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Message-ID: <37557asstr$1027764604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "NightShade" <i_m_nightshade@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} [NEW] Sandcastles Ch. 31-40 (MF MFF bond rom)
Date: Sat, 27 Jul 2002 06:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

THE USUAL WARNINGS:

   This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind.  If you are offended by
graphic descriptions of natural and/or unnatural sexual acts, if you are
underage, or if this type of material is illegal where you are, don't read
any further.

   This is a fantasy.  You will have to loosen your clench on reality a
little when you read it.  This is a tale in which physical acts and human
responses are not limited to, nor necessarily based in, reality.  Some acts
and responses in this story may be physically impossible and/or
physiologically improbable.

   Also, as is the case with most of the stories in this newsgroup, all the
women in this story are beautiful gorgeous, even.  Gravity has not caused
breasts to droop nor have wrinkles creased unblemished faces.  The men (the
leading men, at least) are hung like bulls.  They can get it up and keep it
up often and at will.  In this special little fantasyland, there are no
STDs, morals, or unwanted pregnancies.  Guilt is a fourletter word.  Most
important of all, neither strength of character, courage of convictions,
nor moral belief stand a chance against any erotic stimulus.  This can be
as benign as an accidental glimpse of a bared ankle or as stimulating as a
whipping on the genitals.

   For those of you who didn't understand the preceding statements, GO
AWAY!

   This story is intended for the salacious entertainment of consenting
adults.  Do not try to do any of the things described in this story.  You
could injure yourself or your partner, be arrested, or shot by her
father....

   If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY!  This story will burn your
eyeballs and fry your brain.

   If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited where you are, GO
AWAY!

   By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility for any disgust,
revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure that results from reading this
story. If you don't, GO AWAY!

   You have been warned!

   If you enjoy this story and feel the urge to post it on a <free> site,
at least give me (NightShade) credit for it.

   So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy the story!....:)

   NightShade

















   Sandcastles

   by NightShade Chapter 31

   During this time we had been ignoring the symphony concerts for the most
part.  There had been other concerts since that first one, but none by
composers either of us wanted to hear.  The second major concert of
interest in the symphony season was at the midpoint.  This one had some
pieces by one of my favorite composers and I announced that we would be
going.  I gave them two weeks notice.

   Again, as before, the packages from The Guild began arriving in sealed
boxes shortly after my announcement.  Whether they wanted to go hear the
concert or not, they wanted to go just to see what was in the golden boxes.

   The day of the concert started early.  This time the two women knew what
to expect and they fully enjoyed the pampering and primping that was done
to them.  By the time the last technician was done, they were about as on
edge as I had seen them.

   I smiled at Sally standing there in her short silk robe.  I handed her a
set of headphones and a new CD along with a steaming cup of her favorite
tea.  Gleefully she curled up in the over-stuffed chair in my office and
went off into her own world.  I could tell she was curious about what I was
going to do to Janey, but she knew I treated the two of them differently.

   I led Janey into her room.  She was so excited I thought she would
burst. When I selected the first box and handed it to her, she even
squealed.  Opening the box she saw a jeweled collar similar to the one her
Mom had worn to the first concert.  She looked up at me, eyes sparkling.

   "I know you're curious about the other boxes, Janey, but I thought you
should know that the Collar Rules will apply tonight.  If you don't want to
wear your collar, that's perfectly OK.  I want you to know that.  Half of
these boxes are just in case you don't want to wear it tonight."

   "Do I still get to keep all the presents?" Typical female.

   "Yes," I grinned.

   "Wow!  Dad, it's beautiful!"

   "So are you, Janey.  I noticed you haven't been wearing the collar every
chance you get, and I just wanted to make sure it's OK with you now."

   "I was kind of looking forward to it, Sensei.  These nights are always
so special, and," she grinned impishly, "I don't just mean the presents.  I
was hoping you'd think of it, too." With that, she slipped to her knees and
offered me the gift of her collar.  She must have been practicing with her
mother, because the gracefulness of her offering was exactly the same.  I
fastened the collar and helped her stand.

   I slipped off the silk robe she had on and stood back, admiring her
naked body.  She was much more comfortable with her nudity now, and reveled
in my admiration of her beauty.  I went over and selected a second box, the
largest of the ones she would get tonight.  She opened it and gasped.

   She pulled out an exquisite corset of deceptively sturdy manufacture. 
It felt light as a feather, but I had been reassured by the designers that
the material was strong and that there was no give in it.

   Janey stepped into the garment and pulled it up.  "Oh, God!"

   I grinned.  I knew what she was thinking.  It didn't cover a thing.  The
top of the corset rested snuggly under her youthful tits.  The bottom
barely touched the top of her trimmed pubic patch.

   I had her lean over, her arms braced on her vanity table, while I
cinched down her waist.  As this was her first corset, it wasn't as
restrictive as the ones she would be able to get into later, when her body
had adapted.  I pulled the drawstrings as tight as they would go, tied them
off and then zipped up the heavyduty zipper.  The zipper gave the garment a
finished, smooth look from the rear.

   "Am I supposed to be able to breathe in this thing?" she said, turning
to me.

   "Dunno," I grinned at her.  "But who cares, really.  Look in the mirror
and see what it does for your tits.  God, Cricket, you're beautiful!"

   She turned, and saw what I meant.  The gleam in her eyes told me she
liked what she saw, too.  She ran her hands up over her cinched waist and
ended with them cupping her breasts.  Her eyes closed and she shuddered as
a minor tremor swept through her.

   I pointed to the remaining boxes, kissed her lightly copping a feel or
two as I did - and left to get her mother ready.

   I walked in a bit ahead of schedule.  I took the opportunity to drink in
the beauty of my love.  I hadn't had much time lately to observe her
unobserved.  Her eyes were closed as she listened to the music.  Her empty
teacup was cradled in her hands.  She looked very happy.

   She cracked one eye open when the CD was done.  "That was nice.  Thank
you, Master.  I hope you didn't wait long."

   I grinned like a schoolboy at her sitting there.  I almost hated to ruin
that picture, but there was more to do tonight.  I offered her my hand and
she took it, smiling back at me.

   I led her to our room.  I took her jeweled collar from her jewelry box
and handed it to her.  Immediately she knelt down and offered me her
collar, which I locked around her neck.  I took her hand and helped her
stand.

   I left her standing there and went in to get Janey.  She was just
finishing inserting all the Rosen's gadgets.  It still embarrassed her to
have someone watch her put them in, so I usually let her do it herself. 
She looked flushed, the corset adding extra pressure and making it harder
for her to bend.

   I took the last remaining items, a pair of high-heeled boots made of the
softest leather, and slipped them onto her feet.  I probably touched her
more than was necessary zipping them up, but she didn't protest.  From her
moans and sighs, I would say just the opposite.  She just grinned at me
when she saw how tall the heels were.  By now she knew of my penchant for
my ladies to wear very high heels, so these were not a surprise to her.  I
helped her walk back to where Sally was waiting.

   "Oh, my!" was all Sally said when Janey appeared.

   Sally looked around for her boxes and realized there was only one on the
bed.  I picked it up and handed it to her with a grand flourish.  She tried
not to look hurt, but she didn't quite succeed.  That all changed when she
opened it.  She reached in and pulled out a white leather riding crop.  It
was stiffer than any we had in our collection.

   I pulled a silk cord out of my pocket.  I turned her around and bound
her wrists behind her back.  I placed the crop in her hands.

   "Don't lose that, my Love, or there will be Hell to pay."

   While she was standing I had her stand with her legs about shoulder
width apart.  I personally inserted the Rosen's little devices in her. 
Sally didn't like them as much as Janey, she said they took too much
control from her.  They made her feel too good and they frightened her. 
She was trembling when I finished securing the earring posts through her
pierced ears.  I sat her down and slipped a pair of hose on her legs, then
a pair of extremely high heels.  She was flushed and radiant.

   I took another cord from my pocket and motioned for Janey to turn
around. I tied her wrists together as well, and led both of them to the
front door.  There I placed the green cape around Sally's nude form and
snapped the closures down the front.  I pulled out another blue cape for
Janey and slipped it around her shoulders.

   The limo was waiting, so we exited the house and drove to the concert
hall.  I made sure we had the same excellent driver.  Since Janey was not
my `date' this evening, both my slaves had `equal' status.  I quickly
realized that both were very greedy when it came to having possession of my
cock in their mouth.  It became a near ugly contest very quickly, with
Janey holding her own.

   I pulled Sally to me and kissed her deeply.  As I expected, Janey
swooped down and took possession of my swollen prick.  "Let the youth do
the work, dearest," I whispered to her alone.  Sally giggled as I slipped
my hand inside her cape and took possession of one of her fine breasts.  We
made out like teenagers for the rest of the trip.

   The driver gave us the two-minute warning by flicking the dome lights as
she approached the concert hall.  As mine were the only hands free, I
closed up my fly.  Janey actually groaned as it disappeared.

   I helped both women out of the car, much to Sally's surprise.  She
started to walk behind me, as she had at the first concert, but I would
have none of that.  I took both of them by their cape-covered elbows and
guided them up the steps and to our box seats.

   The arrangements were similar to last time, but there was only one chair
flanked on both sides by padded prayer benches for the girls to kneel upon.

   As I settled them onto their knees I held the remote controls that ran
their devices where they could see them.  As I pushed each button, I showed
them.  By the second button they knew what to expect and their eyes got
wider as I methodically turned on each device they were wearing to a
moderate level.

   Sally was sweating immediately and, after seeking my permission with a
questioning look, gasped through the first of her many climaxes that night.
I knew they didn't really appreciate my favorite music, but maybe in time
they would learn to have whole new appreciation for it.  It would certainly
be fun to try.

   As the orchestra finished its tuning and warm ups, I leaned back and
prepared to enjoy the music.  I nudged the remotes up as the first
bombastic notes filled the concert hall.  I don't think either Janey or
Sally heard a single note.  I nudged the remotes up another notch as each
selection began.  Sally groaned with a mixture of terror and pleasure as
each piece ended.  Janey just knelt there, a glazed look of bliss on her
face.  I could sense she was riding wave after wave of pleasure.  She
wasn't fighting it like her Mom was and her enjoyment was palpable.

   Intermission came and I turned their units off.  They needed a break. 
Janey wasn't pleased with the absence of the stimulation, but grinned at me
after her little pout.  I helped her to her feet, then turned to help Sally
stand.  Janey wandered towards the front of the box and was looking down
over the audience.  I was embracing Sally, feeling her fabulous ass beneath
her cape.

   Suddenly, it was like a flash of lightning stuck both Sally and I.  We
looked at each other, then turned to Janey.  She was ashen and swaying like
she was going to fall.  Her eyes were fixed on a point down below us.

   I sat Sally down on her bench, then went calmly over to Janey.  I helped
her back from the edge of the box and sat her in my chair, away from the
prying eyes below.  There was no need to look at what had frightened her. I
knew without looking.  Sally knew.  I looked just to be sure.  I was right.

   Gary was back in town.

   Chapter 32

   When Janey was seated, I went back to the edge of the box.  I motioned
for Sally to come up behind me, to use my body as shield from being seen by
anyone below us who happened to look up.  She understood and stood just off
my shoulder.

   Gary was not hard to pick out.  He, too, had two beautiful women with
him.  They were as dark and tan as Sally and Janey were blonde and fair. 
Upon closer inspection, one was much younger than the other.  Another
mother-daughter pair, I bet myself.

   "I-I-I know her," came the quiet voice from behind me.  Janey had come
up and stood, like her mother, behind me, using my body as a shield. 
"She's new to my school, a year younger.  She has an accent."

   I watched him.  He was cocky, confident, and sure of himself.  He
obviously dominated the older female and enjoyed terrorizing her by
fondling the younger woman in public.  His hands roamed the young girl's
body freely and nearly obscenely, causing more than one matronly gasp from
the staid bystanders.  The mother stood meekly, eyes pleading.  Strangely,
the daughter was passive, not reacting at all, as if she were a mannequin.

   I don't know what it was or if we all came to the same conclusion at
once, but one moment I was standing there despising that man and the next I
was on the telephone.  I set in motion an information machine I hadn't
often used since I left the government's service.  It would take a few
hours, but by then I would know all there was to know about the man named
`Gary'.

   We left at the beginning of the second set.  I called the driver as we
left the box.  The car was waiting as we exited the building, the driver
holding open the rear door.  The drive home was silent and uneventful, each
of us lost in our own thoughts.  Janey revived sooner than Sally and I soon
felt her steamy mouth capture the head of my cock as she knelt down at my
feet.  I caressed her smooth cheek as she lay her head on my lap.

   Her playfulness remained as we returned home.  I'm not sure if that was
because she remembered my promise from the last time or if she just figured
that if both Sally and myself were worried about Gary, she didn't need to
be.  With both of us on the case, it was bound to turn out right, right? 
Ah, the innocent trust of the na<ve.

   Inside the door, I relieved both of them of their capes, exposing their
beautiful bodies to my gaze.  I took the crop from Sally's hands and
playfully swatted her naked charms, teasing her with light to moderate
snaps on her very sensitive areas.  She started to move around the room and
I followed her, finally finessing her down the hallway and into our
bedroom. There I delivered a couple of harder swats to her ass, raising her
temperature several degrees.  I laid the crop on the makeup bench and
turned her to me.  Her eyes were snapping, all thoughts of that ugly man
pushed to the side.

   I made her kneel in front of that bench and face the crop.  Her hands
were still tied behind her.  "Stay here, please," I asked/ordered her. 
Then I left the room

   Janey was waiting impatiently, shifting from one booted foot to the
other.  She was not facing the door I came through so I was able to watch
for several minutes before she turned and saw me looking at her.  Unlike
her mother, Janey blushed a deep, deep shade of red as she realized I had
just been standing there looking at her nakedness.  It made her seem all
that more innocent and alluring.

   I took her elbow and led her to her own room.  She got suddenly shy and
lagged a bit behind.  I stopped leading her and quietly took her and held
her in my arms.

   "Afraid?"

   She shook her head.

   "What, then?"

   "I don't know.  I, I just don't know if I'm ready for this."

   "Ready for what?" I teased.

   "You know, for- for- it."

   "Oh."

   She was silent for a while, then with all the enthusiasm of a kid who
hadn't studied for an exam she was about to take, led me into her room. 
She lay down on her bed and awkwardly spread her legs.  God, she was
beautiful!

   "Now what?" I asked her.

   "Huh?"

   "Now what?" I repeated.

   "Aren't you going to, you know, do me now?"

   "No."

   She looked stunned, then slowly closed her legs in embarrassment.  "No?"

   "No."

   "But you promised.  You said..."

   "I said that next time it was your turn." I sat down on the bed next to
her.

   "Right.  I thought..."

   "Cricket?  Who's in charge here?"

   Her slave name brought her up short.  "Oh.  Right.  You are, Sensei."

   She lay in shivering disappointment as I removed the various gadgets
from her.  Tears began flowing silently as I unzipped and removed her soft
leather boots.  It wasn't until I had her second wrist secured to her
headboard by the straps I had installed earlier that she realized that
something was going to happen.  She almost choked on her sob of relief.

   I waited until she was breathing normally then patted her on her legs,
indicating for her to spread them again.  This was a touchy time.  The last
time someone had been between them had been traumatic for her.  I wondered
if she would do it.

   It took her a little time, but she did, smiling bravely up at me,
offering me open access to her most private areas.  I moved between her
spread legs and knelt between them.  I caressed the smooth skin of her
thighs gently.  I could feel her fear and I almost pulled back.  I don't
know why I kept on, but I did.  I guess I didn't want to waste her courage,
to mock it.

   "Now it's your turn, Cricket," I said softly as I bowed my head and
kissed that softest of skin on the inside of her thighs.  Nothing more was
said as I proceeded to bring her to heretofore unknown heights of ecstasy
using only my tongue.  She was screaming and thrashing her blonde tresses
as she came over and over.

   I started to remove her corset when she was sated, but she shook her
head `no', pleading with her eyes.  I silently nodded my assent, then
inserted into her cunt and asshole the larger sized appliances that had
been custom made for her by the Rosen's.  The diabolical ones.  The ones
that plugged into the wall and didn't wear down.

   I tied her ankles to the footboard and left her corseted and
spread-eagled for the night.  She wouldn't get much sleep.  I had
programmed those big vibrators for `simmer.' They would monitor her
biofeedback and keep her at a fever pitch until they were turned off. 
About once an hour they would let her go over the edge, then they would
keep her at that higher level until the next push to the next level.  By
morning she should be nearly crazy.  Of course, she could get loose with a
stiff pull, but she wouldn't do it.  I turned my attention to my next task,
my love.

   Sally was weeping silently as I came in the room.  I knew she was as
unsure as I was of what she had asked me to do with Janey.  I opened my fly
and pushed my dick under her nose.

   "Taste."

   She did, hesitantly.  She wasn't sure if I was rubbing it in or what. 
She jerked her head up in amazement as she realized she didn't taste cunt
juice.

   I leaned down to kiss her.  "Taste," I said, smiling gently.

   She kissed me gently, then, with the tip of her tongue, tasted her
daughter's juices on my face.

   "Forgive me, Master, for doubting you."

   "You're forgiven.  But I'm still going to use the crop on you tonight,"
I said with a wicked grin on my face.

   Sally gasped at that reminder.  I thought she got a little paler, too.
As much as she sought the pain and submission, she still feared my
inexperience.  I hoped tonight would help her get over that fear.

   I helped her kneel in front of the bench with it touching her ass.  I
then bent her backwards over the bench as she had been that first night. 
This time, however, I tied her wrists to her ankles under the bench.  Her
tits were prominently offered to my whims, as was her defenseless twat.

   I started lightly, teasing the tips of her tits, flicking it with the
end of the white crop, caressing them, almost.  I laid a couple of light
strokes quickly across her taut belly, warming the flesh there.  Then I
worked her shoulders to a ruddy glow, avoiding the super sensitive neck
areas.  Still, the numerous blows tantalizingly close to her face and neck
made her shudder.  Slowly, as I worked the tensions and pain and pleasure
in her higher and higher, she realized I had not misplaced one single blow
with the dangerous weapon.  I felt her fears relax as she gave herself up
to the pain and pleasure.

   I led her down the path she desired, wringing cry after heart wrenching
cry from her.  Still she wanted more and harder from me.  Her tits were
blazing red, a mass of mottled color, but without a single welt or drop of
blood.  When she was maxed out and could go no higher, I stepped in front
of her and with a vicious but calculated blow, I brought the crop up
between her thighs to land on her swollen and throbbing cunt lips.

   I thought she was going to break her back.  I had been chasing and
stirring the lights of her aura, teasing her and arousing her with the pain
she sought.  But this was like a super nova.  I had never seen so bright a
light from either her or Janey's auras.  I played the crop off the sides of
her inner thighs, as close to her crotch as I could get.  I teased her with
the pain, then I would deluge her with it.  She slipped into a state of
mind I don't think she knew existed.  She was far beyond the singing stage
that Bala talked about.

   If I could not have seen her aura to help her, to watch her, I would
have been terrified for her.  As it was, I was able to sense her needs and
guide her as she existed on that sensual plateau.  Later, I lay beside her
in bed as she dreamed, or whatever she did.  She was so relaxed, yet so
energized.  I drifted off to sleep, Sally cradled in my arms.

   I woke later to find her watching me with quiet eyes.  There was no fear
anymore, only love.  I was her Master.  I tossed and turned for the rest of
the night, troubled by dark thoughts.  I felt Sally's cool touch trying to
sooth me.

   I must have drifted off sometime during that short night, as I woke up
alone, the first time in a long time.  I remembered why I didn't like it. I
also missed my morning blowjob by Janey, too, but then I remembered I had
left her tied to her bed.  Guess I couldn't blame her for not getting up,
huh?  Still, I wondered where Sally was.

   I shaved and showered, again alone, so I finished in a lot less time.  I
missed shaving Sally.  She was so appreciative of my attentions afterwards.
I don't know which of us enjoyed doing that more.

   I dressed and wandered into the kitchen.  I was surprised to see Janey
up and about, dressed and perky.  After the night she must have had, I was
amazed she could walk, but I guess they are right when they say that `youth
is wasted on the young.' She saw me come into the kitchen and her smile lit
up the room.  I caught her flying body in my arms as she threw herself at
me.

   "Ooooooh, thank you, Daddy!"

   "I take it you had a good time?"

   "Oh, God!  I didn't know it could be so good!  I mean, I've felt a
little bit of it when you and Mom, uh, do stuff, but - Wow!  Oh, yeah,
speaking of Mom, what in the Hell did you do to her last night?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "Well, it's like I was feeling great, you know, and then WHAMO, this
tidal wave comes over the link, but it doesn't stop.  It just kept coming
and coming." She giggled at her pun.  "But it didn't surge like usual, it
just flowed, but not a lot.  It's hard to describe."

   I kissed her on the nose and gave her my Cheshire Cat grin.

   "Oh, not going to tell me, huh?" she teased back.  Then, seriously,
"That's OK, Dad.  She is incredibly happy.  I enjoyed what we did, too,"
she blushed, "not just the licking part - but that was great!  - but I
liked wearing the corset and being tied up, too.  It was a weird feeling,
good, though.  I didn't think I would like it, but I kind of, well, like,
felt secure in it.  I mean, I was as good as naked, but it felt good, not
naughty."

   "Well, you certainly looked naughty.  Lusciously, deliciously naughty,"
I joked.

   She giggled, then got serious again.  It looked like that was the way
the morning was going.  "I don't think I'm ready for what you did to Mom,"
she said quietly.

   "You don't know what I did, though, do you?"

   "No, that's not what I mean.  I meant I'm not sure I could handle how
Mom felt.  I don't know I would want to come back down.  She's stronger
than I am that way."

   I hugged her even closer.  "Just say the word and I will stop whatever
it is you don't like or whatever it is you're afraid of, even if it's that
you're afraid it is too good.  I almost didn't do anything last night, you
know.  You were so scared, but so brave.  I'm proud of you, kiddo."

   This time it was her turn not to answer.  She snuggled into my chest.

   "Where is your Mom, by the way?"

   "She left about an hour ago, just after she let me up.  I didn't want
her to but she was really serious.  I wouldn't let her take off my collar,
though.  What's going on?  She wouldn't tell me anything.  She made a
telephone call, then rushed out."

   I reached behind her head and unsnapped her slave collar for her.  She
sighed as I slipped it into my pocket.  We stood for a long time that way,
a father and daughter.  I could almost have believed we were a normal
family, until I felt her tiny hand wend its way down to my jeans and unzip
my fly.

   "You didn't, uh, get any relief at all last night, did you, Dad." It was
a statement.

   "Guy's won't explode if they don't cum, Janey.  Regardless of what your
boyfriends tell you."

   "Daaad!  I don't have a boyfriend," she protested, a bit too strongly, I
thought.

   "Well, last night was for you and your Mom.  I can wait."

   "Well, this morning is for you," she quipped, as she wiggled out of my
arms and down to her knees.  She latched on to my cock with the full force
of her mouth and began seriously sucking and bobbing.  Even though she had
been doing this on a daily basis, with her nearly naked and in my bed, this
blowjob seemed sexier than any she had ever given me, with the exception of
the first one.  This time both she and I were fully clothed, and in the
kitchen.  It was somehow highly erotic, highly charged.  I held off as long
as I could, but I blew into that luscious mouth in much too short a time.
Janey didn't stop with one load, though.  She seemed determined to drain me
of all the excess buildup from last night.

   Sally came in carrying a heavy canvas bag while her daughter was still
busy on her knees.  She stopped and looked at us and gave me a wry grin. 
"Damn, I wanted to say `thank you' first.  She beat me to it."

   "Uh, I think there'll be more when she's done, Love," I grinned back.  I
was amazed there was no jealousy between them.  "I missed you this
morning."

   She looked appalled, as if she had made a serious miscalculation by
leaving.  "I, uh, I just, I..."

   "It's OK, Love.  I didn't mean anything by that.  I just missed you and
our time together.  I wanted you to know."

   She got all teary eyed and blubbery on me.  For the second time that
morning I had to catch a launched body, only this time I had a hot sucking
mouth attached to my groin that hampered me.  I managed.

   Sally smothered my face and chest with kisses.  Then proceeded south.  I
don't know how she managed to dislodge Janey from her possessive sucking,
but soon I recognized Sally's talented mouth on my shaft.  I cracked open
my eyes and saw Janey standing there, grinning at me.

   "Feel better, now, Pops?"

   "Pops?"

   "Yeah!  You shot off so quick this time, like you just `popped', you
know?  So...  Pops!" She giggled at my responding growl.

   I maneuvered my butt over to a chair and settled in it.  With Sally on
her knees, Janey busied herself with breakfast.  No fancy cooking today. 
Today it was dry toast and yogurt.  Only by wheedling could I get her to
make the coffee.

   Sally swallowed, then stood up.  She still looked weepy.  I guess she
was still being whipsawed by the emotions from last night.  She settled on
my lap after carefully putting away my softening cock.  She fed me
breakfast as I held her.  I could tell she needed to be held.  But there
was something else, too.  She wasn't normally this serious.

   Janey cleared the breakfast mess and we sat together in silence.  When
the last coffee was gone, Sally got up and lifted the heavy canvas bag onto
the table.  Unzipping it, she proceeded to set out two semiautomatic
rifles, two very large caliber pistols and several dozen boxes of
ammunitions for each.  Talk about breaking the mood!

   "Done a little shopping, have you?" I quipped.

   "You're going to be gone." Damn that woman!  How the hell did she know?
I know for a fact I did not talk in my sleep.  How?

   "Only a couple of days."

   "He was too confident last night." She was referring to that cocky
son-of-a-bitch, Gary.

   "I noticed.  You want to tell me exactly what you said to him to get him
to leave?"

   "Shit!"

   We both turned to face Janey, who never used language like that.  I
raised my eyebrows in an unspoken question to her.

   "You're talking about him, right?  Gary?" We nodded.  "God, I remember
that night, what happened.  I must have only been, what, 11?  Anyway, she
didn't say anything to him, Dad."

   "Nothing?"

   "Nope.  Not a word.  But we were patching bullet holes in the walls for
months.  She must have shot a hundred times."

   I turned to Sally.  "I thought you said you couldn't shoot?"

   Janey chimed in before Sally could speak.  "Oh, she can shoot.  She just
can't hit anything.  She missed the bastard ..."

   "Janey!  Watch your language!"

   "...every single time, except the last one that blew up his car.  And
you called him a `bastard' yourself, Mom, along with some other choice
names."

   I sat in stunned silence.  It takes incredible talent to miss that many
times at such close range.  I had seen her shoot.  I had suspected she was
too good to have been a novice, even if she had screwed up with the safety
on my gun.  My pistol was an unusual model, so she may not have known where
it was or how it operated.  Regardless, I knew what it was like to be shot
at.  I knew why Gary had stayed away.  Up until now.

   That didn't tell me why he was back.  Or if he had plans for Sally and
Janey.  He may have seen Janey's picture on TV after the attack.  It could
have stirred old feelings of revenge.  I didn't know.  I just knew there
was some unfinished business and I hated loose ends.  I had to tie things
up.

   I looked at the weaponry spread out on the table.  Sally had selected
well, if she was going to stop an elephant.  Or an enraged man.  I also
didn't think she intended to miss this time.  I didn't intend to let it get
that far.

   I knew what it was to kill a man, what it did to you inside.  In the
course of my agency work, I had had to learn to kill.  I had done it very
well.  Too well, for my taste, even if the targets had deserved it. 
Something dies inside of you each time you take a life, though, and there
had been many times.  Too many, but even once was too many when it came to
killing - or dying.  I did not want that to happen to Sally or, God forbid,
Janey.  I, myself, would avoid doing it again if I could.  If I couldn't,
well, that was a bridge to cross when I came to it.

   "You can't stay here.  He knows the house too well."

   "I was going to take Janey to Mac and CeCe's place for a while."

   I thought about that.  "Mac's out of town for a series in Seattle.  CeCe
works all over the area and couldn't be there all the time.  I'd rather you
go stay with Marion, my sister.  She's just moved back into our folk's
house and has plenty of room.  Her court isn't in session right now and I
know she'd love the company."

   "I don't know her that well."

   "My point exactly.  Neither does Gary.  He may know about your
relationship to CeCe."

   "Oh.  Right.  OK.  Will she be OK with those?" She indicated the guns.

   I grinned.  "She can probably train you how to field strip them,
although something tells me you know how already.  There's a target range
in the second basement, too.  Oh, and have her show you her assault weapons
collection."

   "I thought she was a Federal Judge!  Aren't those kinds of guns
illegal?"

   "Yeah, but they only get really excited when you wave them around on the
White House lawn.  Some of them in the collection are mine, too." She
looked at me even more shocked.  "What, I can't have some toys...?" I asked
in mock exasperation.

   After that there wasn't much to say.  Sally and Janey packed and left.
Just before they drove off, Sally hugged me goodbye.

   "Be careful, Larry.  Janey's right.  He is a bastard.  A ruthless and
dangerous bastard"

   Janey just squeezed me like she never wanted to let go.  I felt the same
way, but things had to be finished.  I couldn't let that unknown threat
stay out there.  I had to at least know what the man was like.

   When they were gone I made my way to a nondescript building in the
center of town.  Most towns have one of these quiet structures, those
buildings that look like offices, generally close to the municipal offices,
but no one actually knows anybody who works there.  They may have the first
floor or two occupied by small shops to make the building look occupied,
but the buttons to the upper floors are disabled or missing in the
elevators.

   The entry to the upper floors in this building was restricted to the
underground garage, another part of the structure most people didn't
remember being built.  The entry to the garage was two blocks over, through
the restricted parking garage under the city hall, so the general public
never saw it.  Most city employees were too dull to notice the extra cars
disappear through that locked automatic garage door on the second level. 
The ones who weren't were too smart to ask questions.

   Stepping off the elevator on the top floor of that building, I slid my
ID into the reader.  I underwent a retinal scan, a voice scan and had my
fingerprints checked.  It always amazed me how much detailed information
the government had and to what extent it went to hide that knowledge from
the public.  And all this happened in what was supposed to be a so-called
democracy.  If the public had even the smallest clue exactly how much their
government knew about them, they would tear it down, brick by brick.  I
used to think it was the price we paid for our freedom.  Now I wasn't so
sure.  Those nagging unanswered questions were the main reason I was no
longer active for the agency.

   I still had full access, however.  They liked me.  I had done well for
them, and never screwed up, e.g., got caught.  I also knew where too many
bodies were buried, literally.

   Our local analyst had just finished with the information I had asked
for. He looked up at me as I came through the heavy metal door and grinned.
"Interesting case," was all he said.

   That got my attention immediately.  Most Americans, 99.99% of them
anyway, live humdrum, mundane lives, those `lives of quiet desperation'. 
They are uneducated, unmotivated, apathetic, lazy, boring, bland or any
combination thereof, yet corporately, they have been capable of achieving
some of the greatest feats in history, when properly aroused.  Our current
government felt it was their sacred duty to keep the people from becoming
motivated to any action, whatsoever.

   The analysts for the agency had seen it all.  If agents like me were the
legs of the agency, the analysts were the brains.  They spent most of their
waking hours looking at trivial, seemingly unrelated data points and
finding critical patterns.  From those patterns emerged their best guesses.
Some of them were able to make very good guesses about the behavior of
certain types of people.

   Our analyst was one of the best.  We had worked together before and
kidded each other good-naturedly.  I accused him about being a closet
voyeur and he was always asking me to introduce him to my ex-girlfriends.
We never saw each other socially, however.  It just wasn't done.  I think
he grudgingly admired some of the work I had done, or had been able to
accomplish based on his work, as he put it.  What these guys never admitted
to was being surprised.  So, for a case to be `interesting' to him meant
that Gary was different.  To me, that meant he was dangerous,
unpredictable.

   He handed me a surprisingly thin file.  I took it to a secure office and
locked myself in.  I would have to give him back the exact same file before
I could leave the floor.  Security was really tight and I didn't object.

   The file on Gary was interesting.  I reviewed his file, always with the
awareness that there could be some critical piece of information that was
missing, something that the government just didn't know.  Nobody could know
everything.  I looked through the list of his known girlfriends and the
dates they had been together.  I saw Sally's name and cringed.  That would
cross-link back to my file.  I would have to be extra careful that, if
anything terminal happened, it couldn't be traced back to me.

   While he had been with Sally for a long time, there were a number of
others he had also seen during that same time period.  He had two-timed
her. I saw that pattern run throughout his relationships.  One steady girl,
a lot of flings.

   One of the other names I recognized, or thought I did, and it brought me
up short.  A name from my past.  I got a sinking feeling in my gut.  This
girl was the daughter of a friend of mine from Chile.  I remembered her as
a high-spirited wisp of a girl, determined to make it in a man's world and
totally unprepared for the consequences.  Not exactly spoiled, but naively
unaware of the evils of poverty and the depravity of which mankind was
capable.  Juan Miguel had protected his daughter too well.

   She had run away from his loving home, come to New York, and then after
a couple of months had gone missing.  I was in Chile when she had
disappeared, working with him.  I owed him my life, in fact, but that's
another story.  He had been distraught when she ran away, especially to New
York, but she was a headstrong girl.  Her subsequent disappearance had
devastated him.  She called herself `Miki' and pronounced it like the shoe
company `Nike.'

   I found the specific piece of information I was looking for buried in a
list of his assets, hidden under an assumed name.  He had used several
aliases, which didn't surprise me.  That he used them as well as he did,
did.  Most people get clumsy and screw up.  He didn't.  He was too good to
be lucky.  Gary had been trained, and by a top group, too, was my guess.

   When I handed the file back to the analyst, I pointed out the list of
known associates.  I knew several of them, fellow agents or agents with
other agencies.  "Is he one of us?"

   He grinned at me, always seemingly amused that I could think.  "Not that
I could tell.  I looked as deep as I could, and that's pretty deep.  Hell,
I can get your file.  The good one, your operations file."

   I was impressed.  I couldn't even see that file.  "Any chance he's
deeper?"

   "Not with his profile.  He's interesting, but, well, we know just a
little bit too much about him.  If he were any deeper than you were, we
wouldn't know anything.  Hell, your file is only two pages long and most of
that is what you told me!" He grinned wryly.  "I haven't gotten around to
entering some of it, you know.  Just too busy.  Of course, if I had a nice
lady to go home to, I would be even busier..." he tailed off, hinting.

   I looked up at him sharply.  He knew about Sally.  I had mentioned her
to him several times, especially since I was living with her now and had to
let him know where he could reach me in an emergency.  He paled at my look
and knew he had tread too close to blackmail to suit me.

   "Damn, Sampson, you know I'm joking," he blustered lamely.  "Besides,
they already know about her," he added softly.  "They are really insistent
about knowing everything about you, you know." He glanced around to see who
could overhear us.  "I shouldn't even tell you that, though."

   "I know.  This one just hits too close to home.  For a couple of
reasons. But I'm a little touchy about Sally."

   "Yeah.  I saw that when that bastard spoiled brat of a jock raped her
daughter.  He got off lucky only losing one ball." His voice was venomous.
"What exactly did you do to get rid of all that media?"

   "You don't know?"

   "I tried like the devil, but corporate lawyers are the hardest bunch to
crack for information.  We still haven't got a clue."

   I told him what I had done, about the letter, the threat.

   He just chuckled.  "Damn, you play hard ball."

   From him, I took it as a compliment.

   The key piece of information I had found in Gary's file was an address.
Not just any address.  It was an address in a middle class residential part
of town.  One of the biggest secrets the government doesn't want you to
know is that the greatest threat to the security of America resides in the
vast middle class neighborhoods.  Not from any of the middle class
Americans who live there, but from the enormity of the apathy that does. 
No one cares who lives next door as long as they mow the grass, don't make
noise at night, don't park clunkers on their lawns and above all, don't
lower the property values.  No one knows who lives next door to them,
either.  You could deliver an atom bomb and then hide it in a basement in
suburbia.  No one would know.  No one would have a clue.

   That's what I found here.  Gary had discovered the anonymity of
suburbia. I had asked Sally if Gary had ever taken her to his place for a
party or anything.  She had said no, only her place, hotels or sleazy bars.
Towards the end, she said, he had been hinting that they could do more
bondage stuff at his special place full time, but kept implying that Janey
was a problem.  He had kept trying to get her to pull Janey out of school
and home school her.  Sally had refused, insisting that Janey needed the
social interaction.  But he had never taken her anywhere that might have
been his safe house.

   I was impressed when I drove by the house.  He could have qualified to
entertain the president with the high level of security he had installed.
None of it was classified that I could tell, as it was all commercially
available - at a hefty price, too.  As it was, it was almost a challenge
for me to break in undetected later that night.  Almost.  It was good.  I
was better.  It made me wonder what he had to hide that was worth what that
setup must have cost him.

   I was sickened when I found out his dirty little secret.  With all the
external security he had installed, he didn't feel he needed a safe.  It
wouldn't have done him much good, anyway, so he probably saved himself some
bucks.  The bastard was meticulous, all the photos and videos were neatly
labeled and dated.  There were several files of photos and videos labeled
`Sally' with dates that corresponded with the time they were together. 
There was also one video cassette labeled `Miki.' My guts were in a twisted
knot as I slipped that one into the VCR.  I dreaded what I would find, but
even I was unprepared for the brutality of the film.

   Miki, beautiful, proud, brave Miki was tied to a bed.  The film showed
Gary talking to her, telling her that he just wanted one more thing from
her and then he would let her go.  He wanted to make a film with her.  She
spit in his face.  He slapped her.  She spit at him again.  He hit her. 
Back and forth.  He got tired first, but they were both covered with her
blood and spittle when he quit hitting her.

   He kept a knife at her throat as he released her wrists, then handcuffed
them in front of her.  The next scene showed her dangling from her cuffed
wrists, her beautiful face swollen and bleeding, but still recognizable. 
He approached her with a heavy-duty cattle prod.  She was screaming in
pain, swearing in Spanish at him.  Then he cut her intentionally with his
big knife.  Badly, across her face.  A look of horror and realization
flooded her proud eyes.  As protected as she had been from the seamy side
of life, she still knew what kind of film she was going to be the star of.
To her credit, she refused to cooperate with the bastard.

   From that point on in the movie, she made no sound, made no movement at
all that wasn't literally forced out of her body.  Oh, he could still get
her to twitch with the cattle prod and moan when he cut her, but for all
practical purposes she was a slab of beef swaying on a meat hook.  Then,
just as I was about as sickened as I could get, she mustered her waning
strength.  In a clear voice that would have done her father proud, she
turned her face and spoke to the camera.

   "My name is Madonna Micheala Lucinda Carmalita de la Fernando.  The
souls of those buried here around me are crying out for vengeance.  I swear
upon their souls and the soul of my sainted mother that my father, Senor
Juan Miguel de la Fernando, will hunt you to the ends of the earth and
bring you to justice." It had taken all of her strength to say that, and
from then on she just hung there.

   I sat there in the darkened house, stunned into immobility as I watched
him callously finish her off, but her final haunting words gave me the
structure of a plan.  Before I left, I checked out the rest of the house. I
found the room in which the film had been made.  It was the only room in
the basement with a solid floor.  The rest of the basement flooring had
been removed, leaving only dirt.  I looked over the rows of mounds of dirt
laid out in an orderly fashion.  Dozens of graves.  One was Miki's.  One
might have been Sally's.  I vomited and left, taking the several videos of
Sally and the one of Miki, as well as the two thick files with their
photographs with me.  Fuck the rules of tampering with evidence.  There was
more than enough evidence that I left behind.  Even Clinton would have had
a hard time denying this one.

   I called Juan Miguel the next day.  It was one of the hardest telephone
calls I had ever had to make.  I told him straight out I had found what had
happened to Miki.  And I had proof who did it.  Would he like to see the
proof?  I cautioned him it was the worst thing I had ever seen.  He knew I
had been in some tough situations and that I had seen a lot of the worst
the human race had to offer.

   My bluntness seemed to stir him to life.  He wanted to see it.  I
over-nighted it to him.  He called me back the next day after viewing the
tape.  He wanted revenge.

   Now that I had his cooperation, over the next couple of days, it wasn't
hard to get Gary to cooperate with my plan.  He had one Achilles heel, and
that was he needed money to maintain his lifestyle and his image.  A lot of
money.  A friend of a friend of a friend told him of a lucrative
opportunity in Santiago, Chile.  His friend told Gary that he would do this
himself, but that hands were full, etc., etc., but if Gary wanted to go
down and shepherd this deal through, this big South American honcho would
cut him in for a stiff percentage.  Just go down, bring back a fugitive for
someone who couldn't enter Chile for political reasons and so on.  In other
words, a political kidnapping.  Just the kind of thing to hook a guy who
hung around with black ops guys, a `wanna be.' Gary fell for it hook, line
and sinker.

   I told Juan Miguel that Gary would be down the day after next and which
flight he would be on.  I had Gary shadowed by someone Juan Miguel knew,
insurance that Gary would arrive in Santiago and also to act as a Judas to
point him out to Juan Miguel's agents.  When I told the shadow, an
acquaintance, what was going on he did it gratis.

   When the shadow reported back three weeks later, I was pleased to hear
that Juan Miguel had not blown Gary away in the airport.  I'm sure he was
tempted to, but he was a better man than that.  A beautiful servant girl
had met Gary at the airport.  He was ushered to a waiting limo and then
leisurely driven to a hacienda deep in the hills surrounding that beautiful
city.  Another agent working for Juan Miguel and known to the shadow had
met the shadow as well.  He was offered the opportunity to watch Chilean
justice in action.  Curious, he too, was driven to the hacienda, taking a
quicker route.  They arrived before Gary and the maid and were waiting in a
private viewing room, watching the proceedings through a one-way mirror.

   Gary was visibly impressed with the accommodations.  This was real
power. He was seated in a comfortable chair in a place of honor.  Seated
where he was, though, he couldn't see the movement of the people behind
him. One by one, the august group of sham politicians who had been there to
greet him left the room and were replaced by armed guards.  Juan Miguel
kept Gary focused on him by telling one ribald anecdote after another. 
When the last soldier was in place, Juan Miguel told Gary he wanted to show
him a clip of the fugitive.  They darkened the room and turned on a huge
wide-screen TV.

   The image flickered then became clear.  They had cut down the image so
that just Miki's face showed.  Her voice came across loud and clear, even
into the room where the shadow was watching.  After the short clip, Juan
Miguel stood and said, "Perhaps I should formally introduce myself.  My
name is Juan Miguel de la Fernando, and that was my only daughter.  I
should also introduce you to Col.  Eduardo Perez.  He is the commander of a
small government penal facility at the southern tip of my country, outside
of Punta Arenas.  He has seen the entire video you made of my lovely
daughter.  He will be arranging for your accommodations for the remainder
of your stay with us."

   With that, he turned his back on the murderer of his child and walked
proudly out of the room.  Gary, true to his nature, tried to fight his way
out when he realized he had been lured into a trap.  His brief struggles
ended with his nose meeting a rifle butt.  I don't think the rifleman cared
much for Gary, either.

   The shadow was invited to observe Gary's confinement.  It was brief, but
it left the man shaken to the core.  All he said was that Gary, or what was
left of him after living in a rat-infested hole, died in less than two
weeks, a very old man.  I knew what he meant.

   The shadow then told me that Col.  Perez had asked him to relay a
message to me.  Apparently Juan Miguel had told him of how he came by the
video.  The message was that `between honorable men, all is forgiven.' He
had also extended an offer to visit him in Chile.

   I thanked the shadow, my friend, and shuddered to think of re-visiting
Col.  Perez.  I had already visited him once.  That was enough.  That small
government facility was a maximum-security hellhole dubiously called a
prison.  I had been there, myself, in the same place as Gary, with a collar
the size of a manhole cover locked around my neck.  With the rest of my
body crammed into a putrid, rat-infested sewage pipe and the manhole cover
locked to the ground, only my head was visible.  I shuddered as I
remembered the horror of trying to defend my weakened body from the attacks
of the ravenous rats I couldn't see.  Sleeping under those conditions was
out of the question, too.  I could believe he died an old man.  You aged
very quickly under those circumstances.

   Col.  Perez was the only law in that part of Chile.  What he said
overruled any other authority within his jurisdiction.  He and I had had a
difference of opinion while I was in his town.  As a result, he wanted me
to stay in his prison.  I did not.  I think I am the only person to have
escaped from that place, though I still regret the necessity of crippling
two of the guards in the process.  Given the savagery they lived with, it
might have been kinder to kill them outright.  I heard later that the other
inmates had found them crippled and had tortured them to death.

   That detail of the other inmates killing the guards had been left out of
the report to the local authorities and thus, the search was on for a `cop
killer.' The search ended when I crossed out of his jurisdiction with the
quiet help of Juan Miguel, which is why I owed him my life.  Without his
help, I am convinced I would never have made it.  I was wounded, exhausted,
penniless and drained of every ounce of energy I possessed.  I was down to
my last hope and Juan Miguel came through for me.  Giving him closure on
this horrible incident was the least I could do for him.

   As a final chapter to the story of Gary, I wrote up my report on the
incident, complete with my involvement and of my relationships with Sally,
Miki and Juan Miguel.  I never cut corners in my reports, I never lied. 
Sometimes it hurt, but eventually, it had always served me well.  I wasn't
about to change now.

   I e-mailed my report to the analyst.  He called me back almost
immediately and asked a couple of questions, then rang off.  A couple of
days later he called me down to the anonymous building downtown.

   "Watch this," he said mysteriously.  "The show is just about to begin."

   I looked at what appeared to be a video feed from a stationary camera. I
recognized the house as Gary's suburban hideaway.  Suddenly, like a scene
from the Keystone Kops, federal and local law enforcement vehicles began
filling the screen, lights flashing crazily in the dark.  Several agents
with a yellow "FBI" emblazoned like targets on the backs of their dark blue
windbreakers jumped out of a still-moving vehicle and raced up to the front
door, as if eager to be the first ones on the scene.  I knew, unless the
analyst had deactivated the alarms, that they had just tripped three
systems, two of which were booby-trapped.

   "Did you tip them off?"

   "Yep!  Set up the camera feed, too, to watch the fuckers screw up.

   "Did you tell them about the security?" I asked him.

   "Yep!  I said the guy had tight security."

   "Oh, God!  You didn't describe the systems?" He shook his head,
grinning. "You know that to them, `tight security' means the guy has a big
dog."

   I watched in horror as the first agent reached to open the door.  The
ensuing explosion knocked him and his partner flat on their asses.  The
other agents, mistaking the explosion for resistance, proceeded to try to
blow the fucking house apart with small arms fire and teargas grenades.

   "You modified the explosives, you bastard," I chided him.  He just
grinned.  "You're just lucky those two agents had the sense to stay down or
they would have stood up into friendly fire." He stopped grinning. 
Analysts don't know or think of everything.

   The FBI reported the shootout had been the culmination of years of
painstaking work by hundreds of agents to capture a serial killer.  They
produced a credible likeness of Gary and a conveniently bullet-riddled
corpse.  The newspapers carried the photos of the dead girls that were dug
up in the basement.  Due to the carnage, several of the videocassettes had
been damaged so it wasn't too suspicious when there were more bodies than
tapes.  Everyone just assumed one or two had been destroyed in the
shootout.

   Miki was finally laid to rest in a proper grave.

   Chapter 33

   While I had been busy finding and setting up the sting for Gary, Sally
and Janey had also been busy.  I should have known better than to leave the
two of them alone with my sister.  Although it still isn't clear what part
Marion played in all of this, I suspect it is far greater than any of the
three of them have ever admitted to me, especially considering what
happened as a result.

   To begin with, Janey had recognized the girl at the opera as a student
from her school.  From there it was a simple task to find out her name,
Simone LeBrech, that she was French, smart and extremely shy.  Sally took
it from there and followed her home one afternoon after school and found
where she lived.  The day she had done that was the day Gary left for South
America and she saw him carrying his suitcase out of the house and down to
a waiting cab.  She had been terrified that Gary might have seen her, but
she knew when he packed like that he would be gone for at least a week.

   She used the next week to set up a fictitious meeting with the mother.
Knowing Sally, she couldn't pull off a lie to save her life, and the two
women were soon weeping and swapping horror stories about life with Gary.
Sally had come clean with her, so Nicole confessed she was at her wit's end
as Gary was sexually abusing her little girl after he put Nicole into
bondage.  He made her watch each assault.  Lately, each time he was getting
rougher and rougher with the girl.

   Sally liked Nicole immediately and wanted to help her somehow.  Her
heart went out to her and being the kindhearted and generous person she
was, she offered my services, too.  The only problem was, she hadn't asked
me first.  In fact, I knew nothing of this, as I was busy shanghaiing Gary.

   So, there I was, innocently sitting at my desk, forcing myself to work,
or at least look like it.  The last week or two I had been out of touch
with my clients and, secure as their investments were, they liked to be
occasionally reminded I was watching out for them.  I managed to soothe a
few ruffled feathers and nervous nellies before I just gave up and stared
at the blank fucking wall.

   That was how Sally found me when she popped into my office.  I was so
preoccupied with not knowing how things were going in Chile that I didn't
notice her until she finally cleared her throat.

   I looked at her.  She was sitting Indian-style on my blotter and was
offering me something.  She looked very serious.  I really had been
somewhere else mentally.  At first I thought she was handing me her collar,
but I knew this wasn't the position for that.

   "What is that, Sally?"

   "It is a thong of a bride." I remembered the story Amud had told me
about the thong, and what it was for.  Sally's next words confirmed it.  "I
, uh, need to ask you for a favor."

   "Sally, you know that everything I have is yours.  You don't need a
thong."

   "Well, uh, it's kind of a special request, Larry.  It would require a
thong.  Believe me."

   I should have known right then that something catastrophic was afoot.  I
should have run like the devil himself was chasing me.  Did I?  Nope!  Call
me curious, call me stupid, I stayed.

   "Is that your thong?" I didn't think she had had the time to finish one,
even if she had started when we first knew about them.

   She paused at that.  " Uh, no.  I borrowed one from Bala."

   "Borrowed?" She nodded.  "You've started one of your own to replace it?"

   "Yes."

   "Borrowing is not a good idea, even from friends.  Give it back to her.
Bring me your thong."

   "It's not ready yet.  This one can be used for singing now."

   "Can the favor wait for the thong to be finished?"

   "I don't think so."

   I thought for moment, making her wait.  She squirmed so nicely when she
was nervous.  "Bring me yours.  I will accept it on the condition that you
finish it."

   Sally climbed down off my desk and left the room.  Three minutes later
she came back in.  Kneeling this time, she offered up her thong to me.  It
was still damp from having resided within her vaginal canal.

   "You're offering me this as a slave?"

   "Yes, Master."

   "But you're not wearing my collar!  How can I accept this?"

   Her hands flew to her neck.  Blushing, and unusually flustered for her,
she scampered to the rack that held hers and Janey's collars.  Returning to
her knees, she offered me her collar.  I fastened it on.  Again, she
offered me the thong.

   "Are you properly attired, slave?" I asked her in mock severity.

   Her look at me was definitely not that of a calm submissive woman.  She
realized by now I was teasing her.  I think I liked her exasperated with
me. Well, a little bit, anyway.

   It took her longer to return this time and I heard other voices being
shushed in the hallway.  Still glaring at me, she made her way over to my
chair and kneeled for a third time.  Once more, she lifted the thong.

   "When was the last time you did your Head Time, slave?" I realized that
she was desperate enough that I could get this to go on indefinitely.  This
could be interesting.

   Her hands lowered slowly in surrender.  She realized I was going to make
her work before I accepted the thong from her.  With a heavy sigh of
frustration, she opened my trousers and freed my hardening cock.  This
happened far too rarely for me, having Sally in this position.  I settled
back and relaxed, ready to enjoy the feeling of utter silence and peace
while having the head of my cock bathed in my lover's mouth.

   Sally gave an exasperated grunt as I settled back, but did not break
from her place.  I let her wait for a long 15 minutes before I gently
caressed her cheek, a signal she could finish.

   "Thank you, Master.  I have missed that, too." She knew what I was
thinking?  God Damn!

   This time, with utter supplication, she held up the thong.

   I accepted it, obliging me to honor her request.  I lifted the damp
leather to my nose and inhaled the scent of my love.  I didn't realize yet
what an expensive bouquet it was going to be, but right then I didn't care.
I was still lost in the arousing aroma of the thong and didn't notice when
two other women entered the room.  Sally stayed bowed down, my prick stayed
standing free as she had left it, waving in the breeze.

   I think she knew what my reaction was going to be to her request.  She
was right to be a little afraid.  Pissed would be a nice word for it.

   She introduced Nicole and Simone, mother and daughter.  They looked
vaguely familiar.  When she mentioned they had been the two women with Gary
the night of the concert, it hit me.  And I suddenly had an awful feeling I
knew what the favor was going to be.  Really pissed would be closer.

   Her request was that I allow Nicole and Simone to join the household. 
Permanently.  Both were aware of our lifestyle and were willing to join. 
Eager, in fact.  Nicole would be another slave and Simone would be, well,
another daughter, sort of.

   I sat stone still, trying to convince myself of my love for Sally,
trying to figure out what in the fucking Hell she was doing.  Was she
really offering me another woman?  I mean, sure, Nicole was nice to look
at, but shit, Sally and I weren't even married yet!  I for damned sure
wasn't tired of her and didn't think I would ever be.

   My knuckles were white on the arms of the chair.  This one was metal, so
they didn't snap like the one in the kitchen.  But they did bend a little.
I tried really hard not to yell at her, to humiliate her in front of the
people she was trying so hard to help.  I zipped up my pants for starters,
my erection collapsing as the totality of her request hit me.

   God Damn fucking women.  Don't they always know when you've reached that
last piece of rope?  I was worried about two of my friends, the shadow and
Juan Miguel, and she brings home two strangers.  I had just sent a man to
his death, albeit justifiable in my mind, and had put another friend in
possible peril.  The waiting was killing me and I wasn't ready for this
right now.

   And things with Sally and Janey were going so well, too!  How is it that
just when you finally get a good grip on what's going on, they ask you to
do something that totally fucks up the system?  And then want you to fix
it? God Damn it all to Fucking Hell!

   I managed to do two things.  I didn't yell at her and I managed to
remind myself that I loved her.  I didn't have a clue what she was trying
to do, but if this was important enough for her to ask for, it was
important enough for me to consider.  OK, technically, by accepting the
thong, I had no choice.  But, technically, it wasn't our fucking custom,
either.

   I reached down and touched Sally's head.  I nodded curtly for her and
the young girl to leave.  Nicole LeBrech stood before me, her head bowed
down.  I looked at her for a while in silence.  She was a fine looking
woman, different in most ways from Sally, and I will admit, the sight of
her stirred my blood.  I felt guilty, momentarily.

   She sat down at my request in one of my office chairs.  I asked her to
tell me her story, to be as complete and honest as she felt she could be.
It was odd, but I could not sense her as I could Sally and Janey.  It was
like there was a nothingness there, like the feelings had been beaten out
of her.  When I thought back, I had sensed something from Simone, but it
felt different than what I sensed form Sally and Janey.  Like she was more
stiff or something.  I couldn't place it and, right then, I didn't have the
time to think about it.  Nicole was talking.

   She had been born in a little village outside of Paris, France.  Her
mother had died in childbirth, so she had never known her.  Saddened by the
loss of his true love, but a proud man, her Papa had refused all help from
the village women and raised Nicole by himself.  He was a loving parent,
but refused to dote on her.  He was a perfectionist himself and demanded
her very best efforts in all she did, often punishing her for substandard
efforts.  He did not punish her for failing when she had given her best
effort.

   Nicole had thrived in that atmosphere.  She proved to be exceptionally
bright and finished her basic schooling, the equivalent of American high
school, by the age of 15.  At the graduation festivities, Nicole got
extremely drunk.  Simone was born 9 months later.  She hadn't exactly been
raped, but she didn't know who the father was.

   Papa took this development in stride.  He moved to Paris with her so she
could start University.  Simone was born between end of term exams.  Papa
found a job at night in an auto factory and helped Nicole raise Simone
until she finished with her Ph.D.  work five years later.  She had a
doctorate in neurochemistry.

   Papa had been killed in an explosion at the auto plant.  Devastated and
alone with a young daughter, Nicole had latched onto - her words - the
first man to come along that showed any interest in her.  Using her small
inheritance, he brought her to America, but, when the money ran out, so did
he.

   Determined to make it, she called one of her Professors who had taken an
interest in her career.  He referred her to the president of a small
biotech company near where she was currently living in the US who needed a
neurochemist.  For the next year or two, Nicole worked hard, as Papa had
trained her to and she did well.  Being beautiful helped and she had more
and more contact with the CEO of the company, an old curmudgeon who had
gone through several wives already.  Nicole rebuffed his advances, but the
old bastard really fell hard for her.  He prevailed and they married, much
to the dismay of her other suitors.

   She continued to do well, the company prospered from her patents and,
predictably, the old man died.  He died happy, in bed with Nicole, but it
was traumatic for her.  He had left her everything her owned, other than
what went to the other wives and the stockholders.  He had been smart
enough to have everything tied up legally so they didn't contest the will.
None of then wanted to fight his lawyers again, it seemed.

   Nicole and Simone had been naturalized to US citizenship during this
stint.  She ran the company for a while, but it wasn't what she wanted to
do.  She missed the lab.  She wanted out of the corporate rat race. 
Through her own contacts in the industry, she found a buyer for the company
and made several people very rich, including herself.

   Being rich, single and beautiful would not seem to present a problem to
most people, but Nicole seemed to attract smooth con men.  She had invested
her fortune wisely and had put several roadblocks between it and any
confidence scheme, but that didn't stop the pricks from trying.  Most of
them tried the wrong approach, trying to sweet talk or woo her with
flowers. Those she felt comfortable with, as those she could handle.

   Gary was the first one to touch her submissive nature, and it rattled
her to her core.  Knowing of his quasiintelligence training, it did not
surprise me that he quickly found his way through her obstacles to her bank
accounts and was bleeding them at an alarming rate.  But even at the rate
he was going, she had enough to keep him in fresh Gucci's for another four
years or so.

   My ears perked up at that.  That was serious money she was talking
about. It was also obvious that that represented something more to her than
just security.  If she became a part of the household, I would have to make
sure her money was kept totally autonomous from mine.  I would handle it
the same way I did with Sally and Janey's funds, but I knew I would have to
take special care to make her feel comfortable that I was not after her
money.  It wouldn't be easy.  If I had that kind of money, I'd be
suspicious of everyone, too.

   She didn't say much about Gary.  She didn't have to.  I knew what he put
her through.  The gentle seduction into bondage, setting the hook, then the
humiliation and degradation.  That he was actually abusing Simone sexually
to accomplish this humiliation disturbed me, as I hadn't seen a pattern of
young girls in his profile.  Simone was a mature young woman for her age,
that much I could see, but she was still a little younger than Janey. 
There must have been something special about her to attract Gary to her.

   I had come to realize that I couldn't have been the only person in the
universe to have the ability to `sense' emotions, as I had been doing with
Sally and Janey.  I think, on some level, we all do.  We just never
recognize it for what it is.  I think pheromones, facial expression and
body language get confused in the mix, too.  Besides, being `sensitive'
isn't always considered to be a compliment to a male, although I had always
tried to be.  I was beginning to realize that Gary must have had the
ability to sense a submissive nature in women.  Hell, he may even have had
the ability to project one onto them, but the thought that that might be
possible scared the living shit out of me.  He did seem to be able to
`find' a lot of submissive women, though, and I didn't recollect Miki being
like that.  I shuddered and put the thought behind me.

   Nicole went on to tell me about Simone.  It was like watching a train
wreck.  Simone had shown early signs of genius.  Not like her mother. 
Smarter.  Off the IQ scale.  She was also a pretty child and, for the most
part, well adjusted, especially for someone with her brilliance.  If she
had a flaw, it was her instinctual trust in males.

   That had led to Nicole's first lover raping Simone at a very young age.
Nicole had not known about the continued sexual assaults on her daughter
until he had run out.  Simone's pediatrician had discovered the signs of
sexual activity after a routine exam.  Nicole was devastated at this. 
Children's services almost took Simone away from her.  If she hadn't found
the job at the biotech firm and moved out of state, they would have.  By
the time they found her again, she was well established at the company and
the corporate lawyers took care of the legal matters for her.  For once,
they were good for something.  I made a mental note to find out more about
that law firm.  Lawyers with good hearts were rarer than honest
politicians.

   Simone's escape from the misery and pain of the betrayal of her trust
was in learning.  Books of all kinds were her escape, the more challenging
the better.  She was like a black hole when it came to learning.  She
sucked in everything she came across from music to medicine, Plato to
physics.  Often, she would have trouble applying what she knew, but that
was probably because she knew too much.  She had too many choices and,
really, how often in life is there just one right answer?  I had to smile
at that.  I was facing the same situation right now, but I was desperately
trying to find a suitable alternative.

   Nicole had kept Simone in school with children her own age for her
social development.  She knew too well what the consequences could be of
being so much younger than all the other kids.  It was important for her
that Simone develop a social maturity that could help her through the tough
times she was bound to have ahead of her, being as different as she was
from everyone else in the `smarts' department.  Simone had been adjusting
well, trying to find her place in each class, developing a friend or two to
pal around with.  It was lately that things began to change.

   Gary's abuse of Simone confused her.  True to form, she trusted him.  He
used that trust against her, then he began abusing her, mentally and
physically.  Unlike before, when she had been told to keep what was
happening a secret from her mother, Gary flaunted what they did in front of
her mother.

   When Gary began hurting her, her reaction was to withdraw.  Nicole broke
down at this point and I had to wait for her to regain a semblance of
self-control before she could continue.  Simone hadn't spoken for the last
three weeks, not to anyone, as far as she could tell.  At first she thought
it was just a phase.  Then the notes from her teachers began to come home,
followed by a quietly panicked phone call from the school counselor.  From
her previous experience with Child services, Nicole was frantic, afraid she
would lose Simone for good this time, but didn't know what to do.  She had
actually been preparing injections for suicide for herself and Simone when
Sally showed up.

   I sat there, stunned that this woman could show such composure with the
trauma she had been though.  I wasn't prepared to deal with all her
baggage, though it seemed trite to label her very real emotional problems
that way.  Another traumatized daughter was not on my most-favorite list,
either.  I remembered the agonizing Sally and I had gone through with
Janey, and that was just last week!

   But, like Sally, my heart went out to her.  She had no one else.  It
touched a chord deep inside me, challenged me to rethink the paradigms of
my own life.  This time, it wouldn't just be me, but Sally and Janey would
help, too.  Somehow I knew that was what Sally intended, but making them a
part of our family?  It was time to call Sally back in.

   She entered at my call for her, apparently standing right outside my
door.  One look at her face told me she had known everything Nicole had
just told me.  There was probably more tragedy, too, but the highlights
were enough for me.  She came and knelt at my feet.

   "Go sit down, Sally.  Consider your collar off for the time being.  I
need complete and honest answers to some questions."

   I turned to Nicole.  "In this house, I insist on openness and honesty,
even when you are in a submissive role.  Sally knows that, but I just
wanted to remind her.  Now, I have to ask you some questions about how you
see yourself fitting in here.  You know, as you can see from Sally's attire
and collar, that she has a submissive role in this relationship.  That is,
by the way, her preference, not my demand.  Can you deal with that?"

   Nicole lowered her eyes, but didn't blush.  "What that awful man did to
me gave me the most intense feelings I have ever felt.  I was hooked from
the first soft rope he used to tie me up.  I am so ashamed of my weakness,
to have wanted it so badly, but I couldn't help myself.  It wasn't love.  I
knew that.  It was worse.  I could find love almost anywhere.  He was the
only person I knew who could make me feel like that.  It was like a drug,
an addicting drug.

   "It tore me apart when he touched Simone, but I was helpless to stop
him. I..." she broke down again, "...I orgasmed at first, it felt so
naughty, being so helpless to stop him.  At first he only touched her, then
he made her do things.  Soon he was fucking her.  Three weeks ago he beat
her."

   She paused, thinking.  "I have thought much about this.  I am not an
ignorant person.  I realize, since talking to Sally, but not only that,
that I need to be in a submissive role, too.  Yes.  If this life is
possible, I want it." She looked over at Sally, who took her hand in
support.  "I need it."

   Shit!  They were in this together, already.  I still had some questions.

   "OK, you want to do this.  What about Simone?"

   Nicole looked up at me now, her eyes sharp and focused.  This seemed to
be more like her normal approach to life.  "Sally has told me about how you
are working with Janey..."

   In a moment of panic I focused my link on Sally and shot her a
questioning `Everything?' I wasn't sure if it would work, but my heart rate
and adrenaline were high enough that if anything would make it work, it
should now.  Amazingly, it did.

   "No.  Not `everything,'" she replied softly through the link.  I think
we were both stunned at what we had just done, but there were more pressing
matters at hand.

   "...to help her get over her attack.  From what I have seen of Janey,
she seems very well adjusted.  I think..." she smile wryly, "...I think
that this time, for some reason, it is me who trusts you.  I apologize in
advance, but Simone does not trust you or any man now, and is bound to give
you trouble."

   Ah, the magic button.  The hook.  A challenge.  I couldn't resist.  Not
after getting walking pneumonia in college, not with the risk of losing
Sally.  Not now.  Knowingly or not, she had offered me the bait I needed.

   What was I thinking?  It was going to be a challenge fitting two more
attractive and probably willing females into a sexually charged
environment. What she was telling me about Simone made her an impossible
challenge.  With emotional stakes as high as possible.  I was hooked.

   "Sally, how did you see this working?  How did you think they would fit
in here?"

   She looked flustered.  Thinking of something is one thing.  Saying it
out loud, in broad daylight is grounds for commitment to the loony bin. 
"They, uh, well, they, er,..."

   "Start with Nicole, here.  What would be her role?"

   "Oh, well, uh, I though we could share, you know..." She just left it
hanging.

   "You thought you and I would share Nicole?  I don't need another slave."

   Sally blushed, and glanced over at Nicole for support.  She must have
gotten it, because she actually said it.  "No, Larry.  I thought Nicole and
I would share you.  And before you ask, yes, I have thought about this,
and, yes, we would share you in every way." She was rather abrupt at the
end.

   Well excuuuuse me.

   "What if she doesn't appeal to me?"

   Two sets of eyes widened and stared at me, one in horror that the owner
might be found unsatisfactory, the other pair in the horror that their
owner's master could have voiced such a tactless question.  One pair caught
on that I was playing with them.

   "Sally, it's OK.  He said `what if'."

   "Huh?"

   "He said `what if'.  That means he likes me." Nicole looked at me,
suddenly shy.  "I think."

   I smiled broadly at having been caught out so easily.  Damn, I was going
to have to get sharper in a hurry to stay ahead of this one.  And the
daughter was smarter still?  Deep, deep shit we're in here, bubba.  Deep,
deep shit.

   I tipped back my chair and closed my eyes, trying to think this out. 
Sally was trying to alter our relationship and I thought I knew why.  As
overwhelming as I had found her submissiveness earlier, I had seen
indications lately that she found my possessiveness of her to be equally
overwhelming.  There had been hints, even a small rebellion, in her own
fashion.

   This was not just another shot across the bows, though.  This was her
solution.  Served up on as attractive a platter as I had seen, I must
admit, but I didn't like it.  I didn't like not having a choice.  This
tasted a little like an ultimatum.

   "Sally...?"

   "I know, Larry.  You love me." She stopped, got up and came over to my
chair.  She tipped me upright and sat on my lap.  "I don't like to shout
that across the desk," she said tenderly.  "I love you, too.  I always
will. Believe it or not, it won't change because of Nicole, or Simone, or
even Janey.  I am absolutely convinced of your heart, of your love, of your
intentions.  It is that absoluteness that gives me the freedom to ask this
of you." She didn't add that it was also that total dedication to her that
was driving her crazy.  She always did have a kind heart.

   "I know this won't be easy," she continued, "but you've never shied away
from the tough things, have you?" She leaned down and whispered in my ear,
digging into my ribs with her fingers at the same time, "This one you can
fuck, too, lover.  Really!" She collapsed in a giggling heap as I dumped
her unceremoniously off my lap and onto the floor.

   "All right!  All right!" I had the attention of both of them.  "I'll
agree, but with conditions." Sally groaned.  Loudly.  It was almost a `God
help us' moan, but I couldn't quite make out the words.

   "Nicole and Simone may move in.  Until further arrangements can be made,
Simone will move into Janey's room.  Agreed?"

   Sally nodded.  It was always easiest to give away someone else's
privacy. I wondered what the two girls would say to having a roommate.

   "Nicole?  You will be Sally's submissive.  She will be your Mistress."

   Sally sat there, open-mouthed, stunned.  Speechless, for once.

   Chapter 34

   The new arrangement didn't work.  It was an uneasy arrangement to begin
with.  Sally got stressed out in about two days, which made it worse.  She
became overbearing, surly, bossy.  She couldn't handle being a mistress to
Nicole.

   The decision had not pleased Nicole, either, though she was in a
submissive role, as she had wanted.  She suffered from a reluctant
mistress, however, and in short order, her more aggressive personality made
the situation worse.

   It got a little better for a while after I gathered them together and
told them what had happened to Gary.  I called them all into the Free Room.
I answered every question I could.  I told them about Miki.  We watched the
news coverage of the funerals for the dead girls.  Sally and Nicole
understood they owed their lives to their daughters being in a public
school.  I thought we were all bonding nicely, and that the roughest part
was behind us.  Boy, was I wrong.

   Sally tried to assert her dominance, I will give her that.  I found her
tactics intriguing and filed them away in case I needed to impress my
mastery over Sally in the future.  First, she stripped Nicole of all
clothing.  Not a shred of covering.  Not that I minded.  Nicole was indeed
a beauty, but about as different from Sally as you could get.  Where Sally
was petite, Nicole was statuesque.  Tall, almost 6 foot.  Her dark hair and
olive complexion made Sally seem pale, even with Sally's lightly tanned
skin.  Together with her intelligent piercing aristocratic blue eyes, she
was a striking woman.

   Nicole did not seem to have an ounce of excess fat on her, now that I
could readily see all of her.  That's not to say she wasn't feminine, far
from it.  She had all the curves necessary to qualify, and then some.  Her
breasts were about the same size as Sally's but seemed smaller on Nicole's
larger frame.  Her waist was incredibly narrow.  Sally told me it was only
20 inches.  I detected more than a little jealousy when she told me that.
Nicole also had that feature that millions of men react to automatically.
She had that natural diamond-shaped open space between her thighs, right at
the top.  Prehistorically, that meant a wide carriage for bearing young and
the eroticism of that image was programmed into the male sex chromosome. 
Sally had it, too, but Nicole...  Oh, my!  ...the first time I saw her
silhouetted in the light from the window behind her, I think I began to
finally lust after her.  That perfect diamond of light just below her
crotch lit a slow burning fire in me.

   Next, Sally had Nicole sleep on the floor at the foot of our bed.  This
I found interesting, as well, because, if anything, her presence during our
intimate times added to Sally's stress and distress.  She became uneasy
when we made love, to the point I had to remind her who was boss.  Well, at
least, who it was who thought he was boss, anyway.  I never forced her to
have sex, but she didn't enjoy it as much with Nicole there.

   Third was that she had Nicole doing all the shit work.  Cleaning,
dusting, scrubbing, shopping - grocery, not clothes, gardening, and so on.
Everything but what she was suited to do, which was to use her brain. 
Mindless drivel.

   Added to all this was that Janey and Simone were not getting along,
either.  Janey only had a single bed in her room, so they were not only
sharing a room, but a bed, too.  Simone was jealous of Janey's popularity,
Janey of Simone's brains.  There were phone messages that didn't get
delivered, sabotaged reports and tests, and so on.  Simone was really
trying to mess with Janey and doing a good job.

   For her part, Janey was trying to get along, if only half-heartedly. 
She came to me one evening in tears, sweaty from one of the pick-up
basketball games.  Simone had begun to put a damper on these events, too. I
really think she wanted to participate, but she was shy and unfamiliar with
basketball.  Janey poured out all her woes, blaming everyone, including me,
obliquely, for the crap she had to live with.

   I held her on my lap trying to work things out.  This mess was largely
my fault.  I know, I know.  Sally's way would have probably been better,
but it still rubbed me the wrong way to have her decide without consulting
me.  Even if she was right.

   I asked what Janey had done to make Simone's situation better.  She
looked at me funny, as if it was a strange concept that she might have to
do something to help Simone fit in.  I asked her if she had ever made her
feel like she was welcome.  Again she looked at me funny.

   I hugged her to me and, without thinking, I told her that it might help
Simone feel like she belonged if Janey went out of her way to do something
special for her, to make her know she was wanted.

   "Like what?" she wanted to know.

   "I don't know.  Just think about what would make you feel special and
wanted and do that for her." Honestly, I didn't have anything in mind at
the time.

   Later that night, I woke to a familiar elbow in my side.  "Larry?  You
awake?"

   "Uh-huh.  Now I am."

   "Oh, sorry.  Did you talk to Janey today?"

   "Uh-huh."

   "About Simone?"

   "Ummm."

   "What did you tell her to do?"

   Suddenly alert to the edge in her voice, I was now fully awake.  And I
sensed it, too, but it was different somehow.  We had both sensed when
Janey had an orgasm and we were familiar with that.  This one was
different, like it was learning how to feel good.

   "God!  It's her first orgasm!" Sally whispered to me, after leaning over
and checking on Nicole, just to make sure she wasn't fingering herself.

   "Should I check on them?"

   "No.  Let them finish."

   "Them?  How can you tell there are two of them?"

   I could sense her smile in the dark.  "Don't know.  I just do.  Janey's
giving Simone an orgasm.  Again."

   We both felt this one, too, stronger, more sure of itself, more welcomed
into the body it was entering.

   Janey was diligent, I'll give you that.  Simone was cumming like a pro
when Janey finally stopped working her over.  I slipped in to check on them
when it had been quiet for a while.  I was greeted by a gorgeous tangle of
teen limbs.  Simone was zonked.  Janey was still awake.  I sat by her side
and took her hand.

   "What was it you did, kiddo?"

   "What you said."

   "Uh, I don't think I said to do anything like what just happened here."

   She grinned up at me.  "You could feel her, too?  God, she didn't know
what was happening to her!"

   "And what was happening to her, Janey?  Inquiring minds want to know."

   She sort of snorted when she giggled, most unladylike.  "Well, I thought
about what you said, about doing something to make her feel special and
wanted.  I thought about what made me feel that way.  Then I remembered the
time you did me with your mouth, about how good that made me feel and all.
So I did her."

   "She didn't object?"

   "Well, uh, I, uh, I kind of surprised her.  After a minute, when I
didn't bite, she quit struggling."

   "Struggling?"

   "Uh-huh!  I sort of tied her hands to the bed first, like you did mine."

   Oh God, I had created a monster.

   "You didn't mind that she was a girl?"

   "You mean that lezzie thing?"

   "Yeah.  People can be kind of mean if they find out."

   "Oh.  Simone wouldn't tell.  And even if she does, that's OK, too.  It
was my gift to her.  What she does with it is up to her.  Isn't that what
you've been trying to tell me all along, Dad?"

   I leaned over and kissed this marvelous young woman goodnight, my tears
dripping on her sweaty and slimy face.

   "I would have sex with you right now if you wanted, kiddo." I knew she
had not cum and was still sexually aroused.

   She grinned up at me, then hugged me tight.  I thought for a moment she
was going to take me up on my offer.  I wasn't sure if I hoped she would or
if I hoped she wouldn't.  She held me for the longest time, then whispered,
"Thanks, Dad," in my ear.

   Maybe you had to be there, but I thought it was a Hell of a touching
moment.  I went back to my room and went to sleep.

   OK.  Now, if you came home and heard, `Oh, God, Oh, God, Yes, Yes, Yes.
Oh God that's so big and hard, Do my ass, too, harder, please, please don't
stop,' or various repetitions and renditions thereof emanating from your
daughter's bedroom, screamed in a loud and excited manner, what would you
think?  Right!  You keep a shotgun in the closet for just such an instance.

   Unfortunately, it was Sally and Nicole who came home from a
foreshortened day of shopping, as Nicole was being a real bitch.  Unknown
to them, Janey and Simone had decided to play hooky from school to further
explore the territory discovered the night before.  What they walked in on
was Simone pounding Janey with a dildo, who was the one screaming.  Simone
was eagerly returning the favor Janey had done for her the entire hour
before.  The girls thought they were alone in the house and were being as
noisy and raunchy as they wanted.  It was all in fun, just girl stuff, sort
of like male bonding.  Yeah, right!

   Sally immediately knew what was going on through her link with Janey. 
She thought it was strange that Janey sounded like she was having a lot
more fun than it felt like she was experiencing through the link, but she
also knew that the other person in the room was not me.  We had said
goodbye this morning in the shower, as I had to run up to the Guild for
some business meetings.  She deducted correctly that Janey's partner in
passion was Simone, and that was the reason for the verbal encouragement.
Janey and Sally had both commented to me at the seeming inability of Nicole
to feel anything on their link, and that Simone's link felt funny to them.
The way they talked, it sounded as if they really pitied them that loss.

   Nicole, however, didn't know who was with Janey, only that Janey seemed
to be getting a good fucking, one of a lifetime, from the sounds of it. 
Whether to herself or if she meant Sally to hear wasn't clear, but she
muttered, "The little bitch will be as big a slut as her mother soon." Of
course, she muttered it in French.  Then again, maybe it was Sally's fault
for not informing Nicole she spoke fluent French and could understand the
colloquial vulgarisms she constantly used when referring to her and Janey.

   Needless to say, the comment didn't sit well with Sally.  I had learned
early on that malicious words would wound Sally worse than the whip.  Those
words from Nicole cut her deeply.  Unbidden, a vengeful anger started to
grow in her heart.  Attack Sally and she would fight back, attack her
daughter and she would get vengeance.

   Uncharacteristic of Sally, she ignored her anger.  I had commanded her
to be a mistress.  She was trying to do her best.  She also didn't want to
embarrass Nicole by letting her know she understood French.  There were
things to do, preparations for the next visit by our friends.  Sally still
had to organize two more costumes for Nicole and Simone, and, as she had
discovered, Nicole was domestically worthless.  She couldn't cook, clean,
sew, iron, or straighten up.  What exactly was she to do with this
worthless bitch?

   Amud and Bala's next visit was to be a special occasion.  Not only would
Nicole and Simone be introduced to our friends and into the growing
relationship we had with them, it was also the occasion for the first
public dance performance by Janey.  Bala had been working them hard, and
Janey had excelled under her teaching.  I truly appreciated the practice
drills that Sally showed me, especially when she was impaled on my iron
hard prick.  But I think the very fact that she practiced with me defeated
the purposes of the drills.  She was still much improved from that first
dance she did for me.

   Finally all was in readiness for the evening.  The women served Amud and
I a sumptuous dinner, two delectable maidens served the wine, and the
cigars were slowly smoldering down.  It had been a delightful evening.  My
belly was full, my cock was hard, all was right with the world.  I was
beginning to look forward to a wild night with my lover, when the
ching-ching of the music sounded.  I leaned back to relax.  I had forgotten
about the premier.

   The occasion of a first dance was special as the women were allowed to
enter the main tent and sit with the men.  Bala sat with Amud.  Simone,
Sally and Nicole came to sit with me, although Sally positioned Nicole so
she was not near Amud or myself.  I wondered at the intentional slight on
her part, but just then Janey danced through the veiled door.  Or should I
say she floated through the door.

   Her outfit, if it could be called that, was daring.  It was beyond
daring.  It was blatant.  It displayed all her womanly charms and then
some. It highlighted her coloring.  You could see the blush across the tops
of her breasts.  Hell, you could see everything!  Even that her normally
tiny trimmed bush was now missing.  I don't know how that affected Amud,
but my blood was sure boiling.

   Her dance was short, but energetic and erotic in the extreme.  Even the
women seemed entranced with her sexuality.  She twirled and twisted,
wiggled and jiggled.  I think it was probably a bit more acrobatic than a
traditional dance, but Bala had worked wonders with what she had to work
with.  Looking over at my friends, I wasn't sure she was entirely pleased
with Amud's obvious reaction to Janey's dancing.  From the way Bala was
lying across his lap there was no way she could miss his arousal.  In fact,
unless I missed my guess, that hand I couldn't see was probably wrapped
around his throbbing swollen shaft.  I chucked as I thought of what his
night would be like with that wildcat of a wife.

   At the conclusion of her dance, Janey ended up kneeling in front of me,
her head to the ground.  She seemed to be waiting for something.  I looked
over to Amud for a hint.  He seemed to be somewhere else, although his eyes
were still fixed on Janey's almost nude form.

   "Amud?"

   He started, as if from a dream.  I almost hated to bring him back from
where ever he had been.  "Yes, my friend?"

   "Is she waiting for something?"

   He looked at Bala.  Something passed between them, then he nodded his
head.  "Ah, yes.  Bala has told the fresh one of the traditions of the
first dance.  In my country it is traditional for the dancer to request a
favor of a sensual nature from her chosen benefactor.  It is always granted
if the dance is deemed to be acceptable."

   He continued, "You seem to be her chosen benefactor," he sounded rather
disappointed that Janey hadn't chosen him, but a sharp nudge from Bala
cured that, "as she has ended her dance and bowed in front of you." He
sighed, earning him another playful elbow from Bala.

   "For my part, if she had chosen me, she would have had her most sexual
of favors granted a million times over.  Gladly." He got a rather sharp
elbow for that remark, but the two were now laughing and showing more
affection for one another than ever before in our presence.

   I could see Janey blush from his compliment of her and his implication
that he would enjoy doing much more with her.  I let her stay bowed for a
while, letting her catch her breath.  Also, I was somewhat leery of
granting favors, sensual or otherwise, before I knew what they were.  But
some things you just don't learn to resist, and a beautiful woman prostrate
before me is almost always going to get her wish.

   "Janey, your first dance is deemed to be acceptable," I intoned with all
the pomposity I could muster.  "What is your sensual pleasure?"

   I expected her to ask for that car she had been bugging me for.  The one
with the leather seats.  Or an expensive trinket, maybe.  But nope, not my
Janey!

   "I want to go to that place you took Mom the night of the concert."

   I gasped.  Sally paled.  No one else in the room had a clue.

   "You told me you didn't want to go there."

   "I told you I wasn't ready.  I am now.  I'm not afraid of those feelings
anymore and I am strong enough." I could almost here `I think' or `I hope'
on the end of that.

   My, my.  My little girl is all grown up.  But then I knew that.  I had
just seen her dance.  Someone was going to be a very lucky man someday, to
have that body, that spirit to come home to each night.

   "What place is she speaking of?" asked Amud, thinking that Janey was
referring to a physical location.

   Sally told them of the white crop I had used on her, how I had tied her
and pushed her beyond any experience she had had before or since.  It was
beyond the singing.  It was just beyond.

   Bala turned to look at me.  In awe she said, "You can see the dancing
lights in a woman as she sings?"

   I nodded.

   Simone, still puzzled, asked Sally, "Janey wants Larry to whip her with
a stick?"

   Sally nodded.

   Nicole had passed the point of credulity.  Again she muttered, this time
about Janey now being as big a tramp as her mother.  Again in French.  Bala
and Amud both spoke French.  So did I.

   It was the last straw for Sally.  Remind me to never push her too far.
She was a blinding fury as she pummeled Nicole, screeching and shrieking as
she did so.  When Nicole was sufficiently limp, she dragged her by her hair
out of the room.  We heard the body thumping down the stairs to the first
floor, then all was quiet.

   Embarrassed at the outburst, I apologized to Amud.  He gave me a
quizzical look, like I was an idiot.

   "Lawrence, my friend.  You are a good master, but sometimes you do
stupid things."

   I must have looked puzzled.

   "Sally, your beloved, is not like Bala.  She cannot be mistress, too. 
It's is not in her aura.  Different lights.  Your new beloved, Nicole, is
not mistress.  Janey, she is young, she can learn both ways yet.  Simone,
she is a special one." He grinned.  "You are one lucky son of the bitch, my
friend, but I do not envy you."

   He stopped and fixed me with a stare.  "Learn to see your women, as a
master.  If you see the dancing lights, you are far beyond me in skill. 
But maybe I can help you with wisdom, no?"

   With that, he indicated I should tend to Janey who was crying with
gathering hysterics on the floor.  Her debut was ruined, her request
forgotten.

   As I tended to Janey, finally getting her settled down, Amud and Bala
quietly slipped out and drove home.  Bala had seemed incredibly agitated,
perhaps aroused, at Janey's dance and the ensuing conversation.  Amud, to
my surprise, had not seemed jealous of her attraction to Janey or to me. 
When I thought back, Bala may not have been envious of Amud's reaction to
Janey, but could have actually been exciting him with her hand, enhancing
his pleasure of the dance.  Such nonpossessiveness was strange to me, but
seeing it in practice made me think it might work.

   As Janey quieted down I carried her down to her room.  Suddenly she
cried out.

   "Oh, God, Dad, she's killing her!"

   "Who?  Where?" I demanded immediately.

   "M-M-Mom is beating Nicole.  Downstairs.  Daddy?  Why is she so angry
with Nicole?  It hurts, oh God, it hurts...." Janey rolled over in tears,
holding her stomach.

   I dashed down to the dungeon, fully expecting the worst.  I just hoped I
wasn't too late to stop her from doing any permanent damage.

   What I saw pained me.  Sheer anger was being vented in a blind rage.  My
meek, mild Sally had strung Nicole up by her wrists and was using the heavy
handle of a whip to bludgeon her face and torso.  There was no thought to
her wildly swinging blows, only rage.

   My heart cried out to her to stop.  I knew I couldn't reach her before
she struck a couple of more times, so I did the only thing I could think
of. I focused as I ran to her, thinking of an iceberg and then wrapped it
around her.  As corny as that sounds, it worked.  She froze, so to speak,
in mid-blow.

   My first priority was to secure Sally where she couldn't harm Nicole any
more.  I led her gently over to a set of kneeling stocks and placed her
head and hands in the appropriate half rounds, then closed and locked the
top bar.  We had never used this device before, but Sally had commented
that if I ever wanted to punish her, that was the way.  It seemed
appropriate.

   She hadn't resisted me.  As soon as I had touched her she had gone limp.
I knew she knew she had made a grievous error.  So had I.  Sally had known
her limitations and had tried to tell me.  I hadn't listened.  I was too
proud.  This was my fault, too.

   With Sally secured and unable to harm herself or Nicole, I cut down
Nicole.  Her wrists were bleeding from the plastic ties Sally had used.  I
wondered where those had come from.  I hated those evil devices.  Not only
could they mark you permanently, they didn't have a lock to pick.  I
quickly examined the unconscious woman.  As near as I could tell from a
quick field exam, there were no broken bones.  I was more worried about her
spirit than her bones, though.

   I carried her upstairs and took her into the Free Room.  We hadn't had
to use this room much before, but everything was there.  A bed, a bathroom.
I took the pistols I had placed there and put them away.  I hadn't gone
over everything with Nicole just yet, and didn't want her running around
the house with a loaded gun.  After Nicole was settled and as comfortable
as I could get her, I went to find Simone to tell her that her Mom was
going to be OK and to try to explain to her what had happened.

   I couldn't find Simone.  I looked everywhere.  I looked in on Janey to
see if they were together.  I checked the dungeon just to be sure.  I
searched the house.  I checked my security system and ran a check for
infrared heat sources.  I could only count four in the house or on the
grounds.  I ran the security tape loop.

   Three heat sources had left the house at nearly the same time.  Two had
gone together, one had slipped out just after the others were in their car.

   I watched the tape from the outside security camera as the third heat
source disappeared down the driveway and turned toward the nearest
Interstate.  To have been that visible, Simone must have been outside the
car, riding on the rear bumper of Amud and Bala's limousine.

   Simone had run away.

   Chapter 35

   I could have panicked.  An underage girl I barely knew and had accepted
responsibility for had just left for parts unknown, and I had only one clue
where she might have gone.  Her mother lay unconscious in my guestroom,
beaten senseless by my lover.  The unconscious mother would have to be
tended by the daughter of the woman who had just brutalized her.  What, me
worry?

   After checking on Nicole, I went up to Janey's room.  She was already
getting dressed, her eyes still puffy and swollen from crying, but her face
set and determined.

   "Janey?"

   "Be ready in a minute.  Where do you think she went?"

   "How'd you know she was gone?  Oh, I see.  Gee, you're getting pretty
good with your link thing, aren't you."

   "Yes, and you should be better than me, Dad.  I mean, I can sense
stronger than Mom, but she's real sneaky sometimes about what she knows, so
I can't always tell.  Simone and I can hook up pretty good, but she's way
different than I am.  Like, the last time we did each other, she was doing
things to me I didn't think anyone but you could do.  I made her stop, you
know, it was too much.  She's like you that way in that she can tell what
turns me on, but still, she's no match for what you can do."

   "What do you mean?"

   She turned to me, exasperated but patient, like with a slow-witted
child. "Dad.  Stop thinking.  Feel.  Reach out.  God!  You can do it when
you don't think about, you know?  I felt what you did to Mom downstairs."

   I must have looked surprised.

   Janey explained, "Don't you know what you did?  You were shouting how
much you loved her, how this was all your fault, how you would try to make
things right, but to please STOP!  I mean, you weren't making words with
your mouth or anything, you were like shouting in your mind, or something.
It was really clear.  You were really scared, not just for Nicole, but for
Mom, too.  That sort of made me feel good.  Then I got really, really cold.
Stop thinking of pictures, will you?  I mean, it works sometimes, but Geez,
an iceberg?  Be a little easier on us weaklings, why don't you."

   "You got all that, all the way up here?"

   "Clear as a bell, Dad.  Just stop thinking.  Feel.  Can you feel Mom
now? Can you tell what she's feeling?"

   I stopped and felt.  I reached out for Sally.  I found her, waiting for
me.  A lump formed in my throat.  Shit.  And I thought I felt bad.  I sent
her my love.

   "Don't worry.  She'll get over it.  She knows you love her.  That's all
she needs to know right now.  She also knows she really screwed up, too. 
And that you will fix it.  She trusts you.  She loves you.  I trust you,
too."

   She finished tying her shoes.  "Where do we start looking for Simone?"

   I was taken aback for a minute.  "Uh, would you mind holding down the
fort here?  I kind of need you to look after Nicole.  She's unconscious
right now, but nothing's broken, I hope.  But when she comes to, I need you
to make sure she's OK.  If she's not, call the hospital and get her there.

   "Your mother stays in the basement until I come back home with Simone,
or until I give up.  That could be a long time.  Tough.  Let her out of the
stocks one hour a day for a shower and exercise.  You can change her
bondage if you think the stocks are too much for her.  I don't know how
long I will be gone, so use your judgement.  I do not want to injure her.

   "You may give her updates on Nicole's progress and anything I tell you
to relay to her on the telephone.  Otherwise silence.  No chit chat, no
making her feel better.  You'll need to feed her at least one meal while
she's in restraints.  She cleans up her own messes on her free hour.  It
will stink down there, so be prepared for it."

   Janey nodded, agreeing with everything I said, even the tough parts.

   "You're in charge, kiddo.  I trust you, too.  Remind Nicole about the
Free Room rules and that she can stay there as long as she wants.  That's
where I put her.  Oh, the guns are put away, so you won't need to worry
about her getting a hold of one.  Other than that, be sure to sleep when
you can, even if it's during the day.  You're going to need it.  I'll call
when I can."

   She rushed into my arms.  "Thanks, Dad, for taking charge.  I'm glad
you're letting me do something."

   I held her away from me.  "You're not disappointed you're not going with
me to look for Simone?"

   "That's your job.  Besides, if you had to worry about me, I'd just mess
up your sensing thing.  You have enough trouble with it, as it is." Always
the critic.  At least she was smiling when she said that.

   "Good.  I'm off then." With that, I turned and left the house, knowing
Janey would take charge.  Just like Sally would, if she could.

   I called Amud on his cell phone from my car as I headed for the
Interstate.

   "Amud, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Simone left the house with you this
afternoon."

   "My friend, as lovely as the child is, I did not kidnap her, I swear."

   "Amud, again I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to imply you had anything to do
with it.  I didn't make myself clear.  She left the house riding on your
car.  On the back bumper.  She has run away."

   "Oh, dear!"

   "Yes.  I need to know the first stop you made after you left the house
that she could have gotten off.  Probably in a city or large town."

   He thought a minute.  "Oh, yes.  We stopped in at a leather warehouse
over near the new stadium.  From there we are now heading home."

   "Thank yo...."

   "Lawrence?  Lawrence?  Hello?  Here is Bala.  The girl, the new one, she
is missing, no?" From the blustering in the background, I could tell Amud
was not happy that his little wife had snatched the cell phone from him.  I
smiled, in spite of the circumstances.  He would enjoy reminding her of his
mastery over her.  I knew she would enjoy it also.

   "Yes, Bala.  I have to find her."

   "Use the lights, Lawrence.  Don't think, just use lights.  You great
master, use it.  Find the precious one." She then got all soft, unlike the
Bala I knew.  "I like her.  Please.  She is very special."

   "I know.  I like her, too, Bala.  Goodbye, and thank you." I rung off,
slightly puzzled by their comments.

   You know, it was beginning to irritate me.  With all advice I had been
getting lately to quit thinking, I was beginning to think..., well there I
went again, thinking.  Anyway, perhaps people were trying to tell me I did
too much of it, or maybe that I didn't do it well.  I wasn't sure.  I
decided not to think about it.

   I had a haystack, a place to start.  All I needed to do now was find the
needle.  Piece of cake.  Yeah, right.

   The warehouse Amud mentioned was in an industrial area, busy on the
weekdays, but almost deserted at night and weekends.  I could hear the
ruckus from the tail end of a Heavy Metal band concert in the stadium a
couple of blocks over.  This being a Friday evening, I figured Simone got
here just when the streets were empty, the workers gone home, the concert
in full swing.  A pretty young girl, alone, would stick out like a sore
thumb on these naked streets.

   I sat in my car, at a loss for what to do next.  I had driven to the
spot Amud had stopped.  I parked in a NoParking zone across from the local
police precinct.  Even it was deserted at this time of the week, manned by
just a skeleton crew of rookies.  It had been too much to hope that Simone
would be standing there waiting for me.  I know it was na<ve of me, but I
had hoped, just a little.

   I closed my eyes in quiet frustration and lay my head against the
steering wheel of the car.  I may have cried for her, I don't know.  I
guess I really had wanted her to be there, tears on her face, cold from the
long ride on the bumper, frightened of the strange darkness, a big van, a
friendly face, old kind of, kind of cinnamon smell, candy, a warm car, warm
blanket, warm up, feels good, food, voices, laugh, a funny laugh, money
through the window, a door opening suddenly, a bad man, fear, scared, ...

   I woke up with a start.  What the Hell was that?  I looked at my watch.
No.  I hadn't been asleep.  Simone!  I knew I was sensing Simone, seeing
what Simone was sensing.  Somewhere near, close, but going away now.  Then
just blank, like she was drugged.  I had felt the needle jab into her leg.
I could sense her drift away, then it was still, not any feelings from her
at all.

   I found myself out of my car.  I could sense better outside in the open.
I couldn't get a bearing on a direction with this sensing thing and it
frustrated the shit out of me.  I just wandered the streets, hoping to
sense when it was stronger, when she was closer.  She was so close...

   I wandered the streets looking for her, half running, stumbling,
walking. Looking for her senses.  Just a trace, anything.  I found that the
harder I tried, the fainter she got.  I lost all sense of time and of
myself.  I immersed myself into her aura, and just kept wandering,
apparently aimlessly.

   It happened so suddenly.  I distinctly felt it when she woke up, the
pain, the slaps across our cheeks, a kick in the ribs, one broke.  I hurt,
she hurt.  Too far away, now, she was going away again.  Another needle,
another sleepless dream, floating.  I followed that dream, walking blindly
through streets.

   Then the men started coming.  I could see them, what they were doing to
her, to us.  We were ashamed, please, no more, not again.  The sense from
Simone started to fade, but wasn't moving away anymore.  She was going into
hiding, into her shell.  It was her only defense, her last hope.  I sent
her a message, but I didn't know if she got it.  I was coming.  Hold on. 
Then it was just like static on an open radio signal.

   I kept wandering, trying to find her.  The streets were empty through
Saturday and Sunday.  Monday I had to dodge traffic as I stumbled along the
sidewalks.  I don't remember if I slept or not.  I do remember I stopped
looking at people as people.  I started looking at them as lights.  I
wasn't surprised to find most people were pretty dim, if they had any light
at all.

   Tuesday came and went and I was getting desperate.  Just before I
collapsed in a doorway, I heard it.

   "Help me.  Please."

   Simone!  She was close!  I looked around and saw her light.  There were
no windows in that abandoned building, but I saw her lights.  Dimming, but
there.  I knew it was her.

   I found my way into the building and damn near fell down the dilapidated
steps into the cellar.  It stunk of fresh urine and shit.  I began a
frantic search for her in the dark cavernous spaces.  The lights from her
had gone back out.  There was only static again.

   I found her.  She was naked, bruised and barely conscious.  They had
used a staple gun to fasten clumps of her hair to a wooden post.  She was
hanging by her hair in a position where she couldn't stand upright or sit
or kneel.  The muscles of her thin legs had supported her as long as they
could in the awkward position, but they had given out days ago.  The floor
around her was in places several inches deep in feces and pools of urine.
It couldn't have been all hers.

   The two men surprised me as I was vomiting.  Given their poor fighting
skills, my retching wasn't much of a disadvantage.  I disabled the big one
first.  He was obviously the bodyguard.  The asshole was trying to pull an
Uzi out from under his jacket, if you can imagine that.  The clip or barrel
or something got caught on his belt, but by that time, it didn't matter. 
His knee when one way, he went the other, shit splashing everywhere as he
landed hard.  He dropped his Uzi when he grabbed for his knee.  I kicked
him in the head for insurance, then kicked the gun into a far corner.

   The smaller man, a pimp by his dress, was smarter.  I could tell because
he had chosen a more appropriate weapon.  He had his knife out and was
trying to appear as if he was ready for me.  I like fighting idiots with
knives.  Mainly because most fighters don't know how to use them and it
makes the motherfuckers overconfident.  They always get a big one like
Rambo or that crocodile guy and the weight tends to throw them off balance.
Then they fucking hold them upside down, like I'm going to be stupid enough
to step inside his down-swinging arm.  This pimp with the yellow hat had
really overcompensated for his inadequacies with the monster blade he was
holding.  I left him writhing on the floor, the knife buried to the hilt in
his thigh, right where he had it aimed.  The knife had driven clear through
his leg with the tip stuck firmly into the wooden floor.  I knew he wasn't
going anywhere for a while.

   I was trying to get Simone free when the third guy jumped me.  He would
have had me clean, too, but he slipped in the shit trying not to get too
close.  A little schmutz, and I would have been dead.  As it was, he still
got my arm good with the deadly little knife he was using.  I think he
thought he had me, now that I was wounded, but he was wrong.  He made the
fatal mistake of letting me get too close to him.  Once I'm in close, well,
he died surprised.  As I pushed his lifeless body off me, I gave a start of
recognition.  It took me a moment, but I finally placed him.  He had been
in some of the pictures Gary had taken of Sally during her humiliation.

   I managed to free Simone using the knife I pulled out of my forearm.  I
simply cut her hair free from the staples and picked her up.  They had not
tied her arms and she latched on to my neck with what seemed to be all her
feeble strength.  I thought I felt her sob once, but wasn't sure.  Sensing
the urgency of flight, I kept trying to find my way to the stairs but my
head wouldn't seem to work.  Every time I tried to look for the door out of
the room, my nose kept turning back to the same dark corner.  I would take
a step to turn, and my head would swing like a compass needle pointing
north.  Same damn corner, every time.

   I finally realized Simone was yanking on my ear, forcing me to look at
that particular corner.  Understand, I was brain-dead, tired, stabbed and
trying to escape, my survival instincts in complete command.  My mission
was over.  I had Simone.  It was Miller time.  I was like a horse headed
for the barn, ASAP.  I did not want to look in that stinking corner.

   She was insistent, and my ear was starting to hurt.  I went over to the
fucking corner.  Nothing.  I started to turn away.  My ear just about got
torn off.

   "What the fucking hell do you want!" I yelled at her in my mind.

   "Please.  Hidden.  Shiny.  Silver.  Important," came the faint reply
over our link.  It wasn't exactly words but images.  I didn't really
understand.

   I shuffled around in the debris piled in the corner until my foot kicked
into an aluminum case.  It was heavy, and now my fucking foot hurt, too.  I
picked it up with my good hand.  Simone grasped my neck tighter, easing the
work I had to do with my injured arm.  Where she got the strength I don't
know.

   My ear released from her grip, I found an exit.  On the way out and up
the stairs, I stumbled.  I tripped over a lit kerosene lamp one of the men
had left on the stairway.  It fell to the basement floor and broke open. 
The old newspapers that cluttered the floor caught fire easily.  The old
dry timbers of the crumbling warehouse exploded into flames, engulfing the
three bodies in the cellar.

   I heard screams as I walked away, carrying Simone.  It didn't bother me
at all.

   As I cleared the killing zone, as I thought of it, I had to stop and
think where I was.  I realized I was many miles from my car.  I was in the
middle of an area I didn't recognize right away.  I couldn't see the
stadium.  I couldn't see any landmarks or familiar buildings at all until I
got to the next large intersection.  God!  I was two towns over from where
I had parked.

   It was night, there were no buses running in this part of town.  No
taxis were going to stop for me, not with the way I looked after four days
of wandering around, bleeding from a big gash in my arm and carrying an
unconscious naked stinky little girl.  I headed for the one safe house I
knew in this town.

   Mac didn't recognize me at first when he opened his door.  I just hoped
he would take over now.  I collapsed in his doorway.

   Chapter 36

   I woke up in a hospital.  I knew that before I opened my eyes.  I could
smell the familiar antiseptic odors.  My arm felt stiff and sore.  I could
feel the bandaging they had used on the stab wound.  Oh well, another
battle scar.

   I kept my eyes closed and tried to link to Simone.  I was startled to
find her so close.  She was in the bed next the chair I was sitting in. 
Sensing she was safe, I drifted off to sleep again.

   When I woke up again, it was dark.  Simone was still asleep, resting
easy.  I had been having some very weird dreams.  When I noticed she was
holding my finger, much like Janey had done when I had sat by her bed, I
suspected Simone and I had been communicating over a similar link between
us.  I seemed to know her better now.  She was, indeed, a special person.

   The dream had seemed so real, interactive.  I had been on a beach, and
thousands, millions of others were there, too.  The fine white sand seemed
to stretch for eternity in both directions.  When I looked down, I couldn't
focus on the sand around me, but it seemed so real I could feel it between
my toes.  Most of the people along the beach were building sandcastles. 
Some castles were bigger than others were, as those people had others
helping them.  Some others were struggling by themselves to build one that
could stand against the relentless waves.

   Some people along the beach were raging at the sea, kicking at the
water, trying futilely to keep the waves from their sandcastles.  As I
watched, the waves would come and wash away their castles or the castles of
the people near them.  They were trying to stop the waves.  The waves would
strike at random.  You could never tell when the waves would come, who
would have to start over, who would be wiped out, or whose castle would be
touched.  Some sandcastles were barely touched by the waves, some the waves
wiped out.  Wherever the water touched a sandcastle there was sadness.

   Sometimes the people would stop building and just wander out into the
waves, to become a part of the vastness.  Most of us just kept building our
castles.  Like I was doing.

   I had a bucket in my hand full of sand.  When I examined the sand in the
bucket carefully, though, I saw the grains were made up of the faces of
Simone and Nicole.  When I looked at my sandcastle, I and I saw that the
sand there, too, was made up of faces, faces I knew.  I saw my parents, my
sister, Sally and Janey.  Mac was there, as were others, some alive, some
long dead.  I put the new bucket onto my castle and Nicole's and Simone's
faces became part of the whole.

   Looking up, I saw Simone was there on the beach beside me.  The remains
of two small ruined sandcastles were visible beside her as she bravely
attempted to build yet another around the face of her mother.  I saw in her
sand the face of an elderly gentleman that I knew was the man she called
Papa.  The other man in the ruins was younger.  It looked as if she had
kicked that pile over herself, her tiny footprints visible in the white
sand, long deep scars where she had tried to kick the face of that evil man
away form her.  But that sand, that face, was still a part of her castle, a
part of her.

   Simone wasn't raging at the waves as were many others in less tragic
conditions.  The waves had touched her as it had them, yet she persevered.
I could also see she was being very careful now, selecting the material for
her castle with greater care.  She stood holding an empty bucket, another
was off to one side.  Janey's face was in her castle now, the new sand
still bright and shiny.  I could see my face in the bucket she had set
aside.  She was scared to mix it in with her mother's sand.  Unsure.

   Suddenly, in my dream, I was telling a story, teaching a history class.
When I would turn to look at the students, they would all have the same
face, the face of Simone.  All of them asked different questions, throwing
them at me faster than I could answer as if time was running out.  I tried
to answer as many as I could, but some of them I knew I wasn't allowed to
answer, secrets from my past I could not share.  Some of the questions were
easy.  Some were hard.  Others I didn't know the answers to.  The bell rang
and the questions stopped.

   We were back on the beach.  Simone was turning to me smiling.  Both
buckets were empty.  My face was in her castle.  I waved my hands and a
space opened in the walls of my own castle.  When I looked around I could
see that Sally had her castle right next to mine, each adding support to
the other.  Janey's was there, too, as was Nicole's.  I invited Simone to
place her own castle within the protection of mine, of my family's.  I
could tell she wanted to, but she was hesitant, afraid.  It was not a
feeling she was used to.

   We were in the delicate and difficult process of moving her sandcastle
closer to mine when I woke up.

   I tried to sit up.  A pair of strong hands was there immediately to help
me.

   "I called your house.  Janey answered.  She said to tell you someone
named `Bala' came over to help out.  Said you would want to know everything
is OK and that Sally is still in the basement, whatever that means. 
Nicole, whoever she is, is awake and responsive and didn't need to go the
hospital.  Now that you know everything is OK, Lar, you want to tell me
just what the fuck's going on?  Who are all those people?"

   I relaxed as I heard the rapid-fire reassurances from my friend.  All
the little things I hadn't been able to think of, he had.  Damn, it was
good to hear his voice.

   I smiled.  "Mac!  You should really watch your language around
impressionable young kids, you know?" Mac had grown up on the streets in a
very rough neighborhood.  Ever since high school I had ribbed him about his
rough language, helping him smooth out some rough edges.  In return, he
taught me to fight dirty and about the hard facts of life in the real
world. We both learned and improved, better individuals for our friendship.

   He punched my arm, the good one.  "Damn you, Lar, I've been stuck in
here for three days waiting for you to wake up and tell them I had nothing
to do with this.  Whatever this is.  What is this, anyway, and who the Hell
are you and what have you done with my friend Larry Sampson?"

   "Oh, God, Mac, where do I start..."

   "He can't tell you."

   The two of us turned our heads as one to look at the clear, sweet voice
coming from the bed.  Simone was awake.

   She repeated, "He can't tell you.  He has integrity." She said that last
word as if it were the most important thing in the world that a man could
have.  She may be right.

   "Damn, Lar, who is the beautiful woman who uses big words with such a
lovely accent?"

   "Excuse my manners.  Mac, this is Simone.  Simone, Mac."

   He stuck out his hand, "Hi, Simone." His trademark grin that had won him
more than one fair maiden lit up his face.

   "Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Mac." She said his name with her
delightful accent, and giggled at his response to her.  I had seen Mac in
many situations, but I had never seen him this flustered.  I swear, he even
blushed.

   "I can get her to explain any big words you don't understand, OK,
lughead?"

   "Fuck you!"

   "Monsieur Mac!" That reprimand came from her, followed by another laugh.
I had never observed that particular behavior they called coquettish
before, but it was truly amazing to see this teenaged girl keep Mac
tonguetied and off balance.

   After several minutes of valiantly waging a losing battle, he turned to
me for rescue.  "Help me out here, please!  So help me God, I want to take
her home with me.  But if you dare tell CeCe I said that, I'll make you pay
for our lunches for the next 10 years."

   "I'm tempted to tell you to go fuck yourself, Mac," I laughed, grinning
at him.  "But I don't think I could afford you for the next 10 years with
your new contract." Mac had gone on a tear at the plate the last month of
the season.  It hadn't been enough to get the team into the play-offs, but
it sure brought up the gate receipts, which is what counts.  He had been
expected to just be a part-time replacement for an injured player.  He had
far out-performed expectations.  I knew he would, given the chance.

   When the opposing pitchers kept getting hit, they started walking him.
Trouble with that was that Mac firmly believed in scoring.  Baseball to him
was simple.  You get on, you score.  He brought an exciting sandlot quality
to an aging team, invigorating the whole team in the process.  If you
walked him to first, he would steal the next three bases, including home
plate.  The fans loved it.  So did management.  They had just signed him to
a huge contract for the next 3 seasons.

   "Lawrence, is he OK?" Simone asked quietly.

   I knew what she meant.  Was he safe to have in her sandcastle?  Would he
hurt her, leaving her to trample more sand?

   "Uh, `Monsieur Mac', as you have dubbed him, is my closest and best
friend.  I would, and have, trusted him with my life and yours.  I hope
someday you will find a friend as good as he is to me.  I can't tell you if
he will be good for you, but I would bet he would be.  That decision has to
be up to you.  Always."

   "It is frightening, Lawrence.  How can I be sure who to trust?"

   "Trust your mother.  Trust Sally.  Trust Janey.  Learn from them, watch
them, see how they measure people, who they let into their lives."

   "But Gary, and that other man..." she didn't finish.

   "Don't hold your mother responsible for Gary, Simone.  Sally fell for
him, too.  We all need to learn from our mistakes and the mistakes of
others."

   "I know." She looked up at Mac with her sparkling blue eyes, her
decision made.  I knew he was a goner.  He was going to be a part of her
sandcastle whether he liked it or not.  Something told me he wouldn't mind.
CeCe's opinion was another matter, but one bridge at a time.

   A first for Mac, he had not interrupted this short exchange.  He was
puzzled at some things we were saying, others began to make sense.

   "So, anybody want to tell me what you were doing on my doorstep covered
in blood and shit?  Can you tell me that much?"

   I looked over at Simone, who nodded for me to tell him.

   "Remember a couple of weeks ago, that serial killer they caught?"

   He nodded, shuddering at the reminder.  It was still fresh in most
people's minds.  Even with his tough background, some things still touched
you hard.

   "He was Sally's boyfriend before she kicked him out."

   "You mean the one where she just about shot apart her house when she
kicked him out, oh about four or five years ago?"

   "You knew about that and didn't tell me?"

   "Well, yeah, CeCe told me but she said Sally would tell you.  I thought
you knew.  Honest!"

   "Thanks, buddy.  Thanks a lot.  Anything else you want to tell me about
my fianc,e before I start?"

   He shook his head sheepishly.  I knew he hadn't meant to keep it from
me. I continued the abridged version and told him the story about Sally and
Gary, then of us seeing Gary, Nicole and Simone together at the symphony. I
told him what I had done to set Gary up, just not the connections I used or
how I had made them.  He assumed they were from my financial clients.  I
let him.

   I also glossed over exactly why Nicole and Simone were staying with us,
and what led to Simone running away, just that there were some adjustment
issues around the house to work out.  Then I turned to Simone and asked her
to tell both of us what had happened from that point, as I was curious,
too.

   Simone lowered her eyes and spoke to her hands, which were folded on her
lap.  Her voice was clear and her words concise, no fear apparent in them.

   "I was so jealous of Janey.  She is so beautiful and her dance was
perfect.  I will never be like her.  She has so many friends.  It is so
hard for me to speak with people my own age, especially the boys.  I try,
but I always say the wrong things and make them feel stupid.  I don't mean
to.  For Janey it is so easy.  Everyone likes Janey.

   "I was angry at her for being so perfect.  I did something awful.  I
told one of her friends, a boy she really liked, something that made him
not like her.  It was a lie.  She found out.  It hurt her, and she cried at
night for several nights.  She did not hate me, though, and that made me
feel so small.  In fact, she tried harder, spending more time with me,
helping me.  I had never done anything like that before, to try to hurt
someone.  It made me feel so dirty inside.  It shamed me.

   "I know she tried so hard to make me feel welcome, but it was still her
room, her home.  I missed my things, too.  You took us in to your home to
help us, but it was not my home.  Mama felt the same way, a little.  Please
understand, we were grateful for the help you gave to us, but it hurt our
pride to need it.

   "I was angry with Mama, too, for saying those ugly things about Janey.
It was not the first time.  Mama isn't like that, really.  Please do not
hate her, Lawrence, she is very frightened and alone.  She needs to have a
man such as you take care of her.  But she kept saying bad things, worse
and worse.  I think she was afraid you would not want me around with Janey
so perfect, so she tried to make her less perfect by saying those things
about her.  I warned her that Mist, er, Sally was becoming angry with her.
She didn't care.

   "Then after the dance Mama said that horrible thing about Janey.  My
Mama is bigger and stronger than Sally, but I have never seen such a rage
in a person.  I wanted to stop her from hurting Mama, but I couldn't move
my feet.  It happened so fast, too.  I could feel Sally's rage with that
thing Janey showed me.  The intensity of her madness terrified me and kept
me from moving.  I was ashamed to be so weak and useless when my Mama
needed me most.

   "When that nice couple left, I hid on the back of their car.  I am sorry
for running away, Lawrence.  I did not mean to go.  I did not mean to cause
you so much trouble.  I thought if I were not there, Mama would not have to
worry about you not wanting me around.  If I were not there, I would not
have to live with Janey and be compared to her perfection.  At least,
that's what I told myself later, as we both know those are just excuses,
really.  In all honesty, at the time, I did not think at all, Lawrence. 
For once in my life that I can remember, I did not think.  I just did it.

   "I had gone outside to get away from the things in my head.  I could
still hear Mama screaming.  I could sense Sally's rage.  I could feel the
thump of Mama's body as she was pulled down the stairs.  I could feel the
hairs pulling out of her head.  I had to get away, as far from the pain and
screaming and rage as possible.  I am sorry I was so weak.

   "Their car was leaving and I ran and jumped on.  I didn't think.  I had
to do it before it got too far away and once I took that first step, I was
flying.  I have never felt so free before.  I was doing something without
planning it out.  Without knowing what would happen.  My heart was racing
from the excitement and the wind felt wonderful on my face.  Such
exhilaration I have never felt before.  I was free!

   "The first part of the ride was like a magic carpet.  I was gliding
along.  Then the went too fast and I got frightened.  I couldn't see the
exit signs because my eyes would water in the wind.  The temperature
dropped as it got dark and I got cold.  I kept my eyes closed most of the
ride so I didn't know what road I was on.  I got off at the first stop of
the car, but by then, I was cold and lost.  I didn't know where I was.  I
started walking towards the lights of the big sports arena and the music,
looking for a telephone or a store.  A big van drove by me as I was walking
along, I think maybe twice.  The second time it went by then backed up.  I
was so cold, I was shaking.

   "A nice man in the van asked me if I would like a ride.  I said no.  He
said just get in to get warm, it was cold out tonight, and it looked like
rain.  He said he would just drive me around to find a telephone, then
bring me back to where I was standing.  I said no.  He asked me if I was
hungry.  I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you, Lawrence, but I
was so cold and hungry.  I did not eat at the dinner, I had been too
excited with all the new things Bala was teaching us.  The nice man pulled
a big sandwich out of a bag and took a bite.  I could smell it though the
open window.  The juices dripped down his chin and he reminded me of Papa.
Just a little.  It looked so good.  I am sorry, but I got in.

   "He started driving around.  I wrapped up in a blanket in the back, as
far from him as I could.  It was so nice and warm.  He gave me a cup of hot
chocolate, to help me warm up first, he said.  It tasted funny and I think
he had put something in it.  But it was warm and I drank it all.  I felt a
little funny later, but not bad.  I suddenly didn't care if he didn't take
me to a telephone or back to where he picked me up anymore.

   "He made a phone call while we were driving around.  I didn't pay any
attention to where we were going.  I felt like I was floating.  I didn't
care about anything anymore.  Soon we were far away from the sports arena.
He stopped the van by another car on this dark street with all these broken
buildings.  An ugly man in a yellow hat looked at me and made an ugly
laugh. I didn't like him.  He handed the nice man some money.  Suddenly the
door I was leaning against was yanked open.  A big man ripped the blanket
away from me.  I felt the cold again and I screamed.  He hit me.  Then he
stuck a needle in my leg.

   "I woke up where you found me.  I felt you coming, I think, but I had to
hide.  They..., they did bad things to me.  I got thirsty, and they peed in
my mouth.  When I got hungry, they backed up to my face and defecated on
me. The other men, they always kept coming and using me, in my mouth, in my
bottom, everywhere.  They paid money to the man in the yellow hat to use
me.

   "When you found me, they were getting ready to move me to another place.
The man said someone had paid cash for me and I was going far away, where
no one would find me.  They had taken pictures of me first thing before I
got too dirty, to show to the buyers.  The yellow hat was happy with the
price the new people had paid him.  He called me `prime.'"

   She ended her story.  Both Mac and I sat there, unmoving, shocked at
what we had just heard.

   "Simone," I asked her, "were there two men or three who took you the
first time.  When they grabbed you out of the van"

   "Just two.  The man with the yellow hat and the big, dumb one.  He made
a lot of piss.  He grabbed me and leaned on me until I was still after he
stuck me with the needle.  I remember he carried me to the other car under
his arm like a loaf of long French bread, but I couldn't feel anything. 
Then I don't remember."

   "There were three men in the cellar.  Do you know who the third man
might have been?"

   "When they went away and left me alone, they said they were bringing
back someone to take me away.  Perhaps that was him."

   I hoped to God it was, and that he had been acting alone.  I just wanted
this nightmare to end for Simone.

   Chapter 37

   At that moment the door opened and a distinctive aroma filled the room.
The smell, close to a stench, was so intense it made your eyes water the
first time you experienced it.  I had experienced it many times, and still
couldn't quite get used to it.

   "Hello, Gertie.  It's been a while."

   "Hello, to you too, Mr.  Sampson.  I see you've been up to your usual
stunts.  Rescuing fair maidens now, are we?"

   I was still sitting.  I tilted my head back to look up at an enormous
block of a woman who was smiling warmly down at me in a motherly fashion.
She was as large as her unique perfume was intense.  As far as I knew,
there was still a sizable reward open in the NIH labs for anyone who could
duplicate that odor and make an antidote.  God knows why she insisted on
bathing in the stuff.  She was an intelligent woman, a world-renowned
medical researcher.  She was published in more than one field, she had a
likeable personality.  She just smelled.  It was rumored that certain
airlines had banned her from flying with them.  Too many customer
complaints.

   She was accompanied by an officious lab coat.  The local hospital
administrator, was my bet.  He started right in on me.

   "Yes, Mr.  Sampson, I demand to know what is going on in my hospital. 
Will you please explain to me what you did to this young juvenile and why
you were carrying her naked though the streets?  What is your relationship
to this black fellow, and what were you two planning on doing to her?  I
have several important questions I would like to have answered, mister. 
You're going to be in real trouble if I don't get the truth I'm after, and
I'm talking criminal charges, here.  Your accomplice here has been
particularly insistent in trying to leave.  Why?  I want to know what's
going on, and right now!" he ended emphatically.

   "And you would be...?"

   "Carl Jones, Assistant Administrator."

   "Well, Mr.  Jones, in the first place, you'd better get a lawyer real
quick.  I don't take kindly to insinuations, aspersions or allegations,
especially the kind you have just made about my friend, this `black
fellow,' as you called him, and me.

   "Now, I'm sure that Dr.  Schwartz here will put you into contact with
some nice government people who will satisfy your curiosity as to who I am.
Of course, that would be after you prove to them that you're capable of
handling that information, which could take several years of their asking
some very personal questions.  In fact, I'm sure those same government
people would be happy to bring several of their nice friends along who will
have questions of their own for you about your tax records for the last 25
years."

   I stood up for effect.  I don't think the pompous little snot knew how
big I was.  "Now then, I would suggest you leave before I really get mad."

   He was actually preparing to spout off again until I mentioned the IRS.
Blanching, he left the same pallid color as his lab coat.

   When the door was shut Gertie said, "Done with your usual light touch,
Sampson.  Oh, by the way, we don't use the IRS to threaten the populace
anymore."

   I looked at her, an expectant smile on my face.  I knew a punch line was
coming.

   "Uh-uh.  Now we threaten them with the INS, ATF, or Janet Reno.  They go
in with machine guns and point them at your children."

   She said this with such a straight face that, had I not guffawed, Mac
would have taken her seriously.  Gertie always was the one person who could
be relied on to have the latest sick government humor.  As with most sick
jokes, however, there was entirely too much truth in her statement.

   "Excuse me, are you really Dr.  Gertrude Schwartz of NIH?" asked Simone
from the bed.

   The huge lady turned her considerable attention to the girl in the bed.
"Yes, I am, child.  Do you know me?"

   "You wrote a book, `The Dynamics of Hemoglobin Under Physical Stress'
published in 1985."

   "Yes, I did," Gertie said with surprise.  "How did you know?"

   "I read it," she stated simply.  Simone could see the disbelief in
Gertie's face.  I knew if it was Gertie's book, it was undoubtedly a thick
and very technical book.  Simone continued, "There were only four
typographic errors.  I thought it was very well written."

   "Well, thank you, I think.  And there were only three in the text!"

   "You misspelled Claude Coutier's name in the references.  That was the
fourth one.  So you are correct in saying there were only three in the
text."

   "Dr.  Coutier is an arrogant sycophant," Gertie muttered.

   Simone giggled, "He said nearly the same thing about you!  Only in
French, of course."

   Gertie sat on the edge of the bed, fully taken with this amazing young
girl.  "You know Claude?"

   Simone nodded, "I knew him.  We corresponded until he died last year.  I
had written to him to ask him if he thought your radical theories were
correct, as they differed so much from his.  He grudgingly admitted to me
you were most likely correct.  Did you know him, Dr.  Schwartz?  He would
never say why he had such strong feelings about you."

   I had never seen the big woman this vulnerable.  She was as tough as
they came, solid and dependable.  I had leaned on her for strength more
than once after returning from a hard mission.  This young girl had her
near tears.

   "Yes, I did know him, long ago at the University.  Very well, in fact.
He and I were engaged.  His mother didn't like me and we, he..." She didn't
say what, but it was clear.

   "Oh, I am so sorry, Dr.  Schwartz.  I did not mean to bring up sad
memories.  I know he would have liked it that you did it on purpose, as a
joke on his mother.  He said many nice things about you in his letters,
like he missed talking with you.  I can see why he loved you."

   Gertie sat quietly for a moment, alone with her own thoughts.  She
wheeled on me suddenly.  "I hear one word of this from anyone, mister, and
I will draw so much of your blood for lab tests at your next physical
you'll blow away in a puff.  Understood?"

   I nodded, suitable threatened.  My lips were sealed.  For now.

   With that, Gertie was back to business.  "What's his clearance?" she
asked me, nodding her head at Mac.

   I looked at Mac.  I shrugged.  "I don't know.  What do you think, Mac?
410 feet?  415?"

   He snorted, Gertie just looked puzzled.

   "Mac is my oldest and closest friend, Gertie.  From before my Agency
work.  He, uh, he is a ball player.  Baseball.  Gertie, this is Mac
Washington, third baseman for the Yankees.  Mac, Gertie, my own personal
government doctor."

   They shook hands, then Gertie's eyes widened in sudden recognition. 
"You!  You're THAT Mac!  You're the one who showed up out of nowhere and
cost me all that money in the Orioles game.  Damn!  Nobody can move that
fast on the bases.  You must have stolen four or five bases that game
alone!"

   Mac grinned, taking the praise, tainted as it was, in stride.

   "Gertie, you continue to amaze me.  I didn't know you followed baseball.
And betting?  Does the Agency know about that?"

   She glared over at me.  "Screw you, Mr.  Sampson.  It was a $10 bet with
the director that went to double or nothing when Mac got walked.  He was an
unknown who had just been moved up from some hick Triple A club to replace
that injured player, what's `is name.  Who was I to know he could run like
the wind?  Besides, $20 won't get you a hot dog and a beer there, so shove
it.  We went to the game on official business, too.  Maybe one of you will
tell me, since we're on the subject, why do they call you two `The Twins?'
That name kept coming up in some of your old teammates' interviews."

   She turned to Mac.  "It's an honor to meet you in person.  Excuse me for
not recognizing you, Mr.  Washington.  I didn't recognize you without your
tight pants..." For the second time she stopped short, not finishing what
she was saying.  It was a most unusual occurrence.

   As much as she blushed when she realized what she had just admitted,
that she had only looked at his butt during the game, Mac and I were still
trying to recover from her sudden unexpected question about our nickname.
The reason for the name was rather personal, and, thank goodness, our
teammates, though truthful about the name, had had the loyalty to
conveniently forget the reason for it.  I gave her the standard bullshit
answer we told anyone who asked.

   "Well, it started out in high school.  He would get a hit, I would get a
hit.  I would pitch a no-hitter, then he would.  What ever happened,
happened to both of us.  Ergo, `The Twins!'"

   Gertie looked at me carefully.  She knew me too well.  My answer had
been too pat, too prepared.  "Is that your final answer?"

   I nodded.

   "Bullshit."

   I shrugged.  Take it or leave it.

   Shaking her head in resignation, she finally got on with why she had
come in to the room in the first place.  "Well, first the good news.  You,
Mr.  Sampson, are as healthy as a horse.  As usual.  Even that little
scratch on your arm should heal nicely.  That is due in large part to me,
as you well know." With that prognosis she dismissed me from her realm of
concern.  I was uneasy to get off so lightly with her.

   She looked over at Simone for a moment.  "More good news is that the
girl did not catch anything particularly nasty from her ordeal.  I did have
to use some, er, new things for a few of the bugs she had in her system. 
You will have sign some, um, release papers for her before I can let you
leave." Something told me we were very lucky to have this good doctor on
our side.

   I knew more than a little bit about her `new things,' as she called
them, having been the recipient of a few of them before.  It was in large
part the reason for her continued interest in the state of my health.  Or
that I had any health at all for her to be concerned about.  More than once
I had heard the term `the guinea pig' used when someone asked for my
medical chart, especially after she had patched me up after a mission.  I
had a feeling the same label now applied to Simone.  Knowing Gertie, well,
I trusted her to use her best medical judgement, which, come to think of
it, was about the best in the world.

   She hesitated for a moment, thinking and phrasing as I had seen her do
before when she was really serious.  When she spoke, she spoke directly to
Simone, as if Mac and I weren't there, "Young lady, I do not know who you
are or where you come from or why you are not more affected than you are by
what you have been through.  From the state in which you arrived, and the
company you arrived with, I have a very good idea of exactly what you have
gone through this past couple of days.  I saw the pictures they took of you
when you came in, I have read the physical exam notes from the emergency
room doctors and I have seen the lab tests.  I have also seen the results
from the samples I sent to my lab.  I know many things."

   Gertie seemed overcome with emotion, all choked up.  She pointed over at
me.  I thought I was a goner.  "I know this man.  I know he did not do this
to you.  If anything, he is probably responsible for saving you from the
people who were doing it to you."

   Simone nodded her head in agreement.  Gertie had her rapt attention. 
Mine, too.

   "I cannot imagine what would make one human being treat another in the
manner these people treated you.  I cannot fathom what would make a grown
man think he could treat a beautiful young woman in the manner these men
treated you.  Not even among the most uncivilized of peoples does this
behavior exist.  Only rarely does it occur in the animal kingdom.  I am
beyond myself with outrage.  I ask you, give me one name, just one, of one
of the men who did this, and I will make him suffer for what he did to you.
He will beg me to let him die.  I swear to you, I will do it."

   Simone shook her head.  She didn't know their names.  Gertie
misunderstood her, but, knowing me, guessed correctly what had happened.

   "You can't.  They're dead, aren't they?" Not waiting for an answer, she
turned on me again.  "Judge, jury and executioner?" she accused bitterly.

   I shook my head softly and held up my injured arm.  "One Uzi and two
knives.  Self-defense."

   She snorted.  "With your special training, that was hardly fair odds..."

   My alarmed look stopped her before she breached any more major
government secrets.  I pointed to Mac, who was staring wide-eyed at her
careless slip that I had had special training.  I had never even hinted to
him what I had done after I left Triple A ball other than I was working for
the State Department.  He thought I worked at the embassies or something. I
never really said.

   Gertie, who had been nearly beside herself with rage at the brutality of
what Simone had been through, forced herself to calm down.  When she was
back in control, she turned back to the girl.  "Simone, dear, I was
prepared for you to be traumatized and emotionally battered from your
ordeal.  I was looking for you to be withdrawn and sullen, bitter and
hateful.  A normal person would feel that way.  I was expecting to have to
recommend years of psychiatric help and counseling for you.

   "But what do I find?  A caring, sensitive, intelligent, composed young
woman.  You reached out and touched my heart with a fond memory.  You had
the sensitivity to understand the love that old bastard and I had for each
other, two misshapen human beings that no one else could love.  You are
truly an extraordinary woman.

   "I would be pleased if you would keep in contact with me.  I would love
to get to know you better as a person, to watch you grow, to help you be
even more than you are now, if even in some small way.  It would be a
privilege.  Besides, latent repercussions of these events may crop up later
on.  Rather than have to reeducate someone new, I would be pleased to keep
in touch with you."

   I nearly fell out of my chair.  This was the woman who had practically
single-handedly re-invented the rehabilitation program for traumatized
agents.  There were today several active agents who, prior to her program,
would have had to be, well, put down, myself among them.  We could be a
lethal bunch when we got out of control.  For her to offer to look after
Simone after the trauma she had been through was more than I could have
hoped for.  It also indicated something of the intensity of the trauma
Simone had been through.

   Simone's experience was, in many ways, the same type of torture and
degradation experienced by captured agents.  Simone's apologies earlier of
her inability to resist because of the cold and hunger had reminded me of
similar apologies I had made myself.  We all had a breaking point.  When we
reached it, we all felt it was due to our weakness, a failure on our part.
Gertie was right.  Simone needed more than my help for this.

   I lost my head.  I stood up and hugged Gertie, I was so overcome with
emotion.  She tolerated it briefly, then set me back down rather forcibly
in the chair.  "Don't go soft on me now, Mr.  Sampson.  She's going to need
your help, too.  I assume, somehow, you're in some manner responsible for
her?  God help her."

   I almost wished I were back in the agency.  Almost.  I had so many
things I could hold over her head from just this afternoon, I could have
owned her departmental budget.  Her former lover, betting with the
director, watching Mac's ass, her careless slip about my training, oh, so
many things.  I could have had any assignment I wanted.  But, then, that
was the trouble.  I didn't want any assignments, anymore.

   "Yes, she is the daughter of my, uh, fianc,e." I saw Simone watching me
to see how I would portray my relationship with her mother.  I thought I
should reassure her of the permanence of her situation with me.  I forgot
about Mac.

   "What!" Mac burst out.  "Did you and Sally break up?  Holy Shit!  CeCe's
going to have a cow!"

   "No, Mac.  We didn't break up.  Sally and I are still going to get
married.  Too," I added weakly.  My position of superiority with Gertie had
just been eroded to nothing.  I could see from her incredulous expression
that she was eating this up and just waiting to hear my explanation.  From
her prior experience with me, she knew to expect a doozy.

   "But, but, that's illegal," blustered Mac.

   "Multiple partner marriages are an accepted practice in 37 different
cultures," piped up Simone from her pillow.  She was on my side, at least.
She wanted to get her mom married off and safe.  I wanted to change the
subject.

   "And just how many of those 37 cultures are in the US of A, Miss
Smarty-pants," howled Gertie, now shaking with laughter.  She was really
enjoying this.  Turning to me, she said, "Which wife will you be bringing
with you to the festivities in Washington the week after next?"

   I looked at her blankly.

   "Oh, right!  You haven't heard, yet.  The President thought it would be
nice to have a quiet bash or two complete with photo ops, mind you!  - for
all the hidden soldiers that keep this country safe for democracy.  To
protect the actives, the agency PR guys are pulling in every coherent
inactive agent they can find, and you, Mr.  Sampson, are at the top of
their list.  A very short list, too.  Since the festivities will be at the
same time as your next scheduled physical..."

   I groaned at the thought of another 4-day stint as a rat in her
laboratory.

   "...I have already taken the liberty of RSVPing for you and the Mrs. 
Maybe I should specify a table for three...?" She was really enjoying
herself.  If laughter was the best medicine, Gertie Schwartz, MD, was a
very healthy woman at the moment.

   Simone, however, remained fixed on the problem that had been staring me
in the face ever since I realize what it was Sally was really asking me to
do with her and Nicole.  What she said next was like a thunderbolt, a
revelation.  The answer was so simple, it just might work.

   "But, it's only illegal if they file the papers with the courts, isn't
it.  I mean, they could still pretend or something, couldn't they?"

   I don't know about the others, but I just sat and stared at Simone, my
angel.  All I could think of was that quote `And a child shall lead
them...'

   Chapter 38

   Simone and I were kept for observation for 4 more days.  Gertie visited
everyday.  Shit, she did more than visit.  She spent more than 6 hours a
day with us, talking with Simone mostly.  With her workload at the NIH, I
realized how important this was to her, that Simone be OK.  I left them to
their talks.  I used the time to sleep, as I was awake at night, still on
alert.  I think Gertie knew that.  I didn't look, but I knew there was an
inconspicuous guard watching our door 24 hours a day.

   I spent the nights by Simone's bed.  We would talk until she fell
asleep. She would insist on holding my finger as we talked.  She quietly
admitted it helped her dreams.  Other than that she didn't like me, or any
male, to touch her much.  She liked me to talk while she slept, too.

   I remembered what I had done for Janey, so I did the same for her.  I
didn't have that much history with her to relive, so I told her things I
remembered from my own youth.  I told her all about Mac, and how the first
time we met, we had defended each other back to back in a playground
fistfight.  The rich kid and the ruffian.  We had been inseparable from
then on.  Our parents and teachers never understood.

   I told her about growing up poor, then suddenly stupendously rich.  I
told her about my father and mother, how the sudden riches had torn them
apart and how I missed them.  I told her about Marion, my sister.  How
proud I was of her being a judge.  I told her things I had forgotten and
things I tried to forget, but couldn't.  I told her what I could about my
time in the Agency, and why I couldn't work for them anymore.  I talked
until I would drift off.  Then we would dream together.

   Each night the dream would be the same as before.  The beach.  The
sandcastles.  Each night I would show Simone a different set of faces in my
collection.  Some, like Gertie and Mac, she liked and she would try to
touch them with her fingers.  Pieces of the sand from them would cling to
her delicate fingers and she would scurry back to her own castle and brush
the tiny shiny grains into her own mixture of faces.  I would watch her as
she would sit and watch the grains fit together.  Her radiant smile was all
the reward I need for sharing those memories.

   Some of the faces in my castle frightened her and she would protectively
move her own sandcastle a little farther away from mine again, leaving that
part of the wall open and unprotected from any errant wave.  I would leave
the gap open for her and gently show how all the faces in the sand were
mixed.  The good with the bad.  I showed her that the bad would fade away,
while the good would continue to shine.  I showed her, too, how the bad
sometimes made the whole castle stronger.  Not all the time, but sometimes.

   I showed her the remains of my father's castle, down the beach a ways.
It was almost gone, as he hadn't been there to tend it for a long time. 
The only faces left in the ruins were Thorny's, his partner, Marion's and
mine.  Everyone else had faded away or forgotten him.

   We found her Papa's sandcastle and carried it closer to where ours
stood. Simone seemed to like knowing his sand was close by.  She visited
his crumbling castle often.  Once I watched her try to fix a breached wall
in his castle.  Every time she dumped a bucket of sand on the wall, it
would disappear.  I didn't know how she would react to that, but slowly she
came to terms with the futility of it.  Only the living could build
sandcastles.  She didn't try to fix it again, but focused on building her
own.

   From that time on, each morning when we woke, I would sense she had
moved her sandcastle a little closer to mine.  I would grin over at her as
she opened her eyes.  Neither one of us understood what it was we were
experiencing, but we accepted it.  I knew it would be a huge step for her
to commit to another relationship and that it would take a long time before
she was ready to do it.  That was fine with me.  I would be there when she
was ready.

   Mac came everyday, too.  He had been `released' as soon as Gertie had
cleared him.  He visited the children's ward on each visit, too.  I'm not
sure who liked it more, Mac or the children.  When he visited with us, he
spent most of his time tripping over his tongue trying to talk with Simone.
She continued to fluster him and took great delight in her ability to keep
him floundering.  He brought her little gifts, trinkets and flowers that
she accepted as if he was presenting her with the crown jewels.  I could
tell he was having trouble justifying his feelings about Simone on several
levels, not the least of which being her young age, and kept trying to draw
me into a conversation about Sally and Nicole.  I ignored his unsubtle
attempts, and left him to work it out by himself.  I slept when he was
there, sounder than when Gertie was there.  I felt safer with my friend.

   Mac had retrieved my car while we were recovering in the hospital.  I
drove home after they released us.  I was a little nervous about our
homecoming.  I was going to insist on carrying Simone through the door, but
she kissed me shyly on the cheek.  "I am not the invalid, Lawrence."
Flabbergasted, I let her walk.

   The house was quiet when we entered.  Janey had heard us drive in and
was preparing the bed for Simone.  Another bed was the last thing Simone
wanted to see.  The two teens saw each other and ran into each other's
arms. There was more said in the fierceness of that hug and in the mingling
of their mutual tears than could ever have been said with mere words.  I
think, at that moment, they started thinking of each other as family, as
sisters.

   I had not told Janey what Simone had been through.  She just knew it had
been terrible.  Simone did not apologize to Janey for being jealous.  She
wasn't anymore.  It was too expensive an emotion to own.  She couldn't
afford it.

   I stood and looked at the pair.  Simone was taller than Janey, but not
as tall as Nicole.  Her coloring was deceptive.  It was dark like her
mom's, I guess.  I would have to say it was best described as having a
porcelain quality, like fine china.  I knew she was a lot tougher than she
seemed, but the fragile quality came through in every fine feature, every
gracious movement.  She made you want to wrap her up in your arms and
protect her.  A china doll.  A very feminine china doll.

   They broke their hug.  Janey looked up at her and grinned, "Nice hair.
You meet a lawnmower salesman?"

   Simone looked stunned for a moment, then proudly poofed her hair, like a
Parisian model.  "You like?" she asked seriously.  "He has a nice truck,
he'll come to the house.  I can get you a quick appointment.  I think he
said his name was `Roto-Rooter.' Very exclusive.  24hour service, too!"

   It was Janey's turn to be silenced.  Simone had never bested her before,
but it was fun to watch.  Her squeal of delight at having found a sparring
partner ended in another hug, this one of excitement.

   After the extended greetings were over, I took the two girls into the
living room.  I noticed the door to the Free Room was closed.  I had not
told Simone what had happened to her mom, but she knew most of it.  She had
felt it through her newly discovered link.  I asked Janey to tell us what
had happened while we were gone.

   "Well, Nicole was sleeping when you left, so I went down to check on
Mom. I could, like, tell she was OK, but I wanted to see for myself.  I
told her Nicole was resting quietly.  I also told her she was to stay down
in the basement under restraint until you got back with Simone.  Or came
home alone."

   She looked up at me.  "I hope that was OK to tell her that.  I don't
think she knew Simone had run away."

   I nodded.

   "Well, I wasn't sure.  She got really scared, not for herself, but for
Simone.  She started to cry, really cry.  I made sure she wouldn't choke or
anything, and I left.  I couldn't take it.  I don't know how long she
cried, but I felt her sorrow.  I still do.

   "A couple hours after you left, Bala showed up.  You called them?"

   Again I nodded.

   "Yeah, well, she ended up being a great help.  But right at the first I
wasn't sure.  Ten minutes after she got here, I sensed a change in Mom,
like a panic or something.  I raced downstairs and found Bala standing
behind her with a whip.  She hadn't hit her yet, but she was teasing her.

   "I'm sorry if I didn't do the right thing, Dad, but I let Bala have it.
I told her this wasn't the time or the place for teasing.  I told her she
could stay if she wanted to help, but it would be on my terms.  You had
left me in charge.  Otherwise, she could get her little butt back to Amud."
Janey grinned at that recollection.  "She looked at me funny for a minute,
then she got that neat twinkle in her eye.  You know the one?  Then she
hugged me and apologized."

   She looked up at us.  "I wouldn't have made it through without her help,
Dad.  Anyway, I spent most of my time with Nicole.  When she woke up, I
tried to talk to her, but she was really far away.  I got scared and
started to call the doctor.  Bala came in and looked at her.  She got in
bed with her, naked, and lay down with her, front to back, like you and Mom
like to do.  Bala just held her, singing to her, holding her like a baby.

   "I watched them.  Nicole settled down and seemed to like the touch of
Bala.  When Nicole went back to sleep, Bala had me take off my clothes and
change places with her, so that I was in the bed with Nicole.  She went off
to fix us a meal.  One of us was always with Nicole, holding her.

   "Eventually she started crying.  I got scared again, but Bala was really
happy about that.  She said that now that she was feeling again, she would
be OK.  Even if she were feeling a lot of sadness, it would pass.  It was
the blankness that never went away that was dangerous.  Some women never
come back to the living, she said.

   "About then Mac called.  He was so worried about you, but he said you
were in the hospital now and would be OK.  Scared the shit out of me -
oops, sorry Dad - but he reassured me you were OK.  I had to ask him if you
had found Simone.  He didn't know your name, but when he described you, I
knew it was you.  He didn't do justice to your haircut, Simmie!"

   Simone, who had just acquired a nickname, snuggled her head into Janey's
shoulder.  Her tears had been silently falling as Janey told of her
mother's recovery.

   "She wants to see you, Simmie.  That's the only thing she has said to
either of us.  She just asked if Simone had returned, and to please send
her in immediately."

   She looked back up at me.  "I didn't tell her, Dad, I swear.  Bala swore
to me she didn't, either.  She just knew Simone had run away.

   "She's asleep right now, or I would have sent you right in.  You could
go in and sit with her until she wakes up if you want."

   Simone nodded and went to the door of the Free Room.  She hesitated
outside the door.  "Janey?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Thank you."

   "Any time."

   Chapter 39

   When Simone was gone, Janey came over and sat on my lap, curled up in a
ball and wept.  All the fear, all the terror, all the unknown came rushing
out.  Things were OK, now.  Simone was back safe.  She could let go.

   I let her cry.  In between her tears, she told me that she had
remembered what I had done for her when she had been hiding from reality.
How I had sat by her bed and talked to her.  So she did that with Nicole.
She told about Steven's attack on her.  What she had felt like.  How she
had wanted to die.  She told her of Sally's bet with me, the whole thing.
How I had agreed, reluctantly, to help her adjust sexually.  That that was
why we were so open in the house, why Janey could tease me like she did.

   I let her cry herself out.  We were both lying there when we felt the
reunion between Nicole and Simone.  I felt almost guilty eavesdropping on
their emotions like that.  I asked Janey if she ever got used to it.  I
think she felt as guilty as I did.  It was a rather touching reunion.

   Nicole and Simone came out of the Free Room together.  In European
fashion, they were holding hands.  They came over to where Janey and I were
sitting.  Nicole was naked, as she had been with Sally as her mistress. 
That would have to change.  I whispered for Janey to go get her one of
Sally's slave outfits.  Janey jumped up and came back with it in a flash.

   I had Janey help Nicole put it on.  It didn't fit quite the same as it
did on Sally, but it did wonders for her ego.  She knelt down at my feet
and grabbed on to my ankles.  I felt her tears washing over them.  I looked
up at Simone to see what she was thinking.  I wasn't prepared for the
beaming smile she gave me.  Whatever I had done seemed to have been a step
in the right direction.

   I had been dreading going down to get Sally.  When Nicole seemed to be
less weepy, I told her to get up and follow me.  I told the girls to have
Bala call Amud and to help her pack.  I knew he didn't like to be away from
her any longer than necessary.  I knew he didn't like her in the house with
me when he wasn't here, too.  It's not that he didn't trust us both.  He
just didn't trust us both together.  I didn't blame him.  Bala was
beginning to grow on me.

   I had been sensing Sally since I got home.  I had shot her a message to
prepare herself when I had arrived.  I had sensed a quiet resolution and
peace from her in return.  I wasn't sure I liked that serenity in her and,
frankly, it scared the shit out of me.  I made my way to the dungeon,
sending her reassurances the entire way.  All I got back was that damned
calm message that she was at peace with herself.

   Nicole followed me into the dungeon.  She gasped as she saw Sally.  Her
face was drawn, haggard, as if she had not slept in the week we were gone.
It was entirely possible that she had refused herself that luxury.  In
preparing for us, she had fouled herself.  There was a trail of urine
beginning at her knees that was slowly heading for the floor drain. 
Streaks of brown on her thighs indicated the path of her feces.  The stench
was just beginning to reach eye-watering intensity.  Her eyes clouded with
tears for another reason as she saw Nicole wearing one of her slave
costumes.  I felt the fear in her heart.  I did nothing to still it.

   "Master?  Has she been here the entire time?"

   "Yes."

   "Mon Dieu!"

   The whip Sally had used to beat Nicole was still on the floor where it
had fallen that night.  It had been within her view the entire time as she
knelt in the stocks.  I went over and picked it up.  I handed it to Nicole.

   "Get it out of your system."

   She looked at the whip as if it was of alien origin.  She looked up at
me confused.  "Master?  I do not understand."

   I pointed at Sally.  "She hurt you, beat you badly.  Now it is your
turn."

   Sally, already pale, whitened completely at that statement.  That was
not what she thought I had meant when I told her to prepare herself.  She
braced herself when Nicole went up to her holding the whip in both hands
like a club.  I was prepared to intervene if necessary as she raised it
high over her head.

   The whip crashed down, but I didn't move.  The force of the blow broke
the shaft of the weapon, knocking it out of her hands and across the room.
Nicole walked over to it, bent down and picked up the now ruined whip.  She
handed it to me.  "It is out of my system.  May I help her clean up now,
Master?"

   I looked at her and smiled in gratitude.  She had made the first
important unilateral step of forgiveness in the process of reconciliation
between the two women and made it in such a way that ensured a healing. 
She had broken the whip over the post behind Sally.  I was looking forward
to getting to know this exotic looking woman better.

   "Come into the Free Room when you are both ready." As I was leaving, I
heard the two women crying and sobbing, asking each other's forgiveness. 
They had both been wrong, they had both been hurt.  It had been my all my
fault.  We all knew that, too.

   They made me wait.  Amud came and gathered Bala.  Janey and I expressed
our thanks to him for letting her come.  He sincerely wished me peace in my
house.  Bala, surprising both of us, requested Janey to come visit her. 
She had been impressed with her taking charge, how she had handled herself.
There was much she could teach her, she said, if I would allow it.  She
didn't ask Amud's permission before speaking up, and I saw him roll his
eyes in exasperation.  He did give me a quick nod of assent before I
agreed, however, grinning as he did.  As much as he protested, I think he
enjoyed his wife's unpredictable nature more and more.  It was exciting,
anyway.  I agreed that Janey would go over in a few days and stay for an
extended visit.

   When Sally and Nicole did come into the Free Room, I saw immediately
what had taken so much time.  Sally had whipped up a slave outfit for
Nicole, one that fit her like a glove and showed off her charms in a most
appealing and inviting way.  I'm not sure who was more pleased with my
stares at Nicole, she or Sally.  I kept checking my sense for any jealousy
from Sally, but there simply wasn't any.  So I kept staring.  Eventually at
both of them.

   Sally, giggling, finally broke the lustful interlude, "Did you want to
see us, Master, or just see us?" She giggled at her own joke.  It was good
to hear her laugh, but there were serious matters to discuss.

   I grinned at her, and held out my arms to her.  She collapsed against
me, dissolving in the sobs of the deep sorrow that was still just below the
surface.  I held her to me, consoling her.  Nicole stood watching our
embrace.  She was not embarrassed at this intimacy nor did she turn away.
It was simply not her turn.  She would wait.

   Setting Sally down in one of the comfortable chairs around the table in
the room, I held another chair out for Nicole.  I took another chair facing
the two.  Briefly, before I started, I checked with my senses on the two
teenagers.  Both were intense sources of curiosity, standing just outside
the door.  I gave them a good-natured growl over our link, thought of a
picture of a grizzly bear, which I knew Janey would hate, and sent them to
clean their room.  We heard mock screams of terror as they fled the
vicinity.

   Nicole looked puzzled at what had just happened.  She had not
experienced the link, perhaps never would.  Sally looked stunned.  I had
just sent a message with such apparent ease over my link where a week
before I couldn't hardly come to grips with having the ability at all.  I
didn't try to explain it to her, but she was clearly impressed with my
grasp of it.

   "This is the Free Room.  Free Room rules apply.  Is that clear?" I asked
them.

   Both nodded.

   "I made an error in judgement giving Sally authority over you, Nicole. I
apologize." I turned to Sally.  "I made an error of pride in not listening
to you, Sally.  Please forgive me." I waited.

   Nicole spoke first, after first glancing at Sally, who nodded. 
"Lawrence, what works with some will not work with all.  You need to see
Sally and me as different.  You need to see us for who and what we are. 
For myself, I do not wish to be a mistress and have authority over
someone."

   "I find that hard to believe, Nicole.  You were the CEO of a successful
company.  You made decisions and controlled people's lives every day."

   "I was terrified every minute of the day, every day of the week.  It is
not that I cannot make decisions, or think, or act on my own.  I just do
not wish to have responsibility for others.  It terrifies me.  Can you do
that, Lawrence?"

   "You are asking me to treat you differently.  I can do that.  Will you
also accept that many times, most of the time, in fact, I may need to treat
you in the same manner?  That there may not be much difference?"

   She grinned, nodding.  "Apology accepted, Lawrence."

   Sally was quiet for a minute.  "You hurt me, by not listening to me."

   I nodded.  This was not going to go well, I could tell.

   "I forgive you."

   It couldn't be that simple.

   It wasn't.  I suddenly felt an awful pressure on my balls.  I looked at
Sally.  Both her hands were on the table, as were Nicole's.  Both sat too
far away to reach me with their feet.  Still the pressure increased.  Sweat
broke out on my forehead.  I groaned in pain.  I saw spots.  More than
anything I wanted to reach down and break the grip of whatever it was that
was slowly grinding my gonads.  But I knew there was nothing there.  I
groaned again, fast losing consciousness.

   Opening my senses, I saw two dainty hands holding an oversized garlic
press to my nuts.  I recognized those hands.  I had just seen them.  They
were resting on the table across from me.  I looked up in terror at Sally.

   "Don't you ever ignore me like that again, buster," came her sweet voice
lilting across the link.  "That hurt me, that you, you, you toyed with me.
Oh.  By the way, you aren't the only one who has been practicing.  I've had
a lot of time on my hands lately..."

   I gasped as the pressure suddenly disappeared.  "One more thing.  I love
you, Master," she ended.  I didn't know you could giggle across the link.

   I had to wait to stop shaking before I continued.  I would never be safe
in this house again.  With my voice still shaky, I asked, "Are you done?"

   "Lawrence, is something the matter.  You don't look well.  You are
flushed."

   "He's OK, Nikki." Nicole, too, had apparently acquired a nickname. 
Sally was looking at me, talking to me through her explanation to Nicole.
"Its just something that happens to a man when he realizes how stupid he's
been.  This time the pain passed quickly, but the reason for it will be
remembered for a long time.  That about right, Larry?"

   Nicole looked puzzled, but didn't press it.

   I nodded in full agreement, then got on with the meeting.  "There are
going be some changes.  First, Sally, I want you to take Nicole down and
set up hers and Simone's accounts like yours and Janey's.  Nicole, the way
the money is handled around here is like this: I don't touch your money. 
Any interest, wages or other income is yours.  It goes into the accounts
that Sally will help you set up.  You are free to spend or invest your
money however you want.  Until Simone is of legal age, you will have
signatory authority on her account.  I will be paying for all living
expenses for my household out of my own funds.  Anything having to do with
the functioning of the household, I will pay for.  Is that clear?"

   Sally and Nicole both nodded in agreement.  It had been bothering Nicole
that this issue had not been addressed.

   "Second, we are moving."

   That got a bigger reaction from them.  Nicole relaxed a bit more.  It
was another area of concern for her.  Sally looked surprised, and a little
distressed.

   Before she could protest, I explained my reasons, "Sally, this is your
home.  Nicole is uncomfortable." I waited to see if she would accept that.

   Sally looked over at Nicole, pleading in her eyes.

   "Don't hold this against Nicole.  It's my decision."

   "Where will we move, Master?"

   "To my family home.  You just stayed there with Marion."

   "But Janey..." she started to protest.  I cut her off.  I had thought
this out.  It was decided.

   "...will commute to her high school here for her senior year.  She has
her license and I will get her a dependable car.  Simone will be seeing a
kind of counselor in Washington on a weekly basis, and the new house is
closer for her commute.  It is also closer to the symphony, Mac and CeCe,
and Amud and Bala.  It is also closer to the Guild, which is important for
a reason I will explain later"

   Sally sighed in resignation.  That attitude wasn't what I wanted to see
in her.  She had to not only accept this but embrace it enthusiastically.

   "Sally, this is not a punishment or a reflection on you in any way.  You
will still keep this house.  You can use it as an escape, a haven for
yourself.  I'm sure Nicole will use her own home for the same thing, from
time to time.  What you two are asking me to do means we're going to have
to turn all of our concepts of marriage and the traditional gender roles of
who does what upside down.  It could get intense during the adjustment
period and for a long time afterwards.  New things may come up and disturb
the environment from time to time, too.  You may need to regroup, readjust
to the new situation.  You may need to leave for a while.  You can't do
that now."

   "I would never leave you, Larry!"

   "Never is a very strong word, Sally."

   "I..." She stopped, suddenly realizing the enormity of the implications
of what she had started by bringing in Nicole.  It had felt right to her,
she knew it could work.  She just hadn't bothered to work out the details.
Putting it into practice needed planning, not feelings.  I knew her a
little better now, I knew this was how she functioned.  She went on
feeling, I went on fact.

   "You are right, Master.  I hadn't thought about that.  I'm sorry I
doubted you."

   "It's still going to be tough.  I haven't worked out everything, you
know.  You two will have to do some thinking, too...." I grinned at them
both.  "Sally, since you are in charge of the household - yes, that will
continue to be your chief function - you will be in charge of the
remodeling and the move.  I want to be moved by the start of school, so
you're going to have your work cut out for you.  Work out with Marion which
rooms she needs, which ones we can have.  There should be more than enough
room for all of us in one wing.  She can have the other.  Work with her. 
Whatever you decide is OK.  Clear?"

   She nodded, her mind already working.  Give a woman a reason to spend a
lot of money, and you could generally count on a few peaceful days.

   It was going to take more than a few days to remodel the monstrosity of
a house my father had built.  He had been a struggling family lawyer,
barely making enough to feed his family and keep us out of the slums.  As
it was, we were right next door to them.  It was a hard time for us - even
I remember that - but we were happy.  I remember the laughter, the stories
around the table, the love.

   Something happened to change him.  He never said what it was, exactly,
but I suspect that he finally realized the futility of trying to change
human nature.  The people he represented were no more interested in truth
or justice than was the legal system.  They just wanted a ticket to easy
street.  He fought against the trend towards frivolous lawsuits for years
and refused to file them, mostly as a matter of honor.  He tried to work
out equitable settlements between the parties when there was a real injury
or loss.  He was a highly respected man, but you can't eat respect.

   It nearly broke his practice when the courts started making punitive
damage awards on the basis of pain and suffering or mental anguish.  I can
remember one winter we had almost no food and less heat.  Momma got sick
and any money we had went for medicine.  We all chipped in and helped, and
she got better, but she wasn't ever the same.

   Whatever happened, he did a complete about face.  Fuck the system,
seemed to be his new motto.  He was going for the bucks.  As he did with
everything, as he had taught me to do, he went after it with all that he
had.  He was good, too, but it ate him up inside.

   Within a year, he had nailed several large contingency cases with
exorbitant damage claims.  His contingency fee was 50% for an out of court
settlement, and the usual 30% for a court settlement.  He couldn't seem to
lose a case, even with the most ridiculous positions.  He took particular
relish in quoting the liberal court's rulings and turning them against the
particular perversion of justice that had instigated the ruling.  Most
people remember the Bakke reverse discrimination case, where a white male
sued a medical school because minority students, who were less qualified
than he, were accepted while he was not.  My Dad was the architect of that
strategy, although he didn't represent Mr.  Bakke.  He took particular
delight in setting the liberal court on its ear.  I think he was hoping the
system would come to its senses.

   When the dollar amounts of the court settlements he was winning started
reaching the stratosphere and going even higher on the appeals, opposing
counsels quickly began offering out of court settlements to avoid having to
pay those judgements.  It made no difference to Dad.

   With more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes, Dad decided to
build a house.  Not just a house, though.  He wanted it to be a fitting
monument to the ludicrous manner in which it had been earned.  Against all
advice of the city planners, real estate agents and pretty near everybody
who knew about it, he bought a huge parcel of land about 10 minutes from
his office, surrounded by low and very low income housing.  An imposingly
high and very solid brick wall also surrounded it.  The property, about
four city blocks square, or 16 square blocks, had belonged to a cloister
that had consolidated with another order.  Its close location to Mac's
house was the reason I went to the same high school as Mac.  As a white boy
and girl, Marion and I were in the minority in that school.

   Whether he was a savvy investor or just plain lucky, he bought the
place, probably to spite the experts.  Knowing my Dad, though, it was more
likely because he hated a long commute to work.  The reconstruction project
was initially called "Sampson's Folly", not very original, but just try to
buy that house today.  The last offer we had was approaching one billion.
Some country wanted it for an embassy or something.

   Originally there was a monstrosity of a building on a hill in the center
of the estate.  Veritable park-like thickly wooded pastures surrounded it
on all four sides.  A long sweeping drive led from the gatehouse up to the
house that I humbly called `home' during my formative teen years.  I still
remember the first time I saw it.  I thought it was a hospital, it was so
big and had so many rooms with beds in them.

   Dad gutted the place, starting on one wing.  We lived out of boxes in
the other during the reconstruction.  The building was basically `U'
shaped, about 3 stories above ground, and at least 2 below.  I say at
least, because it was rumored by the construction crews that the floor at
the lowest level didn't sound right.  It wasn't solid enough, as there were
hollow sounds and echoes that seemed to come up from below.  Dad figured
that's where the nun's had buried their dead, as there weren't any other
burial grounds on the property.  We never found any way that led deeper,
and the place had really been torn apart during the remodel.

   That make-over had been in the late 1960's.  The task I was giving Sally
was to upgrade the place.  Cable, telephone and Internet access to the
living and working areas, modern fixtures in the bathrooms.  In particular,
to revitalize the industrial sized kitchen.  That room was such a key area
in our family life, and I expected that to continue.  She was going to have
her work cut out for her to add any functionality to that monstrosity of a
kitchen.

   From the twinkle in her eyes, I could see she had already accepted the
challenge.  I wanted to add a small twist.  There was one room I had in
mind for a particular use.  It had been my favorite room growing up.

   The main entrance to the house was at the base of the `U'.  A huge
double door opened onto an expanse of marble flooring that seemed to
stretch forever.  Twin staircases wound down from a salon on the second
floor.  A mammoth chandelier hung from the ceiling, three stories above the
floor.  Glass French doors along the far wall separated the huge entry from
the main ballroom.  These doors could be opened to nearly double the floor
space for a cotillion.

   It was the salon on the second floor that was my favorite room.  The
room above it, on the third floor had been gutted and the floor removed. 
From the peak of the roof and extending down the entire expanse of wall to
the floor of the salon had been glassed in as a kind of solarium.  When I
had to think, I would go in there, lie on the floor and stare at the stars
high above.  It was like you were outside, they were so clear.

   I wanted that room to be the center point for our new relationship.  I
told Sally to take the ideas from the Arabian room we had here at her house
and apply them there.  She looked puzzled, but on that point I was
insistent.  There were to be pillows, thick carpeting, a few plants, but no
telephones, TVs or large furnishings.  I also wanted two distinct areas, a
Women's area and a Men's area.

   Having said that and given Sally her tasks, I turned to Nicole.  "You
will go to work.  I've contacted some people I know who could use a good
neurochemist.  You will have the opportunity to meet them first and test
some of their devices before you decide to work for them." I thought Sally
was going to explode with laughter when she figured out what kind of
`testing' Nicole would be doing with the Rosen's devices.  A sharp look
from me barely contained her gaiety.

   "If that place doesn't work out, we will find something else, perhaps
teaching.  But you will work in your field.  Agreed?"

   Nicole's face was streaked with happy tear-tracks.  She nodded her
agreement happily.  If she thought she had been getting the best end of the
deal so far, she hadn't heard anything yet.

   "Sally, I need you to know that my next decision was very tough for me
to make.  I made the decision I did for one basic reason, all other things
being equal.  I know you have asked me to treat you differently, and I
will. I will also attempt to do so without showing either of you a
preference.  With our history, Sally, that will be hard.  I know you, I'm
comfortable with you.  Our feelings for each other have been tested and
found to be strong.

   "That's the reason I have decided to take Nicole to Washington with me.
The President has decided to throw a party, balls and fancy dinners and
stuff.  I have to go.  I need to spend time alone with Nicole to get to
know her.  So, if Nicole will consent to going off for a long weekend with
me on our first date, she will accompany me."

   Sally took it hard.  If she had one vice, if was for fancy dress
parties. She didn't like to throw them so much as she loved to dress up and
go watch the people interact.  She said it was like nothing else she had
ever seen.  People who would stab each other in the back if they met on the
street would smile and talk like old friends at a ball or cocktail party.
It was where she and I had met the first time.

   Trooper that she was, she nodded.  She understood, and would try hard
not to let it get to her.  Besides, with the deadline I had given her on
the remodel, she was going to be a busy lady.  I knew she was going to make
me pay for it later.

   We called the two teens in and broke the news to them.  Janey wasn't too
thrilled about moving until she heard she was going to get a car out of it.
She was talking Beemer or Porsche, she was getting a Nissan or Toyota.

   Simone's eyes glistened when she heard she would be seeing Gertie
regularly and would be close enough to her Agency office at the new house
to see her whenever she could.  The only fly in the ointment came when I
told her she was going to have her own room.  I could see that disturbed
her.  I asked why.  She asked, looking shyly at Janey for confirmation, if
they couldn't just have a larger room and call it their room, rather than
one for her and one for Janey.

   Janey nodded her agreement quickly and I looked at Sally and then
Nicole. They both agreed, a secret smile shared between them.  Already I
didn't like the way this was going.  Four against one was just about fair
odds when I was in a combat situation against men.  I didn't stand a chance
in this circumstance with one woman, much less four!  It was going to be a
Hell of an adventure, though.

   Chapter 40

   The next week was a flurry of activity.  Nicole and Simone spent most of
their days at their old house packing their things.  Some things they moved
in now, some things were staying there and some would move to the new
house. Nicole had taken Sally over to her house and asked her what would be
OK to take where.  As far as I could tell the new relationship was working
out.  I kept everything crossed that I could cross in the faint hope that
it would continue and thrive.

   Sally met with Marion and got carte blanche to do whatever she wanted to
the family house.  I had this nagging feeling once again that I should be
worried about the apparent nonchalance with which my normally stuffy sister
was treating this unusual family structure I was building.  More than that,
I was going to be moving it into the same house she was living in.  I asked
Sally what she had told Marion about us and our living arrangements, and
Sally said `pretty much everything.' Including Nicole and Simone living
there, too.  I checked.

   Sally had already called in contractors and actually had work being done
by the end of the week.  Marion invited her to come down and stay with her
while I was gone so she could be close to the action and they could talk.
Again, that nagging feeling that I should be worried something.

   Later that week I managed to slip out for one of the lunches Mac and I
liked to grab whenever we could.  These lunches, which used to be weekly
occurrences, had now gone to catch as catch can because of his game and
travel schedule during the baseball season.  He was getting ready to go
south for Spring Training soon, so we would meet whenever we could.

   We had a good lunch.  I could tell he was dying to ask about everything
that was going on, but I held him off.  I explained I would tell him
everything I could later, but that he would have to be patient.  There were
some things I needed to work out, and so on.  I did give him a little gift
from Simone, kind of a `Thank You' from her for all the time he has spent
with her at the hospital.  It was a gold chain necklace.

   It was funny to watch his reactions to the gift.  It was obvious he
dearly loved the chain.  Not only was it a gift from Simone, it was
tasteful and of high quality.  Mac, however, had this aversion to what he
referred to as the `Mr.  T' syndrome.  He didn't wear jewelry, other than
our championship ring and, now, his wedding band.  He looked up at me.

   "How do I explain this to CeCe?" I don't think he knew he'd already
decided to wear it.

   I just sat there, shaking from laughter.  I couldn't answer him.  I
almost wished we'd gone to a bar for lunch instead of the trendy restaurant
we were in.  That way I could have let it out.  As it was, I nearly hurt
myself keeping relatively quiet so the management would let us back in next
time we wanted to eat there.  I did get several glares from the head waiter
and one offer for the Heimlich Maneuver from a neighboring patron.

   As we were leaving, Mac pulled a briefcase from the trunk of his car and
handed it to me.  "Here," he said.

   "Why, thanks, Mac.  You didn't have to get me a gift," I half joked.

   "I didn't," he said puzzled.  "I think you left this in my entryway that
night you brought Simone.  CeCe tripped over it when she came back from her
trip and asked me to put it away.  I had thought it was hers, when I saw it
there, so I hadn't touched it.  It's not hers, and not mine.  You were the
only other people there.  So, here." He held it out to me again.

   I took it from him, but I was puzzled as to what it was.  Not wanting to
make a major point of it, I put it in my trunk.  We shook hands and went
our separate ways.  He would be at training camp for three to four weeks
before he got a break.  I had told him to keep a particular weekend free,
if he could.  We were planning a small get together at the house.  He
grinned like a high school kid when he realized he was going to get to see
Simone again.  He paled when I said the invitation was for CeCe, too.  I
was still laughing at him as I drove back to the house.

   Janey's Spring Break came the following week and she went to Bala's for
a visit.  She wasn't dreading it, but I could tell she wasn't thrilled,
either.  I asked her about it.

   " I dunno, Dad.  I like her and all and I want to go.  Her country and
culture are so neat.  Not neat, like cool, but like, tidy, you know.  It's
so old, too.  Everything and everyone has a place and reason, but at the
same time it's an exciting time of change there.  I, I really want to learn
more about it and, if I can, help them, be a part of it somehow.  But, it
scares me that I want to be a part of it so much.  I hope she's not mad at
me for the way I talked to her, and all, too.  I was pretty strict."

   I reassured her that Bala wasn't angry with her, that she just wanted to
spend some time with her.  She was probably lonely, all by herself in that
house when Amud was at work.  I knew she didn't go out without him.  Yet.
Maybe that was why she had asked Janey to visit.  I hoped Janey wouldn't
teach her to drive.

   Simone asked if it would be OK if she stayed at Aunt Marion's with
Sally. Gertie had said she would pick her up there for her first visit and
they would spend the day together.  Sally agreed and so did I before I
realized with a sudden sinking feeling that there was a good chance that
Gertie, Sally and Marion would all be together at once.  I had expended
entirely too much effort keeping all the compartments of my life neatly
separated and, in one fucking coincidental fell swoop, the three women who
knew more of my life history than I did would be in the same place at the
same time.  If I had been so inclined, I would have had a panic attack.  I
kept a firm grip on my emotions, though, and just shit myself instead.

   Nicole and I left for Washington after everyone else had gone off on
their own ways.  I wasn't looking forward to being in Gertie's lab anymore
than usual, but getting to spend some time alone with Nicole certainly was
a definite plus.  She was kind of quiet on the drive down.  At one point I
looked over and saw her wiping away a tear.  I pulled into to the next rest
area.

   "We don't have to go, you know," I told her.

   "Oh, no!  I wish to go."

   I kept silent.  She would tell me when she was ready.  That much I had
already sensed.

   "I am terrified, Lawrence.  I have never been so terrified in my life."

   "I will be there with you, Nicole.  You don't need to be terrified."

   "It is that which terrifies me, Lawrence."

   Again I stay silent.  It seemed to be what she needed.

   "I wish so much to please you, to be perfect for you.  This is so
important to me.  I need you to want me.  I know it cannot be like with
her. You and Sally are so comfortable with each other.  I can see you love
her, as she does you.  It is hard to enter this, this family and not be
envious of that love."

   I knew there was more.  I was right.

   "And you haven't touched me.  Not once.  Not when Sally made me stay
naked all the time in front of you, not when I lay at the foot of your bed
like a dog.  I saw you look at me and become aroused, but you would take
Sally.  Not me.  Am I not good enough for you, Lawrence?"

   "Are you fishing for a compliment, Nicole, or are you questioning why I
have not had sex with you?"

   She blushed, then gathered herself.  "I know myself, I know what I am,
and I know that I arouse you.  It is difficult, though, to be sure of my
attractiveness when I put myself at your disposal and not wonder when you
refuse to use me.  I have asked Sally about that, too.  She said you were
very particular about the timing, especially the first time.  That you
would make it special, as special as possible for me, for us.  She told me
of your trip to the beach.  She let me borrow her swimsuit, if I needed it.
Forgive me for questioning you, for doubting you."

   Oh, God!  Was nothing sacred between these conspirators?  I was a dead
man, but there was still one more thing to come out.

   "Put all together, Lawrence, I am terrified about what you expect from
me on this trip.  Please help me to please you this week.  What is it you
require of me?  Tell me, please.  I will be your slave, your mistress, your
slut, whatever.  Please tell me."

   OK, so that one I hadn't expected.  I took a moment to look at it from
her perspective and realized she had every reason to be petrified.  I told
her what I wanted from her, not just this week, but always.  As we sat
there at the rest stop, I told her to be herself.  I had seen glimpses of
her personality sparkle through at times when she had been relaxed.  Simone
had not learned her delightfully coquettish behavior on her own.  I told
Nicole I wanted her to feel free to dance if asked, but only if I had
fallen over dead from exhaustion and couldn't dance with her, that is.  I
was an aging man, remember.

   She laughed at my weak joke and we got back on the road, talking and
laughing as we neared the Capital.  I sensed her lack of confidence in
certain things and tried to give her direction whenever I could.  She
learned quickly to read the subtle signs of my body language and my
expressions.  She ended the trip her head on my shoulder, resting easily,
enjoying the initial closeness between us.  Suddenly, Gertie's lab didn't
seem so terrible.

   When Gertie found out I had selected Nicole to accompany me, she
insisted that I bring her with me for the first day of labs.  She wanted to
meet Simone's mother.  Gertie wouldn't be conducting the tests.  She just
did the analysis of the results, so she had time to spend with Nicole. 
Mostly the exams they put me through was a strenuous physical and endurance
testing, reflex response times, some skill testing, and taking lots of
samples of every possible bodily fluid and tissue.  I hated those the most.
They took tissues and fluids from every major organ system, including a
bone scraping.  I would rather they would have yanked off a fingernail.  I
was afraid to mention it, though, as that seemed to be the one thing they
were not interested in.

   I completed the whole battery of tests late that night and dragged
myself back to Gertie's office to pick up Nicole.  The peals of laughter,
light sounds from Nicole, a heartier tone from Gertie, met me far down the
hallway and danced around me as I crawled to the open door.  They saw me
enter and were suddenly silent, conspirators in some manner.  I was not too
tired to notice.  I was just too tired to mention it or even lift a
questioning eyebrow.

   As I handed Nicole out the door, I turned to say goodbye to Gertie and
thank her for keeping Nicole.  To my surprise, she was sitting there
watching us leave, tears in her eyes.  Then, to totally blow me away, she
gave me a two thumbs up sign and shooed me away, like a blustering aunt.

   I checked the schedule at the front desk for the time of my next
appointment the following day.  Another surprise.  I was done with the
physical tests and didn't have to come back, unless they found something in
the analysis.  I thought there had been an awful lot more tests and needles
than usual.  I didn't complain about it too loudly.

   The round of cocktail parties and ball started the next evening.  Nicole
and I had spent the morning doing one of the Smithsonian exhibits and then
the National Gallery.  It relaxed her to see things of such beauty.  It
made me happy to see her so happy.  She was so attractive and vivacious as
she warmed up to the paintings that several other couples tailed along
after us, eager to hear her opinions of the masterpieces or a story of the
artists.  She spoke as if she had known all of the artists personally. 
Nicole was beautiful, smart and confident.  I was the envy of all the men
there.  Some of the women, too, as I saw a couple of them eyeing her
hungrily.

   We called it an early day after a leisurely lunch.  Nicole had brought
several gowns with her, waiting to decide which she was going to wear until
the last minute.  The bellhop at the luxury hotel I had booked for our stay
had been astounded to find we were only going to be there a night or two.
From the mound of luggage he had hauled into our suite, he had figured a
month at the least.  I shut his mouth with a sizable tip before he could
insert his other foot as well.

   Nicole looked up at me.  "How should I dress for this evening,
Lawrence?'

   I had just seen this woman enthrall total strangers with her
intelligence, her exotic accent and her charm.  She had a much better sense
of these things than I did.  Having been burned recently by not playing to
the strength of my lover, albeit Sally, I took Nicole's hand, kissed it
lightly, and told her I trusted her judgement.

   I don't know if it was the kiss on the hand, our first, or the fact that
I said I trusted her, but it was as if a fire had been lit inside of her.
She glowed, radiated, shone.  I heard her singing a light tune in the next
room as she went about getting ready.

   I prepared myself for the worst.  A baggy burlap rag slung over one
corner.  A horribly fashionable garish lime-green tutu with striped purple
and yellow leggings.  I was prepared to accept whatever she chose to wear,
to tell her she was beautiful and set her on my arm with pride.  In other
words, I was prepared to lie though my teeth and back it up with a smile.

   I was not prepared for the vision that wafted though the bedroom door an
hour later.  I knew Nicole was a beautiful woman.  I hadn't known she had
the kind of beauty that could take your breath away.  She disguised it
well, behind the humdrum of life, but now, released into the open, Holy
Shit!

   Apparently, my reaction to her was typical of other men's as she
patiently waited for me to put my eyes back in their sockets, catch my
breath and shut my gaping mouth after I had pulled my panting tongue back
in.

   "Is this suitable, do you think, Lawrence?" she lilted in a melodious
voice.  Where had she hidden all this before now?

   My mouth working like a fish gasping for air, I nodded dazedly.  I was
speechless.  I think it pleased her, the effect she was having on me.  In a
daze, we went to the ball.

   I felt like a sheep headed to the slaughtering house.  I didn't realize
how close that was to reality.

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