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Subject: {ASSM} The Innocent Fugitive Ch20 {Varkel} (Mg oral ped)
Date: Sun, 25 Feb 2001 18:10:02 -0500
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The Innocent Fugitives
a Novel by Varkel
Copyright (C) 2001, Varkel




Chapter 20: The Problem of Bobbie


When she came in, she noted a peculiar glint in his eye.  Closing 
the door behind her, she leaned against it.  "What?"

"I warn you up front, Clio.  If you ask this time, I'll say yes."

Her eyebrows rose in pretended affront.  "I see!  Now you expect 
me to be a contrary broad and not ask, right?  Well, Dr. Hard-to-
swallow Smith, better take your britches down!"

"Hard to swallow?"  His voice was indignant.

She smiled knowingly.  "What's the matter, boss -- bad weekend?"

"Yeah."  He chuckled grimly.  "Though I bet you'd never agree 
with me."

"Didn't you like Florida?  Your nose looks a little sunburned."

"Oh, Florida's all right, especially for December.  I swam in the 
pool, waded in the surf, snoozed under an umbrella, all very 
restful."

"Sounds good!  Then you ought to be in great shape."

"Huh!  I did everything but get laid."

"Oh, boss, you poor fellow!"  The woman laughed.  "Don't tell me 
Jenny got her period."

"Not until we arrived home last night.  Jenny was busy as hell 
all weekend.  I saw her exactly twice: for lunch on Saturday and 
Sunday, which was breakfast for her.  And all the other women 
were pros, too."

"Well, yeah, it's the season, you know.  What's wrong with pros?"

"Oh, nothing, of course."  He shrugged then made a face.  "It's 
just that I was the consort of the best looking one in town -- 
who didn't have any time for _me_!"

Her eyes widened.  "My god!  You've had to do without since 
Thursday?"

He regarded her suspiciously.  "Don't be sarcastic.  Actually 
since Wednesday."

"You poor, poor fellow."  She shook her head sorrowfully then 
smiled.  "So when're you gonna let me suck you off the way a good 
secretary is supposed to?"

"Right now!"  He leaned over the desk.  "Which button do I push 
on this phone?"

She raised a hand.  "Hold your britches up a moment longer.  I 
came in with some news that Corley asked to pass along."

"Oh, yeah?  When it comes from Corley ..."

She nodded.  "You're right, it ain't good.  You remember Flops, 
don't you?"

"Of course: the girl with the floppy hanging labia."  He laughed 
reminiscently.  "She was going to teach them to puff on a 
cigarette.  Did they ever learn?"

"I don't think she ever got it reliable.  For sure she never will 
now."

He sobered.  "What happened to her?"

"They found her body in a garbage bag in an alley early this 
morning.  She'd been strangled and her nipples bit off."

"_Bit_ off?"

"Bit."

"Good god, Clio, that's horrible!"

"You bet!  But that kind of thing happens in the city every now 
and then.  What galls Bernie is that it happened while she was on 
duty."

"On duty!  You mean with one of Bernie's special clients?"

"Exactly.  That is, she was and she wasn't.  Somebody called, 
claiming to represent John Fortesque, said the old geezer heard 
about our gal that takes care of high risk cases and would pay a 
premium for immediate service.  Corley sent Flops over to the 
Fortesque Building penthouse.  That was Saturday night.  He 
didn't hear any more till she showed up in the morgue late 
Sunday.  She never even got laid."

Paul stared.  "What do Fortesque's people say about it?"

"They never saw her.  What's more, they never ordered service."

Paul laughed bitterly.  "Well, of course they would say --"

"Bernie believes them."  Clio's eyes narrowed.  "Flops was 
missing four fingernails, too: pried off.  Bernie thinks the 
killer was trying for Jenny and tortured Flops to find out where 
Jenny might be."

"But -- but --"

"Like those two guards that got hung on the pipes.  Corley told 
me to warn you.  Flops was not the girl to refuse anything, and 
she knew where Jenny lives.  It's amazing and speaks well for 
female contrariness that she had to suffer as much as she did."

"Corley thinks she told?"

Clio nodded.  "She died of manual strangulation.  The killer took 
pity on her.  If she hadn't told him, her mutilation would've 
been worse."

"Jesus Christ!"

"This place and your apartment already have guards assigned, and 
when Jenny goes back to work next week, she'll be delivered and 
picked up in a company car.  But you take care, will you, boss?  
Whoever it is, Corley says, he's after both of you."

"Jesus Christ!"

She sniffed.  "More likely the devil!"  Her expression 
brightened.  "Now what were we about to do next?"

He shook his head and said without smiling, "You can't answer the 
phone with a dick in your mouth."


* * *


What a crummy day!  Bobbie's lip curled in disgust as she tucked 
the two homework papers -- Louise's and her own freshly made copy 
of it -- into her book bag.  A premonition had occurred to her 
when she strolled into the library only to discover that Peter 
and Arnie couldn't get the back desk -- though maybe after her 
run in with Peter they didn't try as hard as they did before.  
Then Hawker claimed he couldn't get away at all this week and 
wouldn't tell her when the readers would gather in the basement.  
She had checked on them at last bell, then had the idea of 
checking again after staying late and helping the librarian 
return books to the stacks.  She smiled.  That had been a little 
bit funny.

Ms. Cloud had peered through her narrow glasses as Bobbie 
returned for a fiction armload.  "Do you read much, dear?"

"Everything I need to," was the girl's automatic answer.

"Do you indeed!"  The woman smiled wryly.  "Too bad we can't all 
say that!  But do you ever read for fun?"

Bobbie had to search for the best answer.  "Sometimes," she 
managed.

The woman showed her a slim volume.  "Have you read this one?"  
The title was _Thrilling Islets of Lesbos_ by Doris Tarque.  
Opening it at random disclosed every line beginning with a 
capital letter.

"Poetry?" asked the girl.

"Very good poetry, Bobbie."  The woman's voice lowered.  "It can 
really make you tingle."

That was stupid.  The girl had answered with a sneer, "I know 
what makes me tingle, and it's not anything like a book."

"But this won't leave streaks on your chin."

The woman was watching her sharply and slowly smiled when Bobbie 
failed to ask what she meant.  Bobbie had accepted the book and 
beaten a hasty retreat, only to be disappointed.  The basement 
remained empty of boys, naked or otherwise.  Now she wished she 
had told the woman, "What's wrong with streaks on your chin?"  
Or, "But I like streaks on my chin."  Why could you think of a 
good retort only after the time for it had passed?

Having arrived home earlier than planned, she had thought to try 
Tom again.  When she pushed on his door, it popped right open.  
She walked in without hesitation.  He was sitting hunched over 
his computer as usual.

"Go away," he said.

She forced a happy laugh.  "How did you know it was me?"

"Who else is too unmannerly to knock?" he asked, still not 
looking up.  His fingers rattled on the keyboard.

"You wanted me to knock?"  She deliberately projected hurt.  "If 
you feel that way, Mr. Unfriendly, why didn't you lock yourself 
in?"

"The lock's busted," he answered shortly.

She came up behind him and looked over his shoulder, though not 
at the computer screen.  He was wearing a bathrobe -- and only a 
bathrobe.  Plus slippers, she amended.  The sash was dangling 
loose and the robe had parted in front.  She could look down his 
flat belly to blond pubic hair and the stub of a circumcised 
penis, whose upturned eye winked invitingly back.  She had tasted 
that organ as well as its thin effluent, had felt it shoved into 
her entrails, had ridden to ecstasy impaled upon it properly.  
Without a qualm her hand slipped under his arm and caught the 
lumpy thing gently between thumb and forefinger.

"Don't do that," he commanded absently, fingers still tapping.

In response she lifted the scrotal sack, squeezing gently, and 
began to work the skin behind the head.  She felt a strengthening 
pulse in the soft organ.

"Bobbie, damn it ..."

"You don't like this?" she asked wonderingly.  She shrugged, 
releasing him.  The computer was set up on one end of his rickety 
eating table.  She skipped around the table, dropped to her knees 
and crawled between his legs from the other side.  Mouth and 
tongue resumed the suspended task.

He endured it while the organ doubled in size, beginning to fill 
her mouth.  Suddenly he snatched it out, shoving back his chair, 
and bent forward to stare balefully at her from inches away.

"Bobbie, damn it, I mean what I say.  This summary has to be in 
my advisor's office before seven o'clock."  He raised his voice 
almost to a shout.  "Now get the hell out of here!"

"Just let me suck you off," she offered plaintively.

"No!" he shouted.

She sniffed a faint odor she had noticed upon entering.  Suddenly 
she recognized it.  "You've had another girl in here this 
weekend."

"So ... _what_?"

"Who was she?  It couldn't've been Jenny."

"Bobbie," he said warningly, "get out of here or I'll throw you 
out."

"You'll be sorry," she told him solemnly.

"Are you going?"

"Oh, all right."  She backed away and stood up.  "You'll be sorry 
if I never come back."

His eyes glinted.  "When you come back, I'll make you a sign."

"A sign?"

"To wear around your neck outside and show to every man who comes 
along.  It'll say, 'May I suck your dick?'"

"Oh, Tom!  That's so rude!"

His face fell.  "Yes, it is.  I'm sorry, Bobbie.  Will you please 
just go?"

She had left promptly but giggled on the way upstairs.  Would 
such a sign actually work?  In the apartment she had concluded 
that it was a stupid idea.  The cops would come.  You couldn't do 
or say anything about sex where people could see you.

"Paul?"  It was Jenny's voice from the master bedroom.  "I'm 
almost out of tampons.  Will you run down to the drugstore for 
me?"

He called from the den.  "Did you look in the back of the sink 
under the paper towels?"

A moment later, from the bathroom:  "Oh, thank you!"

So prissy Jenny was ragging, was she?  Bobbie flung off the 
remains of the school uniform and slipped into her flannel 
bathrobe, carefully leaving the sash untied.  If an open robe 
worked for one, maybe it would for another.

She traipsed into the den.  Paul sat under the floor lamp -- a 
curious name, she thought, not for the first time -- reading 
something, also wearing a robe and slippers, though his sash was 
securely belted.  She decided on the direct approach and flopped 
down on the couch beside him, her hand falling negligently on his 
thigh.

He looked up.  "Got a problem, princess?"

She saw annoyance in his eyes and changed tactics.  She shook her 
head and looked down with a sigh.  "Now's not a good time, is 
it?"

He smiled encouragingly, laying his magazine on the end table.  
"It's not a good time for breakfast, but we're not eating 
breakfast.  What's on your mind?"

"Why won't you play with me any more?"  Her eyes flicked up 
anxiously.

He frowned.  "You're right.  We haven't played much here in 
Chicago, have we?  Hardly at all since the first week, if memory 
serves."  Slowly he smiled and turned more to face her.  "But I 
can't believe you're feeling neglected, Bobbie."

"Well, I am.  You still have the only perfect one."

He sniffed.  "I also can't believe that a retired whore's idea of 
the perfect dick is the same as a pubescent girl's."

"What kind of girl?"

"One who hasn't even had her first period.  Hell, you're not 
supposed to have _any_ idea about dicks yet!"

"Paul, why do you suppose I haven't started?  I'll soon be 
thirteen."

He shook his head.  "I don't know.  I sure hope it's not because 
all this happy fucking, for example, with that boy you had in 
here the other day --  By the way, does he squirt?"

"You mean --"

"When he comes."

"Oh, yeah.  Can they come without squirting?"  The idea 
astonished her.

But the man was grinning sardonically at her.  Uh, oh!  She 
realized belatedly that she had just admitted fucking Alan.  
Quickly she asked, "What about the 'happy fucking?'"

"I was hoping it hadn't reached its natural conclusion."

"What's that?"

"Got you pregnant."

"Pregnant!"  Bobbie could recognize an obvious opening as well as 
the average thirty year old.  She jumped to her feet before him 
and threw the robe wide open.  "Check out my tummy," she ordered 
confidently.  "Does it look pregnant?"

He leaned further back on the couch, staring her up and down.  
His face reddened slightly.  He took a deep breath.  "Jesus, 
Bobbie!"

"What about it?"

He leaned forward.  One hand went behind her, bracing her 
buttocks, while the other rubbed her belly firmly.  "If you're 
pregnant, it must have just happened.  God, how smooth you are!"

She smiled with pleasure.  "You've always liked me."

"That's true.  And I've molested you terribly."  He sighed.  "It 
would take a lot better man than I to resist you."  His fingers 
went to her puffy pink labia and opened them.  His middle finger 
slipped well into her.  She shivered as his thumb twitched on her 
thickening clitoris.

"So responsive!" he murmured, looking up at her face.  "How many 
dicks have been where my finger is, Bobbie?"

"How many?  I never counted."

"How many times have they shot you full of jism?"

"I don't know.  Lots."

"But never enough, right?"

"Almost."

"Almost enough or almost right?"

"Almost right.  Once seven boys and a man were enough.  I even 
forgot to diddle that night."

He chuckled.  "I guess that measure is as good as any.  Did this 
happen before you met Jenny and me?"

"Huh?  Oh, no.  That was ... two weeks ago."

"Good god!"  He stared in astonishment.  Slowly the expression 
faded as he cocked an eyebrow.  "Are you willing to talk about 
your adventures, Bobbie?"

"If it will make you do me."

"What a story!" he breathed.  His eyes were distant, calculating.

"Does it make you want to do me?" she insisted.

He laughed, untying his sash and throwing his robe open to 
display a raging, blood-shot erection.  "What do you think?"

"Oooh!  I want to sit on it."

"And you shall.  But I'm afraid that just now it won't do you 
much good, Bobbie.  It's had no relief in almost a week."

"That's no problem!" she declared confidently, falling to her 
knees between his legs.

Indeed it was not.  After less than a minute she rose up and at 
his direction went to the bedroom.

Jenny, sitting back on stacked pillows, looked up from her novel.  
"What's that on your chin."

The girl wiped her face with her hand and studied the result.  
"Why does it always get on your chin?"

Jenny answered, one professional to the other, "Because they 
always pull out too soon.  I guess I should thank you for taking 
care of him."

"Don't you like the taste?"

The woman stared thoughtfully.  "We never told you what we do all 
day, did we?"

The girl retorted disdainfully, "Just work."  She rummaged in the 
bedside table.

"What are you after?"

"This."  She held up a pocket tape recorder.

Jenny sniffed and asked incredulously, "He wants to record it?"

Bobbie answered smugly, "He wants to record _me_," and swept out 
the door.

When Jenny fell asleep, the girl was still speaking monotonously 
from the other room.


* * *


"Paul, this is Jenny."

"Oh, hello!  I'm delighted to hear you.  You haven't called me at 
work since we set up the office."

"Well, this is important.  I wanted you to know before you get 
home and hear any more from Bobbie."

"Huh?  Then it must be about her.  I remember: you took her for 
x-rays yesterday."

"Yes, I did, and I have the results."

"Well?"

"They are so terribly ironic that I ... I ..."

"Get a grip, honey.  It's not as if she's our daughter."

"No, she's more like my co-wife!"

"I take it the news is not good."

"Paul, you were wondering if she might be pregnant.  You can 
forget that."

"Well!  That's not so bad."

"Not by itself, though at first blush it should be incredible, 
given her experience."

"It _should_ be?"

"Her experience is also the problem.  She never will get 
pregnant, Paul."

"Eh?"

"And she'll never even have a period.  In fact ..."  The woman's 
voice was strained.  "She'll be lucky to live until she's 25."

"What are you talking about, Jenny?"

"Her experience.  Did she tell you when she began having sex?"

"Age ten," he answered immediately.

"Only with her relatives?"

"Oh, no.  Those slimeballs farmed her out.  I think she's even 
been to Chicago before.  They entered her in a suck-off contest, 
would you believe, and she won the first prize."

"Did she!  Well, that probably explains it.  She contracted 
Chlamydia before her ovaries had finished growing.  They are 
about a quarter of the size they ought to be at age twelve.  They 
may have atrophied, Paul.  They may even get smaller.  The 
prognosis for girls who have this experience is not good.  They 
usually go on to develop ovarian cancer as young women."

"Jesus Christ!"

"She'll never give birth, Paul.  Maybe with surgery she might 
live a full life, though the quality could be so-so.  We don't 
begin to know all the important processes the ovaries mediate."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Too bad we can't effectively appeal to Him.  And, Paul ..."

He sighed.  "Go ahead."

"Chlamydia can sterilize a female at any age.  I want out of this 
business.  I want ..."  Her voice broke.  "I want you to be my 
only partner."

"I ...  You've decided you want a child?"

"Yours, Paul.  Only yours."

"I am sincerely flattered, Jenny."  He sighed.  "But aren't you 
forgetting something?"

"I want to forget it.  We're not guilty, Paul."

"I know, but we can't prove it."

She sighed also as she hung up.


* * *


Tom heard the door open behind him as he sat at his computer.  It 
was almost ten o'clock at night.  He turned and saw Bobbie just 
inside the room.  She was clad in woolen slippers and a shift 
that did not cover half her thighs.  She looked like a forlorn, 
golden waif.

"Jenny and Paul are asleep," she said plaintively.  "Will you 
kiss me good night?"

She came over to where he was sitting and ran her hand through 
his blond hair.  He had difficulty tearing himself away from the 
structural stone concept he was transcribing.  Though momentarily 
at a loss for speech, he enjoyed her touch.

"Oh, Tom," she murmured.  "I've missed you so bad.  You're the 
best, you know."

The blatant flattery unlocked his lips.  "If I kiss you, will you 
go back upstairs?"

The girl pressed her cheek to his head and whispered, "You know I 
want more than that."

"Please, Bobbie," Tom said gently, placing a hand on her bare 
shoulder.  "We've been through this already."

"Are you still working on your some bury?"

"My ... summary?  No, it's long turned in.  Now I'm working on 
the argument."

"It isn't due tonight, is it?"

"No, not tonight," he admitted reluctantly.

"Then what is it that bothers you about me, Tom?  You weren't 
bothered when Alan was here."  She eased herself onto his lap and 
draped an arm around his neck.  He stared into the lovely young 
face that almost touched his but again found himself incapable of 
speech.  He did not try to push her off.  All the shame he had 
felt on that occasion surged up in his breast.  He was on the 
verge of panic.  He was losing control of the situation with this 
girl; worse, his penis had definitely thickened.  He was losing 
control of himself.

"Would you find it so awful to kiss me?" she purred, pressing her 
lips against his cheek.

Tom opened his mouth to speak but only a squawk came out.  Again, 
he did not try to remove her from his lap.  By now his member 
seemed hard as rock.

"I feel that, Tommy.  I feel it against my thigh," the girl 
murmured and kissed the man's lips, which puckered in automatic 
response.  "I want you to touch me the way you want to.  I want 
us to be naked together.  I want your hands on me.  Oh, Tom!"

Tom found himself kissing the girl passionately and holding her 
in a tight embrace, savoring the feel of her in his arms.  The 
realization shocked him, but he could not let her go.

"Would you like to play doctor, Tommy?" she asked playfully.  "I 
think I need an examination."

That pitiful excuse was enough to peel away layer after layer of 
shamed rationalization and good sense.  Emitting an inarticulate 
cry, he rose with the girl in his arms, clinging to his neck.

He pulled off her shift and laid her upon his bed, then knelt 
beside it.  He felt no urgency and he proceeded slowly.  He meant 
at first just to look at her and, perhaps, touch her with his 
fingertips.  She was so lovely.  His hands trembled as he grasped 
her right foot.  Her toes were so exquisite!  He could not resist 
rubbing his nose at them.  He began to suck on them, five in 
turn, savoring the big toe, which reminded him of Alan's penis in 
his mouth.  He ran his cheek against a shapely calf, so young, so 
girlish, but the thighs further up suggested a greater sexual 
maturity.  They parted when he licked on a knee. With a gasp he 
buried his face in her panty-clad groin, moist and fragrant.

"Kiss me there!  Kiss me there, Tommy!" she pled hoarsely.

He snatched her panties down roughly and gaped at the hairless 
labia, puffy and succulent.  Just pin hairs were evident above 
them.  With Alan's assistance he had been rushed.  Now he could 
afford deliberation.  His face descended into her groin, tongue 
flicking wildly.  She raised her knees and pressed slender thighs 
tightly against his head.  She wriggled and groaned in 
excitement, soon screaming out in orgasm.

By then he was beyond rational thought.  In three seconds his 
trousers were around his knees and his body was between Bobbie's 
thighs plunging his manhood into the illicit girl, who rolled her 
eyes in exultant triumph.

"Yes! yes!" she screamed even before her full orgasm, which came 
soon enough.

Tom gazed down at the face of the beautiful child beneath him as 
his pleasure struck more powerfully than ever before.  He came 
and came, copiously, whimpering all the while.

He rolled off the young girl and curled quickly into a fetal 
position facing away from her.  "Oh, god!" he cried.  "I've done 
it again.  What a monster!"

Eyes wide, she threw her arm around him and cupped her body to 
his.  She kissed his shoulder desperately.

"Don't say that, Tommy," she pleaded.  "It's my fault.  I made 
you do it.  I'm sorry."

Suddenly he rose from the bed and faced the girl, his heart 
sinking at the sight of her loveliness, like an addict in someone 
else's stash.

"I'm an adult, Bobbie.  I'm supposed to protect little girls and 
boys, not fuck them!  Here I am, the second time with you, too.  
If you had any sense, you'd get up and run from me."  He chuckled 
hollowly.  "Or maybe if I had any, I'd run from you."

"Run?"  Her expression showed her incomprehension.  "Don't you 
want to love me, Tommy?  I want you to love me.  I've never felt 
like this with anyone else.  You're not grown up, you know, not 
like me.  I want to be nice to you always."

She reached up, took hold of the man's arm and pulled him easily 
down to the bed.  He lay next to her, his trousers still around 
his ankles.  Their noses touched.  They smelled each other's 
breath eagerly.  Tom smiled grimly.  They were in love.

"What do you mean," he asked, "I'm not grown up like you?"

She bit her lip, hesitating, then sighed.  "I shouldn't've said 
that."

"But what did you mean?"

She straightened her shoulders.  "That you haven't fucked nearly 
as much as I have.  You've hardly fucked anyone."

His face showed his displeasure at that idea.

She added, "I meant that it wasn't really your fault.  I want you 
to think about how _good_ it felt!  Didn't it feel good?"

"Oh, yes," he admitted.

"Well, let's make it feel good again."

"I'm afraid we'll have to take a breather, my dear.  Just now 
things are a bit floppy."

"Oh, I can fix that," she declared confidently.  She jackknifed 
in the bed, rolled him over onto his back and knelt between his 
legs.  He watched wide-eyed in the light from his reading lamp 
bolted to the wall above them as her mouth yawned unbelievably 
and simply enclosed his entire genitalia.  He felt a touch of 
nervousness as the gleaming white teeth closed around all that he 
held precious.  But instead of pain he experienced stabs of 
pleasure from the compression of her suction and the tongue 
flicking behind it.  As the penis thickened, she let the scrotum 
pop out to squeeze it gently between her fingers.  Blue eyes 
danced up at him from above sunken cheeks.

"God, Bobbie!" he exclaimed.  "Experience does certainly confer 
advantages!"


* * *


His hand caressed her smooth belly.  She squirmed against his 
body in her sleep.  On their third consummation he had driven the 
insatiable girl unconscious.  The bed was a sodden mess.  He 
shook his head ruefully, remembering that tonight was a kind of 
double betrayal, his second of the promise to Jenny and first of 
an implicit commitment to Allison.  Jenny, as he had already 
accepted, was beyond his reach, committed to Paul despite her 
willingness to indulge a pussy-struck young man.  Allison was 
just coming well under his influence, soon to realize she no 
longer needed Alan, in fact had never needed him, to hold Tom's 
interest.  But now his penis was moistened by the juices of this 
wild variable with the perfect skin and wanton playfulness, along 
with Alan another point of hazard that could put Tom, who had 
never meant to harm anyone, under the jail beside --

"Ahem!"

Tom snapped his head around to see Paul and Jenny standing in the 
unsecurable doorway.  He panicked, even though Paul turned away 
in seeming disgust toward the stairs.

"Don't say a word, Thomas," Jenny insisted and came into the room 
like a sergeant.

She stood above him next to the bed with a scornful look on her 
face, looking down on his flaccid cock, and shook her head.

"I'm sure she enjoyed it.  She always does," Jenny uttered with 
undisguised disdain  "Did she ask for love, Tommy?  I must tell 
you that she's a pathetic little girl, raped at ten years old and 
in search of a loving daddy ever since."

Tom thought that he might vomit.  His eyes flicked around the 
room but found nowhere to hide.

Jenny reached down and pulled the girl awake.

"Sweetie," she whispered softly, "it's time to go upstairs."

As Jenny worked with the sleepy child, Tom rose from the bed and 
rushed to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.  
He sat on the toilet seat until he thought the females outside 
were gone.  He had just fucked an emotionally disturbed twelve 
year old girl.  He had done something grossly shameful, but 
nevertheless he remembered it fondly.  Only the appearance of 
Jenny had awakened him to his awful guilt.  Yet he still wanted 
the girl, unreasonably so.

A sudden banging on the door roused him from his reverie.  It 
sounded masculine and he bit his lower lip.

"Open the door, Tom!" he heard Jenny's angry voice.

She was the one he feared most.  He endured some further loud 
knocking before he unlocked the door and opened it.

She was furious, and Tom cringed as he came out of the bathroom.

"It would serve no purpose to hit you, no purpose at all," she 
sneered at him and then slapped him on the cheek with the full 
force of her upper body, knocking him down.

"I told you she was sick, that you had to resist her!" Jenny 
fumed at the young man who sprawled on the floor in a daze.

"I love her," he pleaded weakly, scooting back on the floor 
hoping to avoid a kick.

"We all love her, you asshole!" Jenny screamed, kicking him on 
the thigh despite his defensive efforts.

"We use her like a sexual toy!  I've done it many times," Jenny 
snarled.  "Paul fucks her and feels bad afterwards.  She told me 
she took on seven boys at once and loved every minute of it."

"You've done her many times, you say?" Tom demanded, rising to a 
sitting position, mortification much reduced.  "Were you 
abusive?"

"Good god, man!  Do you think I would abuse that precious girl?"

"No.  But I didn't either.  I made love to her, too."  He gulped.  
"Perhaps I could marry her when she becomes legal."

"Marry her!" Jenny snorted.  "You poor fool, you're out of your 
mind.  Then you must be ready to share her with every other man 
in the world.  To her fucking is no more sacred than picking her 
nose, but it's even more essential."

"It sounds like you've given up on her," he observed, rising to 
his feet.

"To tell the truth, Tom, we've only known her for a few weeks."

"Then give her to me.  I'll take care of her.  I'll fuck her 
until I drop dead, if that's what it takes to satisfy her."

"You would marry her, would you?"  Jenny smiled slyly.  "Do you 
really think you could tame her?"

"I'd know that by the time she becomes legal."

"And if not?

"Then I'd choose her lovers."

"That's ridiculous, Tom.  You could never control her.  You'd 
choose the postman and she'd fuck the plumber.  Let Paul and me 
take care of her.  I've met a brainy sex therapist at the clinic 
who might straighten her out somehow.  She an adorable girl, Tom, 
but don't get carried away with her.  Actually I don't want to 
find her down here again.  Visit her, but only when Paul or I am 
around."

He snorted derisively.  "You're just keeping her to yourselves."

"She's not public property, and, no, Paul and I won't touch her 
again either."

"Ha!" he laughed bitterly.  "She'll be giving herself away on 
street corners." 

"Leave her alone, Tom.  Find a grown up girl."

"I'd rather have a woman," he said petulantly and reached out his 
hand to touch a breast.

Jenny stepped back to avoid him.

"Do you realize you're naked?" she asked, her lip curling.  But 
she sighed and added softly, "I'm sorry I struck you.  In fact 
you didn't deserve it any more than I do."

When he only stared, she shook her head.  "Good night."  She 
turned and marched away.



NEXT:  Chapter 21: New Procedures
Varangian:  ludmax11@hotmail.com
Kellis:     kellis@dhp.com

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