less than the bible on management of a ventilated patient. Handing it to me, she made a face. “This is your idea of a relaxing bedtime story?”

I smiled. “It’ll force me to stay awake while I get hydrated.”

“Okay.” She leaned over and kissed my forehead. Weary though I was, hurting though I was, dehydrated though I was, I had to fight the urge to meet her lips with mine.

“Thanks, Halee,” I said again. She smiled shyly at me and slipped out the door.

***

“Don’t be afraid to dig into the rib cage and find those spaces,” I said to the head full of fiery red hair. “When you’re working with me, putting the twelve-lead on will mostly be your job, and if you don’t get the ECG electrodes placed correctly I won’t be able to trust anything the monitor is telling me.”

Dana Fraser didn’t look up. She merely nodded and pushed down harder with her fingertips.

“Sure,” said the shirtless young man lying on the cot in the conference room. “It’s easy to say that when it’s not your chest she’s poking.”

“Sorry,” Dana said in a plaintive tone.

Darren Tanner grinned. “No problem. I’m just giving your boss-lady there a hard time. Do what you gotta do.”

It was Dana’s first day at Thormleton Ambulance, and I was making a valiant effort to curb my annoyance. My problem wasn’t with her; she was eager to learn and an apt enough pupil. But dammit, new EMT hires were supposed to spend about two weeks training and going on calls with an experienced team before they were sent out as half of a two-person crew.

That’s how it worked in theory, but we’re short personnel as is, and two crew members had called in sick. We had to just stick Dana on a truck and hope for the best. It’s not as bad as it sounds; an EMT on an Advanced Life Support crew acts mostly as driver and assistant to the paramedic. Of course, I’m the clinical director at Thormleton, which puts me in charge of training. So guess who got stuck with the newbie?

Dana straightened, turning to glance up at me. Roughly 102,324 freckles, by my calculation. I inspected the placement of the electrodes, wishing this was something that was taught in EMT school.

“Looks good,” I said, turning my eyes to the monitor and inspecting the readout. “Now pull a snapshot.”

Dana pressed a button on the monitor, then paused for a moment when a prompt came up.

“How old are you?” she said, looking down at her ‘patient’.

“Twenty-six,” said Darren, looking amused. “You might wanna watch how you phrase that question when it’s a little old lady you’re doing this to.”

Dana smiled, punched in the information, and then sat back. A long strip of paper issued from the top of the machine, which she tore off and handed to me.

“I have no idea what it means,” she admitted.

“Me, either,” Darren assured her. “I’ve been doing this long enough that I know what normal looks like, but I can’t look at a twelve-lead and tell you what’s up with somebody’s heart.”

“Are you going to get your medic?” Dana asked him.

“Nope. I’m starting nursing school this fall.”

Noticing the way they were looking at each other, I suppressed a smile.

“It’s not your job to know how to read it,” I told Dana. “So long as you can properly place the electrodes and get me a snapshot, I’m happy. It’s harder with a female patient, by the way. I’ll have you put one on me later if you’re comfortable with that.”

Dana fixed me with an appraising sidelong look. She’s checking me out, I realized. I’ve been bi long enough to be able to read the signs. Yeah, she’s obviously attracted to Darren, but I’ll bet my next paycheck she works both sides of the street.

“Okay,” she said after a long pause.

“You done with me?” asked Darren. I nodded. He sat up, swung his legs off of the cot, and began ripping the electrodes from his chest, wincing a little with each one.

“At least chicks don’t have to worry about their chest hair getting pulled out,” he muttered.

“If you think that, you’ve never put a twelve-lead on Barfing Bonnie,” I said with a snort of laughter.

Dana seemed to be mulling something over. “Is medic school very hard?” she asked.

“Depends,” I said. “I took a certificate course that runs thirteen months, and it’s a hell of a lot of information packed into that timeframe. It wasn’t too bad for me, but I was eighteen and still living with my mom. Some of the others had kids and full-time jobs.”

Dana’s eyes widened. “You went to medic school when you were eighteen? You must have just got your EMT.”

I settled into a chair. “Pretty close, yeah. I was rolling with the volunteer service in Bronning and working part-time here. It wasn’t too bad. Critical care school wasn’t as long, but it was a lot harder.”

“When did you do that?”

“About six months after I got my medic.”

“Jeez,” said the young woman, clearly impressed. “I was wondering how you got to be the clinical director so young – oh, I’m sorry.” She put her hand over her mouth, and the blush on her pale, freckled face was truly spectacular. “That didn’t come out quite right.”

I laughed. “It’s okay.”

Darren, who was pulling his shirt back on, favored Dana with an endearing lopsided grin. “That’s the least of the things we wonder about her.”

Dana smiled back at him. Good Lord, I thought. Stop undressing each other with your eyes and get a room already.

“I kind of got the job by accident,” I said. “When Amy Perkins retired, I was the only critical care medic left in this dump. A lot of the transfers we do technically fall under the category of critical care, and the owners like to have someone with that certification in charge of training. So they made me clinical director.”

“So regular medics are allowed to do critical transfers?”

“In this state, yes,” I told her. “It depends on where you’re at. We have a low population density, along with a lot of rural hospitals that aren’t very capable. So a lot of stuff gets transferred out to bigger facilities. They fly out most of the really severe cases, but if flight no-gos because of weather or whatever, they send it by ground. Other places like the coasts, you don’t have that kind of situation, so the rules are stricter. In some states you have to have a critical care certification to take a vented patient, or someone on an infusion of blood products.”

The radio squawked, and I held up a finger.

“Franklin County to Bronning Ambulance, please respond to 13242 State Highway 225 for a twenty-year-old male with an altered level of consciousness, your time is 1333.”

Darren swatted me on the shoulder. “Hey, there’s your Bronning people going out,” he said.

“Yep,” I said, getting to my feet. “And that part of 225 is in our intercept zone, so if they need ALS they’ll be calling us.” I beckoned towards Dana. “You and I are up for the next call, so let’s get the monitor wrapped up and back in the truck.”

Dana began coiling the ECG cables, her face flushed with excitement.

“Bronning Ambulance, Franklin.” Jessie Kramer’s voice on the radio. At least she’s getting back in the saddle.

“Go ahead, Bronning.”

“You can show us en route.”

Darren’s eyebrows shot up. “They’re not usually that fast.”

“Jessie lives a block from the station,” I said. “I don’t know who her partner is today, but we have a couple of other people who are almost that close.”

Darren rolled his eyes. “It’s Bronning,” he said. “Everyone is almost that close.”

“Do you think they’ll need us?” Dana sounded breathless with excitement.

“Hard to say,” I said. “If it’s something simple like hypoglycemia, they can probably handle it themselves. If it’s a stroke, an overdose, or they just don’t know, they’ll yell for help.”

“Aren’t they ALS sometimes?”

“Only when I’m around.”

Dana picked up the monitor, and the three of us headed out to the garage. Three orange-on-white ambulances were parked in the bay. As we approached the one against the far wall, a familiar male voice burst forth from the overhead speakers. I winced; the radio feed is ridiculously loud in there.

“Bronning Ambulance to Franklin – on scene.”

Dale cocked an eyebrow. “That’s Terry Wilder, right?”

I nodded, keeping my face impassive. I made sure my frighteningly inexperienced partner had the monitor plugged in, then headed back into the quarters area. I was just coming out of the bathroom when I heard Terry’s voice again.

“Bronning Ambulance, Franklin. We need to get an intercept coming from Thormleton.”

By the time dispatch paged us, Thormelton Ambulance number 3520 was already easing out of the garage and onto the apron. I was behind the wheel, with Dana Fraser in the shotgun seat, opening a new incident in the computer. Ordinarily the EMT on an ALS crew would drive to the call, but we were going to be running lights and sirens, and thus far Dana had spent all of two hours in orientation learning to handle an ambulance. The flashing lights came on; the siren sounded. The big door trundled closed as the ambulance pulled out into the street.

We’d just turned onto the highway when we heard Jessie Kramer announce over the radio that Bronning Ambulance was clear of the scene and transporting to Pinewood. That meant Terry was in the back, which was probably for the best.

As we barreled up the road at just under eighty miles an hour, the howling siren sending other vehicles scattering for the gravel shoulders, I gave my rookie partner a rapid-fire rundown on the ins and outs of running emergent. After about ten minutes, I switched the radio over to the private channel dispatch had assigned to the call.

“Thormleton 3520 to Bronning Ambulance on FC2.”

“Go for Bronning,” said Jessie.

“I’d like a patient update when you get a chance.”

“Thormleton, stand by,” Terry’s voice broke in. It was a little over a minute before he spoke again.

“Thormleton, this is Bronning. The patient is experiencing periods of alertness accompanied by convulsions alternating with a semi-comatose state. At no time is the patient oriented or responding appropriately to questions. Pupils are pinpoint. Patient is tachycardic with a pulse of one thirty-six, and hypotensive with a pressure of seventy-four over forty-six. I have a pulse ox of ninety-five percent on room air, blood sugar is ninety-six. I have an eighteen-gauge IV with saline lock established in the left forearm.”

Uh-oh. “Copy that,” I said. “What’s your twenty?”

Jessie’s voice. “About two miles outside of Radcliff.”

“So are we. Pull into the Amoco station and we’ll meet you there.” I hung up the mic. “Okay,” I said to my partner. “when we pull in, I’m going to grab a pump and the narcs out of the back. You get the ALS bag – it’s the big green one – and follow me. The Bronning truck carries a lot of the same supplies, but we mostly use our own stuff on intercepts. I probably won’t have you do much because there hasn’t been time to train you on anything, but no big deal. Terry Wilder’s there, and he’s got his shit together.”

The ambulance slowed. Hauling the wheel over, I killed the siren as we pulled smoothly into the parking lot of the Amoco gas station on the edge of Radcliffe. I got out, turning my face up to the sunshine. Finally, a nice day.

Rounding the front of the rig and ducking into the box through the side door, I extracted an infusion pump from a rack of five that was clamped to a rail, then got the narcotics out of the safe. As I hurried back out I caught the wail of an approaching siren, which cut off a moment later as the Bronning rig pulled into the lot.

I entered through the side door, Dana right behind me with the ALS bag. The overweight young man on the cot was lying on his left side and convulsing. No, that’s not quite right; Terry was holding him on his side, his left hand on the meaty shoulder to prevent the large body from flopping back like an eel, his right attempting to capture a stream of vomit in an emesis bag with only partial success.

I moved quickly, getting behind the patient’s head and leaning in to help support his writhing bulk. I glanced down at Dana, who was more or less stuck on the first step for the moment. She was staring at the mess, wide-eyed.

“I think he’s done puking,” said Terry.

“Okay, I need your seat.”

I stuffed myself into the space alongside the rear-facing chair, enough room for Terry to squeeze by. He parked himself in the jump seat next to the monitor, and I took his former place on the bench seat.

“Get up here,” I instructed Dana. “Help Terry get this guy propped up on his side.”

Dana moved to where I’d been standing by the rear-facing chair, and the two of them stuffed some pillows behind the fat kid to keep him from flopping onto his back. I sized him up at a glance. Three days stubble, oily brown hair, dirty jeans and a t-shirt. Probably weighed two-eighty or so.

Extracting supplies from the narc box, I glanced at Dana. “What I’m drawing up right now,” I said, “is called Versed. It’s a sedative in the same drug class as Valium, and one of our favorite things to do with it is make seizures go away. Terry, this is Dana.”

“Hi, Dana,” said Terry, flashing that damned grin of his that always seems to make ladies’ limbs loosen a little.

I pushed the Versed, drawing up another med as the convulsions slowed.

“This is Zofran,” I said, “and it’s for the nausea. You’re going to want to start learning this stuff, because all the medics you work with will expect you to get things for them.”

After pushing the drug I inspected the monitor, then pored over the ECG printout Terry had left on the seat for me.

“Okay, Dana,” I said. “You can go on back to our truck and follow us to Pinewood, but we’re going to be running hot so do not try to keep up. Just go routine and we’ll see you there.”

Dana nodded. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Terry as she left.

“We can go, Jessie,” I called out. “Run emergent, please.”

The siren sounded, and the ambulance pulled out. Terry caught my eye.

“This looks just a tad bit familiar,” he observed.

“Yeah,” I said. I rummaged in the green bag that Dana had left on the rear-facing seat.

“You want me to get the patches out in case you have to zap this guy?” Terry asked.

“Nope,” I said. “because this time I’ve got my work bag, and I have some stuff in here that’ll boost his blood pressure without messing with his heart rate. He’s tachy, but not so much that I’m going to fuck with it unless it gets worse.”

I tossed a fluid bag at him. “Do me a favor and spike this, but don’t use one of the usual drip sets; use this.” I gestured towards a line I’d taken from the green bag; one designed to be used with a pump.

By the time I’d drawn up the medication, Terry had a bag spiked and ready to go. I hooked it to the pump, squirted the med into the fluid bag, and set the pump’s infusion rate.

“Give it a few minutes, then get another pressure,” I said.

Terry hung the bag from the collapsible pole on the side of the cot. “What is this stuff?”

“Levophed. It’s kind of like Epi, but more specific as to which receptors it acts on. It constricts the vasculature, but it won’t speed up his heart like Epi will.”

“Neato. Anything else you wanna do with this guy?”

“If this gets his blood pressure out of the ditch, I’m gonna call it good.”

Terry pressed the blood pressure button on the monitor. The cuff on the right arm began to inflate.

“This looks suspiciously like what we saw a couple of nights ago,” he observed. “How much you wanna bet we also get a negative tox screen?”

“Yeah,” I said, “and I found out more just yesterday. Sam Jensen’s samples got sent down to a toxicology center in the twin cities for more detailed analysis. They found some kind of weird stuff in her blood that the tox screen didn’t catch, and they can’t identify.”

“No shit?”

“No shit, but there’s more. I got Jason Bixley’s autopsy information this morning. He had the same crap in him. I’m guessing he was cruising back home, high as fuck, and then one of these seizures hit.”

Terry leaned back, a thoughtful look on his lean face. “Interesting. You might have told me.”

“I meant to text you this morning, but I got stuck with a trainee.” The blood pressure came up on the monitor. 102/76; I’d take it. I forced my muscles to relax.

“By trainee, you mean that frail slip of a girl following us in? She’s cute, in a… freckly sort of way.”

I snorted. “Forget it, cowboy. She’s got big eyes for Darren Tanner. If they’re not screwing by Friday, I’ll eat my duty boots. Hey, you’re right by the radio; wanna call this in? Tell the hospital he’s had five milligrams of Versed, four of Zofran, and I’ve got him on a Levophed drip currently at ten mics per minute, which I am now titrating down to four.”

Terry reached for the mic.

***

The four of us stood in the ambulance garage at Pinewood Memorial Hospital in Johnstown. Dana had helped Jessie clean up the Bronning rig, and the two women appeared to have hit it right off. I was addressing my trainee.

“When the first thing you see on your first call is puke, it’s a sign that you’re destined to be an EMS lifer. Didn’t they tell you that in EMT school?” I said.

“Tis an omen sent down from the gods themselves,” Terry agreed.

Dana snickered, then changed the subject. “Do we know what was wrong with him?” she asked. I met Terry’s eyes. I saw no reason not to relate the weird chain of events to the two younger women, but some odd impulse held me back.

“No clue,” I said. “Narcotic of some kind, but damned if I know what. Anyway… Terry, Jessie, nicely done. I’m going to take my protege here back to the station and try to teach her a few more things.”

“Teach her well,” Terry agreed. “After all, we’ve just established that she’s going to be in this line of work for the next thirty years or so. We need to head north and get this rig back in service, anyway. Pleasure to meet you, Dana.”

As I settled into the passenger’s seat, I drummed my fingers on my thigh, furrowing my brow as I compared what I’d just seen to Sam Jensen’s presentation the previous weekend. What the hell?

On to Chapter Six!