Chapter 46
Plans, Confrontations, and Bad Memories

Precisely at noon, the phone rang at the McGrath home. Caitlin picked it up, as the bedside phone was at hand while she got ready for work. "Hello?"

"Hello." There was a pause. "Is Erin there?"

"Um, yeah. I'll get her." Caitlin carried the phone to Erin's room, where she was draped across her bed watching TV. "It's for you."

"Who is it?" Erin asked suspiciously. She didn't feel like dealing with Mary or Louise -- especially if Toby wasn't going to call...

"Well, I THINK it's that boy..."

"Gimme that!" Erin snatched the phone from her mother's hand. "Hello?"

"Erin?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, so, what's up?"

"Nothing." Erin frowned and waved her mother away, but Caitlin stood there grinning. "You?"

"Nothing much. Just goofing off." Actually, Toby had spent the past hour anxiously watching the clock. "Wanna do something?"

"Sure. Whatcha got in mind?"

Shit! Think, quick! We did a movie last night, so... "Ummmm, nothing much. We could go hang out at the mall or... I dunno... go skating..." Not that his current finances could handle much in the way of high living.

Erin frowned; those options were 'way too public... "I dunno. Maybe we could just hang out here and watch the tube..."

Huh! That was a LOT better -- and not just because it wouldn't cost anything! Best to play it cool... "Sure. What about your mom?"

"She has to be at work in an hour." Erin grimaced; that wasn't the smartest thing to say with Mom standing right there...

"After last night, I'd probably better stay out of her sight," Toby agreed, unaware that the word was already out. "When should I come?"

"Oh, any time..." Erin replied, eyeing her mother.

"Okay. Twenty minutes?"

"Yeah. See ya then!" Erin hung up.

Caitlin stood there, arms folded. "You two need to keep it..." Erin just looked at her. "Oh, never mind!" Flustered, she stomped out. She'd be closing the barn door after the horse left anyway, and besides, in theory, at least, Erin was doing better...

Toby dropped the phone in its cradle and headed for the hall closet to get a jacket. His mother looked up from the cooking show she was watching, "So, you're off, then?" Toby had been wearing a groove in the floor...

"Yeah, I'm going to see my g--..." Toby stopped dead. How to finish this?

Too late. Mom was on full alert. "Toby?"

Head on, then. "I'm going to see a girl."

"To do what? Help her with her algebra?" Mild amusement painted Mom's features.

Toby passed on the temptation to lie. "We're just gonna hang out for a while. Watch TV or something."

"Really?" Was he pulling her leg, trying to prop up his ego, or had lightning struck? Penny Brillstein's eyes narrowed. "Be home for dinner..." Time to give Jean Braithewaite a call... She'd know, if anything was up -- or she'd pry it out of Randall. Toby nodded and was gone, leaving an aura of relief.

Erin didn't get ten feet before the phone rang. This time, it was Louise Bryant. "Oh, hi Louise," Erin mumbled, rolling her eyes, "What's up?"

"Uhh, what do you think of Dwayne Hansen?" Louise blurted.

Louise had salivated over some boy from a distance every few days FOREVER! Erin sighed, "He's okay, I guess. Why?"

"Hey, I'm serious!" Louise complained. "I need to know!"

"Why? You gotta date?" Erin returned sarcastically.

"Yes." Louise's monosyllable was smug.

"What?" The shoe was on the other foot now! "Tell me!"

"Well, I went to the basketball game, and got to talking with Mary Eikenberry -- she's nice, did you know that? Anyway, she said I wasn't advertising properly and dragged me down to the girl's lockers for a makeover." Louise giggled. "IF you consider gym clothes a makeover! Anyway, she called Rob and the next thing I knew Dwayne was standing there with his eyes bugging out!"

"No way!"

"Way! Dwayne took me home -- well, we hung out at the park for a little bit, getting to know one another -- and I have a date tonight!"

"Way cool!" Erin was shocked! Louise mostly hid in the corner and dreamed...

"So, about Dwayne..."

"Well," Erin got serious about it, "he's a jock, which isn't always a good thing, I've learned. And wasn't he in on that thing with Ted Phipps and Darla Jean?"

"Well, yeah," Louise admitted, "but I have it on good authority that Ted lies a lot, and Dwayne was a boy scout by comparison."

"Really?" Erin had heard the same thing, but...

"Really."

"So why did you suddenly get interested in Dwayne?"

Erin didn't have to see Louise to know that she was blushing. "Well, it was the Darla Jean thing. No matter who you listen to, he's... experienced. And my sources say he's pretty nice, too."

Erin's sources said the same thing, actually -- probably because they were basically the same sources. "Okay, so why do you need my opinion?"

"I'm scared."

"Well DON'T CHICKEN OUT! When's this date?"

"Tonight. We're going to the movies. What should I do? What should I wear? What movie should I pick?"

Erin rolled her eyes. Louise was SUCH a dishrag! "You'll think of something. Say, what were you wearing that caused Dwayne's eyes to bug out?"

Louise laughed. "I was braless under one of Mary's low-cut tops! That and my gym shorts -- without undies. And flip-flops. Doesn't sound like much, but Dwayne noticed!"

"No, that'd do it," Erin mused. Louise had a lot more up top than Erin did, even though she hid it under high-necked stuff and squashed it in bras that were too small. "You got pretty brave, then!"

"Well, it was Mary's idea."

"She was right. So, how far did he go?"

"In the car?" Louise giggled nervously. "Well, he got a good feel of my titties. And he brushed a finger over my fur patch once. I pretty much invited that -- I was showing wispies."

"So did you have to fight him off?"

"No. He was pretty cool about it. He's a good kisser, too!"

Erin chuckled. "You should try Toby!"

"Brillstein?"

"Uh huh. We had a date last night." Now it was Erin's turn to be smug.

"Did you..." Louise was well aware that Erin was, well, loose...

"No. But we necked something torrid! I spent thirty minutes with Buzz, afterward!" 'Buzz' was Erin's pink vibrator...

Louise laughed. "So when do you see him again?"

"In about ten minutes, I figure. I just got off the phone with him!"

"Wow! We'd better hurry then! What about Dwayne?"

"Ummm, well, it doesn't sound like he's rolling right over you. Try to hold onto your cookies until next time, if you can. But it's your call -- do what seems right. Don't let him run everything, though, like you usually do with people..."

"Well, we talked about it. I think he understands." Louise murmured diffidently.

Erin rolled her eyes. Why didn't Louise just spread herself on the car hood, for Pete's sake? She handed the boy all of the keys... "Well, tonight will probably tell you what you need to know. Honey, some people don't like to run other people's lives -- it's too much responsibility. You need to, like, dress yourself, and breathe on your own every once in a while..."

"Oh, God! What am I gonna wear?" Louise wailed.

"Clothes." Erin knew Louise's problem. "A blouse that buttons up the front -- that you can unbutton. And a skirt with a stretch waistband that you can roll up?"

"Okay. Shoes?" Louise asked.

"Don't worry about it. Anything. His attention should be above your feet. Oh, get out of that bra as soon as you can!"

"Dwayne's already mentioned that," Louise related.

"How?" Erin was suspicious.

"He can't understand why I hurt myself like that..."

Erin frowned. That could be really cute, or really sneaky... "What about panties?"

"He said that was too much of a temptation, and that I should wear them."

"Well, wear nice ones!"

"You KNOW I don't have any!"

There was a knock at Erin's door. "Toby's here! Good luck!"

"But--" Erin hung up, ending the conversation.

Peter Braithewaite looked up as his son came through the door, "So, how was Astronomy Club?"

"Uhhh, good." Randall's demeanor said that there was more to it than that.

"What did you do?"

"Well, we looked at observation data from last week and some stuff from JPL."

"Doesn't sound like an all-nighter."

"We kind of hung out after that, fooling around in Jimmy's pool..."

Peter was pretty sure that the cat STILL hadn't gotten out of the bag. Given how things tended to be, he suspected that the boys had probably been watching blue movies and jerking off or something. It was a situation he felt that he had to tolerate, given Randall's limited social opportunities, but it bothered him some. In particular, it worried him that things might go beyond that -- so his son's next question made him seriously uneasy...

"Dad, were you ever, um, raped?"

Peter went white. There was a dead silence that went on for some time. "I... don't want to talk about it. Why?"

"It's, um, how you react to certain things, like gays, and jocks..."

Peter got a grip on himself. This could be serious. "There was an... incident. We don't speak of it." Concern flooded his features. "Why? You haven't -- you aren't...?"

Randall smiled easily. "Not that you'd notice. Astronomy Club has gone co-ed. I... have a girlfriend..."

Peter breathed a sigh of relief while he took in his son's demeanor. There was more to it than that; Randall was displaying a certain confidence. Apparently, not only did he HAVE a girlfriend, he was sleeping with her! THAT was the reason for the all-nighter! "Anyone I know?"

"Darla Jean."

"She's a little wispy, isn't she?" Peter remembered a narrow, freckled tomboy with pigtails pinned down in rings on her head.

"She's, uh, blossomed some." Randall replied.

"Well, that's good, I guess. I can remember you guys laughing about how you put her out on her ear the last time she tried to get into the club..."

Randall scratched his head absently. "Well, like I said, things have changed. The guys have mostly collected girlfriends, so the all-male thing became a problem, rather than a goal. Besides, Darla Jean is smart enough to contribute in her own right."

Peter nodded sagely. He didn't really see Randall maintaining a relationship with some air-head girl. This kind of explained some strange behavior on Randall's part over the last week or so, too. "You're taking the proper precautions?"

"Yes." Randall was surprised; they hadn't discussed THAT!

"It's all over your face," Peter managed a grin. "Don't get in too deep; boys seldom settle down with their first, you know."

"We're... both aware of that," Randall replied guardedly.

"Good." Randall got out of there, leaving Peter sorting through his emotions. Jean would have to be told, diplomatically, so she didn't get overly excited. Thank God the boy wasn't... Memory set in...

Peter's high school career had been an academic triumph and a social disaster. Girls... He just couldn't bring himself to interact with such angelic creatures! He was horny one hundred percent of the time, which made for problems here and there, like the time he got caught beating off in the boy's room by one of the teachers. He was terribly shy, and feared that the other boys would call him a freak due to the size of his cock (it was around the size of Randall's), so the showers were a problem for him -- one he didn't handle well, attracting unwanted attention. Add to that his GPA and the fact that he shared last period gym with the jocks, and you have all of the makings of a major disaster...

Peter was trying to closet himself in the corner shower when someone shoved underwear over his head and brawny arms held his from behind. "Gimme that tape," a voice murmured, and Peter's eyes were further blinded by sticky wrappings and his hands were similarly bound behind him while a hand over his mouth muffled his pleas for help. Moments later he was thrown across a bench in the locker room and the torture began.

"Well, Little Peter, we figure it's time to check out the problem with your queer-bait ass!" a voice rumbled.

"No! Please! Don't--" Peter began, but the hand was back, first slapping him, then covering his mouth.

"Shaddap! Fuckin' do what you're told, queer-bait, an' you might leave here in one piece! If ya don't, Coach is gonna wonder why you're havin' sex with broom handles!"

"Oh, God! Noooo--" Slap! Peter saw stars. (Later, Peter would remember his whining and crying with humiliation, but for now there was only fear and pain.)

"Open your fucking mouth and stick out your tongue!" Peter refused, more out of fear than bluster, and got pummeled. Finally he acquiesced, wondering, 'Okay, so, what are they going to stick in my mouth? Soap?'

It wasn't. Peter knew immediately EXACTLY what it was when the meatsicle settled on his tongue! He squalled and retracted his tongue, but the nasty thing was already between his teeth, leaving the musk of its lubricant on his tongue. Strong hands held his head rigid; he had nowhere to go. The abortive attempt to close his mouth got him another slap and a growled, "You bite me and I'll jam a broom ALL the way up your ass, fuckhead! Now, suck!"

So the ordeal began. Initially, they held him rigid and fucked his face, but soon the fight went out of him and they could nod his head over their erections. He was never certain how many there were, how many cocks got jammed in his mouth, how many horrid blasts of semen he choked on.

One reason was the distraction introduced during the second blowjob; suddenly, a hard, oblong object was being forced aganst his asshole! Peter screamed and fought, bringing on a momentary hiatus while his tormentors reorganized things...

"Shit! This thing's too big! Wrong shape, too!"

"Okay, so it's a bar of soap. What do you expect?"

"I gotta reshape the fucker, or I can't use it! Chop it in half lengthwise, maybe..."

"What the fuck you gonna use to do that?"

"Hey! Gimme your pocket knife!"

"What you gonna do with it?"

"Don't worry..." Various noises met Peter's ears, but he was otherwise engaged. Only later did he recognize the sounds of the knife working a bar of soap. "There! That's better. Got one for the other queer-bait, too!" Only then did Peter realize that he wasn't the only victim -- that the thrashing noises and grunts across the room represented another attack.

But he didn't have much time to think about it; the wet bar of soap, now trimmed down and rounded, was again being forced against his protesting anus -- this time, successfully! Peter grunted and thrashed, but the soap was wet and slick and it got past his sphincter. Peter forced it out, and one of his assailants gleefully chased it across the floor, wet it, and re-inserted it. This happened three or four times before somebody grunted, "Okay, he's slick enough," and Peter suddenly realized that he'd been helping them! Oh, God! But it was too late -- the blunt head of a cock began pressing where the soap had paved the way and Peter howled in agony as it tore through, causing the soap to burn his rectum. Peter forgot all about the cock sliding in and out of his mouth -- the REAL horror was the one now tearing into his ass!

This went on for -- minutes? Centuries? Peter wasn't sure... There was more than one visitor, though, at each of his portals. But the final humiliation was yet to come!

"He likes it! Jeezus! Lookit that boner!" Peter realized that they were talking about HIM! How could he be aroused by all this? The horror intensified.

"Whoa! Guess you ain't Little Peter after all, queer-bait! Get that other queer-bait over here to suck him off!" Moments later, soft lips wrapped themselves around his erection and Peter came, copiously, almost immediately, his iron-hard member gouting into the anonymous mouth. Peter's shame and humiliation knew no bounds!

Moments later, it was apparently over. They rolled him onto the floor and taped him to the other victim, leaving them there until apparently the last of them was dressed and ready to leave, then cut part way through their bindings and left. By the time the pair broke loose, their assailants were long gone, and they were left with their embarrassment, pain, and humiliation.

The remainder of Peter's senior year was one long wait for the episode to repeat itself, punctuated by the nightmares. Worst of all was the fact that he'd enjoyed parts of it, physically! Was he queer? God! The other victim, Germaine Brown, a slight black boy, DID become a homosexual -- or maybe he just was, originally -- even to the point of accosting Peter once for a re-match! Peter actually threatened him with violence -- something unheard-of in Peter -- and the boy left him alone.

The only positive thing to come from the experience was the fact that the taunts of 'Little Peter' went away -- but Peter wondered just how many people knew why. He couldn't face his schoolmates; the uncertainty made his life a living Hell until he got out of high school. In fact, he was almost completely without a social life for his first two years of college! Finally, Jean had rescued him...

Peter fixed himself a scotch. Those memories always left him stressed out -- and Jean was going to get a serious riding tonight while he engaged in a bout of self-affirmation! Peter grinned without humor; recognizing what he was doing didn't keep it from happening...

"Hi, Mama." Nate strode through the door, followed by Nora, Draper, and Tenisha -- all of whom were working towels over their bodies.

"Boy," Tabitha favored her offspring with a nod. "How you doin'?" She punctuated this with a glance around their surroundings.

"Fine." Nate's face closed. "Takin' the day off. Gotta work tomorrow... What 'bout you?"

"I'm rediscoverin' sex!" Tabitha replied, with a glance at Paul. Paul's expression said he'd suddenly rather be elsewhere.

"Huh?" Draper grunted. "I, uh, thought you, uh, knew quite a bit 'bout that..."

"What I do for work ain't sex, Honey. Least for me it ain't. Mostly it's about lettin' somebody beat off in me." Tabitha grunted. "Last night was the first time in a LOOONG time that I went lookin' fer mine -- an' I found it, jus' fine! Sex is, well, between the ears, I guess. You gotta have some interest in what you're doin' an' who you're doin' it with..." Belatedly, she looked around at the girls present. "Sorry, gals."

Nora shrugged. "I've learned that for Daddy, the 'regular' part of sex isn't as important as what else is going on -- and I'm beginning to think that might apply to Mom, too."

"What might apply to me?" Sharon asked, re-entering the room.

Tabitha moved in smoothly. "She was jus' sayin' that you probly understood that sex is between the ears more than between the legs better'n most."

"Oh." Sharon examined this comment for negative content, but left it when results turned out to be inconclusive. "Okay."

Armand's rumbling chuckle sounded behind her. "Such wisdom..." He eyed Tabitha and nodded toward Nate. "I'll give you a moment or two with your son, then I'd appreciate it if you joined us in my study."

"No problem," Tabitha replied. "We ain't got that much ta say to one another, anyways, bein' we're both doin' okay. Right, Boy?"

"Yeh."

She stepped up and gave him a peck on the cheek and he offered a hug. When she stepped back, she took in Leticia, who had recovered her bikini top, since everyone else had -- but was still sans bottoms and sporting a tail. "Well, THAT's interestin'! You run 'round like that alla time?"

"Um, no," Leticia returned hesitantly. With Armand in the room, she didn't dare be unresponsive.

"Le's see the back," Tabitha directed. Freshly mortified, Leticia granted her the view. "Looks better on you than it would on me, I bet," Tabitha commented. "So howcum?"

"I insulted your son and his friends. Mr. Wilson is punishing me for it."

"Uh... huh..." Tabitha eyed Armand. Yeah, the rumors were true. This shit could still come down around her ears... "Well, least it looks good. Could be worse." Turning to Nate, she said, "I'll see y'all later." Nate nodded, and she followed Sharon out of the room. Paul brought up the rear.

"We probably oughta go," Tenisha announced. Draper nodded. Nora got the pair organized, getting them back to their room to change and ordering Draper's car brought around.

On the way out, Draper pulled Nate aside. "Hey, 'bout jobs, Man..."

Nate nodded. "I'll ask."

"Cool."

The group that gathered in Armand's study consisted of Armand, Jason, Sharon, Scott, Paul, and Tabitha, with Witherspoon on the phone. Armand kicked things off as they settled in various couches and chairs, "How is your health?"

"I'm comin' up," Tabitha replied. "Better'n expected, after that run-in I had. Thanks."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Pinkham continues to be a slow learner," Armand announced, resuming control of things. "We're gathered here to discuss what can be done about it." Turning to Paul, he said, "Why don't you brief us on this latest incident?"

Paul nodded. "We went out to get Tabitha some fresh air and to get her seen in her old haunts -- largely to ascertain Rodday's reaction. One of his hired help detected us almost immediately, and set up an ambush in the parking lot. From what we got later, the intent was to penetrate Tabitha's protection and give her a more visible and lasting reminder of who was in charge -- a broken bone, perhaps. We detected it, and our personnel on the scene proved superior to theirs. Rodday's people retired with a couple of broken bones, instead of Tabitha."

"I see," Armand murmured. "Then what happened?"

Paul looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I took Tabitha to my apartment."

"Why?"

" 'Cause I wheedled him inta it," Tabitha supplied. "I needed ta see if my money-maker was workin'. Paul was a project -- he wasn't gonna jus' fall in the sack wit' me, which made it more of a challenge, like."

"Okay, I see your end, but was taking her to your apartment sensible? Was she covered?" Armand pressed.

"Thoroughly," Scott replied, again deflecting Armand's attack. "Rodday's people had no idea where Paul lives, and we had a full team on site across the street, constantly. The surveillance equipment at the safe house was an issue with Tabitha; at Mr. Matheson's place, they had a bit more privacy, but good coverage, including personal trackers."

Armand nodded, but again shifted his attention to Paul. "Okay, so, it was safe. Was it professional?"

"Absolutely not," Paul replied, "but..."

"I wasn't takin' 'no' fer an answer!" Tabitha insisted.

"It's true!" Scott piped up. "I was there for some of it! You'd have to be dead not to be interested..."

"Okay, okay!" Paul waved him off. "It wasn't right. And I knew that, going in."

"Goddam it! I TOLD ya, he fought the whole thing! I coulda had Scott, here, probly on the first pass, but Paul argued, and hid out, and ducked and dodged... I didn't LET him say no! I bet I could get YOU ta fuck me quicker'n HE did!" Tabitha ranted. Scott nodded solemnly. Paul just sat there, waiting.

Armand sat there for a moment, watching Paul. If he'd blustered, Armand would have had him hammered; instead, since he was obviously awaiting a reprimand, it was just as obvious that one was not required. "All right. Are you two at all romantically involved, at this point? Or was it just sex?"

Paul's eyes shifted to Tabitha's. To be fair, it was a bit early, a couple of bouts in the sack notwithstanding; besides, Tabitha was a professional... If pressed, his answer was a clear 'no'.

But it was Tabitha who answered, and surprised him with, "Yeah. The big lug makes my pussy itch. I'm chasin' him."

"All right," Armand replied blandly. "In that case, Mr. Matheson is going to be hampered somewhat in your protection. Scott, you're in charge, although Matheson continues to be the close-in coverage. This is a decision arrived at for professional reasons that I'm sure Mr. Matheson realizes; I've been adequately convinced that he has been acting in good faith and no stigma or reproach is implied. Witherspoon, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Let's move on, then." Armand tented his fingers. "To recap, we've visited Rodday and discussed his tactics with him after the initial incident, and we've reproached his minions on two occasions now, one of which followed an attempt to abduct or injure Nate and Nora. I'm thinking that it is time the gloves came off."


"Well, mebbe," Tabitha argued, "But I gotta live wit' him around afterwards. He's already pissed..."

"And he'll just keep trying to get control of the situation until it is impressed upon him that the losses that he will incur are unacceptable," Armand replied. "Things have already escalated to the point that he has lost face. The problem that we have here is the amount of resources that it will take to discourage him permanently. If Rodday wishes to play the fool, nothing short of his termination will dissuade him. We need to try to find something short of that that is adequately discouraging. Failing that, we need to find a way to defray the expense of your ongoing protection."

"Huh." Tabitha grunted. This could suck... "I figgered Rodday for smarter than the average pimp. Not sure whether that's good or bad, now..."

"It's both, I think," Armand replied. "In the near term, he may be convinced -- but he may bide his time, which could be a long-term problem."

"So it'd be cheaper ta kill him," Tabitha summarized.

"Well, yes, but it's not within my normal operating parameters. I try to keep things generally legal. A little mayhem here and there is one thing -- gang wars are another. For one thing, I'd not engage in anything like this with local assets -- better to bring in someone from the outside, if it comes to that."

"Armand, I don't like where this is headed," Sharon announced.

"The intent is to keep it from going there," Armand replied smoothly. "Let's look at what we'd LIKE to do to punish him. Tabitha?"

"I'd LIKE to kick the bastard in the nuts -- HARD! But it might be better to jus' keep him from makin' money as the Pimp King..."

Armand tapped tented fingers together. "To do that, we have to compete. I'm not sure I want to start supporting streetwalkers, wholesale. And once we got going, we'd have to protect the girls from Rodday -- something that would take considerable manpower on the street... I want to see you on your own two feet -- something you can't be if you have to pay for bodyguards."

"Um, so, I need a pimp..." Tabitha cackled.

"Sounds like 'Night Shift'," Sharon burst out. Armand gave her a quizzical glance. "It's an old Henry Winkler movie. Guy meets a hooker whose pimp beats her up, and ends up taking her and several other girls on, running an outcall service out of the city morgue. He was giving them 401Ks, health insurance, better lawyers... Naturally, there were problems with the criminals, and it fell apart..."

Tabitha looked thoughtful. "Still, you gotta idea. If we set up a cathouse, everbody's in one place -- an' easier ta protect. And everbody can help pay for it..."

Armand frowned. "One static location makes you a target for the police."

"More'n usual?" Tabitha countered. "Sniffin' out vice cops is part o' the job... 'Sides, I know whose palm ta grease, if I got money ta do it with, Honey."

"Perhaps they could all rotate between safe houses," Witherspoon suggested over the phone.

"Big problem with hookin' is gettin' found by johns," Tabitha grunted. "An' if ya put yourself out so a john can find ya, so can a cop. Ya can pay off cops, but the same ones who'll take your money are the ones that wanta be in politics -- so they'll fry ya if it means a promotion or a shot at bein' elected dogcatcher."

"So you need to filter your clientele before they get an address," Armand mused. "Even then, you're not safe from arrest."

"Somebody wit' a good nose for trouble an' who knows the ropes could keep shit to a minimum..." Tabitha mused.

"Like you?" Armand pointed out.

"I couldn't work, then." Tabitha flashed a glance at Paul. "Much, anyway."

"You'd just have a different job description," Armand replied. "Madam, perhaps."

Tabitha cackled. "An old whore's dream!"

"Well, during the initial phase, you'd probably have to pull in traffic off the street, examine prospects, and forward them to the house," Armand replied. "The only difference would be that you wouldn't be actually doing the servicing. The inside girls would have to support you."

"Um, yeah. But better girls, a better place -- that kinda shit means ya can charge more. I like the movin' around thing..."

"My people know a few tricks for confusing people," Witherspoon added. "In urban areas, sometimes you can cut through a door into the next building that clients would pass through without realizing it. You can close it off in times of trouble -- not to mention the fact that police with a search warrant would have the wrong address..."

"I like THAT!" Tabitha cackled.

"Simple things can confuse things," Witherspoon continued. "In developments where every home is alike, you can change the house number, for instance. Many of these are two lots to the house, so that house numbers jump by four, such as 1910 to 1914. On working days, you change the house number on a simple plaque to 1912..."

"...Which don't exist!" Tabitha nodded. "Shit, great idea!"

"We do similar with safe houses on occasion."

"One problem wit' a cathouse is neighbors," Tabitha mused.

"Agreed," Witherspoon murmured. "Sometimes it isn't enough to have one house -- you need for the surrounding properties to be controlled by you or people beholden to you."

"Do you have anything available in the vicinity of existing safe houses, where this is all taken care of?" Armand asked.

"Mmmm, actually, I can think of at least three sites," Witherspoon replied. "We might have to expand our sphere of influence a bit, but having three sides covered is better than having none... If we, uh, got into bed together, we might be able to set up mutual escape routes between our safe houses and your, uh, businesses..."

Tabitha chuckled. "We might hafta barter 'til we got off the ground..." Scott looked thoughtful.

"Mmmm, yes. Undoubtedly, some of my people are already in your customer base," Witherspoon replied. "Private detection and security make for a poor family lifestyle."

"I hate to say it, but our old place meets the cookie-cutter development criterion pretty exactly," Sharon chuckled.

"It's also thoroughly covered from a surveillance point of view," Scott pointed out, then shut up abruptly.

"Yeah, I know." Sharon glared briefly at Armand.

Armand ignored that component of her glance. "You wouldn't have an issue with turning your old place into a gathering place for hookers, then?"

Sharon made a face. "It wouldn't be my first choice -- but I can't go back there."

"Actually, the installed surveillance equipment could help secure the safety of Ms. Adams' staff," Witherspoon pointed out. "I believe that whorehouses in Nevada have in-room surveillance to ensure the safety of the employees and that customers are not fleeced in some manner."

"Hmph. Yeh, good idea -- on both ends!" Tabitha grunted.

"Why don't you start there, then?" Armand suggested. "Witherspoon, any issues?"

"No. I've pretty much already agreed in principle," Witherspoon chuckled. "We'll need to ink some kind of agreement..."

"That might be hard, since I cain't go downtown an' register a hookin' business. Too bad, though, that 401K thing'd be pretty neat. Not to mention health insurance. Doctors rip you off if you ain't got insurance."

"Well, maybe not 'rip off', but they charge full rate, because you can't bring the same pressure to bear an insurance company can," Armand agreed. "Still, I imagine that we might discover work-arounds. Jason?"

Jason nodded. "We have some template plans for our employees who remain unacknowledged in the official table of organization. I'm sure some of them are adaptable. It might still be wise to register a corporate entity for certain purposes, like home purchases."

"Then there'd be taxes an' shit," Tabitha grunted, leery. "If I got income, no welfare..."

"If you're successful, you won't need it," Armand assured her.

"Lotta money, here..." Tabitha mused. " 'Bout a ton if it goin' out..."

"If the business is even adequately run, the flow will turn around rapidly," Armand assured her. "I'll front you for 90 days for the physical plant -- Witherspoon, three locations, including Sharon's old place -- and we'll see where we are at that point."

"If it sinks..." Tabitha ventured.

"I'll own YOU!" Armand replied.

"Fuck, you do, anyway..."

"All right, let's discuss the mechanics of our visit to break the news to Rodday..." Armand moved the conversation forward to the tactical plan for their 'visit' to Rodday's club.

"So," Pete murmured, squatting on the end of a lounge chair and drying his hair, "Think they're done?"

"For a while, anyway," Bianca agreed. Toweling her own hair was leaving it a mess -- but she hated bathing caps... Pete had helped her back into her top after the group exited the pool, and he'd been a perfect gentleman about it -- but she wished he hadn't. Their excuse to be together out here was gone, but neither was in any hurry to leave; the tone of Pete's question had made THAT clear. "Maybe we should hang out for a while, just in case..."

"Maybe. Got a brush? I'll help you with that." Bianca's hair was thick, luxuriant, and fell to her shoulder blades -- when not wadded and kinked from chlorine and rough usage by a towel. Pete's offer was an interesting one, on more than one level.

"In my room -- which is some distance from here." Bianca started combing through her hair with her fingers.

"Well, I have fingers, too..." Pete stepped around behind her and started working lower down, toward the tips, while Bianca pushed things down and back from her face. Pete tried to concentrate on hair, but a cleavage shot was just over her shoulder, there -- and he was enough taller that it wasn't work. The things were like melons, round, fat... The bikini top pressed them back toward her chest, creating this odd tunnel where they were pressed together over her breastbone. Pete jerked his eyes away; he was pulling another boner...

"It's too wild," Bianca announced after a moment. "I'll go dunk it again..." She slipped free and dove into the water.

Pete stopped himself from following, contenting himself with the observation, "Now you're wet again," when she surfaced.

Bianca tilted her head back to allow her hair to float free again, "Well, it was out of control. It needs conditioner to keep it from tangling -- especially if I'm going to work it over with a towel! We'll just wrap it when I come out this time..." The effort, however, surfaced another issue -- apparently, Pete had missed something when he'd helped Bianca back into her bikini top! Pete's eyes popped as Bianca's roll backward surfaced a pair of taut brown nipples; apparently, the dive had stripped her top from her breasts and left it floating around her waist.

Bianca discovered the whole thing when she rose back up; a combination of Pete's expression and the feel of loose fabric drifting around under her breasts led her to look down at her exposed chest. While her first reaction was an effort at embarrassed cover-up, she was swimming in deep water; the moment's reflection compensating for that gave her an opportunity to remember that she WANTED Pete to see them! "Oh, well," she smiled into his eyes, "you've seen, them, anyway..."

"Well, um, I'm sorry," Pete replied. "I must've missed something, buttoning you up..."

"It's okay; I should have checked it. Bring me a towel?" Bianca started swimming toward the ladder.

"Uh, sure." Pete took two.

Bianca climbed out and completely ignored the displaced bikini top while she tucked her hair in a towel -- granting Pete an eyeful of her orbs hanging pendulous as she bent over -- then proceeded to remove it entirely. "That's one less set of tan lines I have to worry about, " Bianca remarked.

Why anyone would worry about tanning such honey-gold skin was beyond Pete. Pete had long since determined that he had a thing for Hispanic girls -- and Bianca had it all! Jet black hair -- the soft down on her arms was black, too, and Pete had heard some of his contemporaries describe it as a shortcoming, but he thought it was cute -- after all, it wasn't coarse, like the hair on HIS arms... Undoubtedly, at some point, Bianca's shape would shift toward her mother's -- not that Pete considered THAT to be any too objectionable in an older woman -- but right now, at this moment, Bianca was undoubtedly at her peak -- and she was incredible! Pete couldn't take his eyes off her -- and that brought on other problems...

Pete's swim trunks did an exceedingly poor job of covering his erection, plastered as they were against his wet legs. The thing was HUGE, nearly erupting from the waistband of his trunks, and Bianca needed no other indication that she had his attention. In fact, she was so busy scoping it out that she missed the fact that he was staring. "Maybe I'll sunbathe a bit," she mused, then inspiration struck: "Maybe you could oil my back?"

Pete's brain was screaming that he was over the line, but his brain wasn't running things. Bianca was bending over again, digging in her beach bag for suntan oil, and Pete just couldn't look away! When Bianca straightened up and waved the bottle, locking eyes with him, he just took it. He was seriously busted in any case, since Bianca locked eyes with him.

'This is fun!' flashed through Bianca's mind, accompanied by a serious rush. That she had Pete's attention was more than clear; how far could she push this? How far did she want to? Pretty far -- the red tone to her skin as she toweled off wasn't because of the towel! Bianca was in full heat! What could she get away with, reasonably? Consequences were now irrelevant... Skinny-dipping had come up a number of times that morning, and Leticia had been running around buck-naked -- with a tail, for God's sake! Maybe... Bianca rearranged a lounger, making it flat so that she could lie on it face down, then stepped out of her bikini bottoms, croaking, "While I'm getting rid of tan lines..." She couldn't face Pete --the look on her face would give her away totally -- so she just stretched out on the towel-covered lounger.

This was 'WAY too much for Pete -- but he wasn't able to work up the will power to back off -- not after watching that sweet, round ass pop out of those bottoms! Girls came easily to Pete, normally, and he'd seen quite a few since his first conquest at age fourteen -- but this... This whole thing had a forbidden aura to it that brought on a full, teenage-level case of rut! That she wanted the attention was clear -- that it was insane was irrelevant! Pete mechanically poured a dollop of suntan oil on his palm and went to work on Bianca's shoulders, bending low over the lounger. When her shoulders and neck were done, he picked up her limp left arm and went to work on it, enjoying the feel of her skin.

He was curiously detached; part of him was savoring every opportunity, while the rest sat back and analyzed the whole thing without interfering. The suntan oil thing was a total cliché; Bianca might as well have said, "Grope me," and gotten it over with. And therein lay the issue: His little head demanded a full vote, and he had Bianca's vote -- Hell, even the big head had a hard time under those circumstances coming out with a 'nay'! The only downside was what others might think of the whole thing -- and that might go really badly, or it might be a total non-issue! Ultimately, it seemed safest to play the silly game and pretend that he was innocently applying oil...

These ruminations got him through oiling both arms; now it was time to work her back, which wouldn't go well from the side. Gingerly, he straddled the lounger and settled himself just below those pert, round cheeks...

"You're dripping on me!" Bianca complained. For Bianca, the cold drips had been the first discordant note in several minutes' bliss, while strong hands worked her arms, neck and shoulders.

"I suppose you want me to take MY swimsuit off?" Pete popped off. Bianca let out a strangled gasp. Would he?

Her gasp brought Pete up short. No, that was DEFINITELY too much! "I don't think that would be a good idea," he mumbled distantly. Bianca made another noise -- but there was a distinct note of disappointment to it.

'Damn!' Bianca thought. If he'd done that, they'd have done it, for sure! It would have been so easy; all she'd have had to do would have been raise her ass a bit... Oh, well...

Pete started working oil into Bianca's back, starting in the middle and spreading it around to her sides. Since she continued to allow him full access, he took advantage of the fact to the point of working the outsides of her breasts, something Bianca not only allowed, but raised her arms to get more of! He worked his way down to the small of her back and dawdled while he tried to decide whether she REALLY wanted his hands on her ass...

Bianca clarified things. "There, too," she husked. "That needs oil more than anything else back there!" Pete scooted back, and Bianca spread her legs to let him settle between them.

That left both of them breathless. Would he take the invitation? Bianca waited with bated breath. Pete stopped dead while he took in the view -- a bright pink opening framed by soft black curls. After a moment, he shook himself and began the thoroughly enjoyable task of applying oil to her firm ass. It didn't REALLY need the kneading that Pete gave it, but Bianca was thrilled to death at the attention, so it didn't matter.

Finally, Pete decided that any reasonable person would accuse him of loitering, so he moved on, hopping up and working on Bianca's right leg, starting at the foot and moving slowly upward, bracing himself on a knee that continued to be wedged between Bianca's. Bianca became more and more excited as he worked his way up her thigh -- would he touch her, there? The tension was unbearable...

He didn't. Instead, Pete began working her left leg, with the same attention to detail that he'd applied to her right. Or, at least, his hands were providing that attention -- his eyes were fixed on that pink exclamation point of soft, wet flesh, the dot at the base of which was Bianca's pea-sized erect clit! It was... juicy -- in fact, as he watched, a clear drop extended itself from the inside of her inner lips and dripped slowly onto the towel beneath her. It was... fascinating... Pete extended a forefinger at the top of a slow sweep up Bianca's left thigh to gently touch a soft petal of the open flower.

Bianca was so hot her insides were quaking. She wanted Pete to do something -- anything -- that would allow her to surrender to him! Those hands on her back, and sides, making her breasts tingle, then rubbing her ass... Heaven! Now, after a respite that merely added to her tension, his hands were working her thighs -- and the flesh of her inner thighs welcomed the feel of those firm fingers as they got closer and closer...

Pete's extended finger touched her left inner lip and Bianca let out a gasp of lust. Her whole pussy pulsed, the lips closing together for a moment before springing back open -- but the effect on the mesmerized Pete was totally unexpected! Suddenly, his rock hard cock gave a mighty pulse, and semen went everywhere! A splash blasted across the back of Bianca's sensitive left thigh, Pete's cock having actually pushed open the elastic waistband of his trunks enough to fire it's payload into the open!

Pete lurched up, shocked, took a swipe at the back of Bianca's thigh to recover the evidence, and ran to jump into the pool in a panicked attempt to avoid detection of the hideously embarrassing explosion of his cock in his trunks!

Bianca, just as surprised, surged up from the lounger. What on Earth got into Pete? Everything was going so well... "Pete! What are you doing?" she screeched, rolling over to expose herself frontally while she challenged him. "Why did you do that?"

Pete, the cold water having returned some measure of sanity, whined, "I'm TRYING to be GOOD!"

Bianca sputtered, "But I don't WANT you to be good! I want you to be... GOOD!"

"Bianca..."

"NO! Why do we have to pretend and play silly games?" Bianca stormed. "I want you -- there, I've said it! I want you to... do me! Is that clear enough?"

Pete sighed and hauled himself out of the pool, surreptitiously checking to ensure that he wasn't leaving white streaks anywhere. "Yes, Sweetie, it's VERY clear -- and I'd LOVE to do it -- but there are laws. You're not old enough to give consent, legally, to me to have sex with you. I could get arrested!"

Bianca threw herself to her feet and stomped one of them. "That's silly! In Mama's village, girls get MARRIED at my age!"

"That's Mexico. They have different laws. Your Mama would NOT approve of me having sex with you -- and she could have me thrown in jail as a result! It's just not a good idea! Besides, I'm..." Pete couldn't call himself 'old'... "A lot older than you."

"So? That's a GOOD thing! Do you think I want anything from boys my age? They're all... idiots! What do they know about what a woman wants?" She snatched up her top and began putting it on, then flashed him a glance. "What if Mama approves? Is it still illegal?"

"What?" Pete gasped in shock. "I, uh, I don't know, actually..."

"I'll go ask her, then," Bianca announced, stepping into her panties. "Come on."

"B-but..." Pete started thrashing his way out of the pool.

"But what?" Bianca, hands on hips, was waiting by the door. "Don't tell me you don't want to..."

"No, it's not that..." Jeezus! What was he saying, exactly? Wasn't he admitting to wanting to be some kind of child molester? How old was she? Sixteen? "Well, she's gonna say no, and then life's gonna be pretty embarrassing, for a while..." '...at least...' he added in his head.

"We'll see." She was off, head high, stalking. Pete got it in gear, snatching a towel and trying to get some semblance of dry while basically running after the charged-up teen.

Having made up her mind to force a confrontation, Bianca lost no time, racing from room to room in search of her mother. Pete followed along behind, wondering just how he was going to escape the ensuing bloodbath. The look of resolution on Bianca's face told him that stopping her wasn't an option, short of a gag and a length of rope; the best he could do would be to be present and hopefully keep them both from paying too high a price for this exercise in insanity.

Mama wasn't in the kitchen. "Have you seen Mama?" Bianca asked Velma.

"No, Honey. Mebbe she's wit' Mistah J?" Velma caught the look on Pete's face, "Whatchew doin' Hon..." It was too late -- Bianca was gone. Velma fixed an eye on Pete, "Yo' done sumpthin'?"

"No -- well, maybe. I gotta go..." Pete ran to catch up to Bianca, whose ass was jiggling and swaying enticingly to her determined stride.

Jason's office. Mister Jason was seated at his desk, but apparently not doing a lot. Bianca burst in, drawing a frown, but she was beyond noticing. "Have you seen Mama? I need to talk to her. Do you know where she is?"

"Well, yes," Jason replied, dropping his right hand into his lap, apparently. "Is this something I can help with?" Pete was hanging there in the doorway, and the look on his face said he wasn't prepared to enjoy whatever encounter Bianca and her mother had.

"Well, Mama's my parent, so I think she has to do this -- no offense..." Faced with her mother's scary boyfriend/master, Bianca began to wind down. "But you know legal stuff, and Mama won't, so maybe I should ask you before I ask her -- if I want to be with Pete, is it okay if Mama gives permission?"

There was a choking sound and a struggle; Jason reluctantly released the hand he'd used to hold Inez to her work vacuuming his erection when this conversation started and Inez thrashed her way up from behind the desk.

"What?!!" Inez switched languages and started spitting Spanish at a machinegun rate.

Jason was unable to follow it, but he detected a couple of curses and could guess the rest. Nonetheless, Pete should obviously be party to the conversation, and he obviously had no Spanish... Besides, the whole thing was impolite! "Silence!" he roared, slapping Inez on the ass for emphasis!

"No!" Inez whirled on him. "This is a... parent... thing! I MUST--"

"You MUST speak ENGLISH!" Jason roared. "There are two people in this room who are party to this conversation who cannot carry it on in Spanish! You will speak English, or you will say NOTHING!" For emphasis, he pounded her ass again, HARD!

"Master, I... have not the words!" Inez complained.

"Bianca does. Translate that harangue for us, please," Jason turned his attention to Bianca.

"Mama asked why I insisted on acting like a common..." Bianca trailed off.

"Whore," Jason supplied. "I got that part."

"Uhn huh. And why did I want to sleep with a gringo who was twice my age, and did I not understand that only a slut does not go to her marriage bed unsullied..." Bianca supplied.

"Ummm. Pretty tall talk for a woman in her situation, huh?" Jason grunted.

"Yes, Sir." Bianca gave her mother the fish eye.

"I do not want her to make the mistakes that I did!" Inez burst out.

"Gee, I wonder what YOUR first mistake was?" Jason replied sarcastically. "Maybe tying yourself to that fool Raoul?" He nodded apology to Bianca, "Sorry." Turning back to Inez, he continued, "No doubt you were a virgin to YOUR marriage bed -- how EXACTLY did that improve your life?"

"Ah..." Inez's eyes bulged. Only temperament carried her forward. "It kept all of the women in the village from calling me a puta!" she rasped.

Jason nodded, suddenly an arbiter, rather than a prosecutor. "But that was in your village. You're not there, any more. In fact, you are unlikely to return. Bianca is growing up in other circumstances. For that matter, YOUR circumstances have changed, too! Perhaps you should adjust to reality..."

"The rules of my village..." Inez began hotly.

"Do not play here," Jason cut her off. "And you, of all people, are fortunate that they do not! Come here! It appears that you need to be reminded of your station! What do you think that these two think you were doing under my desk, slut? Picking up staples? Vacuuming the rug?" He snatched her wrist and dragged her before him, facing the others. "Tell them what you were doing!"

Inez stood there with her mouth open. Jason raised her skirt from behind and walloped her ass again. "Tell them!"

"I... was... sucking..." Inez's features reddened deeply.

"And that makes you not a slut -- how?" Jason challenged.

"What?" Inez shook her head. "I do not..."

"He is asking you if this is different than what a slut does, Mama," Bianca supplied.

"Oh." Inez hung her head. "No."

"Good." Jason was all business. "Now that that is settled, back up here and resume your duties." Jason slid the chair he was sitting in back further from his desk, then pulled the unresisting Inez to a position before him. For the next few moments, his activities were shielded by Inez's voluminous skirts, but neither Bianca nor Pete had any illusions as to what he was doing. Inez settled onto his lap with that look that said she was feeling more than seeing -- and she was. She was feeling Jason's erection penetrate her, right here in front of Bianca -- and, more embarrassing, Pete! "Move a bit, here," Jason growled. "Keep me happy." Inez started slowly raising and lowering herself, blushing fiercely. "Continue your conversation," Jason waved magnanimously.

Inez attempted to concentrate upon her daughter and the outrageous request she was making. "This is wrong, my flower -- you should wait until you find a boy..."

"But I don't WANT a boy!" Bianca burst out, "I want a MAN! Boys -- what do THEY know?"

"She HAS a point," Jason murmured.

"Shhh, Master!" Inez was so thoroughly distracted that she didn't even realize what she said! Jason let it go -- fine-tuning her conduct could wait until she'd finished dealing with her offspring. Gathering herself, Inez continued, "This is love, then?"

Bianca blinked. "Ah, I don't know..."

"And you?" Inez challenged Pete. "Is it love for you? Why are you here?"

"I, ah, think it's early to call it love," Pete temporized. "It's a mutual attraction. But there are a lot of obstacles... I wouldn't be here, despite the attraction, if Bianca wasn't pressing the issue."

"Yes," Inez's eyes were hooded. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-seven."

"Almost twice her age!" Inez emphasized, then turned to Bianca. "What do you know about love at fourteen?"

"Fourteen!" Pete burst out. He'd thought she was sixteen, anyway. How could a girl with a figure so lush be fourteen?

"Si," Inez smiled, knowing she'd made another point.

"Mama, girls get married at fourteen in the old country!" Bianca burst forth. "What do THEY know of love?"

"Nothing, usually," her mother supplied. "We arrange marriages in the old country, many times. Love is expected to happen afterward." She smiled, bitterly. "But we are not talking about marriage, here, are we?"

Pete was just standing there, bewildered. Things were moving 'WAY too fast! Bianca was the one to respond, "No, Mama. This isn't about marriage."

"What is it about?" Inez asked.

Jason took this moment to deliver another swat on Inez's ass. "Keep it moving!"

Against this moment of distraction, Bianca replied, grinning, "It's about sex, I guess."

"Sex? Just sex?" Inez asked.

"Is it ever 'just sex'?" Jason asked rhetorically. "Go ahead, Bianca, explain."

"Pete is hot, and I KNOW that he's a good lover!" Bianca erupted. "I don't want my first time to be with some high school guy who's done it about twice -- I want it to be good!"

"Master, this is your fault! Yours and Lord Armand's!" Inez berated Jason over her shoulder. "Making Bianca follow the puta around has ruined her!"

Jason grunted. "I disagree. This thing between you and Pete isn't new, is it, Bianca?"

"No, Sir," Bianca agreed. "It's been growing for a while. Neither of us could make the whole leap, though. There were some breakthroughs over the last couple of weeks..."

"See?" Inez pressed.

Bianca undercut her, though, immediately, with, "The thing between Mama and Papa and her coming out into the open with you, Mister Jason -- those were big..."

Inez stopped in mid stroke, aghast, but Jason wasn't having any. He hauled her down onto him, then started directing her with his hands on her hips. "Pick it up! I want YOU to remember what it is we're discussing here, slut! What do YOU think of sex?"

Inez tried to gather her dignity. "It is something I do for my..."

"If you lie, I will beat you!" Jason warned. Inez was going to get a beating anyway, over this episode -- but she apparently didn't know that yet.

"Okay! I like it!" Inez admitted.

"The why do you seek to deny your daughter?" Jason pressed.

"She's too young!" Inez wailed. Faster motion, humiliation, and the direction things were headed were taking their toll on her, spurring arousal where she had been able to stave things off.

"She doesn't think so," Jason murmured.

"He's too old!" Inez whined.

"In your village, they marry young girls off to old men all the time, just because they are rich!" Bianca argued hotly. "Pete is MUCH younger than any of THEM!"

"But this isn't marriage!" Inez argued. "It's sex -- and that makes you a puta!"

"Marrying young girls to old men isn't sex?" Bianca argued. "Actually, it's something worse! In this country, they have a word for old men who chase young girls -- pedophile!"

"Is that what he is, then?" Inez wanted to know, waving at Pete.

"By the letter of the law, maybe," Jason interjected. "But he's really too young, and Bianca is really too old -- especially between the ears -- for it to be true. From what I can see, this isn't a case of him taking advantage of Bianca as much as it is Bianca wanting to take advantage of their mutual attraction to get a fulfilling sexual experience. Speaking of which..." Jason started lunging up into Inez from below. Inez, forced to react, began to lose the thread of things -- what was going on between her legs was too distracting. Bianca shut up, biding her time; she and Pete watched while the sex act between her mother and Mister Jason became more and more intense. With the end of the conversational challenge, Inez's attention went solely to her Master and his efforts -- and her own. Bianca had seen them have sex before, and Pete, well, Inez forgot about Pete totally! The waves of pleasure began to rise in her and she began to put more and more effort into pleasing her Master -- and, by extension, herself.

Bianca waited until her mother was obviously close to orgasm, her gaze turned blankly inward and her movements manic, before challenging her again: "If sex is so terrible, why do you enjoy it so much?"

"It isn't..." Inez gasped out.

"Then why do you go to such great lengths to deny it to me?" Bianca railed.

The challenge was perfectly timed; even if Inez WANTED to stop to argue with her daughter, she couldn't -- experience told her that her master was approaching his completion even as she approached hers! "Go!" she gasped, waving, "Do what you must!" Jason began swatting her on the ass, and she sensed the rising of the tidal wave before her.

Bianca turned, pleased with herself, and collected Pete's hand -- but Pete only let her haul him out of sight before he planted himself and brought them both to a stop. "This isn't the time," he announced.

"It isn't?" Bianca blinked, surprised.

"No. Think about it; do you have the feelings you had when we started out? Is the urge REALLY still there?"

"Ummm, I guess not," Bianca admitted. The argument with her mother had bled away their animal desire, replacing it with fear and aggression.

"Let's wait," Pete counseled. "Doing it now, just to be able to say we did, defeats the purpose of what we were trying to do. You don't want to remember that the first time you did it mostly to spite your mother." In the background, an unearthly moan of completion poured into the hallway from Jason's office. "Besides, we might have to talk to her again when she's not... indisposed..."

"Oh, all right!" Bianca didn't REALLY want to run the risk of her mother changing her mind, but Pete was right. Besides, Mama caved once -- she'd cave again. "When do you want to...?"

"Umm, let's not rush it," Pete murmured. "It'll happen when we're ready." The reality was that Pete was doing serious soul-searching since discovering that Bianca was so young. While he knew that it would be unwise to let on, his ardor had cooled quite a bit. "We can go swimming again tomorrow, or whatever."

"Okay, I'll see you then." Bianca reluctantly let him go. There was still some question in her mind whether the golden opportunity had been allowed to slip away or not -- but that had really happened in Mister Jason's office, not out here in the hallway. Sighing, she headed back toward her rooms.