Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Karin Halle

A few months after Dana and her fourteen-year-old daughter Jolie became lovers, they met a girl named Monica.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and they were in a supermarket shopping for groceries. Jolie was pushing their trolley when, as they turned into the next aisle, a trolley coming fast in the opposite direction crashed into theirs.

A girl who looked to be about Jolie’s age was pushing the other trolley – in fact, she was hanging on the back of it and propelling it along like a scooter.

Dana was irked, but the girl and the woman who was with her both began apologising for the collision. In the meantime, Jolie was giggling. To her, it was all in good fun.

The woman glared at her daughter. “Honestly, Monica… I’ve asked you before not to tool around the store like that. What if you knocked someone over?”

“Sorry, Mum,” the girl meekly replied, She turned to Dana. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. That was careless of me.”

“Oh, no harm done,” Dana replied, charmed by Monica’s good manners.

By then, Jolie was tugging at the girl’s sleeve. She was anxious to make her acquaintance, noticing that the girl was like her in some ways. They were both close to the same height, about average for girls of fourteen, with thick, dark hair. But their figures were quite different. Jolie had a curvy shape and a narrow waist that emphasised her already generous bust, while this stranger was slim to the point of being skinny. Her short skirt revealed a pretty pair of legs, and Jolie found herself wondering about the parts of the girl’s body she couldn’t see.

She introduced herself. “My name is Jolie. I’m fourteen, this is my mummy, and we’re shopping for groceries,” she said in the sing-song voice she mostly used with strangers. “So, um, you’re name’s Momica, huh?”

Studying Jolie for a couple of heartbeats, the girl replied, “Well, you’re pretty close. It’s Monica, actually. This is my mum, and we’re getting groceries too.”

Dana was quick to notice that the girl seemed to be speaking far more clearly and carefully when she talked to Jolie. Intrigued, she turned to Monica’s mother, who clearly had questions of her own.

Deciding an explanation was in order, Dana told the woman about Jolie and her head injury, how it had left her daughter with the mental capacity of an eight-year-old.

“Jolie is the light of my life, though,” Dana continued, watching the girls as they got to know one another. “It’s true that she’ll never really be a grownup… but she’s the sweetest, most lovable little girl you can imagine. Oh, by the way, I’m Dana.”

“I’m Abby,” the woman replied, smiling as she extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. I see what you mean about Jolie – she seems quite the charmer!”

Glancing again at the girls, who were engaged in an animated conversation, Dana said, “They seem to be getting on quite nicely, I must say. Does your daughter have experience with special needs kids?”

“She does, yes,” said Abby. “Monica does volunteer work at a school for special children. She got into it as an elective subject that earned her extra credits at school, then decided she liked the job. The children she helps are much littler than yours, though – they’re mostly seven or younger.”

It was already evident to both parents that the girls had already developed a great rapport. Jolie was happy to have someone her own age talking to her on a level she could relate to. In turn, Monica found it to be an interesting change of pace, interacting with someone with special needs who was close to her age.

After a few minutes, Abby said, “Girls, I’m sorry to break this up… but we really do need to get on with our shopping.”

Jolie had other ideas. “Can Monica and I be friends? Can we, Mummy? Please?”

Monica nodded. “I’d like that.” She and Jolie exchanged big smiles.

That seemed to settle things. Abby and Dana swapped contact details and went their respective ways. By the time Jolie and Dana had joined a queue at the checkout, Abby and Monica had finished shopping and were passing by the entrance of the supermarket.

“Hi, Monica!” Jolie called out, waving energetically.

Monica turned, smiled and waved back.

Dana had no idea if they would ever hear from Abby or Monica again, but it hardly mattered because minutes after arriving home from the store, Jolie insisted that she be allowed to telephone her new friend. Dana tried to put her off, telling her daughter she oughtn’t to call Monica so soon after they’d first met, but Jolie was not to be dissuaded. At last, Dana reluctantly called the number Abby had given her.

When Abby answered, Jolie was right there at Dana’s shoulder, pleading, “Ask if Monica can come over to play. Please, Mummy, please?”

“Hold on, Dana. Let me talk to Monica,” Abby replied.

On her end, Dana heard Abby call out to her daughter, then ask Monica if she would like to visit the girl she’d just met in the supermarket. With no idea how Monica would respond, Dana was delighted to hear Monica say, “Sure, I’d love to!”’

Now that a get-together had been agreed upon, the two mothers worked out the details, It was decided that Abby would bring Monica over the following afternoon. Jolie was thrilled, and so, it seemed, was Monica.

***

Visits on Sunday afternoons became a regular occurrence – usually at Jolie’s house, but sometimes at Monica’s place. During these visits, Abby and Dana would sit and chat or sometimes go out for coffee. As for the girls, they chatted on the telephone nearly every day when they weren’t hanging out together.

Before long, Monica began to treat their visits as an opportunity to encourage Jolie’s mental development. It was no easy task, but she made Jolie a special project of her own. She set little lessons for her friend and worked with her to complete them. Jolie responded with enthusiasm, and over time it was evident that her capabilities had expanded, even if only a little. The girls were thrilled by the progress Jolie had made, and Dana was delighted as well.

As the girls grew closer, Jolie found herself wishing there was something she could teach Monica in return. While lying in bed one night, it occurred to Jolie what that something might be. After that, she was counting the minutes until they were able to spend time together.

That weekend, the girls were in Monica’s room, going through a story together, Monica helping Jolie with the big words she didn’t understand.

They were sitting side by side when Jolie said, “Monica?”

As Monica turned to her, Jolie leaned forward and gave the girl a kiss.

By then, Monica understood that the relationship she and Jolie had ran deeper than simply being friends, but she’d never given it much thought beyond that. All she knew was that Jolie was very, very special to her.

Jolie’s kiss was tentative; a question, an invitation.

Monica’s response was immediate. A wave of desire rolled through the girl that left her warm all over, lightheaded and eager to be kissed again.

Monica had little to no experience in dealing with sexual urges. Boys close to her own age were of no interest – so immature, practically all of them. She expected to find love with a man one day, perhaps after university… certainly not in the immediate future.

On the rare occasions when Monica felt the need to pleasure herself, she never fantasised about specific males, or even sexual acts. Instead, she would picture herself strolling through a flower garden at twilight with a tall, handsome man in a turtleneck sweater… or recall a teenage boy she’d seen who had gorgeous orange hair that put her in mind of a sunset. The idea of lying naked in the arms of a man seemed distant to her, with no relevance to her everyday life.

Now, though… Monica felt something new, something unexpected. And she wanted more.

Jolie had cautiously initiated the kiss… and now Monica returned it with a passion that shook her to the core. My gosh, she told herself, I’m in love. I love Jolie!

She’d never thought of herself as someone who could love another girl. But now she did… and it made perfect sense, especially with her sweet, beautiful friend. She wrapped both arms around Jolie. This feels so good. So right.

As for Jolie, she was beside herself with joy. She instinctively sensed that, unlike herself, Monica was inexperienced at playing loving games. This was her opportunity to be the instructor, to teach the teacher.

They kissed again. This time, Jolie parted her lips, allowing the tip of her tongue to trace the outline of Monica’s mouth. With only an instant’s hesitation, Monica responded, and their tender kiss soon grew deep and passionate.

Jolie’s hand blindly found the front of Monica’s top. Cupping her friend’s small but flawless breast, she gave it a playful squeeze, then tweaked the nipple.

Monica gasped, already wondering, How did she learn these things? Did another girl teach her?

Jolie’s hand slipped beneath her t-shirt, then into the cup of her bra. And with that, Monica was barely able to think at all.

It felt lovely, so much nicer than her own infrequent bouts of masturbation… especially when Jolie’s soft, warm lips brushed her neck.

“Oh,” Monica whimpered. “Oh.”

Suddenly she found herself wanting very much to take her clothes off, every stitch. More than that, she longed for her friend to be naked, too. Monica had only vague ideas about what girls did when they had sex, but she wanted to explore Jolie’s body, and for Jolie to explore hers.

As if Jolie could read Monica’s mind, she declared, “This’ll be lots better if we don’t have any clothes on.”

“Oh, okay,” Monica said and eagerly began to undress.

Delighted that her friend seemed so willing to play loving games, Jolie quickly shed her clothes too.

Now completely naked, her heart pounding, Monica turned to face Jolie. “Wh-what now?” she stammered. Oh, God. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“We’re gonna play loving games!” Jolie exclaimed, all but bouncing up and down in her excitement. “First, I kiss you and touch you and lick you – all over!” She giggled. “Then, if you want to, you can do that to me.”

“Oh, wow…” Monica whispered, marvelling at how her friend managed to say such erotic things, yet make them seem innocent as a round of hopscotch. This thought vanished into the ether when Jolie’s mouth closed over her hard nipple. She moaned, cradling the girl’s face to her chest.

The thought of taking her time didn’t occur to Jolie, eager as she was to give Monica the good feelings. She let her hand trail down the girl’s body until it rested on her vulva, surprised to find it bare. How come? she asked herself. Me and Mummy both have hair down there.

Putting that thought to one side, she returned to the task at hand, easing a finger between Monica’s labia. Jolie cooed with delight to find that her friend had the wetness down there – the good kind that means you’re ready to have special feelings.

Jolie parted Monica’s labia, putting a finger to the entrance to her… What is it? Vagina, that’s the word. She carefully penetrated Monica until her fingertip touched the teen’s hymen, then quickly withdrew.

When Jolie’s virginity had been taken by her mum, the pain had been very slight, but she was unwilling to do anything that might hurt the girl she loved.

Instead, she stroked Monica’s slit until she found the little button that made the best feelings happen. Using the tip of her index finger, she gave it a feather-light caress, the same way Mummy touched hers.

“Oooohh… fuck!” Monica gasped.

Jolie broke into a huge grin. “That’s right – fuck,” she said, then giggled. “It’s what you’re s’posed to say when I do this.” She gave her friend’s clitoris a light tweak between finger and thumb.

That sent Monica into freefall, a strangled cry exploding from her lips.

I did it! Jolie exulted, working her fingertip around in tiny circles, driving Monica into a helpless tizzy. I made her have the feeling!

Tingling all over in response to the first orgasm she hadn’t given herself, Monica gave her head a little shake to clear it. She’d never experienced anything like it. But her friend wasn’t done yet. Once Monica began to catch her breath, Jolie began to lick her down there, bathing Monica’s vaginal opening with long, eager swipes of the tongue.

Within seconds Monica was coming again, something she’d never experienced before. It was lovely, but soon her vulva grew too tender, and she gasped, “Okay, Jolie, you c-can stop now.”

Jolie was ecstatic, delighted that she’d made her friend feel good. Monica’s wetness coated her lips, and it tasted wonderful. Maybe even better than Mum’s.

Once she’d recovered her breath, Monica looked up at Jolie. “I want to touch you now.”

“That’s nice, Mon. Real nice. I’d like that a lot.”

“Um, I don’t think I’m quite ready to, uh, lick you just yet, though. Is that okay?”

Jolie hugged her friend. “Whatever you want to do to me, do that.” She was already happy, but then Monica said something that made her even happier – proud, even.

“I’ve never done it before, so I won’t be as good at it as you are…”

Rolling onto her back, Jolie parted her thighs expectantly. “It’ll be good, Mon, I know it will. Don’t worry, I’ll love it. You’ll see!”

Monica reached out, placing a hand on Jolie’s thigh, then began to caress her. She was hesitant at first, but soon her excitement began to mount as the girl responded to her touch. When she lightly rolled Jolie’s nipple between her finger and thumb, it quickly stiffened, and her friend said, “You can do that harder… I like how it feels.”

Growing increasingly confident, Monica began to explore her new lover’s body in earnest, touching her legs, her breasts, her tummy.

Finally she’d worked up the nerve to touch Jolie’s pussy, and was rewarded by an ecstatic moan, followed by, “I love you, Monica,”

“I – I love you too!” Monica exclaimed, her heart pounding as she realised the truth of those words.

She continued to stroke Jolie’s slit with her index finger, and while the girl was humming happily, she soon sat up, opening her eyes. “In me, Mon. Put your finger in my… in my hole.”

Holding her breath, Monica carefully penetrated Jolie, surprised by how easily her friend’s vagina accepted her finger. My gosh, I’m touching inside her body! It was warm, snug, and slick with fluid.

“G-go in and out,” Jolie moaned. “That’s how you do sex.”

Monica did as Jolie asked, moving slowly, but increasing her tempo as the girl nodded her approval. Then Jolie said that word. “Fuck.”

In response, Monica worked her finger even deeper inside. She felt her eyes grow misty, overwhelmed by how beautiful it felt to make love to her best friend.

“Fuck,” Jolie repeated. Then her body went stiff before she began to shake helplessly, staring wide-eyed at Monica as she came, finally going slack with a deep sign.

Jolie lay quietly for a long moment, then blindly reached out for her friend.

Monica crawled into Jolie’s arms and they nestled together, whispering words of devotion as they basked in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

***

In the days that followed, then girls made love every chance they got. Monica went down on Jolie the next time they got together, and quickly decided that she loved eating pussy. Jolie then taught her the rest of what she and her mum had learned and explored as secret lovers – sixty-nining, tribbing, analingus.

Monica still had no idea how Jolie had come by her sexual expertise. She’d asked about it once, but Jolie simply shrugged and replied, “I just know.”

Two weeks after their first time together, the girls were naked and cuddling in Jolie’s bed, resting from a particularly frenzied bout of sex play.

Placing a kiss on Monica’s nose, Jolie said, “I wanna tell Mum ‘bout us being in love.”

Monica thought about it, then slowly nodded. “I guess you’re right. I don’t want to keep it secret anymore, either. So. she’ll be okay with it, right?”

“Mum? Oh, yeah, she’ll be fine.” Pushing the sheet aside, Jolie stood, then extended a hand. “C’mon, let’s go tell her now.”

Getting to her feet, Monica took Jolie’s hand – then froze as her friend led her toward the door. “Wait, wait a minute!” she exclaimed. “Aren’t we going to put our clothes back on?”

“Why?” Jolie asked. “We’re telling her me an’ you are lovers, right? This way she’ll know for sure!”

“Um, I don’t know about this… I get telling her we’re in love, but is she supposed to know that we’re having sex, too?”

“It’s ‘loving games’, Mon – that’s what I call it. And yeah, she should know!” Jolie insisted. “She won’t be mad, cross my heart! C’mon, let’s go!” She tugged at Monica’s hand.

“I feel weird about not wearing anything, though,” Monica protested. “Couldn’t we go in our underwear, at least?”

Jolie responded with a beseeching look. “But we need to not be wearing anything. It’s really, really important! Please, Mon? Pretty please with gumdrops on top?”

“Okay, okay,” Monica answered. “But only because I love you so much.” She told herself that after all, in view of what they were about to tell Dana, their nudity wasn’t a big deal. That didn’t stop her from feeling jittery, though.

Two minutes later, the girls were standing at the door of Dana’s study. Jolie reached up to knock.

“Come in,” Dana called out from inside.

Taking a deep breath to calm her jangling nerves, Monica followed Jolie into the room.

When Dana looked up, her jaw dropped at the sight of the nude girls. “What in the world…?” she began, then fell silent.

Jolie blurted, “Mummy, Mon and I have been playing loving games.” Suddenly she felt less confident about her mother’s reaction. In a smaller voice she added, “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

Dana was somewhat shaken, but there was only one possible response. “Of course it is, pumpkin.”

Something occurred to Jolie that she hadn’t yet considered. “Um, Mummy… will you still play loving games with me, too?” Suddenly remembering she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else about that, she squealed, “Oops!” then clapped a hand over her mouth.

Good Christ, Dana thought. Well, our secret’s out. No sense denying it now. “Yes, sweetie. Of course.”

In the meantime, Monica had gone pale. “Oh my God…” she mumbled. Now she understood how Jolie knew so much about sex.

Jolie rushed over to Dana and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry, Mum!” she wailed, “I d-didn’t mean to tell our secret.”

Gazing at Monica over her daughter’s shoulder, Dana said, “It’s okay, pumpkin. I do think you need to wash your face, though. You smell like Monica.”

“Okay!” Jolie ran off, leaving Monica ashen-faced, trembling with anxiety.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Blackstone,” the teen mumbled. “I didn’t know. I wasn’t trying to steal Jolie from you!”

“I know you weren’t, Monica,” Dana replied, looking squarely at the distressed girl. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m not upset. In fact, I think it’s wonderful that Jolie has a true friend who genuinely cares about her.”

“I do, I really do!” Monica insisted. “I’ll be there for her, forever and ever!”

Dana gave the girl a gentle smile. “I believe Jolie has a lot of love to give… enough for both of us. How would you feel about sharing her?”

Monica’s face brightened. “Oh, I’d be fine with that. I really do love her, you know.”

“So do I,” Dana agreed.

“B-but it’s not the same. I’m in love with her!”

“I am, too,” Dana said evenly, deliberately. “Sex with my daughter… it’s the most beautiful experience imaginable. But you already know that, don’t you?” She sighed wistfully. “I wouldn’t give up what she and I have for anything.” She stared intently at Monica. “You understand how important it is that you never tell anyone about this, don’t you? Not to anybody, not ever! Not even your mum. Jolie would be taken away from me, and that would destroy both of us.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll never say anything, Ms. Blackstone – I swear!”

Dana studied Monica for a long moment. “Fair enough. But please – call me Dana. Remember?”

Just then, Jolie bounded back into the room. “All clean and fresh, Mummy!” she reported.

Dana smiled at her. “Good for you, pumpkin.” She turned back to Monica. “I’ll bet you need to wash up yourself.”

Blushing deeply, Monica exited for the bathroom.

Jolie padded over to Dana and climbed into her mother’s lap. “Mummy, can I have a kiss?”

“Of course, baby.” Bending down, Dana claimed her child’s mouth in a tender kiss. But Jolie wanted more, and soon their tongues were passionately mingling.

My God, Dana told herself, I love her so desperately. She’s my North Star, my compass, my rudder. I’d be completely lost without her. 

She slid her hand down Jolie’s body until she was gently cupping the girl’s lightly-downed vulva. Not masturbating her, just touching.

When their lips finally drifted apart, Jolie looked up at her mother. “Mummy… can three people play loving games together?”

A squeaking sound was heard in the open doorway – and when Dana glanced in that direction, she saw Monica, still gloriously naked, wide-eyed and shocked by Jolie’s words.

On to Chapter Three!

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

Just as George Fronse had predicted, I was sought out the following day by the DEA, with a meeting arranged in one of the little training cubicles at the fire hall. A desk and chairs had been placed there, making it a sort of ad hoc office. The agent I spoke to was an attractive yet businesslike brunette in her early thirties or so named Bridgett Ramscone. She managed to make female business attire look sexy as hell, which I would have sworn was impossible. Even in my emotionally fragile state, I’d have given a lot to get a peek under that sensible black skirt.

She identified herself as the regional supervisor for the DEA, and I wondered if she was the contact George had referred to. She carried printouts of my patient care reports from the cases I’d seen, and asked me very good, detailed questions regarding the incidents, the conclusions I’d drawn, and the lines of thinking that led to those conclusions. I told her everything I knew, omitting only the info I’d obtained from Halee.

Finally, she tucked the papers back into the labeled manila envelopes from which they had come, then placed another one on the desk.

“I have to tell you, I’m impressed,” she said. “I’ve got full-time agents working for me that probably wouldn’t have been able to make the same deductions you did. All the information I’ve gathered on you tells me you’re one hell of a paramedic, but honestly, I think you’re wasting your talents. If you ever feel like exploring the wonderful world of investigations, give me a call.”

Then she folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “The only problem here,” she said, “is that you’re not telling me everything. The envelope in front of you contains a radio transcript of all transmissions that took place on the Franklin County channels starting at 0930 yesterday and running till the last unit reported back in service from the incident, which was late in the afternoon. Let’s see if you’re as good as I think you are. What little bit of information in there is of interest to me right this minute?”

Instantly I knew what had caught her attention. Goddamn it. I thought about playing dumb, and dismissed the idea almost at once. This tough, smart chick would see right through it.

“I suppose the part where Terry told George to hold tight at the CP until we got there,” I said, doing my best to meet her eyes, while keeping my face from giving anything away.

She smiled tightly. “Well done, Antoinette. I find it very interesting that this happened shortly after you and Terrance Wilder went to pick up his daughter from school, especially considering that the school nurse thinks she was faking her illness.”

I shrugged mentally. “I guess you already know the rest, don’t you?”

She sat back. “I’m not half-bad at deduction myself. Let’s see how I do. The girl was privy to some information, maybe had some inkling that something unusual was going on. You and Mr. Wilder told her to let you know if she heard anything else, and only you. Maybe because of a lack of faith in a certain chief of police?”

I simply stared back at her, not sure how much I should say. I was pretty much trapped, but I didn’t want to betray any confidences, either.

“I don’t blame you,” she said. “George Fronse is probably a regular Andy Griffith as a small-town cop, but we mostly keep him at arm’s length on the drug enforcement task force because he has all the subtlety and grace of a bovine belly dancer. The couple of times we’ve included him in sting operations, he’s blown it. If I could have found a way to let all the other local police forces in the county know that we had reason to suspect some large international operators in the area without him finding out, I would have. I was afraid he’d overplay his hand and make anyone who was paying attention suspicious, which of course, he did. I just about died when I heard he’d gone to the scene for that girl in Roers.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“See?” she said. “You thought that was off, and probably some other stuff, too. So you were reluctant to take him into your confidence. Which is fine, it’s not like he’d have done anything useful with anything you told him.”

In spite of myself, I was getting a little annoyed with Agent Ramscone. “He’s a small-town police chief, not James Bond,” I pointed out. “He does his best.”

She dismissed this with a shrug. “The point is, the girl somehow found out where they were going, she told you, and you informed George. That was his ‘anonymous tip’. Does he even know where it came from?”

I surrendered with a sigh. She knew, and denial on my part would just send her to Terry’s door. Halee was already in deeper than she should be; the last thing she needed was this sexy battleaxe crawling up her ass.

“Halee overheard us talking a couple of nights ago,” I said. “So we asked her if she’d heard anything weird at school. She said she’d heard high school kids talking about going to a place called the locker, but didn’t know any more than that. We asked her to tell us if she heard anything else. She came home sick to tell us about the kids that were out, and then George told us a bunch of teens had been seen walking north of town and asked us to stage. I was thinking about what was out there other than cow pastures, then I realized what the locker had to be.”

Bridgett pursed her lips. “Girl, you can come and work for me any time,” she said.

“Based on that? If I’d figured it out twelve hours earlier, yesterday would have been a lot different.”

“Connecting an unknown place called the locker to a meat processing facility that’s been closed for thirty years is a hell of a leap,” she countered. “I wouldn’t have seen it. Does Fronse know where your info came from?”

“He does now. He came by Terry’s place last night, and we kind of hashed things out. What are the odds I can talk you into not bothering Halee with this?”

“What would be the point? I very much doubt she knows anything you haven’t already told me. I doubt I’ll even interview Mr. Wilder, unless something new comes to light.” Suddenly she stood, and rounded the desk. She swiveled my chair to the side, then leaned in and placed both hands on my shoulders.

“So tell me,” Bridgett said, in a voice just barely above a whisper, “how was your movie night with that young girl?”

Every muscle in my body froze. I even stopped breathing for a moment. Slowly I tilted my head up to meet her gaze, but didn’t speak.

“Or how about Friday night, when she came over on her own?” she went on, her voice husky and intense.

“It was fun,” I finally got out, keeping my voice steady with an effort. “Halee’s a pretty cool kid.”

“Oh, I’ll just bet,” she said, and now there was something feral in her eyes. Taking my hands in hers, she pulled me to my feet. It wasn’t the most dominant of moves; I’m taller than her by a good seven inches. But somehow, this chick wasn’t even a little bit diminished by being towered over. We stood there for a moment, her gazing up at me with the corners of her mouth turned upwards, my hands still in hers.

“Don’t worry,” she told me. “Not just anybody would see what I see. Almost nobody, as a matter of fact. Only people who share what we share would catch on.”

I was starting to understand the significance of what she was saying, and a wonderful sort of excitement enveloped me. Not a sexual excitement, exactly, although maybe there was a little of that there, too. Agent Ramscone’s expression made it clear that she understood at least a little of what was in my mind.

Suddenly she let go of my hands and stepped back. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Hastings. I’ll be in touch if anything further needs to be discussed.”

I nodded once and turned to go. Then she seized my wrist from behind, capturing it in surprisingly strong fingers. She was at my side, her mouth just below my left ear.

“You’re not evil,” she whispered, “and you are not alone.”

She let my arm go and stepped back. My mind reeling, I got myself the hell out of there.

***

Hours later, I was at the dinner table at Terry’s house. Halee had prepared pork chops, mashed potatoes, and asparagus with her customary skill. Before the kids came home from school, I’d told Terry about my interview with Bridgett Ramscone, and how she’d deduced that Halee was our source. Terry took the news in stride, acknowledging that it probably didn’t really make a difference.

The younger kids were animatedly recounting the events of the school day. The big scandal, as related by Naomi, was two middle-school girls being caught kissing in the bathroom. And to make matters more interesting, Naomi went on to mention that little Chelsey Milne, who was in her fifth grade class, had said that it kind of sounded like fun.

Upon hearing this, I choked a little on a mouthful of potato. Halee caught my eye and grinned.

“Some of the other kids got kind of mean,” said Naomi, “calling her a lesbian and stuff. Some of us told them to stop and leave her alone, but they didn’t until one of the teachers made them.”

Terry leaned forward with interest. “Clarify, if you would please, oh dearest of daughters,” He said. “What precisely did they say that was, to borrow your choice of words, mean?”

“Well… they called her a lesbian, Dad! And they said…”

“And by that you mean to imply that being referred to as a lesbian is an insult?” Terry broke in, a grin toying with his lips.

Naomi was smart enough to recognize the trap that had been laid for her. “Well, uh, I guess it is if you’re not one, right?”

“Why would it be?” I asked her. “Unless you think there’s something wrong with being a lesbian, it would just be a mistake, right?”

“Well… I guess so… but I think lots of kids in my class think being a lesbian is pretty weird.”

“Do you think that to be the case?” Terry wanted to know.

“I don’t know. I never thought much about it. I don’t know any lesbians, y’know?”

“Yes, you do,” said Halee suddenly. Every head at the table swiveled in her direction.

“Really?” Dawn piped up, speaking for the first time. I wondered idly if Dawn had anything more than the vaguest idea what a lesbian even was. “Who?”

Halee looked directly at her father. “I’m a lesbian,” she said with an air of finality.

Terry put down his fork and blinked in surprise. “I’ll be damned,” he said.

The younger girls were staring at their elder sister with wide eyes. “What’s a lesbian, anyway?” Maya wanted to know.

Terry looked across the table at me. “You wanna take this, Nettie?” he said. “You can probably explain it in better terms than I can. If you’re willing, that is.”

“A lesbian is a woman who’s sexually attracted to other women instead of men,” I told the little girl. “That means they prefer to date other women, or even marry them, the same way you think of the boys and girls in high school dating.”

“Why does Daddy think you could say that better than he could?” Dawn wanted to know.

“Because he knows I’m bisexual,” I explained. “That means I’m sexually interested in both women and men.”

Naomi stared at me with wide-eyed interest. “You like girls and boys both?”

I smiled. “You could put it that way, yes.”

“But Halee just likes girls,” said Dawn, in tones that suggested she was still trying to wrap her head around the concept.

Terry studied his eldest daughter searchingly. She met his gaze for a moment, then looked down at her plate. “Look at me, Halee,” he said. She hesitated only a moment, then did as he asked.

“Don’t ever be afraid to look me in the eye,” he said. “Not over something like this. If this is who you are, then you have nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t give a damn if you have sexual feelings for men, women, or Paraguayan sea turtles.” The whole table erupted in a chorus of little girl giggles.

“You’re growing into one hell of a young woman,” he went on, “and I’m proud of you. I’m especially proud that you had the guts to say what you just said.”

Quite deliberately, as if to demonstrate that Halee’s sexuality was no longer a matter of any importance to him, he picked up his fork and knife, cut off a bite-sized chunk of pork, and popped it into his mouth.

“Daddy,” Maya piped up, all wide-eyed six-year-old innocence, “what’s a sexual feeling?”

Halee grinned, and the two middle girls giggled. I covered my mouth to hide a smile. Terry swallowed his food, a rueful expression on his face.

“We’ll have a talk about that,” he said, “very soon. But not right this minute, okay?”

***

The next few days passed in a haze. I took three weeks paid time off, which was granted no questions asked due to my father’s death, but that turned out to be a mistake. I’d ended up with the job of executor of Dad’s estate, along with arranging his funeral, but aside from that I mostly ended up sitting in my apartment, with only my thoughts and a large cache of alcohol for company. I did make a token attempt to spend a little more time with my mom, but that went about as well as it ever had.

Thankfully, Dad had his affairs in meticulous order. He’d arranged things so I would be able to take possession of both his business and his house without being forced to sell them for the taxes, and there was also money. Quite a bit of money. I marveled at how the man who never seemed to have much time for me while he was alive had taken so much trouble to see I was taken care of after he was gone.

Mostly, however, I sat in my apartment, listened to records, and drank. I’d have a lot of decisions to make over the next few weeks. Move into his house, or sell it? Getting out of the apartment seemed a given, but I could easily sell the sprawling ranch-style home he’d bought with his deceased second wife and buy something a bit more practical for a single person.

In the meantime, I’d elevated the young woman who had served as his office manager to interim manager of the company. I had no intention of trying to run the business myself, but wasn’t yet certain if I wanted to find a buyer or just let someone else manage it and collect the checks.

I had no time during that week to be alone with Halee, and I didn’t seek out intimacy with anyone else, either. I didn’t even masturbate. Once the reality of Dad’s death had sunk in, and all the other weird shit that had been going on in Bronning started messing with my head, I went a little numb. I didn’t sleep well, either. The nightmares were back, and they weren’t fucking around.

There was some good news during the course of the week; everyone who had made it to the hospital alive on Monday had stayed that way. All of the critical patients had pulled through, and most of the firefighters and police officers had already been sent home by Friday. Sam Jensen, whom I’d been forced to intubate during transport, was still in the hospital, but on Wednesday she was extubated and continued to breathe under her own power. In fact, ALL of the teens were still in the hospital, even the ones who hadn’t been injured in the blast. Nobody knew why.

The DEA folks were still around. They were occupying a rental on the edge of town, no doubt due to the utter lack of a proper hotel, and working out of temporary offices at the fire hall. Bridgett Ramscone was still directing whatever it was they were up to, and she greeted me with a wink and a wave the two times I saw her around town. Both times, my guts did a little flip.

The operation itself was under a complete blackout. Nobody other than the federal agents were allowed anywhere near the valley where the incident had occurred, and any findings were kept under wraps. But there’d been two more cases similar to the ones I’d seen with Terry, both on Wednesday. The victims were teens who lived in the area, although neither attended the Bronning K-12. Another teen in Gerard had been found dead in his bedroom by his parents the same day, with no explanation. On Thursday, the rotund young man Terry had picked up on 225 died in his front yard, and was discovered there by a UPS driver around noon the following day.

George Fronse, when anyone saw him at all, was out of sorts and ill-tempered, and the  scuttlebutt was that the DEA was keeping him as much in the dark as the rest of us. Police presence was heavier than usual, with more of the county sheriff’s department’s resources concentrated in the Bronning area than I’d ever seen before. A largish number of state troopers were cruising the highways as well.

My dad’s funeral visitation was late Friday afternoon, and as his closest surviving relative I found myself hovering over his open casket for two agonizing hours, alternately shaking hands and returning hugs. Mom showed up, and surprised the hell out of me by openly weeping over his body.

Me, I’d done all the mourning that was in me for the moment, and feeling completely detached. My purse was slung over the back of a chair I’d pulled up to the front so I could sit once in awhile, and it contained, amongst other things, a standard field penlight – the kind EMS personnel use to check pupillary response. I had to resist the strange urge to pull it out and shine it up Dad’s nose for a glimpse of the lanyard that gets run up through there to hold the dearly departed’s jaw closed. That’s the state of mind I was in.

Terry and his two older girls appeared about two-thirds of the way through. By this time foot traffic had slowed to a trickle, most of the remaining guests were at the back of the room, talking and taking in refreshments, and I was sitting by myself next to my father’s body. I stood as they approached. Terry was wearing a suit. Halee and Naomi were absolutely ravishing in simple, elegant, matching black evening wear.

I stood up, letting Terry pull me into a hug. I hugged him back, tears stinging my eyelids as I reflected that Terry was one of the only people here this evening who actually came for me and not for form’s sake. He held me at arms length.

“Doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, willing myself not to sniffle. I gave him a small smile that I’m sure totally failed to convince, and he turned his attention to the casket, inclining his head slightly. Halee wrapped her arms around me, and we held each other for as long as propriety would permit. Then she joined her father while Naomi gave me a hug.

“I was in the Twin Cities yesterday, and I stopped by the Hennepin Hospital to see Wes Hamilton,” Terry said.

“Is it true he’s going to lose his leg?” I inquired.

“They’ve already amputated, poor bastard. He asked me to give you a message. He saw your dad go down, and he said I’m the first person who wasn’t taking an official report he’s been able to tell.”

He gestured towards the casket. “Wes tells me this man threw himself over the top of Sam Jensen when the explosion went off. They were then hit by shrapnel when one of the pressure tanks along the wall blew a few seconds later. She only took that slash across her gut, because he blocked the rest of it.”

I gazed down into the casket at my father’s frozen visage. “I hadn’t heard that till now,” I said. It explained a lot, though. My dad had been killed by scraps of metal piercing his body from behind, one of which had found its way to his aorta and torn it wide. He’d have bled out in the space of a minute or two.

“Probably only Wes saw it,” said Terry, “and you know the feds aren’t sharing anything he reported with the lowly likes of us.”

“He was a hero,” Halee said simply, looking down at the body with solemn respect.

“Sure was,”  said Naomi, somewhat less solemnly but no less respectful.

Terry reached into the casket, and covered my dad’s hand with his. “Godspeed, fireman. I didn’t know you well, but whenever I cross paths with the young woman whose life you saved, I’ll remember you.”

Withdrawing his hand, he turned towards me. “You know where I am if you need anything,” he said, embracing me once more.

Halee hugged me again after he let go. “That goes for me, too,” she said.

“Do you want to come over and watch a movie again tonight?” I asked her suddenly. “If it’s all right with you, Terry. I want to be at home, but I could use some company.”

Terry shrugged. “I have no problem with it.”

“Do you want me to stay for the night, or just for the movie?” Halee wanted to know.

“I’d love it if you stayed, but you don’t have to. I’ll be done here in half an hour; you can come anytime after that.”

“Then I’ll see you soon,” she said with a sly little grin. She turned toward the casket, reached in, hesitated, and then gingerly let her hand rest on top of my dad’s in imitation of her father’s gesture a moment ago. It was probably, I thought, the first time she’d ever touched a corpse.

“Thank you for Sam,” she said, then withdrew her hand and followed her father back up the aisle. Naomi looked in as she passed the casket one last time, started to extend her hand, and then tucked it at her side as if hoping nobody would notice. I had to suppress a grin as she trailed along behind her father and older sister.

I moved to stand over my father’s body, bowing my head to stare down at him.

“I’m proud of you, Daddy,” I whispered, and let the tears fall.

***

Halee appeared at my door less than half an hour after I returned to my apartment, an overnight bag in her hand. I would ordinarily have changed into something more comfortable the moment I walked through the door, but thanks to the appreciative glances I’d received from the men (and a few of the women) who had attended my father’s visitation, I knew exactly how fetching I looked in my slim blue evening dress. Even better, Halee was still wearing the flattering ensemble she’d had on earlier.

“Mmmm,” I said, sliding my hand down her side. “Wearing that for me?”

“You haven’t changed yet, either,” she pointed out with a grin. “So… what movie did you have in mind?”

“One starring you in the nude,” I told her, reaching around and cupping her ass.

“That sounds like a great show,” Halee purred. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed me.

As I mentioned earlier, I’d completely abstained from sexual activity since Halee fingered me to a climax Monday night in Terry’s guest bed. The moment her tongue found its way into my mouth, it was over. I kissed her back with abandon, eagerly tugging the lower part of her dress upwards so I could slip my fingers beneath. When my hands reached her bottom and found it bare, I broke off the kiss.

“For me?” I breathed, losing myself in those hazel eyes.

We kissed again, her back pressed against the door and the fingers of both my hands between her cheeks. She didn’t engage my mouth for very long, concentrating instead on my neck, always my erogenous weak point.

“If you keep doing that,” I said, my voice almost a moan, “we’re going to end up doing it right here in the entryway.”

I’m not sure who led who to the bedroom, but the next thing I knew we were on my bed, hands and mouths all over each other. Halee was on top of me, and I used that handy vantage point to unzip her dress. She raised her body until she was kneeling over me, and pulled the garment over her head, flinging it to one side.

Now completely naked, she collapsed atop me, slipping one of her legs between mine and grinding against my pussy. I pushed back, the first wave of pleasure hitting me as I began to hump Halee’s thigh. She let me do that for a minute before pulling away, scrambling upright to kneel between my legs.

“Get rid of this fucking dress,” she said hoarsely.

I got up on my knees, and we worked together to strip me down to my underwear. Halee reached around my back and undid my bra, tossing it to the floor, along with the dress. Then she scooched forward and buried her face between my tits, kissing into the valley they formed, shoving both hands down the back of my panties as her mouth restlessly roamed over my breasts. Shifting one hand around to the front, she thrust two fingers between my folds. I threw my head back and gasped, a shudder racing through me.

“Somebody’s a little wet,” she teased. As she sawed her fingers in and out, slowly and sensuously, she kissed my neck, moving up to nibble on my earlobe. “I want to taste you, the way you tasted me,” she breathed.

I pulled my head back and looked into her eyes. “You want to eat my pussy, you mean?”

Halee grinned. “Yeah! I want to eat your pussy. I’ve been thinking about it ever since you did it to me.”

I stretched out on the bed, my legs wide open. “It’s all yours, honey,” I said.

Halee took her time. She started with my feet, caressing and loving them with gentle fingers. When she slipped those fingers between my toes, one by one, I almost came on the spot. Who knew a foot massage could be so fucking erotic? Inexperienced little Halee was doing things to me that no one else had before. She moved upwards, this time using both fingers and mouth, loving each of my lower legs in turn. She held a leg straight up in the air, running her tongue delicately across the back of my knee, then proceeded to do the same to the other leg.

When she got to my thighs, Halee turned up the intensity, kissing and biting her way up both of them. Finally she lay down on her belly, face just inches from my aching twat. I could feel wetness running down the crack of my ass. She moved forward slowly, opening me wide with her thumbs. Then she extended her tongue, delicately licking up the length of one outer lip, then the other. Each time, I involuntarily thrust my pelvis to meet her.

Her tongue slipped back down through the liquid center, barely brushing my clit. I felt a wave of pleasure that wrenched a cry from my quivering lips. She slipped her tongue inside me, working it in and out. I was out of my mind with sexual rapture, practically whimpering. Finally her tongue traveled upward, going to work on the sensitive nub of my clit with fast, yet delicate little licks.

Then there were fingers in me; two of them, I think. Halee worked them in and out, now licking my clit more directly and with more intensity. She would pleasure me hard and fast, driving me towards the edge, then back off, sucking my clit delicately and slowing her pumping arm down to a crawl. Then the intensity again. In this way she extended my plateau much longer than it otherwise would have lasted. Finally she let it happen, pushing me to a moaning, body-shaking climax so intense I thought I was going to pass out.

Finding my strength, I pulled her to me, kissing her passionately, tasting and smelling myself on her face. “Did you like doing that?” I breathed.

“I loved it,” she got out, in a voice that plainly said that she was in need of a little something herself.

I started kissing my way down her body, paying attention to her neck, her ears and her shoulders. I spent a lot of time on her tits. They weren’t big, but seemed to be amazingly sensitive. Every time my tongue flicked across a nipple, she moaned. When I sucked one into my mouth, her body gave a violent jerk.

“I can’t wait any more,” she panted. “Please, Nettie… please m-make me come.”

I planted my mouth between her labia. No subtlety; I sensed the immediacy of her need. She was wailing from the moment I began. Deciding the time had come for a bold move, I slipped a hand up her leg and to her hole, sliding an experimental finger inside. Just the tip, mind you. I encountered resistance and stopped there.

I looked up at her. “Is this okay, Halee?” She didn’t speak, only nodded. I went back to work, licking furiously while carefully sliding the tip of my finger in and out. With the other hand, I reached up to tweak each of her nipples in turn.

That was all it took; suddenly she was arching her back, making those little “uh… uh… uh…” noises that signified her orgasm, and I could feel her pussy clamp down rhythmically on my finger. Then she collapsed onto the bed.

We held each other for awhile, relaxing in silent bliss.

“Where did you learn to edge like that?” I said at last.

“Edge?”

“Where you took me almost all the way, then pulled back. It’s called edging.”

“Oh, I get it,” she said. “I do that to myself all the time. Otherwise, it’s over way too fast.”

I kissed her, then pulled away, reaching for my phone to check the time.

“You know, it’s just barely after eight,” I told her. “I’m not ready for bed yet; are you?”

On to Chapter Thirteen!

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.

After she and Terry work out the location of what they believe to be the drug dealers’ headquarters, they contact the police chief and a raid is hurriedly set up. But things go wrong right away — has a trap been set? In the fallout, Nettie’s father is killed.

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

by Rachael Yukey

The glare of the overheads in the back of the ambulance was blinding after the overcast skies outside. I squinted as my ass hit the bench seat, and Samantha Jensen’s supine form came into focus. Her eyes were open, and she cast her gaze around wildly. “Samantha,” I said to her. She looked in my direction, eyes heavy and unseeing. Then she dropped her head to the pillow, closed her eyes, and moaned. There was soot around the edges of her mouth. Jessie was trying to hold pressure on the big abdominal dressing, which by now was completely red.

“Let go of it,” I told her. “You’re not gonna stop the bleeding. Change your gloves and get a neb mask on her with some albuterol; it’ll buy us a few minutes while I get ready for a tube. Then get me some vitals.”

The rig pulled out, jouncing badly on the rough terrain. Jessie let go of the dressing. Pulling it back, I ignored Sam’s yelp, examining the ugly laceration across her lower left quadrant. Blood pooled around protruding intestines. Setting the dressing back in place, I stripped off my blood-smeared gloves and tossed them to the floor. I had new ones on in seconds, and began hastily laying out IV supplies.

Jessie had the nebulizer in place and running, and was getting vitals like I’d asked. But when she started pulling the ECG cables from the monitor saddlebag, I had to resist the urge to smack her fingers.

“To hell with the four-lead,” I snapped. “Get a fresh dressing to put on the wound, but get it wet before you apply it. Just cut open a bag of saline and douse the damn thing. I need to get this IV started.” I thought it better not to tell Jessie that if I didn’t get a line and damn fast, this was all going to be for nothing. The niceties had to go out the window.

Jessie pulled a new dressing out of an overhead cabinet. I found a good spot for the IV almost right away, but held off for the sixty extra seconds it took Stacy to pull us out of the woods and onto the comparatively smooth gravel road, using the time to squirt medication into a bag of saline.

“Sam,” I said as I filled syringes, “can you hear me?” She shook her head violently from side to side, eyes squeezed shut. “We’re taking care of you, sweetheart,” I told her. “I know it hurts. Try to relax as much as you can.”

I got the IV on the first try, and hung the bag with the clotting agent. In my peripheral vision I could see Jessie cutting away the girl’s garments, rapidly inspecting for additional injuries. I turned my attention to the head, considering the layer of soot around the lips. Getting out my penlight, I moved the neb mask to one side and peered into her mouth, feeling my jaw tighten at the first signs of inflammation in her airway. Smoke inhalation for sure. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

I knew I was going to have to intubate her before her pipes closed altogether, but I stole a second to peel back an eyelid and shine my light on a pupil. Sam started, blinked, and looked up. With obvious effort, she focused in on me.

“I think the bleeding is slowing down a little,” Jessie said. I glanced over, and noticed that while the bottom of the new dressing was saturated in red ooze, the upper portion looked clean.

“Beautiful,” I said, turning my eyes back to Sam, who was still staring at me. Unzipping the ALS bag, I began extracting the items I would need for the tube. The whole time I was uncomfortably aware of Sam Jensen’s gaze.

Finally she spoke. “You’re… Nettie Hastings?” Even muffled by the mask, it sounded like the voice of a throat cancer patient with a two pack a day habit, and was followed by a dry, hacking cough. I could just barely make out what she was saying.

“Yeah,” I said. I got into the narc safe and pulled out the little box of magic contained therein. I briefly debated going for a second IV; I dislike sedating and paralyzing someone for intubation without a backup line. I dismissed the notion; time was not on our side.

“Mom says you t-took me to the hospital when I got sick,” the raspy voice informed me.

“That was me,” I said, putting as much cheer in my voice as possible. I busied myself drawing up the meds for the procedure. By this time Jessie had divested the girl of her garments and placed blankets over her private areas.

“What were you doing at the meat locker, Sam?” I inquired.

“Was I at the locker?” I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t remember. Sam and the other kids had clearly been under the influence of a sedative of some kind, and many of the common varieties burn away the memory of whatever was happening right before and right after the dose.

“Tell me about the locker, Sam.”

“I’m… not s’posed to… it’s a secret.”

“I can keep a secret.” I laid my labeled syringes down for a second, deciding to go for that second IV after all. So long as she was able to talk, I had time, and maybe there was a chance to find out what was going on.

“We p-party there.” The voice was low, the eyes distant. “We… we… good times. The best shit’s there. All of it. We get the good shit.”

“Who do you get it from? I might want some.” I slid the second IV catheter in, with no noticeable reaction from Sam. I’d probably gotten as much information out of her as I was going to.

Sam tried to speak, failed, and coughed. Interview over, I decided, and attached the syringe of sedative to the IV port.

But then her eyes popped open again. “Shutting it down,” she croaked. “Shutting… they’re shutting it down. Need to get… they said we’d g-get… don’t want withdrawal again. I need…” Her face contorted in agony.

“Withdrawal?” I said, sitting up straight.

“Yeah… like when you took me… hospital. Withdrawal…” She began to cough again, but it came out as dry wheezes. No more time.

“You’re going to sleep, Sam,” I told her as I was pushing the sedative. “I need to put you to sleep so I can help you. You’ll wake up in a couple of days.” So rapidly did the drug take hold that I’m not sure if she heard me or not. I waited sixty seconds, then flicked an eyelid  and got no response. I pushed the paralytic, and watched Sam Jensen’s breathing slow, then stop.

“Ready with the bougie,” I said to Jessie. I slipped my laryngoscope into the mouth and swept the tongue aside. A bead of sweat trickled down my nose; I ignored it. The edema was starting to get bad, but I could still see everything clearly. The airway was inflamed, but not ashy or particularly discolored, and I had some hope that it hadn’t gone deeper to do significant damage to the alveoli.

“Bougie,” I said. Just as Jessie slid a long blue stick of plastic into the mouth the truck hit a pothole, very nearly robbing me of my precious view of the trachea. I hissed, “Fuck!” took a moment to steady myself, then took the blue plastic stick from Jessie’s hand, easing it down and in.

“Tube me,” I commanded. Jessie slipped the endotracheal tube over the bougie, and I took it from her, sliding it in deeper and watching as it slipped between the vocal cords, then inflating the cuff.

“Bag,” I said. Jessie hooked the bulbous bag valve mask to the end of the tube and squeezed. I watched the chest rise. “Nice,” I exulted.

But the self-satisfaction that always comes in the wake of a successful field tube was short-lived. The memory of my father’s waxy, gray visage blurred my vision, and I pushed it aside with a herculean effort.

I secured the tube, then listened to the lungs to ensure we were getting air on both sides. I glanced at the monitor; vitals looked good. The dressing still draped across the abdomen didn’t appear to be absorbing any more blood. There was a reasonable chance that Sam’s luck would hold out once again.

***

“We weren’t even really that close,” I said numbly. I was on Terry’s love seat, legs drawn up, Halee seated next to me with her arm around my shoulders. My hair was still wet from the shower, and I held a drink in trembling hands. “I mean… after he split up with my mom, I always felt like he was more interested in his business than he was in me. I don’t know, Terry, I…” I broke off, fighting back tears.

There’d been a lot to cry about that day. Two firefighters had died, with three more still in critical condition. Two of the teens who were still in the building at the time of the explosion were also critical. The rest of them were fine; turns out they’d been under the influence of an ordinary sedative, not whatever wild shit had been plaguing the Bronning area of late.

I’d delivered Sam Jensen to Pinewood hospital in Johnstown, still alive and reasonably stable. Thormleton Ambulance had brought in three other patients from the meat locker scene while we were still at the hospital, one about as badly off as Sam, and two non-critical cases in a single truck. Terry had done a masterful job of resource allocation, distributing the patients so that no hospital emergency department or ambulance service was pushed too far beyond its limits.

There had been a bunch of officers at the hospital, along with two men in black suits who were clearly in authority over the cops. Terry told me later that a number of black-suited men and women in a black Suburban had appeared in the valley shortly after the last patient had been shipped off, politely but firmly taking charge of the scene. Thus far there was radio silence; we had been given no information regarding the cause of the explosion, or what else might have been found in the old brick building. The only real news was that all seven kids, injured or otherwise, were being held overnight for observation at the hospitals where they’d been taken, apparently on the insistence of the black suits.

“How’s your mom taking it?” Terry asked gently. I shook myself out of my reverie.

Terry had been waiting at the station upon my return. He shepherded me into his car and drove me back to his place. I didn’t have it in me to argue. He’d already farmed out his three youngest to a babysitter for the night. Now he was sitting in his recliner, drink in hand. If he suspected that Halee snuggling with me was anything more than an attempt at comfort, he didn’t say so.

“I don’t know,” I said. “She’d heard about it by the time I talked to her, and she was already putting a brave face on it. Or maybe she really doesn’t give a shit. They’ve been divorced for seventeen years, you know.”

I tossed my drink back in a single gulp. “Got any more where that came from?”

Terry regarded me sidelong, opened his mouth as if to speak, then rose from his chair. He plucked the glass from my hand, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned a moment later with a refill. I gave him what I hoped was a grateful little smile, and put away half the glass in one go.

Terry took only one step towards his recliner, halting in midstride at a sharp rap on the front door. Halee’s dog Lanie uncurled herself from her lap and hit the floor at a dead run, yipping obnoxiously as she made a beeline down the hall towards the foyer.

“Who the fuck…?” Terry muttered, following the dog at a more sedate pace. I heard the door open, then a moment’s silence.

“George,” Terry finally said. “Can I help you? This isn’t a great time.”

George Fronse gave a reply I couldn’t quite catch, and moments later the two men appeared in the hallway, George following close behind Terry. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and looked as if he’d just gotten out of the shower.

“Nettie,” George said as he strode into the living room, “I don’t even know how to start telling you how sorry I am. I knew your dad for a long, long time.”

“Thanks, George,” I managed.

Terry waved vaguely in the direction of the couch. “Have a seat, George,” he said. “Can I offer you a drink?”

George shook his head. “No, I’d better…” The words seemed to stick in his throat. “What have you got?” he said at last.

Terry blinked, but that was his only outward reaction. It would have gone unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know him well. “We’re enjoying a scotch that stands an above-average chance of changing your religion,” he said. “I also have some very good bourbon and rye, a decent spiced rum, or vodka and plain rum with appropriate mixers if you suffer from a delicate palate.”

“What do you have to mix? I don’t want you to go to a lot of trouble…”

“I could make you a screwdriver easily enough.”

“That’ll work. Thank you, Terry.” George sat, and Terry disappeared into the kitchen. An awkward silence fell, broken only by the sounds of ice and gurgling liquid from the kitchen. George made a point of examining his hands. Halee’s arm tightened around my shoulders, and I pulled her close.

Terry returned a moment later, pressing a drink into George Fronse’s hand. George took a sip, nodded approval, then took another. He cast his eyes back and forth across the room, between the recliner and the love seat. Finally his eyes settled on Halee.

“It might be better for this to be an adults-only conversation,” he said.

Terry opened his mouth, then closed it again. His eyes turned to his daughter, then back to George. “She stays for the moment,” he said.

George shrugged. “I’ll come right to the point, then. I covered for the two of you today. I told the DEA people that we went to that valley based on an anonymous tip. I did it out of respect for you, Nettie, but it puts my butt in a major bind if anyone finds out. I want to know what the hell’s going on, and how you knew where to go.”

He fixed his eyes on Terry, his expression suddenly hard. “And I especially want to know what your part is in all this. If I don’t get answers I like, you and me are going to have a major problem, and I promise you won’t like the way it ends.”

Terry met his gaze, unflinching. “I get it,” he said. “You figure all you have to do is tell the Feds that I had information no one else had access to, they’ll do some digging and find me guilty as hell, and you get the satisfaction of seeing me clapped in irons. I don’t know in what way I pissed in your Cheerios when I moved to town, but I’m officially through trying to get on your good side. Go fuck yourself, George.”

Halee stirred uncomfortably at my side, and I stole a glance at her. She was staring at her father. I looked back over at George, who was gazing steadily back into Terry’s furious eyes.

“I’ve probably deserved that,” he said. “But not this time. In case you weren’t listening, I covered for you today, Terry. I did it mostly for Nettie, but if I hadn’t, you’d have federal agents in here right this minute crawling up your ass with a microscope. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here for the moment, but that has to end if you can’t tell me something that makes sense.”

Terry settled back, the hardness fading from his face. “Fair enough,” said after a moment’s thought. “but it has to be tit for tat, even taking into account your unfortunate lack of tits.”

Maybe it was just the stress of the preceding twelve hours or so, but even George cracked up a little at that. “Meaning?” he said.

“Meaning,” said Terry, “that you’re not the only one here who’s harbored suspicions. You’ve been acting just plain fucking weird ever since Jason Bixley face-planted that dump truck. Did you actually think Nettie and I didn’t notice how you just randomly appeared on calls you ordinarily wouldn’t have bothered responding to? Or how about that bullshit you fed Nettie about not being able to authorize access to the Bixley autopsy? You talk to us, and we’ll talk to you.”

George sipped his drink, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. He looked at me, then Terry, and at length began to speak.

“You probably know I’m part of the narcotics task force in this part of the state,” he said at last. “Just a bunch of city, state, and county cops that coordinate to try and chase down traffickers. There’s a big bust every year or so, but to be honest we don’t even really make a dent in the supply. We have a DEA contact who gets in touch with us once in a while, but mostly we’re on our own.

“Anyway, we received information from our DEA lady a few weeks back that people associated with some major cartels might be operating in our county, and to be extra vigilant for suspicious activity. Also to keep anything unusual under wraps as much as possible until DEA agents had a chance to look at the evidence.”

He looked at me apologetically. “That’s why I tried to keep the autopsy report away from you, Nettie. I guess if you wanted it badly enough, you probably got it through other channels, anyway.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I saw it. I suppose you already know that Sam Jensen had the same stuff in her system that Jason did. You wanna tell me what that shit is?”

“I wish I knew,” George said. “I’d like to say that our DEA contact is holding out on us, but I have an idea she doesn’t really know, either.”

Terry waved a hand towards George’s empty glass. “Another one, George?” he inquired.

“Sure, why the hell not?” said George. “Wes is hurt, so I’m the only city cop left, but after today I don’t really care. If anything happens tonight, I don’t think anyone will fault me if I just call in a mutual aid from the county.”

Terry fetched him another drink, while another silent pallor descended on the room. After he’d returned, handed over the glass and resumed his seat, George straightened from his slouch and fixed Terry with a steady gaze.

“Your turn,” said George. “How did you know where to look today?”

Terry fixed his gaze upon the ceiling, lips pursed. Finally he appeared to come to a decision. Halee,” he said at last, “tell the chief everything you’ve told us.”

She began, haltingly at first, then with an increasing confidence. By the time she was done, it was evident that the only thing standing between Halee and her father’s multisyllabic verbosity was time.

George was nodding slowly, almost to himself, as she finished. “I want to say I wish you’d come to me with that, Terry” he said at last, “but I understand why you didn’t, and to be honest I don’t think I’d have made the connection, either.”

He fixed his gaze directly on Halee. “You saved some lives today, young lady.”

I felt her tense in my arms. “If I’d just stayed in school,” she said bitterly, “Nettie’s dad would still be alive.”

George nodded. ”That’s possible,” he said, “but think about the numbers. Two people died today. If you hadn’t acted, we’d have lost all seven of the kids who were in that room. It wasn’t the only factor, either. I ran the operation by the numbers; slow and careful. It was textbook, and I’m going to come out smelling like a rose on paper. But if I’d moved faster, maybe we’d have got everyone out before the place went up. We can’t predict these things; we just have to do the best we can with the information we have. You did the right thing. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Terry was looking at George with something like wonder. He turned his eyes to his daughter. “Consider the old soldier’s axiom that no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy,” he said. “Events of this nature are impossible to predict. We asked you to sound the alarm, and you did. Nothing else could have been expected of you, kiddo.”

Halee said nothing. I knew that she was going to have to work this out in her own way, and just hoped I could find a way to help her with that.

“What caused the explosion, George?” I inquired.

“The feds probably know,” he said. “I sure don’t. They’ve got the whole scene locked down, and aren’t talking about anything they find. There were a whole slew of pressure tanks in there for various types of gasses, and who knows what the hell was under that tarp or in the crates? I don’t know when or if we’re going to get access to the facility, or any information.”

“Have the kids who didn’t get hurt said anything?’ said Terry. “Or don’t you know?”

“I managed to talk to a couple of them before the feds took over,” said George. “They were just coming out from under some kind of narcotic and were pretty damn groggy, but what I was able to get was that the place has been a sort of party spot for the past month or so, with some really good drugs. The kids said there were some adults there kind of running the show, but it wasn’t anybody they knew from before. They had some names, but they struck me as fake ones. They had names for the drugs too, stuff like ‘frizzies,’ and ‘carbon boosters.’ Nothing I’ve ever heard of.”

“I talked to Sam Jensen a little before I tubed her,” I put in. George raised his eyebrows.

“She said some of the same things,” I said, “except for the names. And she said something about the place shutting down, and wanting to get some stuff before she went into withdrawal.”

Terry sat forward, and it dawned on me that I hadn’t gotten around to telling him, either. “Withdrawal?” he said. “You haven’t mentioned that.”

I met his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said. “What with Dad and everything, I almost forgot about it. She talked about withdrawals, and specifically referenced the time I took her to the hospital last weekend.”

Terry shifted in his seat. “So maybe she wasn’t actually high, but going through withdrawal? How likely do you think that is?”

“It’s possible,” I replied. Despite the grief and the booze, the clinician in me was starting to take over, and I welcomed the respite. “Withdrawal manifests in all kinds of ways. Look at heroin; overdose is deadly, but the withdrawal won’t kill you. It just makes you so sick you wish you were dead. But alcohol withdrawal is dangerous as hell. The DTs can spark a cardiac arrest. If I see that, I’m pushing Versed faster than you can blink. So yeah… I thought she was high on something, you did too, but it could have been some really ugly withdrawal symptoms.”

“So… the same shit could conceivably happen to them all over again. Maybe we should make some phone calls.” Terry was already stabbing at his phone.

I dismissed this with a wave of my hand. “Everyone’s getting held for observation,” I reminded him. “They’re all in hospitals. If we hear tomorrow that kids are being sent home, we can deal with it then.”

George looked from me to Terry, who was reluctantly lowering his phone. “It probably doesn’t matter,” he said. “The investigation is out of my hands, and whoever was behind it is probably on another continent by now. I’m guessing the DEA people are going to be talking to you, Nettie, along with anyone else who transported one of the kids. Make sure you tell them everything Sam Jensen said to you; it might matter. I don’t like the way they cut me and the county people out, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give them whatever information they need to go after these bastards.”

“As long as we can keep Halee’s name out of it,” Terry said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

“Fair enough,” said George. He stood. “I should go,” he said. “Nettie, I’m more sorry than I can say.”

I nodded numbly. Terry rose to his feet, beckoning George in the direction of the hallway. Moments later, I heard their voices from the foyer.

“Terry,” George was saying, “I don’t know that you and I are ever going to see eye-to-eye. But maybe we can declare a truce until this is over?”

“George,” I heard Terry reply in a weary voice, “if there’s any conflict here, it’s always been one-sided. I don’t have a problem with you. All that’s needed is for you to back the fuck off.”

There was a long silence. “I’ll do my best,” George said at last. The door opened, then closed again. Halee wrapped her arms around me and squeezed, sapping any restraint I had left. By the time Terry returned to the living room, I was weeping into her shoulder.

***

I ended up in Terry’s guest room for the night. I made a token effort to go home, but both Halee and Terry insisted otherwise, and I was simply in no condition to resist. As I lay back on the bed, I reflected that Terry and I both have dominating alpha personalities, and it’s probably the biggest source of friction between us. Halee was clearly developing the same characteristic, and I wondered what that would mean in the long term. Probably, I thought with wry amusement, she’ll end up hating both me AND her dad.

Then the door cracked open, and Halee was framed in the light from the downstairs hallway. She was wearing a yellow nightgown that came to her knees. Closing the door behind her, she crossed to the bed, sat, and took my hand in hers.

“Do you want company?” she asked simply. There was maturity beyond her years in the voice. “I’ll sleep in here with you if you want, or go away if you want to be alone.”

I slid over to one side of the bed and lifted the comforter. Halee slipped in next to me and snuggled up. I wrapped an arm around her.

“Think your dad will be okay with this?” I inquired in a whisper.

“I told him I was coming to check on you, and I might sleep in here with you if you wanted it,” she replied, also sotto voce. “He just sees it as two girls sleeping in the same bed, y’know?”

I leaned in and kissed her, my lips parted slightly. She opened her mouth a little, but made no other moves. I slipped my tongue inside. She teased the tip with hers for a moment, then pulled away.

“We shouldn’t,” she said.

“Because your dad’s in the house?” I asked. “We’d hear him on the stairs long before he got to us, and anyway I doubt he’d just barge in.”

“Well, there’s that,” she said, “but I didn’t think you’d really want to, after… you know…”

I kissed her again, this time more fervently. After a moment’s hesitation, she kissed me back with equal ardor.

“I don’t know how much I’m up to,” I told her, “but I need something. Make me forget the world exists, Halee.”

She was kissing my neck, gently, with love rather than passion. All the same, the heat was rising in me, and I felt myself getting wet. I took her hand and guided it downwards, stuffing it under the waistband of the sweat pants I was wearing. Understanding what I was asking for, she slipped her fingers beneath the elastic of my panties. Softly she caressed my mound, then went deeper, moistening her fingers on my slippery hole before starting a slow circular motion on my clit.

My response was immediate and I gasped for air, rocking my hips against her hand. She picked up the pace a little, and our mouths came together once more. When she pulled away, I registered through the waves of pleasure that her own breathing was ragged and strained. I slipped a hand up her leg and towards her center, only to find Halee’s hand already there and at work. I looked into her eyes, and she smiled even as a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips.

“You just relax,” she whispered with a sly grin. “I’m doing everything tonight.”

I gave in, burying my face in her shoulder. The waves were coming closer together, and with a greater intensity. With my head pressed to Halee’s chest, I could feel her shuddering response, and hear the hitch and tear of her breathing. I fed off of the sexual energy pulsating from this exquisite creature, just barely on the cusp of adolescence, and no more than a minute later I felt the inexorable birth of my climax. I bucked against her hand, pressing my lips together to stifle the cries.

Halee’s fingers slowed, delicately caressing my outer lips, but I could feel her other arm working furiously as she drove herself to ecstasy. As she fell off the edge of the cliff she twisted her head, burying her face deep in the pillow. I wrapped both arms around her and squeezed tightly as her body convulsed. Then we lay in each other’s arms, caressing and kissing. That’s the last thing I remember before merciful sleep overtook me.

On to Chapter Twelve!

Note from JetBoy: This story is pure fantasy — not just in its portrayal of mother-daughter sex, but in its depiction of of a severe head injury. In nearly every case, an accident of this severity would have complications and consequences beyond those described here. It’s not meant to be true to life, and should not be interpreted as such. I like to think of it as an erotic fable, one about a disabled girl’s quest for love and happiness.

by Karin Halle

When Jolie was eight years old, she was badly injured in a vehicular accident. Two cars collided; one left the road and crashed into a bus shelter where Jolie was seated. The shelter collapsed, trapping the girl inside. It took three hours for firefighters to extricate her from the debris.

As a result, Jolie was in a medically induced coma for four days. And though most of her physical injuries did gradually heal, she’d sustained a blow to the head that turned out to be a far more serious matter. Once she became conscious, subsequent tests would reveal that her intellectual development had been stunted by the accident. For the remainder of her life, Jolie would possess the mental capacity of a child of eight.

Otherwise, Jolie was a healthy and happy girl. Her mother Dana was the one who was obliged to cope with their new reality. There had been a substantial compensation claim for Jolie’s benefit, and Dana had been entitled to a claim of her own. These ensured that mother and daughter could live comfortably without Dana having to work. This meant that she could educate Jolie herself, rather than send the girl to a special school.

It wasn’t easy, but Dana obtained the materials she needed to teach a child of Jolie’s age, and a year beyond that. She threw herself into the task, and within a month mother and daughter were settled into a regular homeschooling routine. Before her accident, Jolie had been a bright child… and thankfully, she still was, even though she would never develop much further than that.

***

When Jolie was fourteen years old, a new complication arose. One day, Dana was organising some papers when her daughter entered the room, a frown marring her pretty face. She said, “Mummy, I feel funny.”

As all mothers do, Dana asked her child what the trouble was, but Jolie wasn’t able to put the right words to her experience. Again, she said, “It feels funny.”

Patiently putting her papers into two stacks, one for sorted and one for unsorted, Dana asked, “Well, where do you feel funny, pumpkin?”

Jolie told her, “My kitty,” placing a hand between her legs for emphasis.

Dana had known for years that an issue of this type was sure to arise. Her daughter knew where babies came from, and that sex was a pleasurable activity for grownups to enjoy… but Dana hadn’t taken the conversation any further, had never explained to Jolie that she would develop sexual feelings of her own. That, she had decided, can wait until another day.

Apparently, that day had arrived.

She tried to start the discussion with a feeling Jolie could relate to. “You know how when you’re hungry and you have something to eat, you aren’t hungry anymore?”

The girl nodded.

“And when you’re thirsty, you have a drink, and the thirst goes away.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“And if you have an itch, you scratch it, and that usually makes it better.”

Jolie’s expression was somewhat doubtful, as if she suspected that Mummy wasn’t answering her question at all. Dana soldiered on.

“What you’re feeling inside has to do with sex, pumpkin.”

That really perplexed her. “But why, Mummy? Does that mean I’m going to have a baby? Sex makes babies happen, right?”

“No, no,” Dana hastened to say. “Well, it does, but not this time. Don’t forget, sex is for other things besides making babies. It also feels good. Well, people get hungry for that good feeling, and it makes them want to have sex. And now that you’re growing up, you’ll be getting hungry in the same way. That’s what’s happening to you now.”

“And that means… I need to have sex?”

Suddenly Dana felt as if she had two heads, and that they were banging against each other. No matter; she needed to find some way to explain this. “Not exactly. I mean, you may be feeling that hunger… but there are lots of times in life where you just aren’t able to have sex. What if no one else is there? What would you do then?”

Jolie thought about it. “Um, I dunno. What?”

So innocent, Dana thought. “You touch your kitty, and make the good feeling happen for yourself.”

Frowning, Jolie said, “Touch my kitty? Why? The feeling isn’t there, Mummy. It’s inside.”

“Just try it, honey… when you do, you’ll understand.”

“But… how, Mummy?” Jolie was becoming upset. “I don’t know what to do!”

Dana had no idea how to respond. How do I get her to understand this? She couldn’t even think straight – this situation was beyond anything she’d encountered. Can a girl with a mental age of eight be taught to give herself orgasms? What words do you use to convey the idea of sexual release?

Not knowing what else to do, Dana took her daughter’s hand. “Come with me,” she said, then led Jolie to her bedroom, where they sat down together at the foot of the bed.

“Take your shorts and underpants off for me, okay?”

Jolie was still confused, but she did understand that Mommy was doing her best to help. She stood up and slipped out of her shorts, pushing her panties down at the same time. Now nude from the waist down, she stood before her mother.

Taking a deep breath, Dana began. “You remember how I told you about your vagina, right? The inside of your kitty?”

Jolie furrowed her brow. “I – I’m not sure…”

“It’s that opening down there, pumpkin – the hole where you pee from, and where blood comes out when you have your period!”

“Oh, yeah, now I remember!”

“Very good. Well, if you touch down there, I bet you’ll find that you’re wet.”

“I haven’t wet myself, Mummy,” Jolie indignantly replied. “Really, I haven’t!”

But when she actually did touch between her thighs, there was wetness… then she recalled having felt that same wetness in her underpants.

“No, no!” Jolie began to cry. “I’m sorry, Mummy,” she whimpered, lowering her head in shame. She’d peed herself, just like a little kid! “I d-didn’t mean to…”

Dana was becoming frantic. Struggling to maintain her calm, she assured her daughter, “No, no, Jolie. That isn’t what happened. Listen to me.” She took Jolie in her arms, guiding the girl into her lap.

“Pumpkin, you didn’t wet yourself,” she said, resting her hand on Jolie’s tummy. Without giving it too much thought, Dana lightly touched her daughter’s vulva. Sure enough, it was moist. “It’s not wee. It’s… it’s a special liquid that comes from you when that hunger comes. You use it to make yourself feel good when… here, I’ll show you.”

Coating a finger with dew, she slowly ran the tip of it up through the girl’s slit. Jolie immediately stopped sobbing and sat bolt upright. Her eyes slowly drifted shut, and she gave a blissful sigh.

Part of Dana was reminding her that a special place in hell was reserved for mothers who sexually molested their daughters. But another part was saying, Mummies make their daughters’ hurts go away. Your child needs this. It’s compassionate, not sexual.

Dana dipped her finger into Jolie again for more of her honey. It wasn’t really necessary, but for some reason she did it anyway. My God, she really is aroused. Did I get this wet when I was her age? She used her index finger to retrace the path through the cleft of Jolie’s pussy, noting how her daughter shivered deliciously with each stroke.

“See, this is all you have to do. Okay, you try it now.”

Jolie gave her head an emphatic shake. “No, Mummy. You. It feels good. It feels really, really, really good!”

With a silent prayer of God forgive me, Dana began to masturbate her daughter for real. She was no longer simply teaching the girl, but giving her relief.

There was something else, too.

Dana had divorced Jolie’s father when the girl was five, fed up with his numerous infidelities. The split had been an ugly one, leaving her fed up with men in general. After that, she had little interest in getting into another relationship, and then came Jolie’s accident.

From that day on, her time had been consumed with caring for her daughter. The amount of effort required was intense. Dana dedicated herself to looking after her precious Jolie, and chose to do it on her own. The girl’s situation left her unable to interact well with kids her own age – to them she was a child in every way but physically. On the other hand, kids of the same intellectual age were often uncomfortable around a girl who was so much older than they were.

And during all that time, nobody had been there to look after Dana. Except for Jolie, she was on her own at thirty-six. Her parents were both gone; her only sibling was a brother who had succumbed to a heroin overdose. As for Jolie’s father, she wanted nothing more to do with him.

All Dana and Jolie had in this world was each other. And usually, it was all they needed.

Most evenings, Dana simply collapsed into bed after settling Jolie down for the night. Tending to the child wasn’t physically demanding, but the emotional effort was often considerable.

Now, as she masturbated her daughter, Dana tried to recall the last time she’d done that for herself, and realised that she had no idea.

Dana felt an unexpected but incredibly powerful urge. Taking her hand away from Jolie’s sex, she gazed at the half-naked girl, seeing her daughter in a whole new way.

Jolie reacted at once, sitting up. “Aw, Mummy… why’d you stop? Please don’t – touch me more!”

Dana began to open her blouse. “Get undressed, pumpkin. Everything off.”

Jolie had no idea what this new game was, but she was happy to continue. She shrugged out of her t-shirt, then sat down and slipped off her socks. Now she was completely nude.

Her top and jeans now on the floor, Dana took off her bra and panties, then took a moment to appraise the lovely fourteen-year-old in front of her.

It had been a while since she’d last seen Jolie naked, and even then she’d never looked at her like this – as a lovely, desirable young woman.

Her daughter had ripened deliciously. She was tall for her age, with curves that most girls of that age could only wish for. Her breasts were upright and shapely, capped with pert, rosy nipples. She had long, slender legs and a flat belly. Her mound was adorned with a light patch of wheat-hued pubes, sparse enough for the crease of her slit to show.

Why didn’t I notice before? I knew she was pretty as a picture, but somehow she became sexy, too. “Oh, pumpkin… you’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

Jolie blushed, hotly, but was clearly pleased. “You are too, Mummy,” she said, looking Dana up and down.

Dana was still in good shape. She wasn’t carrying much excess weight, her tits were still where they were supposed to be, and her legs were firm and nicely contoured.

Her heart thudded as she studied Jolie’s face, losing herself in the warm brown of those adoring eyes.

All we have in this world is each other, Dana reminded herself. Would it be such an awful thing if I were to make love to her, just this once? After all, I want Jolie’s first orgasm to be one she remembers forever.

She weighed the idea, let it unfold in her mind. Maybe I could pretend she’s my lover for a few minutes – my underage lover. Okay, that’s sort of weird, but also… wilder, more exciting. 

Still gazing at her daughter, Dana made a decision.

“Lie down with your legs spread apart for me,” she said, her voice low and sensual.

Jolie happily obeyed, the girl’s eyes wide open as she watched her mum. She was curious as to what was going to happen, while also hoping for more of those lovely touches.

Dana stretched out next to her daughter. “I think you’re going to like this.” Reaching between Jolie’s legs, she began tracing the vaginal opening, her finger sliding through the girl’s moist labia.

“That’s good, Mummy,” Jolie cooed. “I like it!”

“Oh, my,” Dana said to herself. This was even more of a thrill than she expected. She was breaking the law of motherly conduct in a big way, yet it felt strangely right, somehow. It had been ages since she’d had sex with someone who truly, honestly loved her… and who she adored every bit as much.

Wanting to take Jolie even further, Dana allowed a finger to graze her daughter’s clit. “Oh,” she moaned. “Oh.”

Jolie’s clitoris was tiny – just a button, really. But she certainly responds when you touch it, Dana thought, then realised that she had no real basis for comparison. She’d played kissing games with other girls when she was in high school, but had never experienced lesbian sex. In a way, we’re both virgins, she thought with a smile.

Suddenly she realised that Jolie was bucking up and down on the bed, crying, “Mummy, oh, Mummy! Don’t stop – p-please don’t!”

Centering her attention on the task at hand, Dana carefully toyed with Jolie’s bud. She gave it a gentle flick, and her daughter squealed with delight.

Whatever doubts Dana had about what she was doing had vanished into thin air. Her child was caught up in the purest ecstasy, and she was making it happen. Whether it was right or wrong, Dana’s sole objective was to make Jolie feel good.

By then, her daughter’s labia was flushed a bright pink, her clit was noticeably erect, and a trickle of juice was oozing from her slit.

Jolie gasped. “Ooooh, Mummy, that f-funny feeling, it’s getting big…!”

Dana’s lips were barely touching her child’s ear. “Don’t you worry,” she whispered. “You’ll know all about it in a moment.” As if to fulfil a prophecy, Dana gave the girl’s clit a light pinch.

Jolie’s body began to shudder and she moaned. “It’s… it’s… ohhhhhh!”

As an orgasm ran through Jolie, Dana continued to masturbate her daughter. That climax began to subside, but another one came crashing down, and Jolie screamed.

Dana didn’t want to overdo it on the child’s first sexual experience. Her fourteen-year-old body could surely take it, but she wasn’t as certain about her daughter’s mind. She withdrew her hand, and Jolie went limp.

Even after her rapture had ebbed, Jolie needed a few minutes to recover. Dana held the girl close, gently rocking her to and fro.

Jolie’s eyes fluttered open. “What happened, Mummy? What was that? What did you do to me?’ Her eyes shone with awe.

Placing a kiss on the tip of her daughter’s nose, Dana jokingly said, “I think I made my baby girl feel good. Is that what I did, pumpkin?”

“You did, Mummy! It was… it was the bestest feeling ever!”

“And we can do it again, too. Lots and lots of times!” Dana was astonished to hear those words leave her mouth. Wasn’t this supposed to be a one-time thing? she asked herself.

“I’d like that, Mummy!”

But I don’t want to stop, she answered. It was lovely, the most fulfilling sex I’ve had in ages… and it’s brought me even closer to my daughter. No, I can’t give this up.

Dana gazed into Jolie’s enchanting blue eyes, a question rising to her lips, one she desperately longed to voice. Can I ask this of my own child? she wondered, torn between her conscience and the fierce need that pulsed through her body.

Making a decision, she spoke. “Jolie… do you think, maybe, you could do something like that for me? Make Mummy feel nice?”

Jolie all but sprang into a kneeling position. “I will! I love you soooo much, Mummy. You should get to have the good feeling, too!”

Bringing Jolie’s hand to her lips, Dana kissed it. “Thank you, my love.” She drew the girl’s bare body to hers. “That’s what you are, Jolie. My love. I’d do anything for you.”

“Me too, Mummy!” Jolie exclaimed. “So, um… can I give you the feeling now?”

Dana had to laugh. “Impatient, are we? Fair enough.” Stretching out on her back, she parted her legs, putting her vulva on display.

Nibbling her lower lip, Jolie studied her mother’s sex. “I… I just touch you here, huh?” Her index finger grazed Dana’s labia.

It felt divine. Shouldn’t take much to make me come, Dana thought. I’m at least halfway there. “Just like that, pumpkin.” She felt Jolie caress her open slit. “Oh, yes… that’s very nice.”

Jolie began to masturbate her mummy, the girl’s brow furrowed as she concentrated on the task at hand, determined to do her best. Dana had to ask her daughter a couple of times to be more gentle, but they quickly established a steady rhythm. Jolie didn’t know how to stimulate the clitoris, but that didn’t really matter to Dana – the girl’s finger continued to trace a pathway through her cunt, going a little deeper with every pass, pushing Dana to the brink of a climax she’d needed for years without knowing it.

Dana hadn’t made love since her divorce nearly eight years earlier… and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d pleasured herself. So when Jolie brought her to orgasm, it was like coming home.

In its aftermath, Dana felt herself glowing with pleasure – and love. Hugging her daughter tightly, she found herself crying.

Jolie’s eyes grew wide with concern. “M-Mummy?” she whimpered. Her lower lip began to quiver.

“I’m okay, pumpkin,” Dana hastened to say, taking a steadying breath. The last thing she wanted right then was to make Jolie cry. “These are happy tears, because I – I love you so much.”

Satisfied with the explanation, glad to have made her mother feel good, Jolie was content to nestle in Dana’s arms and have her face showered with kisses,

Without quite understanding why, Jolie felt a sudden urge to kiss her mother. So when Dana’s lips wandered near hers, she puckered up and gave Mummy a firm kiss on the mouth, the way men and ladies did it on TV.

Taken by surprise, Dana was first to break away. She stared at her daughter, whispering, “Oh, baby girl…”

I’m in love with her, she realised. God in heaven, I’m in love with my own child. 

Closing her eyes, Dana gave Jolie a feather-light kiss. Then another… and another.

“That’s nice,” Jolie said. “I like kissing you, Mummy.”

It was an opportunity Dana couldn’t allow to pass. “Do you? Well, then… how would you like to learn how grownups kiss? Then you and I could be lovers.”

Tilting her head, Jolie gave her mum a curious look. “We could? You mean, like you and me are girlfriends?”

Dana’s heart was racing, and she felt tingly and warm all over. “That’s right, pumpkin. If you want, we can be girlfriends.” She chuckled. “I like being lovers even more, though.”

Jolie giggled. “But that’s silly! How can you be my lover and my mum?”

Bending to kiss her daughter’s cheek, Dana nuzzled her way down to Jolie’s neck, touching her lips to the soft skin. “Let me show you how,” she murmured, rolling onto her back, carrying Jolie along so the girl was now on top of her.

“Ooooohh,” Jolie sighed, a shiver racing through her slender frame. “Okay, Mummy.”

Dana placed a line of kisses along the teen’s throat, then up to her chin. From there, it was the briefest of journeys to Jolie’s mouth. “I adore you, my darling child,” Dana whispered. She kissed her again, this time allowing it to linger. After a moment, she parted her lips, teasing her daughter’s mouth with a brief flick of the tongue.

Jolie responded by letting her own lips drift open… and when Dana’s tongue emerged again, the teen met it with hers, as if joining in Mummy’s game. Dana wasn’t sure what the girl’s response signified, but wanted to encourage her, so she engaged Jolie’s tongue in a sort of dance.

Soon her daughter was eagerly participating, and their tongues flickered back and forth. At that point, Dana began to make the kiss deep and sensuous – letting their mouths slide together, gently nibbling at the girl’s lower lip, purring with pleasure. It seemed to work, too. Jolie’s response suggested she understood that this was more than just casual play.

Finally, Dana put her hands to Jolie’s shoulders and pushed upwards, so the teen was looking down at her.

“You like kissing, do you?” she asked. “My baby likes to kiss?”

Too dazed to reply, Jolie stared at Dana, as if waiting for something more.

Dana rolled Jolie onto her back and kissed her again. This was firm and passionate, and her daughter hesitated before joining in – but she did, soon matching her mother’s ardour.

It’s time, Dana told herself.

Scooting down to the end of the bed, she grasped her daughter’s knees and pushed them apart. She glanced up to see Jolie’s face – the girl’s expression was one of eager curiosity, of expectation. Perhaps Jolie didn’t know what her mother was about to do, but she was keen to find out.

Dana studied Jolie’s sex as if for the first time. It was a deep pink, adorned by a sprinkling of soft pubes. The labia were slightly parted, a hint of wetness visible.

Still, Dana hesitated, well aware of never having done anything like this before. It was crossing a dangerous line, she knew that, but it no longer mattered. My poor damaged child… she’s got a mother who adores her, but she deserves more. A lover. Someone to worship her body as well as her soul. Who is society to tell me I can’t give Jolie that?

There and then, she made her decision. Damn whatever the rules say – I was meant for this.

Moving closer, she gave her daughter’s pussy a long, slow lick. She heard Jolie make a squeaking sound of surprise, perhaps even delight, but after that she was so caught up in the act of going down on her daughter that she couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

It wasn’t long before Jolie was coming again, her hands clenched to fists, crying, “Mummy, Mummy, oooohh M-Mummy I love you!”

Dana was giddy with joy, gulping down her daughter’s honey as it flowed from Jolie’s slit, then licking inside for more. Probing further, the tip of her tongue touched the membrane that guarded the girl’s virginity. She pushed against it, but was unable to go any deeper.

Only later would she have misgivings, or even give it much consideration. But at that moment, it seemed the only logical move.

Gazing at her dreamy-eyed girl, Dana crooned, “Do you trust Mummy, pumpkin?”

Jolie was too far gone to do much more than mumble, “Uh-huh.”

Dana reached for a pillow and slipped it beneath Jolie’s pelvis, then gently spread her daughter’s legs apart, feeling a delicious shiver when the vaginal cleft parted ever so slightly, exposing its bright pink interior. Placing her finger at the entrance, Dana slipped it inside, savouring the warmth and wetness of Jolie’s cunt.

When the tip of her finger rested against her daughter’s hymen, Dana took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then spoke. “I’m going to open you up inside, so we can play even more lovely games together. This might hurt, pumpkin… but only for a moment. Okay?”

“Okay, Mummy. I’ll t-try to be brave…”

Dana slipped her finger into the gap where Jolie’s monthly flow could get past, then pushed it inside with a single steady stroke.

“Ooooh!” the girl gasped, more in surprise than pain.

“Are you okay? Did that hurt very much?” A bit late now for that to be a concern, she admonished herself.

“No, Mummy. It wasn’t bad.”

Dana whispered, “Thank God.” She withdrew her finger until only the tip remained, then slid it back inside. Moving very slowly, she began to pump in and out, gradually increasing the pace.

“S-so full, Mummy!” Jolie exclaimed. “I… I like this!”

I’m fucking my daughter, Dana told herself.

A mere day earlier, she would have been horrified by the very thought. Now she was beside herself with happiness, astonished by how utterly right this felt.

Getting an idea, Dana turned herself around, bending over Jolie’s tummy. Now she could pleasure the girl’s cunt with her finger while sucking her clit.

A shivery moan escaped the teen’s lips, and her limbs began to tremble.

In very little time Dana’s efforts were rewarded – her daughter was climaxing again. She took Jolie through the rise and fall of ecstasy, then blessed her with a kiss.

“I adore you, my darling, darling child,” Dana whispered. “Now you’re Mummy’s little lover… and I’m going to make you the happiest girl in the world.”

“Love you, Mummy,“ Jolie sighed, barely able to get the words out before she fell asleep.

Dana lay quietly for a while, gazing at her daughter – her beautiful unique girl, so childlike, so perfect. After a while, she too drifted off.

***

When Dana awakened, there was still a hint of daylight outside – but the light wasn’t what had roused her.

She quickly realised that her legs were apart, and Jolie was lying between them, licking her pussy!

When she saw her mother was awake, Jolie raised her head. With a grin, she said, “You wanted me to do those things to you, Mummy… but I didn’t get to do this yet!”

Falling back on the bed, Dana gave herself over to Jolie’s love. The child was planting little kisses all over her vulva. There was no pattern, no way to guess where the girl’s lips or tongue would touch next – her mound, her clit, the cleft between her labia, the entrance to her cunt, even her perineum.

It was lovely, but too unfocused to get Dana where she needed to be. And by then, her need was acute.

“Lick me, pumpkin,” she gasped. “Like it’s a lollipop!”

Jolie’s kisses turned to licks, and the teen fell into a pattern – her tongue travelled from Dana’s hole through her labia, ending with her clit. Then Jolie licked again.

Without meaning to, Dana exclaimed, “Oh, fuck!”

Jolie’s face popped up. “You shouldn’t say that, Mummy,” she scolded. “That’s a naughty word!”

Dana looked at Jolie, fighting an impulse to laugh. “It’s okay when you’re making love, pumpkin. That’s what the word is for in the first place. You shouldn’t say it at school, or around grownups… but when we’re doing things like this, it’s okay.” Reaching out, she caressed her child’s face. “You say it, pumpkin. Say that word.”

Jolie stared at her mother, not certain what to think. “You want me to say that?”

“Just for me, honey. Please?”

Jolie shrugged, as if to say, These crazy grownups – what’ll they think of next? She whispered the word. “Fuck.”

“That’s it, darling. Say it again!”

She did, louder this time. “Fuck.”

“Again!”

Louder, now with a touch of confidence. “Fuck!”

“See, isn’t that fun?” Dana said. “Sometimes you should enjoy being naughty.”

“I guess.” Jolie decided to try it again. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, then burst into giggles.

“Okay, now let’s try something a bit different. Go back to licking me… but this time, say the word every time you take a lick.”

Jolie mulled the idea over. “And then you’ll get the good feeling again?”

“Oh, yes. I very much will.”

“Cool!” Delving back between her mother’s legs, Jolie took a deep breath. “Fuck,” she announced, then took a lick.

“Oh, God,” Dana moaned. “Oh, yes.”

“Fuck!” This time the teen said the wicked word right into her mum’s kitty, so she could give her a lick straight away.

“Fuck!” Lick.

“Fuck!” Lick.

That was enough to set Dana off. She exploded in an orgasm, one powerful enough to cause her to gush into Jolie’s face.

Oh, hell, she thought, expecting to hear a howl of protest from her daughter. Instead, she got a giggle.

“You wet yourself, Mummy. But it’s not wee, you said so!”

“That’s right, it isn’t,” said Dana. Sitting up, she drew her daughter close, claiming the girl’s mouth in a tender kiss. Jolie responded immediately, her tongue darting between Mummy’s lips, and their kiss went from gentle to passionate.

When they finally drifted apart, the starry-eyed girl whispered, “Am I really your little lover now? And we get to be girlfriends? Really and truly?”

“Yes, Jolie,” Dana murmured. “If that’s what you want… then so do I. More than anything.”

Suddenly animated, Jolie was all but bouncing in her mother’s arms. “I do want, Mummy!” she squealed. “I do!”

Dana touched her lips to the teen’s cheek. “Then that’s how it is, pumpkin. Forever and always.”

“Good,” Jolie cooed, then broke into a huge yawn.

“Oh, my… I know a certain girl who’s having an attack of the snoozies–” Then Dana was yawning herself.

“You too, Mummy!” Jolie gleefully replied. “We both got the snoozies!”

“Well, there’s only one thing to do about that.” Gathering up the scattered bedding as best she could, Dana covered their bodies. “C’mon, pumpkin. You’re staying with me tonight. Let’s get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Jolie nestled into her mother. “Night-night, Mummy. Love you.”

“Love you too, pumpkin.”

As her eyelids grew heavy, Dana was thinking about her special child. So innocent, an angel in the guise of a young girl. She hoped nothing had happened between them to spoil that innocence. Somehow, it seemed unlikely.

Her last thought before drifting off was I’ve got to be the luckiest mum in the world.

On to Part Two!

by Kinkychic

Many thanks to JS contributor BlueJean for editing this story.

***

From late July and right through August, I regularly went picking blackberries for my mother. She made the most gorgeous pies and crumbles with them, along with some added apples, of course. She also made pretty good wine, just as long as I’d picked enough. Most years, I picked anything up to fifty or sixty pounds. We had an extra freezer in the garage just for all the wild fruits I collected. Damsons, elderberries, and sloes added to the selection.

A couple of years back the crop hadn’t been as good as it usually was, so hoping to find a better area, I began to search further afield.

Boudica Way is a thirty-mile-long bridal way dating from the Roman occupation of Britain. A short walk from our house, it trailed through a stretch of woodland where I’d never ventured before. I decided to try my luck there, and very quickly found good clumps of brambles covered with large ripe berries. Even better, nobody else seemed to be picking along here.

I came to a point where a track ran off to the left, and being naturally inquisitive, wondered where it might lead. It wasn’t very far before my way was barred by a high metal gate. A notice hung in the centre: Private Property No Trespassing. Peering through the bars, I caught a glimmer of sun reflecting off water. There must be a lake down there, I thought. The area had many old and abandoned gravel quarries, and I guessed this might be one. The sign was probably only there for safety reasons.

My curiosity got the better of me. On either side of the gate was just dense shrub amongst the trees, and after a quick look and a bit of poking about, I soon found a way around.

The track leading away from the gate was fairly steep heading down, but very soon I saw it did indeed lead to a lake. My jaw dropped when I came through the trees and out into the open. Never had I seen such a stunningly beautiful vista. Thick, lush grass carpeted the landscape, dotted with a smattering of beautiful wild flowers in various colours. The lake in the centre was huge – maybe the equivalent of ten soccer pitches – and framed behind by high excavated cliffs. There were two reed and shrub covered islands towards the middle.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. Did I dare go down and take a look? Yes! So what if I was caught? What could they do to a thirteen-year-old?

I walked to the edge of the lake and found a small jetty with a little rowing boat tied to it. Fish swam about in the crystal clear water, and everywhere I looked there were dozens of ducks, as well as a large family of swans.

Past the lake, I followed the vague outline of a path that ran back towards the treeline, and a short ways in I was surprised to discover a flight of wooden steps that seemingly disappeared up into the trees.

Then I saw the treehouse hidden amongst the higher branches.

Not just any old treehouse, though – this one had a fenced ramp running from the steps that led up to a spacious veranda. The door and windows were all glazed and there were even wooden tiles on the roof.

I stood there peering up, amazed. What was this place? It was surely too big and elaborate to be a child’s treehouse. Did someone live here? Was this some rich family’s summer retreat? The whole place was a hidden paradise.

I resisted the urge to climb up and take a closer look – if it was someone’s home I didn’t want to get in trouble for trespassing.

I wandered off around the other side of the lake instead, and bingo! There on the edge of the trees were plenty of blackberry bushes bearing the biggest berries I’d ever seen. I’d hit the jackpot!

In no time at all I had two buckets so full I was struggling to carry them. It didn’t occur to me until then that I would have to carry the heavy load all the way home, which was at least a couple miles away. Eventually, I did manage it, but my shoulders were awfully sore the next day.

***

I began to visit the island on the lake every few days, and never did I see another soul on those occasions, except the ducks and the swans and the fish. Oh, and the wasps that buzzed around any over-ripe berries in my buckets, but they didn’t bother me much.

It was one particularly hot day out on the lake when I decided to sit and soak in the beauty of my surroundings for a while. I had already picked my berries for the day, so I went and hid my buckets in the shade of a tree, then walked back to where the steps led up to the treehouse. I sat there at the bottom where it was nice and cool, and looked out onto the clear water. An ideal spot to just chill out for a bit.

I was startled awake sometime later by a voice and realised I must have dozed off.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you see the sign? It’s private property, you know. It says so on the gate.”

For a moment, I just stared at the girl who had spoken, rubbing my eyes sleepily and trying to gather my thoughts.

“I didn’t come through the gate,” I told her, then pointed in another direction. “I came in over there.” I no longer entered by the trackway. I’d found a shorter, though steeper route through the trees. I knew about the sign, of course, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know it was private, honestly.”

We sort of stared at each other for a moment, neither of us quite sure what to say next. She was pretty, maybe a year or so older than me, I guessed. What really got me though, were her denim shorts – well, the lack of them, really. They were obviously a size or more too small for her. They had a ragged cut hem, and from where I was sitting I could just see the pink edge of her panties. The front of the shorts were tight and left almost nothing to the imagination. Her legs – oh wow, her legs! – were about half a mile long and utterly gorgeous.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” she said with the hint of a smile on her lips. “Especially where you’re staring.”

I started to get up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm. Er… by being here, I mean.”

“It’s okay. You can stay, I suppose.” She plonked herself down next to me on the step. “You don’t seem to be the vandal type. So how did you find this place?”

I explained to her that I came here sometimes to pick a few berries, and that I liked to sit and watch the ducks. “I’m sorry if I’ve done wrong… but I guess I already said that, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind, but it’s just as well it was me that found you and not my father. He can be very harsh with trespassers, because of the damage they’ve caused in the past.”

Once again I started to say I was sorry, but she interrupted. “Stop apologising – I’ve said it’s okay. What’s your name, anyway?”

I saw her smile and felt myself relax a bit. “I’m called Bee. It’s not my real name, though.”

She giggled. “How lovely! But are you a nice bee or a stingy bee?”

I’d heard all the jokes before, of course, and they usually bored me, but I didn’t seem to mind it from her. I returned her smile. “Me? I’m a friendly bee. I never sting.”

Then she did something strange – well, strange for two teenagers, I suppose – held out her palm for a handshake. “I’m Davina. It’s nice to meet you, Bee – even if you are a trespasser.”

I instantly fell in love with the sound of her tinkling laughter. Not only did it have a musical quality, but it was also incredibly infectious. I couldn’t help but join in.

She told me all about the lake, how it was a long-abandoned gravel quarry. Her father had bought it almost twenty years ago and landscaped the whole place. She took me to a reedy corner and showed me where the ducks nested. Several had eggs in them. The swans nested on the other island, she told me.

I glanced at my watch and realised with some alarm how much time had flown by. “Davina, I really have to go. My mother will be fretting.”

She gave me a little pout of disappointment. “Oh. Perhaps you could come again tomorrow? Maybe around twelve o’clock?”

I heard the hope in her voice. She seemed to really want me to come back. “I’d love to,” I told her. “I can bring some sandwiches and stuff, if you like.”

She clapped her hands together. “Yes! And I’ll bring some drinks.” A flicker of doubt crossed her face and she reached out to touch my hand. “Promise you’ll come, Bee?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”

I went to find my buckets. When I turned back, Davina was still there on the steps of the treehouse. She raised a hand to wave and then I made my way into the trees.

***

It was the school holidays, so Davina and I met every day at the same time. In only a few days, we became firm friends, and I was no longer a trespasser but a bonafide guest.

On every visit she wore the same style shorts as she had on our first meeting, and I was finding it very hard not to stare at her crotch when she sat on the grass in front of me. I’d known for over a year that I was only into girls, but Davina never gave any hint that she might be open to the same way of thinking. I was scared to spoil our friendship, so I resolved to behave myself. I just loved her company, and that would have to do.

It had been a month since our first meeting when Davina asked me, “Bee, would you like to see the island? Not the one with the swans – they can get a bit spiky when you go near their nests – but we can go to the other one.”

I told her I’d like to, and soon we’d collected a pair of oars from the boat shed and were making our way down to the little jetty.

“Have you ever rowed a boat before?” Davina asked me.

I hadn’t, and didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of my new friend. “No. I’d prefer to just watch, if you can manage on your own. Maybe I can have a go coming back.”

I soon discovered that sitting in front of a girl wearing small, tight shorts while she rows a boat is quite the eye-opener. The gentle undulation of Davina’s pussy lips through the thin material as she went back and forth with the oars was making me tingle quite badly between my legs. By the time we reached the island I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“You’d best take your shoes off,” Davina said as the boat came to a stop. “We’re going to get wet feet here.”

Carefully we climbed ashore, and took the rope with us to tie the boat up safely. Everywhere seemed squidgy and wet underfoot until I followed her to the centre of the island where the ground was firmer.

Now we were in our own little sanctuary, the surrounding bushes hiding us completely from the outside world. We lay down in the soft, dry grass, the sound of ducks and other birds creating a sweet symphony in this slice of paradise.

Davina was still a little out of breath from her rowing, and I found myself staring again, this time at the rise and fall of her breasts, which were a fair bit larger than mine.

She suddenly got to her feet and my eyes followed her as she plucked a wildflower from the ground, then sat back down, closer to me now. I was surprised when she reached out and tucked it into my hair. “There – a beautiful flower for a beautiful girl.”

I felt the heat of a blush on my face. She laughed her wonderful laugh. “Bee, don’t say you’ve gone shy on me. I’ve noticed you don’t seem shy when I catch you looking.”

I startled at her words, then felt even more warmth infuse my cheeks.

“Oh yes, I’ve seen how you look at me,” Davina continued. “At first, I was a bit cross with you. I thought about ending our friendship, you know. After a while though, I realised that I was waiting for you to look, and then wanting you to look. Then today, in the boat, I saw you getting all hot, and I really liked what I was doing to you.” She blew out a breath of air. “There. I’ve said it.”

She stretched a knee back towards her head in a kind of yoga move, and when I turned to look at her – still trying to take in her words – her thigh was a few inches from my face.

If I still had any reservations, they now evaporated. I craned my neck slightly until my lips made contact with her knee. I let them linger there while my eyes locked on hers. For a long moment she lay there, simply looking. Then her fingers touched my cheek. “Bee…”

I sat up and leaned towards her. I saw both the wanting and the uncertainty in her eyes. “Davina, I’m going to kiss you. Please let me, don’t be scared.” Then my lips came to hers, gentle and loving.

Very slowly, she accepted my kiss. I felt her tremble beneath me, then she was kissing me back. I applied a little more pressure and she in turn pressed harder into me. My hand trailed to the nape of her neck, pulling her tighter against me. When the kiss became more urgent, I realised how much longing I’d built up for this beautiful girl. I hadn’t expected it to come to anything, but now, finally, she was in my arms.

But I felt her suddenly tense and pull away. I let her go, and she sat staring at the ground.

“Bee… I can’t. I’m too nervous. I think we should go.”

I put my arm back around her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry, I went too fast. I know you’re new to this, but I love you. I don’t want us to leave things like this.”

Her eyes met mine. “You love me? You really love me? But we’re both…” Her voice trailed off.

“Girls? So? And yes – I really do love you.”

Some of the tension seemed to drain out of her. “I guess you’ve done this before, but I haven’t. I know I started it – I egged you on, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

I gently touched her arm. “Let’s just lay here a while. We can still be friends.”

She settled back into the grass alongside me, her shoulder just barely brushing against mine. We lay there like that for what seemed an age, not a word spoken by either of us.

Then I felt her fingers slowly hook into my own. I squeezed gently, mindful not to scare her again.

Still we said nothing, until eventually I heard her whisper, “You can kiss me again if you want. I don’t mind.”

I propped myself up on an elbow and leaned into her. “Are you sure? You can tell me to stop if you don’t like it, I won’t be upset.”

Davina smiled at me and murmured, “Kiss me, then.”

“I will. I want to so much.”

My finger traced her lips, back and then forth. She pursed them, kissing my fingertip tentatively. “Go slowly with me, please.”

I brought my lips softly to hers in the faintest hint of a kiss. “Close your eyes,” I whispered, then kissed her eyelids with another gentle caress, before peppering more upon her nose and across her cheeks.

Turning on my side, I gently pulled her towards me. We gazed into each other’s eyes. “I love you, Davina.” When I touched my lips to hers once again, she returned the kiss.

I brushed my fingers across her chin, lightly teasing the soft skin there, then trailing round to explore her ears and the nape of her neck. When my hand returned, I left it poised at the open neck of her top.

When Davina’s arm dropped across my back, I realised my t-shirt had ridden up and her hand had settled on my bare skin. For a second I thought she would pull it away, but her warm fingers remained where they were.

Pressing the kiss the merest fraction more, I felt her fingers move across my back, up beneath my t-shirt, a tentative exploration.

I fiddled with her top button, not really trying to undo it, just making her aware of what I wanted. Her hand had reached the nape of my neck, forcing my t-shirt even further up. I took that as a sign that she wanted me to go further.

I hooked the first button of her top through its eye, then rested my palm upon her upper chest, just above the swell of her breasts. Davina made no response, but our kiss seemed to intensify. My fingers slowly spread out across her skin until I found the top of her bra. Now I traced a fingertip along the edge and up the other side, then back towards the centre. I felt the fingers of her other hand touch my thigh, then settle there.

Her second button slipped easily through its hole. I seized the moment, lowering my hand until it rested upon the rise of a breast. My lips parted and I allowed my tongue to trace hers. Gently, ever so gently, I squeezed her breast, and was relieved to feel fingers dig a little harder into my neck and a hand close in on my thigh.

I hooked a finger beneath the thin strap of Davina’s bra and eased it slowly from a shoulder, then let it slip down her arm. My hand edged back, pushing the material away, and then I had a soft, bare breast in the palm of my hand. I sensed, rather than heard, a low moan from deep in her throat, so I pressed a little more firmly.

Now I could feel the nipple stiffen beneath my fingers. When I broke our kiss, her eyes fluttered open and regarded me with a lusty curiosity.

“I love you,” I told her again.

She smiled and pulled my head down alongside hers, so I nuzzled her ear with wet little kisses.

“Bee,” she whispered. “I… I’m all right now. Please… love me.”

She groaned aloud when I took a nipple between my fingers and rolled it back and forth. My mouth plied little kisses down her neck, into the dip of her throat, then over the swell of her breasts. I reached a nipple and flicked it with my tongue before closing my lips and taking it into my mouth.

The fingers on my thigh gripped harder. I lifted my leg and slid it over hers, pulling her closer, her hand caught between us. I wondered if she could feel the heat of my pussy on her skin.

Her nipple was fully stiff now as I suckled it, and I could feel her breathing increase in tempo. I undid the rest of the buttons on her top until I could push it open. My hand slipped behind to unclasp her bra, then went back to her top to try and ease a sleeve down. She understood my intention and her arm came out from under my t-shirt. Her sleeve pulled free, and the garment dropped behind her on the grass.

Davina was pulling at the front of my t-shirt. I lifted my head from a breast and let her drag the top over my head. I was about to bend back down but she held me there, peering at my budding titties.

“Beautiful… Oh, Bee, you’re so beautiful.”

I watched as she edged closer to plant soft kisses upon my nipples, first one, then the other. She leaned back, and a hand found me, fingers brushing to and fro. “So stiff…” she murmured.

My own hand was trailing across her tummy. I reached the top of her shorts, but knew I’d struggle to get inside – they were far too tight. Instead, I ran my hand over them, brushing lightly across the material. I could feel the curve of her lips, and pushed a little harder. Her body responded with a small tremor and a sharp intake of breath.

I rubbed up and down the cleft through her shorts while our mouths met in another kiss. Her other hand settled between my legs, her thumb pressing against my pussy. As much as I hoped for it, though, she didn’t move her hand at all. I think she may have been fully focused on what I was doing to her.

I sensed Davina’s passion rising, and knew that just rubbing through her shorts wasn’t going to be enough. I took hold of the fastener and tried to undo it, but it was far too stiff and I couldn’t manage with one hand. Then her fingers were on mine, and between the two of us we managed to push it open. I pulled the zipper down and eased my hand inside her panties.

Her shorts were very tight, but eventually I felt her pussy lips beneath my touch. She gasped as I pressed into her, my fingers barely able to move. I slid them up a little until I found her clit. Her body instantly tightened, and when she held her breath I knew she was close to coming.

I’d barely noticed how or when she’d managed to get inside the leg of my shorts until I suddenly felt her touch my pussy lips. I ground my hips down and forced her hand between them. Then I was rocking back and forth, massaging my clit on her fingers.

I felt the tremors thrum through her body as she clawed at my neck and shook her head from side to side, breaking our kiss. “B-Beeeee!”

I wanted to come too, but Davina was too far gone to be aware of my needs at that moment. I humped her fingers, rocking my hips faster and faster. I had enough sense left to remind myself not to pee, as I often do when I come – it would most likely shock her, besides making a mess of both our shorts.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as I strove for a climax, vaguely aware that Davina’s fingers were now between my pussy lips. I just knew they were something to use. I pumped myself up and down, fucking her hand as hard as I could.

I could hear Davina speaking to me from far away. “Are you going to orgasm, Bee? Please… do it for me.”

I arched my back, going rigid as I dug my toes into the soft, cool grass. She was trying to help, her fingers moving against me, and all at once I could feel the pee coming.

I rolled back, pulling Davina with me, her hand still grinding against my pussy. I wished she’d touch my clit, but it was too late – I was coming anyway. The tremors rocked me and I felt the familiar hot jet inside my shorts.

Slowly I came back to myself. God, how I had needed that.

I opened my eyes when her lips touched mine in a soft caress. She was peering at me, and all I saw there was love. No shock, no regret – just love. She brought her head down alongside mine and kissed my neck. Her fingers were still inside me.

I heard her giggle and asked, “What’s funny?”

“I never believed I’d have my hand on a girl’s pussy. Now I don’t want to take it away.” She laughed again. “Did you know you’re soaking wet? I think you peed yourself.”

I felt myself blush a little. “Sorry, I do that sometimes when I come. I tried to control it, but… well, it just happens.”

Davina seemed amazed. “I made you come? I thought maybe I had but I wasn’t sure.” She paused for a moment before continuing with a smile, “I did make you come, didn’t l? Oh my God, it was so wonderful. Thank you, Bee.” Then she leaned in to kiss me again.

When she sat up, her breasts were free and bare, but she didn’t seem shy at all. She glanced down at my shorts, then her own. “Do you think we should take them off to dry them out?”

One of my dreams had come true today – I’d made this beautiful girl come. Now I’d get another: to see her naked. I lifted my hips to push my shorts down, but she stopped me.

“Let me.”

She gave them a tug, slipping the damp material down my legs and pulling them away to hang across a bush. When she peered back at me, her gaze travelled down to my panties. It was hard not to notice the gleam in her eyes. Her fingers hooked into the elastic and drew them down, the faintest hint of a grin teasing the corners of her mouth. She paused briefly when my pussy first came into view, her eyes flashing, then continued to tug them down.

When she looked up and saw that I was watching, her cheeks filled with colour. She turned away to hang my panties alongside my shorts.

“Now yours,” I said, reaching for her. She grabbed my hands, and I thought she was going to stop me, but when her hips lifted she helped me wiggle her shorts down. As small and tight as they were, her panties came down with them.

I threw Davina’s shorts aside without thinking, instead of hanging them out to dry, but on an impulse I brought her panties to my face. She put a hand to her mouth in shock as I breathed in deeply, taking in her wonderful aroma. I giggled and threw them back at her. She went to catch them but they landed on her head. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she bunched them up in her hands and then dropped them on the grass.

“I think you’re a perv,” she laughed.

My eyes took in her naked beauty. God, she was divine – everything I could have wished for. I was already moving down between her legs as I replied, “You better believe it.”

Then my mouth was upon her lovely pussy lips.

Davina gave a little squeal of surprise, but made no attempt to stop me. “Bee! What’re you…” Then my tongue found her clit. “Oh! Oh my God!”

I gave her little nub a long, slow lick. Her legs opened wider and she pulled her feet up towards her body, leaving me framed between her knees.

After licking her pussy for a while I sat back on my haunches. “Well? Is it good?”

“Do it again…” she said in a hushed tone, then pulled my head back between her legs.

I didn’t need telling twice. But first I wanted to see inside those lovely little lips. My fingers spread her open. Her pee hole peeped out at me and the flesh deeper into her vagina glistened with sticky dew. I slipped two fingers through her folds, then slowly eased them inside.

Now that there were no tight shorts to hinder my exploration, I settled into a nice slow fuck. Davina gave a brief jolt when I returned my mouth to her clit, but I sucked more gently this time, aware of how sensitive she’d be after coming. She peered down at me, her top lip curled in a little snarl. I heard her swear for the first time. “Fuck, that’s good…”

I gathered up one of her legs with my free hand and brought it to rest across my shoulder. She did the same with her other leg. Any inhibitions she might’ve had were now long gone – she’d given herself to me completely.

I had access to her beautiful arse now, but had to remind myself to go cautiously. I couldn’t resist touching her there, though, and allowed my hand to trail its way across her thigh until I was cupping a cheek. I kneaded her there a while, inching slowly towards the centre where I briefly let my thumb graze her hole. She tensed at the contact, but I’d already moved on.

Davina’s body seemed to be coiling tighter, her passion rising, so I fucked her pussy a little faster, probing different points to see where I might get a reaction. Her vaginal walls clamped down over my fingers, and I knew I’d found a particularly sensitive spot. Her hips thrust forwards, urging me on as I tickled her there.

The trembling throughout her body was a clear sign that she was ready to come again. I trailed a finger through the crack of her arse, then spun the tip in little circles over the rosebud, all the while still fucking her pussy.

Her thighs gripped my neck tightly, and I could feel the spasm of her pussy clutching and releasing, clutching; releasing. When she let out a long, low moan of desperate pleasure, it was clear she was in the throes of climax, so I slipped a finger into her arse, knowing she was in no state to protest, even if she’d wanted to. I took her clit into my mouth and sucked hard until she lost control, wailing incoherently. Somehow I managed to keep hold of her as she thrashed against me, driving her orgasm on and on.

There was one last surge before she collapsed, spent, lying limp beneath me. I was worn out too, my energy sapped by Davina’s violent struggles. I lay my head upon her tummy, my finger still buried inside her pussy.

I could feel her stroking my hair. “Bee, come here. Let me hold you,” she murmured.

I slipped out of her, then crawled up into her waiting arms. They wrapped around me and pulled me close, and then we were lying quietly together – the silence of lovers wholly content in their embrace.

Finally, she spoke. “Bee, I never knew… So beautiful. I’m so happy.”

“I know, my love.” I kissed her softly, then sat up. “We ought to go, it’s getting late.”

“But I want to try and love you, just like you did to me. Let’s stay a while longer.”

“We have tomorrow,” I told her with a smile. “Tomorrow you can love me. Let’s go.”

I managed to row the boat back across the lake (not too badly for my first time, I didn’t think), and this time it was Davina’s turn to stare, even though my shorts weren’t quite as revealing as hers.

“I think you’re a bad influence on me,” she told me with a little smirk. “I never would’ve imagined wanting to look between another girl’s legs before you came along.”

A short while later we were lingering on the path to Davina’s treehouse, clinging together in a passionate kiss. Finally we parted, said our goodbyes, then headed our separate ways.

“Davina!” I called after her. “Will you wear a dress or a skirt for me tomorrow?”

She laughed at that, then gave me a wave before disappearing from sight.

Tomorrow seems such a long way off, I thought as I made my way home. I smiled to myself as I remembered the first time I’d discovered this secret place. I came to look for berries, but found a mysterious treehouse and a beautiful girlfriend as well.

Thank God for blackberries!

The End

by Rachael Yukey

“Which way?” said Terry, easing the ambulance towards the boat landing exit.

“Take a right on Pine Point,” I said. “It’ll run straight into County Two, then you’ll go left. If I’m right about where we’re going, it’ll be maybe a quarter mile from there.”

“Thanks for not telling Jeff the whole story,” said Terry. “I didn’t want to reach the point of being asked where we’re getting our information. Until we manage to sort out the good guys from the bad guys, I don’t want to get within shouting distance of Halee’s name being brought into this.”

“For what it’s worth, I was thinking the same thing,” I told him.

Terry smiled, shaking his head. “You know, the extent to which we’re on the same page in most situations, without even having to discuss it, is pretty amazing.”

As he signaled left onto County Road Two, a stretch of gravel wider and in better repair than Pine Point Road, I regarded him bitterly.

“Except when it comes to us, right?” I said. Instantly I regretted letting that slip out. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted with Terry, but it seemed at this point we were struggling to even maintain a friendship. And that wasn’t exactly his fault, was it?

Terry shrugged. “Maybe. I’m going to throw out there that you seem extraordinarily allergic to letting anyone get too close, and I am damned if I’m going to chase you down every time you freak out and pull a runner.”

I felt tears sting the back of my eyelids. Hurt and angry, I indicated an upcoming mailbox. “There’s the address George gave us,” I said stiffly. “The field approach should be just past it.”

Terry eased off the gas, letting the rig coast down. He cut hard left so the ambulance was blocking most of the road, then backed into the approach, leaving plenty of room on the right for a second ambulance.

“Any idea where this road George was talking about might be?” he said.

I pointed towards a steep incline in the direction we’d been going.

“There’s what’s left of an old road, with a padlocked chain across the entrance, at the top of that hill,” I said. “Once everything greens up this summer, you won’t even notice it’s there when you’re driving by. I’m not sure, but I think that’s it.”

We fell silent for a few minutes.

“You’re not always so easy to get along with yourself, you know,” I said at last.

The corners of Terry’s mouth quirked upwards. “Think so?”

“It’s impossible to get you to be serious for five minutes,” I said. “And no matter where you are or who you’re with, you always think you’re King Shit of Turd Mountain. I think what worries me the most about you becoming ambulance director is that your head will get even bigger than it already is.”

Terry snorted. “My dear, you needn’t worry. Should it swell any larger, I won’t be able to enter my house.” Then he sobered. “Has it occurred to you that maybe we’re a lost cause? Your refusal to face your demons irritates me, and my narcissistic tendencies annoy you. The combination seems to mostly create friction.”

Before I could formulate a reply, the second ambulance arrived. Nate Hauss was driving, with Scott O’Brien in the shotgun seat. Scott was 25, a gangly man with straw-colored hair that he kept slicked back in a 50s-style duck’s ass cut. He’d attended EMT class with Terry.

“We brought extra hands,” Nate informed us through open windows, after he had backed his rig in next to ours. “Stacy and Jessie are in the back. I figured if it was big enough they wanted two trucks, we might need ’em. Does anyone know what the hell’s going on?”

“Just be ready for anything,” I said.

“Good thinking on bringing extras,” Terry called out.

It was only moments later that a procession of vehicles rounded the bend and came into view. Three police cars, various fire/rescue vehicles including the raggedy old rescue squad ambulance, and half a dozen ATVs. They rolled past us, some of them waving, and ascended the hill that I’d pointed out to Terry.

Spreading out along the edge of the gravel towards the top of the hill, they hastened to get organized. A firefighter carrying a heavy set of boltcutters stepped into the woods, then reappeared a moment later. The big yellow 4×4 Fire Department pickup eased itself into the pine. A firefighter was driving, George Fronse was in the shotgun seat, and two of the deputies were standing in the bed, clinging to the lightbar bolted across the top of the cab. The ATVs followed.

After five minutes that felt more like five years, Fronse’s voice crackled across the airwaves.  “Chief One to all units. Smaller vehicles can follow. It’s rough, so exercise caution, but there’s nothing any of you shouldn’t be able to penetrate. We have the auction pit in sight, and are awaiting the remaining officers before entering the valley.”

A flurry of acknowledgements came in, and one of the Sheriff’s Department cruisers disappeared into the trees, followed by a few other cars and smaller vehicles. The rescue squad ambulance remained parked by the side of the road at the top of the hill.

“Riddle me this,” said Terry, breaking through the tense silence that had fallen between the two of us as we listened to the radio chatter and waited. “Why don’t they replace that old beast with a Suburban or something? Rescue isn’t licensed to transport anyway, so all they need is a vehicle to carry medical supplies. An SUV would go a lot more places than an ambulance will.”

“Some rescue squads have gone over to SUVs,” I said. “Just none of the ones that overlap Bronning’s service area. I don’t see rescue here in town spending that kind of money anytime real soon. They just don’t roll all that often, because we have the EMS service right here.”

Terry pursed his lips and nodded. “Fair point,” he acknowledged.

“Chief One to 304,” George Fronse’s voice crackled on the radio, hailing one of the deputies.

“This is 304,” came the response.

“We’re in sight of the building. The front door is unbarred, and there’s been a lot of foot traffic through here. I’m also seeing what looks like an ATV trail going back into the woods. Someone’s been using this place for something. Is the pit area secured?”

“Copy, we’re secure back here.”

“Chief One to Bronning Medic.”

That meant me. I represented the highest available level of care, and that left me in charge of the EMS team.

“This is Rig Two,” I said into the mic.

“You can move in. The ambulances should make it down the hill all right. Your cold zone is the auction pit. Prep your triage there, and do not proceed beyond that point.”

“Rig Two to Rig One,” I said into the mic as Terry pulled forward onto the gravel, “did you copy that?”

“We copy,” said Nate.

At the crest of the hill, the old road became visible. The foliage was beaten down, crushed by the small parade of vehicles that had passed. Terry eased gently into it, immediately finding himself on a downslope, and doing his best to remain on the existing tire tracks. In the side-view mirror I could see the second truck following at a careful distance, the rescue squad rig bringing up the rear.

The road wound its way deeper into the morass of trees. It was rough, but not rutted or dangerously sloped. It took a full five minutes before the trees began to clear, and up ahead we could see the overgrown, weed-choked remains of an auction pit half the size of a football field. The cattle stand at one end had collapsed in on itself, but the auctioneer’s box still stood. Rusty steel bleachers surrounded the pit on three sides. The two deputies who had brought the cruiser in were waving us around to an opening through which we drove the ambulances into the center of the circle. Perhaps fifty yards beyond the far set of bleachers, a red-brick building stood, with the various rescue vehicles spread out before it.

Terry drove through the pit opening and brought the rig around in a wide arc, coming to a stop facing the exit. Nate did the same, and the rescue ambulance came in last. I recognized the driver of the rescue rig as Brenda Smith. A burley, short-tempered woman with tattooed arms and short hair dyed jet-black, Brenda is the only female on the Bronning fire squad.

As we all got out of our rigs, an ATV approached with a firefighter driving. Brian Severson. “Fronse sent me over here because I’m an EMR,” he said. “Brenda is, too. He said we should do whatever you guys tell us to.”

“All right,” I said, as my temporary command formed a circle with me as the focal point. “I don’t know what we’re going to be dealing with here, and if we’re lucky it’ll turn out to be nothing. I will tell you that we think it might be related to the rash of odd overdose cases we’ve had lately. If you see any of the hallmark symptoms, I’ll be calling on all of you to give the patients your best supportive care until I can get to them, because any effective interventions are outside your scope. If there’s just too many, we’ll get intercepts coming and hit the road. The first truck to go will roll for Melville, but if they don’t have ALS rigs left to intercept with you, choose the next closest facility that still does.”

I thought fast for a moment, trying to anticipate all possible contingencies. I was grateful for the fifty-five degree weather. It wasn’t exactly balmy, but it was warm enough that I wouldn’t have to worry too much about exposure.

“We also need to keep in mind that we have an unknown situation developing ahead,” I went on. “Brian, am I correct in assuming that the Chief is going to have fire hang back while PD secures the building?”

“That’s right,” said Brian.

“We have no idea what they’ll be walking into,” I said, “and we may end up with traumatic injuries to deal with. If there’s more than a handful, we’ll have to set up triage.”

I glanced around the little group, wondering who to choose for this most painful of tasks. The answer, when I arrived at it, was obvious.

“If it comes to that,” I said, “Terry is triage officer.”

“Why him?” said Nate. He looked Terry in the eye. “No disrespect, but those are our families sticking their necks out over there. Not yours.”

Terry started to say something, but I cut him off. “That’s why I picked him,” I said, deliberately putting an edge into my voice. “Do you really want to look at people you’ve known your whole life and decide who we’re not going to treat, Nate? I’m probably the only person here who’s ever had to do triage, and it’s bad enough when it isn’t people you know. Terry’s got the job, and that’s final.”

Nate’s jaw hardened, but he held his peace.

“Terry,” I said, “if it turns out there’s more patients than we can handle, I’m also going to have you serve as transport officer… it goes hand in hand with triage. You’ll get in touch with the hospitals and EMS services, determine who has how many trucks and ED beds, and decide which trucks go to which facilities. Also keep in mind the location of definitive care. For example, if we have a burn victim, you’ll want to get them moving south, because that’s the direction of the nearest burn center. Probably to Johnstown for stabilization, and then they’d transfer from there. Also keep helicopters in mind as an option, but it looks like we have some rain coming in, so they might no-go.”

Terry nodded. “Got it.”

“Brenda,” I said, turning my attention to the firefighter, “does the rescue rig still have that old manual cot in it?”

“It’s there,” said Brenda, “but it doesn’t work. The legs won’t extend.”

“Who cares? Make sure it’s clear, and the bench seat too. We can at least lay a couple of patients in there and have heat blowing on them.”

What I didn’t say was that if there were too many patients and it came to it, I’d put one of the EMTs in the back of that truck with an EMR driver, send it on its way to the hospital, and deal with any repercussions later.

“One last thing,” I said. “If shit does get real, remember where your place is. No matter what’s happening out there, we stay here. Patients get brought to us; we do not go to them. If any one of you gets hurt, that both costs us a provider and gives us an extra patient. We stay put no matter what. If the cops tell us to retreat, we leave, no questions asked.”

I looked around the group. Their faces were mostly scared and pale. Even for the more seasoned EMTs like Nate, this sort of situation was miles beyond the experience of a small-town volunteer.

I forced a smile. “Of course,” I added, “more than likely there’ll be a minor dustup, nobody will get hurt, and I’ll buy everybody a drink this evening. You can all have a good laugh at my expense. Now if there are no questions, get your rigs set up. Have airway adjuncts out and on the bench, and make sure your trauma supplies are easily accessible. Terry, you’ll want to go through your triage kit. Let’s go.”

I rapidly handed out truck assignments, and everybody split off towards their respective rigs. Nate caught my arm. “Look,” he said in hushed tones, “about Wilder being both triage and transport officer…”

“No arguments, Nate,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m sorry you’re not happy, but…”

“It’s not for the reason you think,” said Nate. “I’ve got my problems with Terry, but that’s not what this is about. The thing is, he’s the best EMT out here, except maybe for me. Making him transport officer basically means he’s not doing patient care, and if this gets bad we’re going to need him.”

“All the on-scene care will be for nothing if we don’t get people where they can be helped,” I said. “I don’t trust Stacy, Jessie, or Scott to keep it all straight. It’s Terry or you. You’re both good EMTs, but you’ve got experience on him. That might just make a difference in keeping people alive, so I want you on patient care no matter what.”

Nate thought about that for a moment, gave me a respectful nod, and trotted off for his rig.

Minutes later we were huddled in our ambulances, waiting and listening to the radio chatter as the cops closed in on the old building. The police had been joined by Fronse’s one underling on the Bronning force, a part-time cop named Wes Hamilton. Wes had been in Melville when George got in touch with him, and drove back as fast as his Chevy Malibu could be pushed.

Nate and Brian had wanted to be outside, where they could at least try to see what was happening, but I nixed the idea. It was safer in the ambulances, and I didn’t want them already chilled if they ended up having to do any patient care outdoors.

I’d split my forces into three crews. The rescue ambulance had Brian Severson and Scott O’Brian; an EMR and an EMT. The lowest-acuity patients would go there. If the rig ended up having to transport, there would be an EMT to take the back, and an EMR to drive. Rig One would consist of Nate Hauss, Terry Wilder, and Brenda Smith. With Brenda driving that put the two best EMTs in the back, making for the most effective possible BLS truck if there were more high-acuity patients than I could handle. Rig Two would be Stacy Logan, Jessie Kramer and me. Jessie was inexperienced, and Stacy was, as Terry had once memorably proclaimed, a twit… but either of them would make an acceptable assistant for me while the other drove.

I could see Terry in the shotgun seat of the other ambulance, talking into his phone. I guessed he was preemptively checking status with emergency departments and EMS services, and possibly flight. Smart lad.

PD was in the building now. They reported that the place had been cleaned, tables had been set up, and there was portable light and heat equipment in several rooms. But nobody was there. The quiet radio chatter as they cleared one room after another did nothing for my nerves.

Suddenly Wes Hamilton’s voice crackled through on the radio, low and tense. “Bronning PD Two to Chief One.”

“Go for Chief.” George.

“We’ve got seven kids in here, boss. Last room at the end of the east hallway. Teenagers; three girls and four boys. They’re tied up, hands and feet both, and they’re not very responsive. I think they’re all breathing, but there’s something wrong with them. We’ve gotta get ‘em out of here.”

I tensed. Sitting next to me in the shotgun seat, Stacy Logan bit her lip. I could hear Jessie shifting around in the back.

The radio crackled. “Anything else in the room?” George wanted to know.

“Affirmative. There’s some crates stacked against the wall, a big pile of something under a tarp, and a bunch of different colored pressure cylinders. What about the kids, Chief?”

“We’re on it,” said Fronse. “We just cleared the last room on the ground floor. I’m posting a guard at the basement stairway, and we’ll get the kids out before we go down there. Fire, please bring the pickup and the Rangers to the main door. We’ll lay as many in the back of the pickup as we can fit, put the rest in the Rangers, and haul them over to the EMS cold zone. Come in with soft cots, backboards, and plenty of bodies. Let’s not drop these kids getting them outside.”

I picked up the mic. “Medic to Chief One.”

“Go for Chief.”

“Let’s make sure everyone is keeping an eye on the kids‘ airways. If somebody doesn’t look like they’re breathing well, try repositioning. Make sure the airways are clear. If you can, transport them lying on their sides. If you’re not sure if someone is breathing, check for a carotid pulse.”

“Copy that,” said Fronse. “Folks, you heard the lady. Let’s get everybody out of there alive. Fire, go ahead and move in.”

Terry’s voice issued forth from the radio. “Bronning ambulance to Franklin County.”

“Go ahead, Bronning.”

“We are about to receive seven high-acuity patients; teenagers with an altered level of consciousness. Cause unknown at this time, but we only have one ALS crew. I need five ALS ambulances paged; two from Johnstown, and one each from Jordan, Melville and Perry. Some will be intercepting, and some might have to come all the way to the scene. Can you give me a separate county channel to coordinate with them on?”

“Copy that, Bronning. Take FC4 to coordinate with ALS crews. Did you want us to check the status of flight?”

“Negative; I’ve already checked,” said Terry. “Both Lifelink and North are a no-go for weather.”

“Copy that, Bronning.”

As I listened to the flurry of ambulances being paged out to our location, I couldn’t help but be impressed by how well Terry had the transport situation under control. He really would make a great director.

“Bronning ambulance Rig One to Rig Two,” said Terry.

“Go for Rig Two,” I replied.

“Can you handle two patients if it turns out to be the recent overdose symptoms?”

“Affirmative.”

“Are we considering the Rescue rig as a transporting unit if push comes to shove?”

You read my mind. “Affirmative. They have a licensed EMT in the back; that’ll have to be good enough.”

“Copy that,” said Terry. “You’ll roll for Melville with two. I’m having the rig from Melville come all the way to the scene because their travel time is a little less than the others, and Rig One will roll with one patient towards Johnstown for an intercept with Thormleton. I’m reserving options on the Rescue rig and remaining ALS rigs until we get a look at the patients. I’m thinking I should remain on scene and direct traffic.”

“Copy,” I said. “Remain on scene. You’re doing great, Terry–”

A tremendous thunderclap rang out through the valley. Even in the vehicles, we felt the vibrations as the ground shook. Jessie let out a small yelp from the back, and Stacy’s eyes went wide.

“What the hell?” she said.

“Chief One to all units still inside the building, say your status!” Fronse’s voice barked out over the radio.

“Chief, this is PD Two,” a choked, gasping voice came back. “We have casualties in here. D-don’t know how bad. There’s a lot of smoke and dust, and I can’t see much. I – I’m hurt, Chief, can’t move my leg…”

“We’ll have people coming in for you,” said Fronse. “Anybody inside who can walk, get out of there now! We’ll send fresh teams in to extract the wounded. Chief One to Bronning Medic, we’ve had an explosion in the building. Four of the kids were still inside, along with two officers and eight firefighters. The kids we extracted appear to be coming around, so we’re going to wait until we have more people out to send them your way. Stand by.”

“We copy, Chief,” I said. “Standing by.” I switched channels on my portable. “Bronning Medic to EMS team.”

“Rig One,” Nate responded.

“Rescue,” said Scott.

“Sounds like we’ve got some trauma coming our way. As they show up, the triage officer will evaluate them before they’re unloaded from whatever they’re being transported in. His decisions on treatment priority are final. Everybody stay in your rigs until the first casualties arrive. Any last-minute questions?”

“Rig One copies, no questions,” said Nate.

“Rescue, no questions.”

I worked to keep my outward demeanor calm, and I think I was successful, but my guts were in knots. My father was amongst the firefighters who had approached the building.

We didn’t have long to wait. Barely a few minutes went by before the yellow pickup barreled through the entrance to the pit, jouncing on its stiff suspension. Two Ranger ATVs followed. I could see people sitting up in the back of the Rangers. I popped the door of the rig and slid to the ground, noting as I did that the remainder of my staff were piling out of their trucks as well.

“Go time, people!” I called out, as the pickup swung around behind the ambulances and shuddered to a halt. “Triage officer out front!”

Terry was already moving, approaching the back of the pickup at a fast walk. A firefighter perched in the bed of the pickup hopped over the side and lowered the tailgate.

“Can I have everyone’s attention,” Terry bellowed as he reached the tailgate. “Any injured people who can walk, go around to the passenger side of the pickup and hold tight. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.” Catching Jessie Kramer’s arm, he pressed a bundle of green armbands into her palm. “Give these to the walking wounded so we know who they are.”

The injured in the Rangers got out, then made their way around to the side of the truck. Some were limping, others were clutching their arms, and I could see signs of minor bleeding. Jessie gave the handful of tags to one of the men there, along with a few words of instruction. The man passed the tags around, and the walking wounded began wrapping them around each other’s arms. The Ranger drivers pulled away, headed back for the old brick building to collect more wounded.

I turned my attention to the pickup, where all of the critical cases appeared to be. A number of bodies were in the back, some strapped to longboards, others with soft stretchers beneath them. Terry and two firefighters were standing in my way, so I couldn’t get a good count or identify any of the people there.

The firefighters pulled one of the victims from the pickup bed and onto the tailgate, where Terry had placed his triage kit. Nate tried to press forward, but I placed a restraining hand on his arm. The man on the tailgate was conscious. Terry spoke briefly to him in a low voice as he quickly examined a wound on the left leg. He wrapped a yellow tag around the wrist, indicating an injury that was serious but not immediately life-threatening.

“Rescue rig,” he said briskly, and two firefighters closed in along with the Rescue rig’s crew. The four of them picked up the backboard where the man lay and carried it off toward the ancient rescue ambulance. Another was moved to the tailgate. It was Del Williams, the firefighter who had driven the ambulance on the Jason Bixley call. He was bleeding profusely from an arm wound, and seemed to be unresponsive. Terry shoved a tourniquet at Brian Severson, who was standing by his side, and vigorously rubbed the sternum. Del stirred a little and opened his eyes. As Brian tightened the tourniquet, Terry wrapped a red tag around the arm.

“Rig One,” he said. Nate stepped forward, and Terry put a hand on his arm.

“Take this one to Melville,” said Terry. “There’s an intercept coming from there, but if he’s stable don’t use it. We’re going to need more trucks than we have.” Nate nodded once, took up one of the longboard handles, and with the help of Brian and two others bore the man away. Stacy stepped forward to take Brian’s place as Terry’s assistant.

The next victim was pulled back to the tailgate, and my heart froze in my chest. The man on the soft stretcher was my father. Most of his shirt was in tatters, angry burns swathed his chest, and his face had taken on a waxy, grayish hue. Terry placed two fingers on the neck, feeling around for a carotid pulse as he bent his ear close to the mouth, listening for breathing. Casting a quick, pained glance back at me, he wrapped a black tag around the arm.

“Black,” he said.

It hit me like a punch to the gut. No. No. NO.

“Wait,” Stacy said urgently, turning back to look at me. “Nettie… they said all these people were breathing when they pulled them out. There might be time…”

My vision swam. It was an effort to think. Daddy! my mind screamed. It took every ounce of discipline I possessed to push it aside.

“Black, goddammit!” I shouted.

Gentle hands lifted my father from the tailgate, laying him in the grass off to the side even as the next victim was brought forward.

As he assessed the next patient, Terry spoke sidelong to Stacy. “Get off my triage,” he told her, his voice ice-cold. Stacy stumbled back, looking hurt and offended. Terry was wrapping a red band around an arm.

“Hey, Terry,” Nate was calling from the back of his rig. “Del’s awake, and his BP’s solid. I could take one more if it’s non-critical.”

“Stand by, then,” Terry called back. “Rig two,” he told the attendant firefighters, indicating the patient in front of him. I blinked in surprise; the young lady in question was none other than Samantha Jensen, who I’d almost lost on that hellish ride to Melville. My jaw clenched. Goddamn it, girl… wasn’t one bad trip enough for you? One of the firefighters was holding pressure on her abdomen with a big dressing, which was thoroughly saturated with blood. Terry turned toward me.

“She’s lost a lot of blood, and I’m seeing signs of smoke inhalation, Nettie,” he said. “She needs to go ALS, and she needs to go now. Can you do this?”

My eyes narrowed. I hated the look of pity on his face.

“Stacy, Jessie, let’s go,” I snapped. “Stacy, you’re driving.”

“Roll for Johnstown,” Terry called after us.

As I entered through the side door of my rig, I caught a glimpse of the Rangers swinging back through the entrance to the auction pit, more victims sprawled in the back. I turned my eyes away, not wanting to see who was in those Rangers. I thought that if I had to look at one more person I knew who’d been fucked up, I would scream. I slammed the door, then dropped heavily onto the bench seat.

On to Chapter Eleven!

By C. Cat

Amanda spent the morning with Miss Cindy while the movers delivered the last of her things. They mostly worked on administrative issues and final plans for the new year, but also took the time to enjoy a heated fuck on the office sofa. Afterward they nestled naked on the thick carpet, where Miss Cindy insisted on hearing every detail of Amanda’s night of sexual abandon with Jordan.

Once they were dressed Amanda felt a bit light-headed, and her pussy was still tingling, but she was still very anxious to get back to Fairy House and see her girls.

***

“Mommy Amanda! You’re back!” Annie yelped when Amanda made her entrance. The eight-year-old ran to get a hug from her beloved house mother.

“Ooooh, I missed my little muffin!” Amanda said as she took the child in her arms, “I hope you’ve been a good girl.”

“I’ve been very good. Ask Clair… I always do what she asks me!”

Clair was just twelve herself, but had a special fondness for the younger girls who clearly appreciated her special methods of babysitting… which often involved baby oil and as few clothes as possible.

“Then you should come to my room tonight and get a special reward,” She kissed the girl on the lips while giving her bottom a squeeze. “But you’d better be careful… I might gobble you up!” Annie burst into a fit of giggles as Amanda nibbled her neck.

With one final kiss, she finally put the girl down. “So, what are you planning to do today?”

“Katie an’ Rayne asked Willow and me to dance with them at a picnic in the gardens, an’ maybe go to the old cottage after that to play!”

Amanda smiled, pleased to see how the little one was really starting to come out of her shell. When she’d first met Annie, the child was so bashful she hardly spoke. Since then, Amanda had regularly encouraged the eight-year-old to be more outgoing. “That sounds like fun, but you’d better run along and get ready. We don’t want to keep our guests waiting!” She gave Annie a playful spank on her bottom as the girl left the room, squealing with laughter.

Several hours later, Amanda was just finishing up some paperwork when she heard a knock on her door frame. Ten-year-old Willow, a coltish little girl with long red hair, charming freckles, and a cute little button nose stood in the entrance.

“You know you don’t need to knock if my door is open…” Amanda began, but immediately went quiet as she saw the urgent expression on the girl’s face.

“I’m sorry, Mummy Amanda,” Willow said, “We found a sprite down in the woods. She’s really scared and, and crying. I think something bad happened to her. We’re taking her to the cottage… Katie, Rayne, and Annie are with her now. Can you come?”

At Latchmore, children did sometimes get lost on the grounds, usually a case of little girls getting distracted and wandering off. Usually, they were found and reunited with their families within a matter of minutes. “Sprites,” on the other hand, was the fairies’ code word for girls who had run away from home.

Little girls wanting to leave home and join the fairies wasn’t an especially rare occurrence. Most of the time a friendly chat with a fairy or house mother would persuade these youngsters to let themselves be returned to their homes. Still, there were rare cases where the child was escaping an abusive situation, so finding a stray sprite was something everyone at Latchmore took very seriously.

“We were dancing for some guests near the fountains,” Willow said as they hastened toward the cottage, “but we headed back when it began to rain. We went down the path through the enchanted woods to the cottage, to wait there until the rain stopped…”

***

As the girls walked down the trail, Annie thought she heard something over the patter of rain in the trees. She froze, squatted down low, and listened. The other girls instantly followed suit. Listening without being seen was a crucial skill for the fairies to master.

Annie listened even harder. There it was again… and this time, it sounded like weeping.

Just a few metres down the path, there was a patch of giant rhubarb, its huge leaves making something of a cave. Annie peered inside and, in the shadows protected from the rain, there was a little blonde girl of no more than seven or eight, dressed in a makeshift fairy outfit.

Looking up, the girl’s eyes were full of tears, but they went wide with fear when she saw Annie. “P-please, Miss Fairy,” she whimpered, “don’t make me g-go back.”

Annie moved closer to kneel beside the girl as her sisters peered in from the opening. “What’s your name?”

“Maisie,” the girl said between sobs as the other girls gathered around her.

Rayne spoke up. “Don’t be afraid, Maisie. We’ll take care of you. There’s a place near here that’s very safe… will you come with us?”

Annie extended hand and the girl clutched it tightly. She was trembling with fear, but meekly allowed the fairy to lead her down the path.

***

Maisie was still agitated when Amanda arrived at the cottage. She seemed to shrink even smaller at the sight of the woman.

“It’s okay,” Willow said. “Mummy Amanda is a Fairy Mother… you can trust her.”

The girl was still visibly nervous, but her faith in the fairies won out, so she didn’t shy away when Amanda sat down on a stool next to her.

“Annie is right, sweetheart. You’re safe here with us. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

There was anguish and indecision on the girl’s face. She clearly wanted to talk, but was afraid to. “I’m not s’posed to say,” Maisie mumbled, her eyes pleading for help.

Annie knelt beside the shivering girl, taking her hand. “I get scared sometimes, too,” she said, “but Mommy Amanda always makes it better… always.”

Taking her fairy necklace off, she slipped it over Maisie’s head. “This is a special necklace,” Annie said, showing her the charm with its interlocking fairy wings. “Whenever I get scared, I like to hold it and I know I’m safe.”

Maisie nodded. She was still trembling, but clutching the charm seemed to give her confidence. “It’s my mother and her n-new boyfriend,” the girl began, “they… they make me do bad things.”

Amanda thought about sending the other girls away so they wouldn’t have to hear this. No, she decided, it’s not the Latchmore way. This is something young girls need to be aware of. Besides, this poor child needs to be comforted, and I’ll need help with that.

The girl’s story was a woeful one. Maisie described being forced into sex acts against her will, of being bullied into posing naked for pictures and videos, of getting loaned out to the boyfriend’s mates for money. “They take lots of drugs,” she said. “Mummy told Mick that…” her lower lip trembled, “… that I was their ‘cash cow,’ and long as they had me, it would be easy for them to g-get high.” She began to sob again.

Maisie’s account seemed to impact Annie more than the others, but even with tears welling up in her eyes, she wouldn’t leave the sorrowful child’s side. Amanda somehow managed to hold back her own tears, but she felt an immense pride at how brave little Annie was when it was needed.

As the fairies clustered around the young girl, Amanda slipped outside to call Miss Cindy, quickly punching the number into her cell phone.

Even before Miss Cindy spoke, Amanda could hear angry shouts in the background. She couldn’t make out all the words, but one of the voices belonged to a woman who was threatening Miss Cindy with what would happen if they didn’t find and return her daughter.

Oh, my God, Amanda realised. That must be her. Maisie’s mum.

“Amanda?” said Cindy. “Listen, have you seen a lost girl–”

“I have. Can we talk in private?” Amanda quickly replied.

“One moment…” She heard Miss Cindy say to someone else, “Excuse me, I’ve got to take this,” then the office door was shut, muffling the loud voices. “What’s the matter, Amanda?”

“This girl… is her name Maisie?”

“Yes! You’ve found her, then?”

“We have,” Amanda replied, “but we daren’t give her back. She’s suffered serious sexual abuse – and the mother is involved. Her boyfriend as well.”

“Ugh. Can’t say I’m surprised… With all her yelling and threats, not once has she suggested calling the police. That’s never good. I’ve already called Detective Inspector Bennett, though… I’ll ring her back and have her go straight to the cottage. What shape is the girl in?”

“Scared, but healthy and safe – at least for now.”

***

DI Sarah Bennett was a tall and fit woman with a distinct military bearing – far more imposing than pretty, but still attractive. Maybe Amanda had seen too many TV detective programmes, but she expected a policewoman with that kind of demeanour to be competent and professional, but also cold and unemotional. In fact, when speaking to Bennett, Amanda was impressed by the woman’s genuine warmth.

Maisie took to her instantly and under Sarah’s careful query, repeated her story with very little prompting. In spite of the tears welling up in her eyes and her voice cracking, she managed to answer every question, clutching Annie’s necklace tightly all the while.

“What a brave girl you are,” Sarah said with a reassuring smile. “I can’t make the hurt go away, but I’m going to take you someplace where you’ll be safe.”

Maisie threw both arms around the inspector and held her tightly, letting her tears flow until she cried herself to sleep.

***

That evening, DI Bennett had phoned Miss Cindy to confirm that Maisie was safe, the mother and boyfriend were in custody and, from the look of if, more arrests were expected in the coming days.

Amanda was relieved to hear the news, but inside she was torn up. She sat on the corner of the bed, face in her hands, and wept. Whenever she closed her eyes, there was little Maisie’s face, her features etched with suffering. Am I really so different from that girl’s horrid mother?

“Are you okay, Mummy Amanda?” came a little voice from the doorway. Amanda glanced up to see Annie, a look of concern on her sweet brown face.

Sniffing back her tears, she managed a smile. “Yes, sweetie, I’ll be okay. It’s just… thinking about Maisie made me feel sad. I was so proud of you, though,” she added, patting the bed next to her. “The way you helped us take care of her… it really made a difference.”

Annie seated herself next to Amanda, resting against the older woman. “I was sad, too, but then Miss Cindy an’ the police lady said she was gonna be okay.”

Amanda nodded. “Maisie’s out of that awful situation with her mother, but she’s been through a lot. It’s going to be difficult for her… hopefully, not for very long.”

“That’s why I gived her my necklace, Mummy Amanda. It helped me when I was, umm…”

“What, dearest?”

Annie gave a heavy sigh. “Before I came here, bad things happened to me, too. Like what Maisie told us about.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Amanda hugged the little girl, holding her close. “I’m sorry I didn’t know, but that makes what you did today even more brave.”

Annie clung to her. “I’m not so brave… still get scared sometimes…”

“Me too,” Amanda mumbled. “But this is what scares me most.” She paused, then came out with it. “Oh, Annie, my angel, what if I’m hurting girls with – with the things we do here at Latchmore? Could I be just as bad as Maisie’s mum?” Her eyes were brimming with tears.

“No! No, you aren’t!” Annie protested, squeezing her house mother even tighter. “They were mean to me… just wanted what they wanted, an’ it made me hurt! You give me good feelings… and the other girls, too. We know you love us – an’ we love you, too, Mummy Amanda. Lots an’ lots!”

Amanda bent down to kiss Annie’s cheek. “Thank you, Annie… that helps, it really does.”

They sat for a long time, holding each other until Annie spoke in a small voice. “Can I still sleep here tonight? It’s okay if we just cuddle.”

Amanda hugged her young lover again. “Of course, little one… now why don’t you run along and play with the others. I’ll see you when it’s bedtime.”

“Okay!” The girl chirped before springing up and scampering out of the room.

Left alone, Amanda found herself unable to completely shake those dark thoughts.

Finally getting up to carry out the evening rounds, Amanda made a point of spending a few minutes with each of her girls to hear about their day, check that all assigned chores were done, and talk about their plans for the following day before giving them each one a goodnight kiss. She needed to be sure all the girls were accounted for, if not necessarily in their own beds.

Clair had invited Annie’s roommate Ella to have a sleepover in her room, so Amanda was reassured that little Ella wouldn’t be going lonely that evening.

Thank goodness for Clair, Amanda mused. The teen genuinely cared for the younger girls and made a point of looking after them. When a little fairy skinned her knee or needed a shoulder to cry on, Clair was there to wipe the tears away. Everyone assumed she’d be a house mother herself when she came of age.

Moving along to the next room, Amanda was surprised to find Willow in bed with Katie and Rayne, and if the giggles the three girls shared on seeing they’d been “caught” weren’t enough of a clue, Willow’s pink panties on the floor and their flushed cheeks made it obvious what sort of games these fairies had been playing.

While Amanda knew her daughter and Rayne enjoyed the occasional dalliance with other girls, she was also certain that Willow was the first fairy they’d invited to join them both in their lovemaking.

On the other hand, all the girls were eager to enjoy sexy fun with Amanda. “Want to play, Mum?” Katie called, tugging the sheet down to reveal their nakedness.

“We’ve got room for one more!” Rayne exclaimed, placing a hand on her vulva in a parody of modesty that never failed to fire Amanda’s lust – and the adorable eleven-year-old was fully aware of that.

The temptation was there to unhook her dress, let it drop to the floor, climb on the bed and join these luscious nymphs in their fun and games. Forget your worries. Lose yourself in the worship of little girls and their beautiful bodies.

But Amanda was still feeling uneasy about her desires… about herself. Besides, I promised Annie, she thought. “Some other time, okay?” she said. “I’ve got to finish my rounds.” Bending down, she gave each girl a kiss on the cheek, whispered, “Good night,” then made a quiet exit.

One door down, eight-year-old roommates Emma and Lilly were sitting on the floor playing when Amanda looked in. “Shouldn’t you two be in bed?” she teased, pointing at the clock.

“We were waiting for you to take our clothes off!” said Lilly. She and Emma were clearly trying to look as cute as possible in their midriff tops and snug denim shorts.

“Fair enough.” Amanda entered the room. “Arms up!”

Both girls raised their hands high so Amanda could slip their tops up and over their heads, exposing their flat chests. They stood motionless while Amanda unbuttoned Emma’s shorts and tugged them down.

“Oh… what have we here?” Amanda exclaimed in mock surprise as Emma’s bare cunny came into view, “Looks like someone forgot to put on knickers again.”

“Oops!” Emma cried, looking anything but embarrassed.

“Now me!” Lilly yelped between giggles, then she allowed Amanda to tug her shorts down.

“You, too!” Amanda said when she discovered Lilly’s vulva was bare as well. “You both better get in bed before the bottom-spanking monster sees those cute little behinds.” She gave each one a playful pat as they dove into Lilly’s bed, erupting with giggles.

Amanda continued down the corridor. Rachel and her younger girlfriend Aiko were just getting out of the shower when she checked on their room.

“Come see Rachel’s new painting!” Aiko exclaimed with pride when she saw the house mother, making no move to cover her nudity as she pointed to a small painting that rested on a nearby easel.

Amanda moved closer, feeling a warm surge of arousal at the sight of Aiko’s silhouette, clearly done when the child was naked. “Oh, my,” she breathed. Rachel was already a talented artist, but it was still a marvel to see how flawlessly she’d managed to capture the beauty and innocence of her young lover.

“It’s incredible! You did a wonderful job, Rachel. I can tell how much you love Aiko just by looking at it.”

Both girls beamed with pride, then each hugged the woman in turn. Amanda gave them gentle kisses, then continued on her way

Avery and Zoe were already asleep by the time Amanda reached their room. They were both in Zoe’s bed with their bodies intertwined, still glowing from what had clearly been a spirited bout of lovemaking. Amanda paused a moment to take in their bare beauty before drawing the covers up and over them.

Maggie’s room was next, and Amanda was pleased to see that the perky ten-year-old wasn’t left lonely while her roommate Willow spent the night with Rayne and Katie. The little ten-year-old was seated on Naomi’s lap, her pinafore dress pulled up to the waist, knickers dangling from an ankle. Sophia’s face was buried between Maggie’s cocoa-brown legs.

“Want to have some fun with us, Mummy Amanda?” Fourteen-year-old Sophia murmured in her seductive Portuguese accent. The girl’s lips were glistening with Maggie’s nectar.

“Maybe another time, my loves,” she said. Strong as the urge was to drop to her knees and lick that pretty cunt, she was still feeling unsettled by the day’s events.

So instead she gave each girl a goodnight kiss, contenting herself with the flavour on Sophia’s lips.

Annie was waiting when Amanda returned to her room. Perched on the edge of the bed, she wore a short pink cotton nightshirt that showed off her slim legs and, somehow, managed to make her skin look even softer and creamier. A smile crept across her face when she saw Amanda’s eyes roam over her body, but she remained demure, with no hint she wanted more than the promised cuddles.

“Time for bed?” asked Annie.

“Yes, my sweet,” Amanda replied.

Annie pulled back the covers, then slipped beneath them. As she did, Amanda caught a glimpse of the child’s bare bottom and felt a pang of desire. It was familiar and somehow comforting, but she still couldn’t completely shake her worries.

Slipping her own robe off to reveal a yellow silk nightshirt, she slid into bed and wrapped both arms around Annie, who pushed herself back into Amanda, holding the woman’s arms around her. “I like this so much, Mummy,” she whispered. “You make me happy.”

It hadn’t escaped Amanda’s notice that when they were alone together, Annie tended to call her “Mummy.” I wonder if she really thinks of me as a mother? She asked herself. And a lover, too – mustn’t forget that. She planted a soft kiss on the girl’s neck. “I like this too, sweetheart.”

She felt the little girl’s body relax against hers. Somehow, it helped her to relax as well. She gave a deep, satisfying yawn, then mumbled, “I love you, Annie.”

There was no reply… and Amanda realised that the girl had already dozed off.

***

She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but it was still dark outside when Annie’s stirring woke her up. At first Amanda thought the child was dreaming, but the little mewling noises and the distinct scent of female arousal made it clear that she was very much awake.

Without even thinking, Amanda let her hand travel down the girl’s chest.

A soft “Mmm…” escaped Annie’s lips, then: “I – I know we were just gonna cuddle, Mummy… but please, please make love to me. I really want it.”

A child’s small hand took Amanda’s, then guided it to the wetness between her legs.

As Amanda nuzzled Annie’s neck, she let her fingers press against that precious little treasure, stroking the soft warmth of the girl’s inner lips. As Annie trembled under her touch, Amanda felt her own desire build, but with it came the fear she’d been grappling with ever since hearing poor Maisie’s story.

Pushing these thoughts aside, she focused on Annie, letting her fingertips dance across the little girl’s tiny clit. As she stroked and teased the tender button, her eight-year-old lover began to whimper.

A little faster, a little harder, until she felt the child’s body tense. That familiar mewing cry escaped Annie’s lips as she firmly pressed Amanda’s hand against her pudenda. Finally, with a gasp that trailed off into a moan, she relaxed.

“Thanks, Mummy,” said Annie, so quietly she could scarcely be heard. “G’night…”

“Goodnight, sweetie.” Amanda cradled the little girl to her, gently rocking to and fro until they both drifted into a blissful slumber.

***

When Amanda awakened the next morning, the sun was streaming through the window and the smell of the woods perfumed the air. As her eyes opened, she realised she was alone in bed and it was quiet – much too quiet for a house full of young girls. Pulling on a loose top and a pair of shorts, she made her way to the kitchen to find Katie seated at the table.

“Caroline dropped by to give us a special dance seminar, and all the girls are there,” Katie said, answering her mother’s unspoken question. “Annie told us you were having a rough time yesterday, so we decided to let you sleep in.” She gestured toward the counter. “There’s coffee if you want it.”

Amanda took a mug from the cabinet. “Why aren’t you at the seminar?” she asked, pouring the coffee.

“I wanted to be here when you got up, in case you needed to talk to someone.”

“I’m sorry, love, I’ll be okay,” Amanda sighed, sitting next to her daughter. “It’s just… seeing how scared little Maisie was really hit me hard. I can’t keep myself from thinking… what if I end up hurting one of you like that?”

Moving her seat closer, Katie wrapped both arms around her mother. “When I was still going to my old school, I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t… someone who didn’t like girls. I was afraid the other kids wouldn’t like me if they knew. You helped me with that. You told me I was beautiful the way I am.” She kissed her mother’s neck. “I love you so much, Mum. But I also trust you – and so does every girl in our house. That trust is what holds Latchmore House together.”

Amanda sipped her coffee as she pondered Katie’s words. It was true – so much of the girls’ play was about trust – not only being open about their desires, but relying on their sisters to be honest about what they wanted, or didn’t want. She remembered saying goodnight to the girls mere hours ago, what a fulfilling experience it had been. They’re so happy and loving, with no guilt or shame… that really is what Latchmore house is about.

But the memory of Maisie’s anguished face continued to haunt Amanda. “I know you’re right, Katie. It’s just that I can’t stop thinking… what if I’m not able to trust myself? Or if I go too far with one of the girls? I’m scared I’m not good enough to be a house mother.” She sighed. “I’m thinking that… maybe I shouldn’t make love with you girls anymore.”

Katie hugged her even tighter. “Mum, Mum, Mum… now you’re just being ridiculous. This is about Maisie, isn’t it?” Amanda gave a reluctant nod. “Why would you even think of comparing yourself to that awful mother of hers? A woman who would sell her own child for drugs?” She shuddered. “Mum, you always told me I don’t need to be perfect, long as I do my best. The same goes for you, too, especially here.

“And as for not having sex with us… I don’t think a single one of the fairies would be happy about that. I absolutely wouldn’t.” Katie gently cupped her mum’s breast. “I won’t give you up as a lover, Mum. One way or another, we will fuck again.” Amanda moaned as her daughter scissored a nipple between two fingers. “And there’s Annie. She used to be so quiet and shy… you made her blossom like a flower. Are you really planning to break that little girl’s heart?”

She’s right, Amanda thought. Sometimes it might seem that pushing people away is the best way to protect them, but it’s not the fairy way. That’s when they need their sisters the most. AND their house mothers.

“You know, Katie,” she murmured, returning her daughter’s hug, “you’ve always had the knack for saying what I need to hear… even if you insist on quoting my own words back at me.”

“Oh, I need the practice. Rayne and I want to get married and have a family of our own someday… and we both want to be just like you.”

“Sweetheart, you and Rayne will be incredible mothers.” Gazing into her daughter’s eyes, they shared a soft and gentle kiss that quickly deepened.

Finally Katie broke away, her eyes flashing with desire. “God, Mum… I want to take you back to my room and fuck you silly. But… why don’t you walk me to the dance seminar instead. I happen to know a sweet little girl there who is totally in love with you, and she needs to know you feel the same way about her.”

“Let me put on my shoes,” Amanda said.

As they set off, Katie turned to her mother. “You’re going to tell Miss Caroline today, right? What we talked about?”

“Down, girl,” Amanda laughed. “Yes, I will.”

The teen clapped her hands. “Cool! God, I can’t wait until Friday!” She seized her mum’s hand, gave it a squeeze. “I’m gonna be watching her face when you break the news. Should be interesting…”

When the two arrived at the studio, Caroline Scott was busy leading a room full of lovely young girls in movement exercises. Amanda’s thoughts drifted to a similar sight from just a few months earlier. She still felt the same thrill looking at the girls in their leotards and leggings, but the fear and guilt had gone.

Even better yet, she saw the beaming smile on little Annie’s face when their eyes met. Much as she tried not to play favourites, Katie was right – Annie had a special place in her heart. Not only was she an incredibly sweet girl, she was cute and sexy as could be with her slim body in a light pink leotard, sheer lace skirt, and knit leg warmers that rose up above her knees.

“Miss Caroline,” Katie said as the dance instructor gave the girls a break and came to greet them, “Do you mind if Annie misses the rest of class today? Mummy really needs her.”

“Does she now?” Caroline said with an eyebrow raised and a wink. “I suppose we can get by without her, but you two will both need to come in for extra practice on our routine.” She glanced over at the brown-skinned cutie, who was already bouncing up and down at the sight of her grownup lover. “Tell her we’ll be waiting here while she gets changed.”

“Yes, Miss Caroline,” Katie said before running to tell Annie the news, then joining the other girls.

“And how are you, love?” Caroline reached out for Amanda’s hand as Annie hastened from the room.

“Oh… wonderful, actually. I’ve missed you, though. It’s been too long.”

Caroline laughed. “Well… that’s what I get for getting involved with a woman mere days before she becomes a house mother at Latchmore.” She looked around the room. “A life surrounded by all this sweet, sweet girl candy… Honestly, I can’t imagine how you get anything done.”

Drawing nearer, Amanda murmured, “How’d you like a taste of that candy for yourself?”

Caught off guard, Caroline stared at her occasional lover. “Do tell.”

Amanda glanced about, making sure no one was in earshot before she spoke. “Well, you recall me telling you that Katie and I have… become intimate, yes?”

“Recall? It’s been my favourite masturbation fantasy ever since you told me,” Caroline replied.

“Well, here’s something new for you to jill off about. Katie wants to invite you to our place this Friday for a little get-together. I’m spending that night at home.”

“A threesome? My God, yes, you lovely bitch.”

Amanda shook her head. “A foursome, actually. Katie’s new lover wants to be there, too.”

“New lover…?” Caroline glanced over at the girls. “Would that be the luscious redhead who happens to be holding your daughter’s hand at this moment?”

“That’s Rayne,” Amanda replied. “She and Katie are absolutely smitten with one another. They’re already making wedding plans.”

“Oh, yes, they’re in love… you can see it from a mile away.” Caroline turned back to Amanda. “I accept your kind invitation. What time do the festivities begin?”

“Dinner at seven… then dessert for the rest of the night.”

Caroline snickered. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

“Fine by me. You can leave your knickers at home, though.”

Leaning in to give her lover’s ear a playful nip, the dance instructor whispered, “Funny girl.”

***

Once Amanda and Annie had wandered back through Latchmore to their house, they made their way up to Amanda’s room, where they sat side by side on the bed, holding hands.

“I was very sad yesterday,” Amanda said. “I’m sorry if it made you feel unhappy, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay, Mummy,” the child replied. “I know you were feeling bad. I was just afraid you… you might not want to play with me anymore.” Annie’s expression was sorrowful.

“Oh, love, I wanted to be with you as much as ever,” Amanda said, giving Annie’s hand a squeeze. “It’s just that… see, after Maisie told us about that horrid mum of hers, I got myself tied up in knots. I felt afraid I might hurt you or one of the other girls without meaning to when I was sexually excited. Katie and I had a talk, though, and it helped quite a lot. I still might get scared sometimes… but if I remind myself of how much I love you girls, I should be able to cope with it.”

Annie thought for a bit, then nodded. “Well, when I was scared, you said kisses made it better.” She gave Amanda her sweetest, most innocent smile. “Can we try that?”

Amanda had to laugh. “The other girls said you were smart, but they didn’t warn me you could be sneaky, too.” She took a moment to gaze into Annie’s lovely brown eyes, then moved in for her kiss.

It was soft and gentle at first. Then as their bodies pressed together, the passion of their kiss began to build, and Amanda felt the familiar warmth rising inside. A prickle of fear also made itself known, but she thrust it away, centering her full attention on Annie.

She traced kisses over the girl’s cheeks and down her neck, enjoying the little murmuring noises that Annie made as she relaxed into her grownup lover’s embrace, ready and waiting to be taken further. Slipping the thin top off the child’s shoulders, Amanda moved lower, brushing Annie’s warm, soft skin with her lips.

Glancing up, she saw the hunger in the eight-year-old’s eyes. “Please don’t stop,” Annie whispered.

In reply, Amanda gave Annie’s top another little tug. This time it slipped down far enough to expose the girl’s flat chest. Letting Annie fall back on the bed, the woman showered her upper half with tender kisses, pausing to suck each tiny nipple.

“Mmmm, I like that. Can you take your top off?” Annie asked.

“Of course, my love.” Sitting up, Amanda reached for the hem of her blouse, which she pulled up and off, then tossed to one side. A flick of her bra clasp exposed the woman’s breasts.

“I love your titties,” Annie cooed. “So nice an’ soft…” She ran her hands over them, exploring every curve and contour, then plucking at the swollen nipples. “Can I kiss them?”

“Oh, sweetie… if we’re making love, you don’t have to ask my permission for anything. If you want to kiss my breasts, go right ahead.”

“I will, then!” Annie exclaimed. She buried her face in Amanda’s chest, purring happily as she nuzzled the creamy globes. Seeking out a nipple, she took it into her mouth to suckle.

“My love,” Amanda whispered, cradling the little girl’s face to her.

Abruptly releasing the woman’s nipple, Annie gazed up at Amanda, “Have you ever played with Miss Caroline’s titties? One time when I was touching my cunny, I pretended I was watching you and her do sex stuff… is it okay if I do that?”

“Mmmm, of course it’s okay,” Amanda moaned. “And yes, sweetie… I have touched her titties, and all the rest of her, too. I bet she’d love to join us in bed some time.”

I’d like that!” Annie said, her hands still busy fondling her house mother’s breasts. “She has nice big ones, but I think yours are my favourites. I want mine to look like these.”

Eager to see more of her young lover, Amanda slipped the girl’s top off completely, baring her slim waist and flat stomach. “Yours are going to be beautiful… just like the rest of you.” She kissed the tip of Annie’s nose. “Like you are now.”

“Do you ever, y’know… think sexy things about me? Like I do about you?”

“Maybe…” Amanda said slyly. “Last night, I might’ve thought about watching a certain brown-eyed cutie go down on her roommate.”

Annie shivered. “Ooohhh! Ella would really like that, letting you watch us… Willow and Maggie would too, I bet. Maybe you could watch us all do sex at the same time!”

“It sounds like there’s a lot for us to try, doesn’t it? Maybe we need to start a list. You know, Caroline asked me how on earth I ever got any sleep, being the house mother to all you sexy little girls… I’m starting to wonder about that myself!”

Annie giggled as Amanda trailed kisses down her body, all the while caressing the child everywhere she could reach. Annie’s shorts were in the way, however. Taking hold of the waistband, Ananda slid them down, past the girl’s firm, round bottom, then took them off completely, her heart skipping a beat when she saw that Annie wasn’t wearing knickers.

“Surprise!” Annie squealed. “I took them off after dance practice. Did I do good?”

“Very good,” murmured Amanda.

The sight of a girl’s intimate flower never seemed to get old for her. It always felt like she was seeing it for the first time. Brown on the outside, pink on the inside, it resembled a rich, exotic dessert. Amanda reached out to touch the bare slit, pleased to find it moist with the dew of arousal. Drawing closer, she breathed in, sighing with pleasure at the familiar aroma. She filled her nostrils once more, basking in the moment for a few heartbeats before moving in for a kiss.

“Ohhh!” Annie gasped as Amanda’s lips grazed her sex. “That’s s-so nice!”

Sliding her hands under Annie’s bottom, Amanda held the girl in place while she licked and sucked at the beautiful brown and pink cleft in a frenzy of lust. There would be time enough for slow, gentle lovemaking in the days to come, but in this moment she needed to feed her hunger without restraint.

Annie wrapped her legs around Amanda’s neck, winding her fingers into the woman’s hair as she felt those good feelings grow inside her, getting closer, closer still, nearly there…

“Yes, Mummy! Yes!” Annie cried, trembling from head to toe.

Knowing her little lover was on the verge of release, Amanda sought out the button of Annie’s clitoris with her index finger while she continued to lick that juicy cunt. The lower half of her face was dripping with the child’s juices, overwhelming her senses with its intoxicating flavour and scent.

With one last guttural cry, Annie let go, nearly passing out as she rode the feeling of rapture to the edge and beyond. Finally, she went completely limp. Stretching out alongside the panting child, Amanda took Annie into her arms.

Any lover could be forgiven for needing a rest after such an intense climax, but Annie was too eager for more to relax for very long. Once she’d regained her breath, the girl popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “My turn, Mummy!” she exclaimed.

Rolling Amanda onto her back, Annie worked hard to get the woman’s shorts and panties down and off. That accomplished, the child pushed her grownup lover’s legs apart, then flopped down on her tummy between them.

“I love your pussy, Mummy,” she said as she stroked the outer lips. “It’s the prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”

Amanda looked down to see Annie give her a big toothy smile before lowering her head to gently lick the length of her slit. “Mmmm… you’re yummy, too,” she added, licking her lips before lowering her head for another taste.

Tiny jolts of pleasure coursed through Amanda’s body as the girl’s tongue poked and prodded, delved and thrust, Annie spreading her lips open and swirling her tongue around inside her, then gently teasing the clit while sliding three fingers deep inside. Amanda kicked her shorts away from the left ankle, then twined her legs around the girl.

For a girl so young, Annie was a prodigy at the art of lovemaking. Each new touch sent a wave of ecstasy flowing deep into her core.

“Ohhhhh!” she cried out. “That’s right! Lick Mummy, j-just like that! Fuck! Oh, girl, you’re amazing.”

Through Amanda’s cries, it was the word “Mummy” that stood out most to Annie. She adored this lovely, sweet, caring woman, and wanted to think of her as the mother she’d longed for but never had. Show how much you love her, the child told herself. Give her all the best feelings. She burrowed even further between Amanda’s thighs, her tongue working feverishly on the woman’s clit.

“Fuck, yes!” Amanda wailed as the intensifying waves built inside, lifting her to the height of euphoria. “Oh, Annie! Oh, my love!” She clenched her legs together and, with one last look at the eager little girl nestled between her legs, let herself go.

Annie felt the woman’s tension and release, the juices flowing from her spasming cunt, but she kept licking until Amanda pushed her head away, pleading, “No more, sweetie.”

As the sounds of the afternoon drifted through the open window, Amanda and Annie lay together for a long, blissful while, sharing sleepy kisses every now and then.

***

About eight months had passed since Amanda became a house mother for Latchmore, and Katie joined the fairies. Mum and daughter agreed – this truly was where they belonged. There were all the ups and downs that could be expected in a house full of girls, but they loved practically every minute of it.

Amanda had grown close to all her girls and shared a bed with each of them more than once, but what she shared with Annie would always be special. Far from feeling jealousy, the other girls were happy for them both. For Annie’s ninth birthday, the occupants of Amanda’s house arranged with Miss Cindy to send the two of them on a weekend getaway to a little bed and breakfast by the sea, run by a former fairy and her wife.

Thoughts of Maisie continued to cross Amanda’s mind, so it was an enormous relief to learn the girl was safe in a foster home. And she was positively ecstatic some months later at the news that Maisie had been adopted by a lesbian couple. Knowing Miss Cindy had used her influence and connections to help get the child settled, it wasn’t much of a surprise to hear that Latchmore was to host a celebration for Maisie and her new mommies.

The weather would be perfect, so the fairies pitched in to prepare the meadow for the event. There were pretty decorations, a sumptuous meal, all kinds of treats, and plenty of space to dance and play games.

On the day of celebration, Amanda was waiting with the girls of her house, hand in hand with Annie. Her daughter Katie was nearby, along with her lover Rayne. It was a private gathering, but a few special guests had been invited – including Caroline and Jordan, who had met, fallen in love and moved in together. They were planning to marry once Jordan graduated from university, but still managed to occasionally share their bed with Amanda, her daughter and a few of the Latchmore girls.

Just as the old clock struck noon, the guest of honour arrived.

“Maisie!” Annie yelped when she saw the little blonde girl.

“Annie!” the girl squealed, her eyes wide with excitement as they came together in a hug. She recognized Katie, Rayne, and Willow as well, and was happy to meet all the other girls, but it was clear that Annie would always be her special fairy.

Amanda let the girls finish exchanging greetings, then knelt before Maisie. Far from the scared little waif she remembered, this child was a beauty with a beaming smile, looking like a princess in her party dress with Annie’s fairy necklace round her neck.

“Do you remember me, sweetie?” Amanda asked.

“Yes, Mommy Amanda!“ she exclaimed. “Thank you so much… for, for everything!” Amanda felt tears well up in her eyes as the little girl threw both arms around her.

“This is Maisie’s new mummy Sasha,” Miss Cindy said as Amanda stood and wiped her eyes, “and I think you’ve met her other mum before. Her name is Emily.”

Even after all this time, the resemblance was unmistakable. Amanda was struck speechless as she gazed into the eyes of her own fairy – the one who had made love to her when she was a little girl of nine on her very first visit to Latchmore, nearly twenty-five years ago.

A sob escaped Amanda’s throat as she opened her arms, and the two women met in a loving embrace.

“Thank you, Emily,” Amanda whispered. “You gave me a precious gift… one that changed my life for the better.” Pulling away, she added, “I can’t believe it’s possible, but you’re even more beautiful now.” Turning to Emily’s wife, she took Sasha’s hand. “Congratulations… you’ve got an incredible wife.”

“I know,” Sasha replied. She was tall and willowy, with curly brunette hair and glasses. “And now we’ve got an extraordinary little girl.” She bent down to hug Maisie, and their lips met in a brief but impassioned kiss.

Amanda felt warm all over at the sight. “Oh, my…”

Emily placed a hand on Amanda’s arm. “We were just talking about Maisie’s schooling for next term… and all three of us agree that the best place for her by far would be Latchmore.”

“I never had the chance to be a fairy,” Sasha murmured, glancing around the meadow, smiling at the pretty girls, “and I regret it now. It makes me want that for Maisie all the more.”

“And with you as the house mother, I was hoping she might stay at Fairy House,“ Emily said. “We think it would be the perfect place for a girl like her.” She smiled. “Believe me, she’ll fit in perfectly.”

Annie’s eyes went wide when she realised what the adults were getting at. “Ooooh, yes! Please, Mommy Amanda, can Maisie be a fairy?”

Amanda looked at Miss Cindy, wondering if she’d somehow managed to arrange this.

“I may have helped get Sasha and Emily selected as her foster parents…” Cindy answered without being asked, “but the rest happened on its own.” She laughed. “What can I say? Far be it for me to question fairy magic!”

The End

Afterword from C. Cat: As a fan of this site first-and-foremost, My favorite stories have been the ones that blur the line between fantasies and what might be true. I’d often find myself thinking about what else could happen in those particular worlds. This story was one of those “what-ifs” inspired by a story I read here along with a visit to a particular garden. Because of that, I always thought of Latchmore as a place where other stories could play out too. I have at least one more story to tell about the place, but I’m sure there are others — whether I tell them or not.

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.

On to 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!