The Story Thus Far
Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.
Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.
Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.
Chapter Four: At Nettie’s place, four women and Halee Wilder greet the morning after an evening of lesbian abandon. Later that day, Mallory rejoins Julie, Nettie, Cindy and Hannah for a day of fishing. Halee returns home and spends the day upgrading her internet in preparation for promised to be a fun night of video chat sex with her girlfriend Bethany. Meanwhile, Grace and Heather are in the custody of the mysterious man, who seems to takes delight in terrorizing them.
Chapter Five: After their day of fishing, Nettie, Julie, Cindy, Mallory & Hannah engage in a five-woman sexfest inside a tent… and with the use of Cindy’s phone, their old friend and occasional bedmate Emma attends the orgy virtually. In the midst of their abandon, Nettie has a weird, vague memory flashback that leaves her shaken, but she conceals it from the others. Back home, Halee and her new love interest Bethany (Hannah’s daughter) are having long-distance sex via their laptops.
Chapter Six: Nettie has a heart-to-heart with Hannah about her personal demons. Later, she gets a call from Agent Bridgett Ramscone, who has an unsettling request: for Nettie to go through the documentation of her own childhood kidnapping — and the murder of her sister — as a possible way to gain insight into the abduction of Heather and Gina (who are still being emotionally abused by their kidnapper, but are also taking steps to escape). Nettie is shaken, but agrees to do what she can.
Chapter Seven: Many years after the fact, submerged memories of Nettie’s kidnapping began to make themselves known — memories of a possible accomplice to the original crime. She shares her thoughts with Bridgett. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina work on a potential escape from their makeshift prison.
Chapter Eight: Nettie unearths more hints that kidnap victims Heather and Gina were abducted by the same man who kidnapped and brutalized Nettie and her deceased sister over a decade ago — but that man was known to have died in prison. Gina manages to escape captivity. But Heather can’t fit through the opening they dug, and must remain behind. Nettie gets a possible fix on the girls’ captor who, while out and about, gets a flat tire — then he discovers the spare is flat as well.
Chapter Nine: The man who kidnapped Gina and Heather must get his flat spare tire fixed, not knowing the police have been alerted to him and are searching the area. Nettie, who is also hunting for the man, manages to find his abandoned car — then, some time later, makes an even more startling discovery: little Gina, alone and weeping by an abandoned road. In the meantime, the kidnapper manages to make his escape from the area by phoning a mysterious woman to pick him up.
Chapter Ten: Mallory meets with her mother, Sharon, for the first time in months, but fails to learn the cause of the recent distance between them. Nettie is still obsessed with Jacob Brentshaw, the man who kidnapped her and murdered her sister Annamarie so many years ago, sensing he is also behind the recent kidnapping as well… but can’t get past the fact that Brentshaw was killed in prison. Her actions saved the lives of Gina and Heather, but she remains determined to keep working the case on her own. For the first time, Nettie tells her lover Hannah about her own kidnapping and Annamarie’s death, events she has refused to discuss with anyone for years.
For a list of the characters from the story you are now reading, visit this page.
For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.
And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…
by Rachael Yukey
Would you do it with me
Heal the scars, and change the stars
Would you do it for me
Turn loose the heaven within
Nightwish, 2002
Terry Wilder admired Theresa Fosse’s denim-clad ass as it swayed enticingly across her living room, amused to find himself experiencing a twinge of loss as it disappeared around the corner.
“I made these special,” her voice drifted back to him from the kitchen. “My famous frozen strawberry-kiwi daiquiris. You’re gonna love this.”
Oh, Jesus. Terry made a face, which he smoothed into a bland, pleasant expression at the sound of the freezer door closing, followed by footsteps crossing the linoleum. Theresa appeared again, retracing her steps across the room, this time carrying two tall glasses filled with a pale pink concoction, a straw and a spoon protruding from each. Her ample breasts jiggled fetchingly under her tight Gwar tee-shirt. Somehow, though, Terry found himself somewhat less than fetched.
She handed him his drink, then settled in beside him, pressing her body close. Taking her spoon in hand, she scooped a little of the frozen mixture from the top of her own glass, extending it towards him. Obligingly, Terry opened his mouth, and she slipped the spoon in.
He captured the spoon between his teeth, stifling a grimace at the sticky sweetness of the over-syruped mix. He then took it from her, removed it from his mouth, and made a show of delicately licking both sides with exaggerated strokes of his tongue. It occurred to him that he was going through the motions, playing the game of seduction from long practice, that his heart just wasn’t in it. Anyway, it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d nailed this ditzy broad while her truck driver boyfriend was off on a long haul.
He cast his eyes about the trailer house living room. Pictures of Theresa’s kids adorned the walls, the three in the custody of her ex, and the two she’d had with her current shack job, both of whom she’d fobbed off on her mother for the evening. The remainder of the decor was a study in Early American Rummage Sale.
His own kids were at home. Dawn’s friend Allison and Naomi’s friend Chelsey were both sleeping over, with Halee riding herd on the whole flock. Terry had clarified that she was under no obligation to supervise the sleepover if she didn’t want the responsibility, but Halee had assured him that she’d be just fine.
“Have fun,” she’d told him, knowing precisely where he was going and why, “and try not to knock her up, huh? That guy she’s living with has muscles for brains. You really need to rethink your love life, Dad.”
Sitting here now, Theresa’s perfume overpowering his olfactory senses, her kids staring back at him from the walls, and the intolerable babble from her perpetually-running TV straining the final limits of his endurance, he reflected yet again that Halee’s wisdom greatly exceeded her years. Where did she get that from? Surely not from me, if one is to judge by my present surroundings.
The busty brunette was now shoveling the frozen beverage into her mouth with enthusiasm. Steeling himself, Terry took a tiny sip of his own, already wondering how much he could leave undrunk without Theresa taking offense.
“I guess you’ve heard that Rachael dumped Jay again,” she said, catching Terry off guard.
“I’m sorry—who?”
“You know—Jay Steiders and Rachael Coltrane. They were in your movie, weren’t they?”
Light dawned. “Oh, that Jay and Rachael. Yeah, they were male and female lead in Snakeskin Overshoes. Jay also appeared in the film adaptation of my first best-seller. The Angira Conspiracy, that was. My first movie, his first leading role. A good day for both of us, I’d say.”
He smiled at the memory. “Rachael and Jay were married when we filmed Snakeskin Overshoes; really, the two of them sort of came as a package deal at that point in time. And I suppose I’m vaguely aware that there’s been some turmoil in the ensuing years. But I’m not in contact with either of them, and I’ve no idea the particulars of their current relationship status.”
Theresa was shaking her head. “I don’t see how you could have missed it. Everybody’s talking about it.”
Terry bit his tongue, refraining with difficulty from pointing out that it might be very easy to miss if she’d turn off the goddamn celebrity gossip channels for five minutes at a stretch.
“It’s awful what she keeps doing to him,” Theresa went on. “Sleeping with her director, trying to keep the kids away—it makes me sick.”
Terry smiled a rueful smile. He instructed himself firmly that he’d do better to remain silent, then spoke anyway. “Forgive me, Theresa, but have you considered that you most likely have an incomplete picture of the situation? I spent years rubbing shoulders with people of their status, and the correlation between reality and what gets printed in People Magazine was almost always tenuous at best.”
Theresa blinked a few times, clearly struggling to parse out the sentence he’d just uttered. “Well—she sure doesn’t have much to say about it. If it wasn’t true, wouldn’t she be defending herself?”
Terry shrugged. “I didn’t say it wasn’t true. But consider people you and I both know—Jared and Stacy Logan, for instance. A tumultuous marriage, to put it mildly, and each has plenty to say about the other. Neither of them are entirely wrong. Reality is somewhere in the middle.”
“Yeah, I guess, but—”
“I was on or around the set with Jay and Rachael for months, and developed a rapport. I liked them both personally, and respected them professionally. Neither of them, in my judgement, is a bad person. Relationships can get complicated, as I suspect you know quite well. The life of a celebrity is no less messy than yours or mine. On a side note, I knew Rachael as a fairly private person. That she avoids making the messier details of her personal life public surprises me not at all. It doesn’t mean there isn’t another side to the story.”
Theresa was polishing off the last of her daiquiri, and Terry was surprised to note that he had consumed about three-quarters of his own. The aftertaste remained horrid, but he supposed that some conversations were best endured with a bit of a buzz to take the edge off.
Setting down her empty glass, she crossed her arms and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you feeling all right, Terry? You’re being kind of weird.”
Seeing that what was left of his drink had melted to slushy liquid, Terry tossed the rest of it back and stood. “You know what, Theresa? I’m really not feeling all right. Sorry. Maybe we should take a rain check. Call you?”
Theresa’s mouth tightened, but her tone remained even. “Yeah, sure—call me.”
Terry closed her front door behind him with an enormous sigh of relief.
***
Nettie’s breath was coming in shuddering gasps, her head thrown back; eyes closed. Hannah knelt on the floor of the shower stall, tongue buried between her lover’s sweet lips and flickering furiously. Steaming water cascaded directly on her flaming red hair, pouring in curtains down her face and back. She didn’t seem to notice, or care.
Nettie’s knees almost buckled as a particularly intense wave of pleasure coursed through her body. Her arms shot out, hands pressing against the wall for support. “Oh!” she cried out. “Oh God—OH!”
Then she was crying out over and over, waves crashing on top of waves as her body raced towards orgasm, finally careening over the edge. Her hands dropped from the wall to Hannah’s drenched mane of hair as her climax subsided. “Okay,” she panted. “I’m good.”
Hannah rose to unsteady feet, turned off the water with a savage twist of her wrist, and grabbed Nettie’s hand. “My turn! Come on.” The two lovers had discovered early on that Nettie was too tall to easily go down on Hannah from a kneeling position.
Nettie followed as nimbly as she could, her legs still shaky from that thunderous climax. The bathroom with the shower stall was directly adjacent to Nettie’s dad’s old pool room. That’s as far as they got. Hannah sprawled on the love seat, legs spread wide, water from her dripping hair and body instantly soaking into the cushions.
Nettie dropped to her knees on the carpet, licking her lips. Fresh from the shower, her lover’s cunt looked positively scrumptious, right down to the tiny beads of water glistening in her pubes. She could have spent another moment or two marveling at its beauty, but an impatient Hannah grabbed the back of Nettie’s head, pulling her close.
Resisting for a moment, Nettie flicked her eyes upward, accompanied by a teasing grin. “A little overexcited, are we?”
“I fingered myself most of the way there while I was eating you. Come on, bee-otch!”
Nettie tested Hannah’s entrance with a fingertip, finding it slick and receptive, then slid two fingers all the way inside, grinding the redhead’s clit with her palm. Hannah let out a rapturous cry, lifting her hips up from the cushions. She was bucking furiously against Nettie’s hand, her breath choppy. Hannah hadn’t been kidding; she was clearly only moments removed from release. Nettie dove in, seeking and finding her lover’s treasure, taking up a rapid flicking motion with the tip of her tongue.
That was all it took. Hannah was wailing like a banshee, her pussy muscles contracting, hips thrashing so furiously it was all Nettie could do to keep her tongue in place. Finally Hannah collapsed into the cushions, her body spent.
Nettie pushed herself from the floor and nestled in beside her lover, holding Hannah close. She’d just settled in when the muffled sound of her ringing cellphone came from the bathroom. She was tempted to ignore the damn thing, but thought better of it.
She lifted her head. “Fuck. Sorry, Hannah, but with everything that’s going on—”
“Sweetie, I’m a doctor,” Hannah replied, patting Nettie’s thigh. “I check my phone when it rings, period. Handle your business.”
Nettie trotted naked across the carpeted floor, hair still dripping. She didn’t quite make it. She’d just shaken the phone out of the front pocket of her jeans when it ceased to ring. “Dammit,” she muttered, turning the device over in her hands. A missed call from Terry.
Returning to the pool room at a more sedate pace, she traversed the carpet once more, plopping down next to Hannah on the love seat. “Just missed it,” she said. “It’s Terry. Probably nothing important, but I’ll drop him a quick call and see what he wants.”
Terry picked up instantly. “Hey, Nettie. Catch you in the middle of something?” His loud, clear voice was audible to Hannah as well. The two women shared a look, then burst out laughing.
“Oh,” said Terry, with sudden comprehension. “Hello, Hannah. Sorry, it’s nothing important. I’ll let you get back to—”
“Oh, no worries,” said Nettie, putting the phone on speaker while Hannah continued to snicker. “We just finished our, um—”
“Project,” Hannah finished for her. The two of them dissolved into laughter again.
“Excellent,” said Terry, his voice deadpan. “One hopes you both took tremendous pleasure in satisfactory completion.”
Hannah cracked up again. “Terry,” she said, leaning close to Nettie’s phone. “Can I keep you on call for when I need a good one-liner?”
“Sorry, my dear,” said Terry. “But word would get out, and there are only so many of me. Can’t have everybody wanting one.”
Nettie drew in what she hoped was a sobering breath. “What’s up, Terry?”
“As I said, nothing much. I was just going to ask if you wanted to hang out; have a drink or something. But if you and Hannah are pursuing explosively enjoyable projects to their climactic conclusion, I can find other ways to amuse myself.”
Hannah broke into laughter again, but this time Nettie didn’t join in. Terry was a gregarious, social creature by nature, but this out-of-the-blue invitation was hardly his style.
She realized Hannah was still laughing, and looked at her askance. “It wasn’t that funny.”
Hannah giggled. “It is when I’ve got a couple of drinks in me.”
Nettie shook her head. “That’s it—no more sauce for you.” Then something else occurred to her. “Hey,” she said into the phone, “I thought you were, um, working on a ‘project’ of your own with Theresa Fosse tonight.”
Terry snorted. “Might one ask where you happened to come by that piece of information?” he inquired, amusement in his voice.
“Ummm—shit. Halee told me. Don’t be pissed at her, okay?”
“Oh, I’m not. It’s not news to me that she thinks I’m nuts to turn my hand—and other assorted body parts—to Theresa’s urgent need for project completion. I—”
Hannah was doubled over with laughter. “Terry—Jesus, Terry! Knock it off. I’m getting a stomach ache!”
“As a doctor, my dear, you know perfectly well that the problem therein is simple muscle tension, the relaxation of which is best accomplished by the stimulation of pelvic anatomy, yet another project for Nettie to—”
As Hannah burst into yet another fit of laughter, Nettie cut him off, just barely holding back her own mirth. “Okay, smart-ass, give it a rest. You were saying?”
“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, I spent fifteen minutes or so sipping double-syruped daiquiris while listening to inane babble, and decided that Halee’s logic was unassailable.” Nettie’s eyebrows were in her hairline now. Terry, walking away from sex? Hannah, seeing her expression, had stopped laughing.
“Terry,” Nettie ventured, “are you all right?”
“Oh, perfectly fine,” he said in an airy voice. “I was just thinking that since I’m clearly not getting any projects done this evening, and the girls would probably be just as happy if the Big Bad Fun-Killing Dad Monster steered clear of their sleepover for awhile, I might join up with a friend for a drink and a conversation about something other than who celebrities spend their sack time with. But if you’re busy, it’s not a problem.”
Nettie wasn’t buying it. “Where are you, if you’re not at home?”
“Walking the bike trails. Lovely evening for it.”
Nettie looked to Hannah, an eyebrow lifted. Hannah, understanding at once, nodded vigorously.
“Terry,” she said, “we’re at my place. Why don’t you stop over for a drink? Hannah and I are done with our—you know—our project—”
“Well, at least taking a break from it,” Hannah cut in, merriment in her voice. “But seriously, Terry, come hang out with us for a while. It’ll be fun.”
“If you’re sure,” said Terry. “I’ll be there in ten.” He cut the connection.
Nettie looked to her lover. “Hannah, I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s okay. I don’t even know him that well, and I can tell that something’s not right. Maybe we’d better throw some clothes on before he gets here, what do you say?”
***
“But why can’t I watch it with them?” Maya Wilder wasn’t quite in tears, but close. There was a stubborn set to her jaw.
“Because it’s already past your bedtime,” Halee replied, carefully keeping her voice level, “and because it’ll give you nightmares, after which you will end up in my bed, and steal all the blankets. C’mon, kid. I let you stay up later than I should have as it is.”
“But I’m not tired, Halee!”
“Tell you what,” said Halee. “You can look at your storybooks for a little while. I’ll come in fifteen minutes to tuck you in. Deal?”
“But I want to—”
“Maya. You are not watching The Monster Squad. Get over it, all right? Are you walking to your room, or do I have to carry you?”
“Fine!” Angry tears dripped down the six-year-old’s cheeks. “You’re a bad sister, Halee. I want you to know that!” Parting shot delivered, Maya turned her back on Halee and stomped down the hall.
Halee turned her head towards the girls still in the living room. Naomi and Chelsey, both age eleven, had their eyes fixed to the wall-mounted TV, remote in Naomi’s outstretched hand. Eight-year-olds Dawn and Allison were staring at Halee, Dawn with an amused expression, Allison with eyebrows raised.
“When I go in to check on her, bet you a dollar she’s passed out,” said Halee as she took the single step up from the dining nook to the living room. “Then in the morning, she can tell me how tired she wasn’t.”
Naomi turned to her older sister, a frown on her lips. “I found it on Amazon. It’s seven bucks to buy, three to rent. Why don’t we call Dad and ask if we—”
“Very bad plan,” Halee countered with a smirk.
“But we’ve watched it before,” said Naomi. “Maybe we rented it?”
“I’ve never even heard of it,” Chelsey replied.
“Oh, you’ll love it,” said Naomi. “It was one of Dad’s favorites when he was a kid. It’s old, but it’s way cool. Or I guess you would love it, if we could watch it. Looks like we can’t.”
“I rather suspect we can,” said Halee. She was opening the doors of a large cabinet set against a side wall. She traced her finger along the spines of the DVD cases lined up inside. “Here it is,” she said, turning to face the others and holding it aloft.
“Oh, that’s right, we didn’t stream it! We have it on Blu-Ray.” Naomi slapped herself on the forehead.
“Jeez, does anyone even still have a player for those things?” Chelsey wanted to know.
“We do,” said Halee, crossing the room. “Naomi, would you be so kind as to get the popcorn going? I’ll get this set up.”
***
“What’ll you have, Terry?” Nettie stood before an open cupboard, a variety of whiskey bottles on display.
“Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”
“Actually,” Nettie said softly, “I already had one a little while ago. I think I’ll stop there tonight.”
Terry’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, then. Whatever bourbon you happen to have will do nicely.”
Nettie selected the best bottle in her cupboard, which she knew perfectly well was not on par with whatever Terry’s best bottle was. Still, it was decent stuff. She poured it into the waiting glass of ice, then re-stoppered the bottle.
Terry sipped, then smiled. “Thank you, Nettie.”
Hannah turned from the island, where she’d been mixing a margarita. She raised it in his direction. “Cheers, Terry.” She sipped, then smacked her lips. “Ah. Perfect.” Nettie beckoned them toward the living room. She and Hannah settled into the love seat, Terry taking one of the recliners.
Terry raised his glass. “I must say, the two of you make a beautiful couple. Here’s to a happy future together, and I mean that.”
“Thank you Terry,” said Hannah, raising her glass and drinking with him.
Nettie, on the other hand, was raising mental eyebrows. Such maudlin declarations weren’t in character for Terry Wilder at all. She cast around in her mind for something to say to lighten the mood. “Flattery gets you zero threesomes, dude.” Hannah laughed so hard she almost spilled her drink.
Terry was grinning. “Well,” he said, “it was worth a try.” At least that statement was more like the old Terry, but the tone was all wrong. It sounded pro forma, like something he was saying because he was expected to.
Nettie suddenly decided she was in no mood for this. “Terry, are you okay? You’re acting weird as fuck.”
That grin remained frozen on his lips. “Weird as fuck is my default. Ask my kids; they’ll tell you.” He took another sip of whiskey.
The mirth had faded from Hannah’s face. “Terry… Antoinette’s worried about you. Maybe she has good reason and maybe she doesn’t, but if the two of you want to talk, I can make myself scarce.”
His smile disappearing, Terry pursed his lips. “No need. I am, perhaps, not at my best, but I don’t feel the need to burden anyone with the details. They’ll work themselves out; things always do.”
Nettie shook her head. “You shouldn’t hold it in, Terry. You’re my best friend. I’m here for you.”
Terry burst out laughing. It took him a moment to recover his voice. “Sorry, Nettie. But that’s one hell of a statement, coming from you.”
Nettie’s gaze didn’t waver. “Believe me, I know that. I’m just now realizing the price I’ve paid by keeping things bottled up.” She hesitated, then added, “I told Hannah about Annamarie a couple of hours ago.”
Terry’s face went very still. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Finally, he spoke. “That’s a name you’ve never once uttered in my presence, not until now.”
“But you know about her.”
“Of course.”
“I never wanted to talk about what happened to us—to her,” said Nettie, staring at the carpet. “If I could’ve talked about her and not the rest of it, I would have, but it—it just never worked out that way.” She fumbled for Hannah’s hand and pulled it into her lap, holding on for dear life.
“That caused a lot of problems for you and me, Terry,” Nettie pressed on. “And with other people before you. I decided I had to break the cycle, you know? And I have to thank you. You always encouraged me to open up without pushing me too hard. And you’ve been my friend, no matter how bitchy I got when I was down. When I decided to tell Hannah, I was thinking of things you’ve said to me over the past year or so. I don’t think I could have got there with… without you.” There were tears in her voice and her eyes, but Nettie held her head high.
“Then I’m proud to have contributed in some small way,” said Terry. “Well done, Nettie—sincerely. I’d given up hoping that this would come to pass.”
Nettie smiled. A single tear trickled down her cheek. “Thanks, Terry. Now let’s talk about you.”
Terry took another sip of his whiskey. “In honor of your truly impressive breakthrough this evening, I’ll do so—but there really isn’t much to tell. It’s only that I find myself at something of a crossroads. I have no professional life to speak of, the only consolation being that I don’t need the money. I seem incapable of writing anything that seems worthwhile to me. My romantic life is a ridiculous hashwork of one-nighters, friends with perks, and women who have no business sleeping with me.
“There are, of course, my girls, and I do like to think I’m handling my job as a parent with some level of competence. But the rest of it? Sitting in Theresa’s living room this evening, sipping the most redneck of beverages and listening to her prattle on about things which she knows less than nothing of, I came to realize precisely how dissatisfying it all is.”
Terry tilted his head back, seemingly speaking to the ceiling. “All that said—I’m fine, Nettie. First-world problems, all of them, and I’m far better off than most. What I realized tonight is that I can’t continue to playact at everything except being a parent. In short, I need to get a life.”
Hannah raised her drink to him. “Good for you, Terry. Sounds like both of you are making strides today.”
Terry lifted his whiskey in return, then polished off the rest of the glass. “Since we’re all wearing our hearts on our butt cheeks—are you okay, Nettie? Talking about your sister has to have been a very large step for you, especially in light of your escapades earlier this week. I—”
“Whoa.” Nettie was sitting bolt upright. “What the hell do you know about earlier this week?”
Terry shrugged. “Only that you traveled to Virginia or thereabouts, and that you were involved in the rescue of two preteen sisters who’d been kidnapped. I deduced—oh, to hell with it. I was contacted by Special Agent Perky Tits earlier today. She gave me the scantiest of details, but asked me to check in on you, which is one reason I thought we might meet up tonight after my tryst with Theresa Fosse fell through.”
Hannah was laughing again. “Special Agent Perky Tits?!”
Terry chuckled. “It’s how I affectionately refer to DEA agent Bridgett Ramscone. In any event, she’s concerned about your mental well-being, Nettie. As am I. I also admit to some curiosity about what took place up there.”
Nettie chewed on the inside of her cheek, then got to her feet and made her way towards the kitchen. “I think I’ll have another drink after all. Do not let me pour a third. You want another one, Terry?”
***
“Kick him in the nards!” screamed the kid on the television screen.
“He doesn’t have nards!” the chubby boy facing off against the werewolf howled back.
“Do it, do it!”
Racing forward, the fat kid gave his foot a mighty swing, connecting solidly with the hirsute beast’s nether regions. All the fight went out of the werewolf as it doubled over in pain.
A look of wonder came over the big kid’s face. “Wolfman’s got nards.”
Dawn and Allison, side-by-side on beanbags in the middle of the living room floor, howled with laughter. Chelsey, snuggled up under a blanket on the couch with Naomi, also erupted in a fit of giggles. Naomi, who had seen the movie before, was grinning. That grin became a smirk as a hand beneath the blanket slid up her thigh. Their clandestine fooling around had been going on for almost ten minutes, and both girls faces were flushed. The younger girls on the beanbags, backs to the couch, were completely oblivious.
Halee, curled up in her dad’s recliner with her laptop, was not. Having seen the movie several times before, she’d thought to finish up a bit of code she was working on for her Python course, but found herself increasingly distracted by the action taking place on the couch. She was all too aware of her panties dampening, erect nipples tenting her t-shirt. Something would have to be done about this before she’d be able to sleep, something she’d prefer not to take care of on her own.
Picking up her phone, she shot off a text to Bethany.
***
Terry Wilder was pulling thoughtfully on his lower lip. Hannah stared at her lover with wide-eyed wonder as Nettie, pacing the living room and nursing a glass of bourbon, related the details of her sojourn north the previous Tuesday.
“That’s really pretty much it,” she was saying. “We got them both out, but the perp—whoever he was—managed to skip right out from under us.”
“How are those girls doing?” Hannah’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.
“I haven’t gotten any follow-up. Last I heard they were both being taken to Children’s, but I think that’s more because they didn’t want to be separated than anything else. Gina’s fine physically, or she will be once she gets some nutrition in her. Heather’s mostly okay, but her hands are a mess. She was digging in soil that’d been compacted by the weight of the shed, using her fingers and chunks of concrete. I wouldn’t be surprised if she needs surgery.”
“She got her sister out,” said Terry. “Gutsy kid. Do you think Gina would have made it far enough to get help?”
“I doubt it,” said Nettie, polishing off the last of her bourbon and leaning against the wall. “The ironic thing is, she wasn’t that far from the road. Following that abandoned highway was the right choice with the information she had, but it was actually the worst thing she could have done. She still had about six miles to travel over very rough ground, and she could barely walk when I got to her.”
“It was a good try, though,” said Terry, “and it did work out.”
“Oh, for sure.”
“They can probably fix the fingers, and whatever else,” said Hannah. “Those emotional scars won’t go away anytime soon, though.”
Nettie tossed back the last of her bourbon. “No. They don’t.” Crossing the room to the love seat, she plopped down beside Hannah. The redhead put an arm around her.
“What seems remarkable to me,” said Terry, “is that the bad guy managed to get away so cleanly.” He held up his phone. “I’m looking at a map of the immediate surrounding area. There’s nothing out there at all. Mater’s garage is a solid fifteen miles from Virginia, which appears to be the nearest place to catch a bus or anything like that. I’d assume the FBI was keeping an eye on the bus station, as well.”
“Yeah, they were,” said Nettie. “Hopefully they still are, in case he’s hunkered down somewhere in the area. But I’ve been wondering the same thing; just how the hell he got away on foot. The answer is that he didn’t.”
Hannah bit her lip. “You’re thinking he had help?”
Nettie shrugged. “He could have hitchhiked, but I dunno. Not very many people pick up hikers anymore. Too much risk. Besides, would he really be standing on the shoulder with his thumb out when he knew he was being hunted? I think more likely there’s an accomplice involved.”
Terry was shaking his head. “That being the case, why would he have been carrying his spare tire to the shop? Why not phone for help?”
“Because the cell service out there sucks. I had no bars at all where I found his car. I had one where I found Gina, but it wouldn’t put a call through. I had to climb a fucking tree, remember? There was actually pretty decent service at the old farmstead where we found Heather; I was able to call Bridgett from there.”
Nettie looked down at the glass in her hand, seeming to notice for the first time that it was empty. She set it down. “He probably could have called someone once he got to the highway, but maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he was close enough to the shop he didn’t feel like it was worth the risk of exposing both of them. I don’t know—I’m just guessing here. Maybe there isn’t an accomplice at all.”
“But you think there is,” said Hannah, taking a sip of her margarita.
Nettie nodded. “Either that, or he’s still in the area. He could have a hidey-hole somewhere within walking distance.”
“Which seems equally likely,” said Terry. “So tell me why you’re leaning towards the accomplice theory.”
Nettie stared down at her hands. “Because I’m pretty sure there was an accomplice when Anna and I were kidnapped.”
On to Chapter Twelve!
Chapter Two: A Desperate Good Girl on the Edge 
There’s a wonderful lesbian eroticism to women’s and girls’ soccer. I remember attending a game where I saw a hot soccer mom stand behind her pretty daughter, slip her hands inside the collar, and lovingly massage the girl’s neck and shoulders. The adoring look that passed between them, each staring into the eyes of the person they love most in the world, was truly beautiful. This story is inspired by moments like that. I also use names that I like the sound of. Both elements help with the creation of a story, but the events depicted here never happened and the characters are not based on real people. It is a work of complete fantasy.
Hi there, I’m Bunny! Wanna see my tushy?