Part I

Brian's was a tavern owned and run by a friend of mine. I liked it because he imported real English draught ale to go with his authentic pub dinners. I was sitting at my favorite table, sipping my pint of bitter and awaiting my order of fish and chips. Sitting at the bar was a young woman I hadn't seen before. She was a pretty blond, petite and dressed in office attire. At another table were a pair of players, and they looked like they were looking for some action.

I saw one of the players buy the blond girl a drink -- another glass of red wine. The bargirl pointed in their direction. Blondie lifted her glass to them; then hopped off her stool to join them.

I watched as the three of them flirted. Then I saw it: Player 1 distracted Blondie and Player 2 slipped some crystals into her drink.

I got up from my table and went to Al, a linebacker on the local college football team who works part-time as Brian's bouncer. I filled him in on what I had seen. He gave the barmaid a sign to phone the cops and headed toward the table to have a word with the players.

Al tried to detain the two jokers until the authorities arrived, but they slipped away from him when they saw the red and blue lights flashing outside. Meanwhile, I sat at the table to check on the bewildered girl.

"What's going on?" she asked. "They weren't causing any trouble."

"I saw one of them slip something into your drink," I replied.

She lifted her glass -- now empty -- and looked in the bottom. Some granules remained in the pool of leftover wine. "Oh, my God... Excuse me -- I'm gonna go try to throw up." She stood and steadied herself on the back of a chair. "Oh, I feel so odd..."

"If you're feeling it," I said, "even if you could force yourself to vomit, it's probably too late. It's already in your system."

"I'm so dizzy."

"Sit down." She sat, folded her arms on the table and put her head on them.

By now the cops were here and Al and I filled them in. One of them used his radio to call an ambulance.

The paramedics arrived. By now Blondie was in the thrall of whatever drug they slipped her. She was incoherent and very suggestive. We had no trouble getting her to the ambulance and strapped onto the stretcher.

The cops had gone through her bag. Her only ID was an out-of-state driver's license -- her name was Chloe Sanger, and she was 27 years old, though she could've passed for nineteen.

Al and I gave statements to the cops and descriptions as best we could of the two players. Then I hopped in my car and headed to the hospital. When I arrived the ambulance was pulling away from the emergency entrance.

I went to the desk and gave my name. "Was a Chloe Sanger admitted?" I asked.

"Are you a relative?"

"No -- I'm the guy that called 911," I replied making a small white lie. "I wanted to see if she's all right."

"Have a seat."

I sat in the chair and waited. Night turned to dawn and I still waited. The shift changed. Finally, around eight in the morning I saw Chloe come from the emergency department, escorted by a nurse.

She approached me. "They say you're the one who intervened."

"Yeah, that's right."

"I guess I owe you some thanks."

"It's all right -- I'd have done it for anyone."

"I can't believe you stayed here all night. Don't you have someplace better to be?"

"In fact ... no. I wanted to make sure you were all right. How are you feeling?"

"Like my head is full of cotton. They're releasing me, though."

"What did they do to you? Pump your stomach?"

"I don't know. I don't remember anything. I tell you, it's an experience waking up in a hospital and not remembering how you got there."

"What did they tell you?"

"They said they found rohypnol in my system."

"Rohypnol, huh?"

"They said it's a date-rape drug."

"They're releasing you? Do you have a ride home?"

"I'll call a cab."

I shook my head. "My car is in the lot. I'll drive you. Back to Brian's to pick up your car?"

"I don't think I'm in any shape to drive -- I'm still pretty woozy. Best to take me to my apartment so I can sleep it off. I'll deal with the car later. I already called my office and told them I was taking a day off."

"Let's get out of here, then. I hate hospitals. They're full of sick people."

She wasn't too steady on her feet, so I supported her as we walked toward my car. "Where's your apartment?" I asked her.

"Do you know the Towers?"

"Yeah..." I started the motor and headed there. "How long have you been in town?"

"About six months."

"Here to stay?"

"Yeah -- I came for a job."

"You ought to change your driver's license. It could be a problem if you get stopped."

"I know..."

"It wouldn't hurt to put an emergency call number in your cell phone directory, too.."

"You're sounding like my mom."

"What do you remember from last night?" I asked.

"I remember two guys buying me a drink ... and a confrontation with a big Black guy..."

"That was Al -- Brian's bouncer."

"After that it gets hazy... It's a new experience for me -- blacking out like that. I never drink so much I black out. Never."

"It wasn't the drink, Chloe. They slipped you a roofie."

"That's what they told me at the hospital."

"Are you attached at all?"

"No. Not at the moment."

"I didn't think so -- otherwise you wouldn't be flirting at Brian's."

"I don't flirt... I imagine you're single, too."

"Yeah, good guess."

"It's no guess. I can't imagine explaining to a wife that you spent the night hanging around a hospital waiting to see if some strange girl is okay." She rubbed her forehead. "God I feel awful."

"We're almost there." I pulled into the Towers lot and parked the car. "I'll walk you to your door."

She opened the lobby door with a passcard and called for an elevator. We walked the corridor to her apartment and she unlocked the door. "Thanks again," she said.

"Here." I opened my wallet and handed her my business card. "In case you need me as a witness or anything."

"Oh, wait..." She retrieved a small cardboard box, opened it and handed me her card. "As long as we're exchanging cards ... I just got these at work and haven't had time to open them."

"Put one of those in your bag, too. Good bye, Chloe."

I was sitting at my laptop when the phone rang, so I picked it up. "It's Chloe," came the voice at the other end.

"Chloe -- I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

"Umm... I have a gift certificate that's good for dinner for two at the Winery. Would you like to come with me?"

"It's a nice place. When?"

"Say Friday?"

"Sure. Meet you there?"

"Yes... No -- I don't know my way around this town yet. Why don't you pick me up? You know where I live."

"What time?"

"I'll make reservations for seven. See you then."

I rang her bell at the lobby door. "I'll be right down," she said through the intercom.

I waited outside the door and saw her. Her eyes met mine and she flashed me a sweet smile.

She really was very pretty, cleaned up and dressed up. Her honey blond hair was trimmed in bangs. In back she wore it in a ponytail tied with a ribbon in a bow. Her blue-grey eyes were brighter and more alive than the last time I had seen her.

I escorted her to my car and we headed toward the restaurant.

"I don't think I properly thanked you for what you did," she said. "That's why I wanted to do this."

"Like I said -- I'd have done it for anyone."

"But you didn't do it for anyone. You did it for me. I told some of my co-workers what happened. One of the girls took me aside and told me she had been raped -- not with a date- rape drug, but... Well, she told me the hell she went through -- with the police and how it destroyed her sense of self-worth and sent her into a depression and she nearly committed suicide. Then, there was the trial and the defense attorney tried to lay the blame on her, so she had to live through it all over again and she's still in therapy for it." Chloe looked into my eyes. "You didn't just save me from those two guys. You saved me from all that, too. There's no way I can adequately thank you."

We arrived at the restaurant. "Reservations for Sanger," she told the hostess and we were led to a table.

I looked over the menu. "Have you been here before?" she asked.

"A couple times."

"What's good?"

"It's all good. The beef Wellington is excellent."

"Maybe I'll have that."

I flicked through the wine list. The waiter came to take our orders. "Two Wellingtons, I said, "and a bottle of Chateneuf-du-Pape.

"Very good, sir."

Chloe gave me a panicked look. "The gift certificate doesn't cover wine."

"It's okay -- I'll buy the wine." I figured that way I could justify leaving a healthy tip. Even though the meals were covered by her gift certificate, the wait staff worked just as hard.

The waiter returned with the wine, I reviewed the label and nodded. He pulled the cork and started to pour. I held up my hand. "Let it breathe until the entree comes and pour it then."

I regarded Chloe.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"You remind me of my older sister," I replied. "She had your color hair and eyes ... about your build. She was about your age, too ... when she died."

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. How did it happen?"

"It was an accident. I miss her."

"I'm sure you do."

"Maybe that's why I reacted the way I did when I saw that punk dump stuff into your drink." I sipped some water. "Chloe -- an unusual name. I like it. It fits you."

"Thanks. Actually my real name is even more unusual. Chloe is my middle name. My full name is Lichna Chloe ... Lichna Chloe Sanger."

"Lichna?" I looked at her. "It's vaguely familiar."

She rolled her eyes. "It's from Dune. My parents were huge Frank Herbert fans."

"Lichna... I think it fits you, too."

"No it doesn't. It might suit some olive-skinned girl from Greece, but not me."

The salad courses came. I picked up some on a fork. "I was looking at your card," I said. "I see you work for an investment company."

"Yes -- I'm a bond analyst. It's a pretty high-pressure job. One mistake could cost our clients millions of dollars ... so my boss has a very low tolerance for mistakes."

"High-pressure? That's why you need to unwind at a place like Brian's?"

"It was a particularly tense day."

"How many millions did you cost your clients?"

She smiled. "None -- but it was tense nonetheless." She ate half a cherry tomato. "I see you're an environmental consultant."

"Yeah. I work out of my house."

"Does it keep you busy?"

"Busy enough."

The waiter bussed away the salad plates and brought the entrees. He started away. "Excuse me," I called. "Now you may pour the wine."

"I'm sorry, sir..."

He put a splash in my glass. I gave it a taste and nodded. He filled Chloe's glass and mine.

She sipped hers. "This is very good."

"It's my favorite ... and it goes exceedingly well with the Wellington.

I parked the car in the Towers lot and walked Chloe to the lobby door. "Thanks for dinner," I said. "I had a great time."

"So did I ... but..."

"But what?"

"I wanted to treat you but with you buying the wine it felt more like you were treating me."

"Consider it a joint venture."

"I'd love it if you'd come up to my place for a nightcap," she said.

I was about to accept, but I checked myself. "I really need to be going."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Good night, Chloe."

"Okay then... Good night." She buzzed the door open with her passcard and I watched her disappear into the lobby.

I pulled my car out of the lot and headed for the townhouse condo I called home. Did I do the right thing turning down her offer? In the long run, probably.

The next day was Saturday. I was in my garage when I heard the phone ring. I answered it. "Hi, it's Chloe. I need some help."

I could discern agitation in her voice. "Chloe -- What's wrong?"

"Do you know anything about cars?"

"Enough to be really dangerous. What's wrong?"

"Mine won't start."

What happens when you try to start it?"

"It clicks."

"Sounds like a dead battery. I'll come over and give you a jump."

I made sure the cables were in my trunk and headed over there. I reached the Towers lot and called her from my cell. She came down and directed me to where she was parked.

Her car was blocked in so it was difficult to get close enough for a boost, but I jockeyed onto the sidewalk and opened my hood. I had her pop the one on her car.

Then I set the cables in place and gunned my engine. "Let it charge for a minute or two," I yelled over the roar of my motor. I sat behind the wheel and twiddled my thumbs. "Okay," I hollered, "try it."

She hit her key and her motor turned and caught. I jumped out and pulled the cables off her battery. Her car ran for a bit, sputtered and died.

"Uh-oh," I said. "Looks like it's not your battery but your alternator."

"What does that do?"

"It keeps your battery charged. If it dies you can drive around for a while on the charge in the battery ... 'til it runs down. Didn't you see a light on your dash?"

"No... How much will it cost to get it fixed?"

"I dunno. Is it under warranty?"

"No."

I thought for a moment. "...probably anywhere from two-fifty to four hundred. When you get it to the shop, insist they put in a rebuilt alternator. That'll save you a hundred or so."

"Now I have to have it towed..."

"I have an idea -- I have a trickle charger back at my place. I'll run over there and get it. We'll take your battery out and put it on the charger overnight. That should give you enough juice in your battery to drive it to the shop or dealer."

"Okay."

"I'll be right back."

I pulled back into the Towers lot. With me I had my toolbox, a plastic laundry tub and the charger. I saw Chloe posing like a pinup girl on the hood of her car, waiting for me. She was wearing cutoff shorts and flipflops. I hadn't realized what terrific legs she had.

She saw me coming and hopped onto the pavement. I parked, set my toolbox into the tub and headed to her car.

"Pop the hood," I said and set to work trying to break loose the frozen threads on the nuts holding her battery in place. Finally I got the cables off and the restraining bracket loosened and I lifted the heavy sow out of her engine compartment. I set it in the laundry tub.

"The charger's on my back seat," I said. Chloe retrieved it; and, grunting, I carried the laundry tub into the apartment building.

The elevator came and I set the tub down. "The sucker's heavy," I said.

"How much does it weigh?"

"Fifty ... sixty pounds. It's why I put it in the tub -- carrying handles."

The elevator stopped on her floor and she opened the door. I set down the battery, hooked up the charger and plugged it in. "Okay," I said, "tomorrow I'll come back and put the battery back in your car. By then it should have a full charge, and you should be able to make it to the shop. It should save you the towing fee. Is there someplace I can wash my hands?"

"Bathroom's over there." Chloe pointed. "Use one of the towels by the sink."

Chloe kept her place neat. I can't do that -- the clutter piles up until I get fed up and fill a dozen garbage bags with the stuff. Not only was her place neat, it was clean. Everything sparkled.

I finished in the bathroom and approached her. "I suppose you discovered your car problem when you went out on some errand."

"That's a pretty good supposition," she replied.

"Do you need to go somewhere? I'd be happy to drive you."

"I was going to the grocery," she replied.

"Come on then... I'll take you there."

I carried two grocery bags into Chloe's apartment and set them in her kitchen.

"Now," she said, "I REALLY owe you something."

"No you don't. I had fun shopping with you."

"So did I and I usually hate grocery shopping. I have to do something for you, though... How about if I treat you to the best pizza Domino's can deliver?"

"That would be great."

She placed the call while I stood looking out her window. I didn't want to sit on her furniture for fear of crumbing it up.

She approached me with a bottle. "You know something about wine. Is this okay with pizza?"

I took it. "Lambrusco... That's perfect. Put it on ice -- it should be served chilled. It's a red with a bit of a sparkle ... informal, just right for pizza or spaghetti and meatballs."

Her intercom buzzed. She buzzed the pizza guy into the building and handed him some bills from her purse while I opened and poured the Lambrusco. We sat across from each other.

"This really hits the spot," I said. "I was hungry."

"Something's missing, though," she said and stood to retrieve an object from a cabinet. It was a shaker filled with dried, red pepper flakes. She sprinkled a generous amount onto her pizza.

"Can I see that?" I asked. She passed it to me and I put some on mine. "You like hot food?"

"Oh, yes," she replied. "I'm especially fond of Thai, but there isn't a good Thai place in this town."

"I make a couple of Thai things. I'll have you over for some."

"Will you really?"

"Certainly."

She pushed a piece of pizza crust around on her plate. "You know, I was a bit surprised when you didn't accept my invitation to come up for a nightcap last night."

"Chloe, I'm sorry..."

"I'm not accustomed to having that sort of an offer turned down."

"I believe you. You're a very pretty woman, Chloe."

"I don't issue them willy-nilly, you know. I'm not that kind of a girl. I was afraid there was something about me, personally, you don't like."

"No, Chloe. I like you. I find you attractive and fun to be with."

"What was it then?"

"Chloe ... I'm not ready for a romantic involvement."

"Did you think that was what it would be?"

"Isn't that usually what a nightcap implies?"

"I suppose it is. Why aren't you ready?"

"I'd rather not go into it."

"Can't you give me a hint?" she asked.

"Let's just say I'm coming off an unpleasant experience. I need to grow some emotional scar tissue over a wound before I try flexing it again."

"I see..." She sipped her wine. "I'm sorry to hear it."

"Do you feel the sparkles on your tongue?" I asked.

"Yes... You're right, it is very good." She looked up at me. "I won't deny that I find you attractive, also. You're not like the other men I deal with day-to-day. They're businessmen ... bond traders and managers. You're different."

"I'm a businessman, too. I run my own business."

"Yes but in your case it's a means to an end and not an end in itself. You're an environmental consultant. Your focus is ... the environment. There's something holistic in the way you think and it permeates your personality."

"Do you really think so?"

"I do. I find it irresistible"

"No one's ever told me that before."

"I have good instincts. I can tell when something's good or not. It helps me in my work."

"You weren't such a good judge the other night at Brian's."

"Touché. I wasn't interested in either of them. I was thanking them for the drink. It was the one time I didn't listen to my instinct."

"Your instinct told you to stay put?"

"Right. I'll never make that mistake again."

Chloe drained her wineglass. I refilled it and she drank it down to a half.

"If you're not ready for romance," she said, "would you consider a strictly physical relationship?"

Her question made me choke on my wine. I coughed and sputtered until I had gotten it out of my windpipe.

"I've never been in that kind of relationship before."

"Neither have I. Actually, I find myself in a similar situation as you..." She rolled her eyes. "...on the rebound, so to speak. I'm a little frightened of commitment, too. We could do it just for fun... no strings."

I gazed at her honey colored hair, blue eyes and creamy complexion.

She looked down at her plate. "I'm sorry -- it was a stupid thing to suggest. I feel like an idiot now."

"Not so stupid, Chloe. I was just thinking."

"Thinking what?"

"I'm thinking that I don't have any condoms on me."

She smiled. "It's okay. I'm on the pill, and I don't have any diseases." She smiled and arched her eyebrows. "So, unless there's something you need to tell me..."

"No..." I pointed to the pizza box. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, I think so."

I started to pick up the plates. "I'll help you clean up."

"No -- I'll do it." She picked up the wine bottle. "There's a little left."

I poured it into the two glasses. "We'll save these for the bedroom."

"Good idea."

She returned from the kitchen and I picked up the glasses. "Bedroom's over here."

Her chamber was immaculate, like the rest of her apartment. I set the glasses on her nightstand.

"Before we go any further," she said, "some ground rules. No blowjobs..."

"That's okay -- I don't like 'em."

"You don't?"

"No... Oral on you okay?"

"Yeah... Rule number two -- no facials."

"I don't do 'em," I replied. "I think it's degrading."

She smiled. "Rule number three -- no anal."

"I guess you can't have everything."

"Tell me, do you like lingerie?" she asked.

"It doesn't look good on me."

"Silly... No -- do you like it on women?"

"Of course -- what guy doesn't?"

"What would be your notion of perfect lingerie?"

"Hmm... The material would need to be smooth. My hands can get rough and I hate getting snagged on fabric. It also needs to be supple so it covers like a coat of paint."

"Long or short?"

"If it's long it needs to be slit up to here." I pointed to my hip.

"See-through?"

"Doesn't really matter."

"What color?"

"Doesn't matter, either."

She nodded her head toward her closet, one of the walk-in variety. The racks on one wall were filled with the stuff. "My goodness, Chloe..."

"I love lingerie. I make it myself. It's a hobby of mine. Sometimes I sell it on eBay, but I haven't in a while." She removed a hanger. On it was a short nightgown of metallic gold. "Would this do?"

I ran my thumb along the material -- it was smooth and supple. "This is amazing fabric, Chloe."

"I know. Most metallics are rough. This is so smooth. I don't know how they did it. I spotted it at the fabric store and I had to have it." She held it against herself. The hem was cut at a rakish diagonal, with the right side at her hip and the left near her knee. In back the diagonal repeated in the opposite direction.

"That's beautiful, Chloe."

"It's my own design. The top's a halter. The waistband hooks closed here. There's a jacket that goes with it. This one's a virgin."

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't slept in it yet."

"Or, made love in it?"

"Not yet... Will it do?"

"Of course it will."

"I'll go put it on."

I undressed to my briefs, folded my duds and stacked them on a chair. Then I turned down her bedcovers, making as neat and sharp of an angle with the folds as I could.

Chloe came into her bedroom barefoot, with her hair in a ponytail. I gazed at her shapely legs -- she had pretty feet, too. I had never slept with a prettier woman. She pulled the scrunchie out of her ponytail and shook her hair. It fell to her shoulder blades and framed her face.

"You look gorgeous, Chloe," I said. "I'd never believe that gown was home-made. It looks off-the-rack. It looks better than off-the-rack." She approached me and I handed her a wineglass. We clinked rims. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

Chloe emptied her glass in a couple of gulps. We faced each other. I kissed her lips. She held the back of my head and we kissed again.

I slipped the jacket off her shoulders. Then I put one arm behind her back and the other under her knees, picked her up and set her in her bed. I slid in beside her.

We lay, gazing into each other's eyes and stroking each other's faces. "I'm starting to feel the wine," she said. "When I close my eyes it feels like the room is moving."

"Then don't close them. You have pretty eyes."

"You think so? The color's rather nondescript don't you think?"

"It suits you. No -- I was looking at your whole eye ... the shape."

"What do you like about it?"

"Where the fold in your eyelid comes. Do you use eye makeup?"

"Not much ... maybe a little liner. I washed it off before I came in here."

"The natural look suits you. You have such a pretty face, Chloe. I don't think there's anything you could put on it that would make you more beautiful."

She closed her eyes and made a little snort. "That sounds like a crock."

"I mean it."

"I know you do." She touched my cheek. "You're sincere ... I feel that from you." She kissed my lips.

I sat up, my back against her headboard. "Sit here," I said patting the mattress between my legs She snuggled against me, her back against my chest. I pressed my lips against her head and the fragrance of her hair filled my nostrils. I gazed at her legs, stretched out beside mine.

Chloe had a gorgeous back and sexy shoulder blades. I caressed her arms and ran the backs of my hands along the sides of her breasts.

Then, I cupped my fingers over her breasts and stroked them up and down through the smooth and supple fabric. I could feel her nipples beginning to firm up from the stimulation. She arched her back a bit and drew in a deep breath. "Mmm... that feels good," she said.

I wanted to touch all of her at once. Her breasts, her arms, her abdomen, her thighs, her knees... I kissed her neck and shoulder. She ran her hand along my leg.

"Oh," she said, "you have a nice touch. I really like your pacing."

"What do you mean?"

"You touch me here..." She guided my hand to her breast.

"Like this?" I ran my fingertips across her now very firm nipple.

"Yes... Then you go elsewhere and come back... It's like a tease... it makes me want more."

"More?"

"Uh-uh."

I put my fingers against her nipples and began a slow, circular massage. "Like this?"

She squeezed my thighs. "Mmm... makes me want more-more-more..."

I went underneath the fabric and began pinching her nipples, my fingers against her skin. Chloe arched her back and let out a soft moan. "Just do this for a while ... this and the wine ... feels so good ... so good... There's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"I can't touch you lying like this."

She sat up, turned around and knelt, straddling my knees. I could see she was wearing a pair of black, high-cut briefs under her gown.

Chloe reached behind her neck, untied her halter and let it drop. I found myself gazing on her breasts. They were the size of navel oranges -- the perfect proportion for her slender frame. Her nipples were thick and fleshy and she had large, pale, oval areolas.

I reached for both her breasts and rolled her nipples. She leaned over me. I kissed her nipple; then drew it into my mouth and tongued it.

"On the nightstand," she said, "there's a bottle of hand lotion."

I turned, grabbed it and squirted some into my palm. "Smells good -- what is it?"

"Lily-of-the-valley."

I held it for a few moments to take the chill off, dipped my fingers into it and smeared it onto her nipples. The lotion made her skin so slippery that, as I massaged her I could discern the internal tissue structures of her breast.

Chloe lifted her face. "Ohhhh... This feels soooo good." Her thighs began to tense as I squeezed her areolas and nipples. She put her hands on my chest and began caressing and stroking me.

I put my hand on her thigh and slid it until I reached her mons and with my thumb I massaged her slit through the fabric of her briefs. "Are you ready for something more?" I asked.

"Mmm..." She climbed off my legs and lay on her back. I reached under the hem of her nightie, grabbed the waistband of her briefs -- a thong, I discovered -- and slipped them off. I was in for a surprise.

"Hey -- you're shaved!" I exclaimed. "Shaved clean."

"Is that okay?"

"It's your body... I've never encountered it before. My last girlfriend didn't shave at all."

"Not at all?"

"Nope. Why did you do it?"

"Because... I like how it feels -- I feel sexier like this. And it makes me look better in lingerie. Maybe I should model some of my designs for you sometime."

"That sounds like a really good idea." I cupped my hand over her smooth mons. "This does feel different, Chloe..." With the tips of my fingers I explored her smooth labia and stroked her slit with my knuckle.

With my tongue I dampened my middle finger and worked it into her slit. I hardly needed any extra moisture -- she was a bubbling volcano down there. I explored her anatomy and found the landmarks; then began stroking her firm little clit.

"Over to the side a bit," she said and guided my finger. "There ... right there... long strokes up and down... Oh, God that feels good."

I slipped my free arm around her shoulders, held her and gazed into her blue-grey eyes. I like looking into a woman's face as she comes, and Chloe's face was gorgeous.

Her breathing deepened and I watched her breasts move with each breath. Her eyelids drooped and her head fell to the side. I could see her pulse throbbing in her neck, and I kept an eye on that spot.

I maintained as steady a rhythm on her clit as I could manage. She began to sing to me -- Mmm ... mmm ... mmm... with each exhale. I watched her pulse accelerate. Her lips parted and she began panting.

Her thighs began trembling. Then, she closed her eyes, her whole body went limp and her breathing slowed to normal. I wondered if I was doing something wrong until I glanced at her pulse in her neck. Her heart was racing. I kept stroking her.

I leaned over and kissed her left nipple; then I drew it into my mouth and massaged it against my teeth with my tongue. She tasted of soapy sweetness from the hand lotion, but I didn't care. I loved feeling the texture of her skin, and how her heart was pounding, now so hard I could hear it.

Chloe drew in a deep breath. "Oh, more!" she gasped. "MORE!" I rubbed her clit as hard as I could. "Ohhh!" she grunted, arched her back and groaned. "Oh, God!" she gasped, pounded the mattress, grabbed my arm and dug her nails into my skin.

Then, she reached for my wrist. I lifted my hand from her mons. She lay on her back, gasping. A mottled flush covered her neck and upper chest.

"Good?" I asked. All she could do was nod and pant.

Chloe began to catch her breath. I lay on my back, stripped my briefs off, coaxed her atop me, found the right spot and pushed into her. She locked her legs with mine and I reached under the hem of her gown and caressed her firm buttocks.

Part II

Daylight woke me. Chloe was asleep, still clinging to me. I stroked her cheek and she opened her eyes. "Good morning," I said.

"Mmm ... good morning."

"How did you sleep?"

"Deliciously."

I rolled onto my back and she snuggled against me. I kissed the top of her head. "Are you hungry?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact I am. I usually don't eat breakfast, but today I think I'd like some. Unfortunately I don't have any breakfast food."

"I think I'll take a shower."

"Me, too."

"I'll go first. While you're taking yours I'll run over to the market and get something for breakfast -- if you'll let me borrow your keys."

"Sounds good." I climbed out of her bed. "Last night I set out a towel for you -- the blue one."

"You think ahead."

"I'm detail-oriented."

I showered, returned to the bedroom with the towel around my waist and put on the clothes I wore yesterday. "I wish I had brought a bag," I said.

"Here -- the key to the apartment and the passcard for the front door."

"I'll be back." I kissed her lips.

I pulled out of the apartment parking and headed to the grocery. I wanted to kick myself for letting it happen. Not that it wasn't good -- Chloe was a delightful girl. It's just ... I didn't want an entanglement right now -- not so soon after. I should've known better -- I can't have sex with someone unless I care for her; so conversely if I have sex with her it means I've started caring for her. The vibes I got from Chloe said the feeling was mutual.

As I strolled the aisles in the grocery I weighed whether I should try to cool it now or see what turns it took. Maybe it would be best to hit the brakes, before the feelings started taking root for good. I didn't want to get hurt again, and I certainly didn't want to hurt her.

I let myself back into the building with the passcard and into her apartment with her key. I set down my purchases -- some Canadian bacon, eggs, English muffins, black olives -- onto her kitchen counter. The other item I bought -- a big box of trash bags -- I left in my car.

I could hear the shower running; then I heard it cut out. I rapped on the bathroom door. "Chloe... I'm back."

"Okay... I put coffee on."

"I can smell it."

I made myself at home in her kitchen, boiling water to poach eggs, toasting the muffins and whipping up the sauce. She came out of the bathroom in a mid-thigh-length and three-quarter-sleeved robe of sheer black. Her hair was in a towel.

"Did you make that, too?"

"Yes -- it's my favorite morning-after robe."

"Did you make that thong you had on last night?"

"No, I didn't make that."

She poured two cups of coffee and I set a plate before her. "Ooo... Eggs Benedict!" she exclaimed.

"Enjoy."

She picked up her coffee cup and warmed her hands on it. "I had a really good time last night," she said. "The companionship, the pizza, the wine, the conversation, the sex -- it was all first-rate."

"I had a great time, too."

"We should do it again, some time," she replied.

"I'd really like to." So much for hitting the brakes.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "I really liked it that you made sure I was satisfied before you took your pleasure."

"My motto is, ladies first."

"Well, it meant a lot to me."

"Do you have plans today?" I asked. "I can drive you."

"I need to get some things done around here," she replied.

"Chloe -- this place is immaculate. What needs doing?"

She smiled. "I do have things I need to do today. Really..." She took a bite. "The eggs are wonderful. Did you make the sauce from scratch?"

"Yes, indeed."

"I'm impressed."

"It's easy -- equal parts mayo and yogurt, a squeeze of lemon and a dash of mustard ... instant Hollandaise from scratch."

"It's wonderful," she replied and pressed her hand against her stomach, "very satisfying the morning after."

I helped her clean up her kitchen; then I checked on her battery.

"How's it doing?" she asked.

I pointed to the ammeter on the charger. "It's still taking a charge. I think we should let it cook a while longer. I have some errands to do, too. Suppose I come back later and put it back into your car then?"

"Okay -- I won't go far."

"I'll give you a call." I picked up my keys. "Well -- see you later I guess."

I kissed her forehead. She hooked her arm around my neck and gave me a big snog on the lips.

I headed back to my place with the box of trash bags and surveyed the mess. No time like the present, I figured. I shook open a trash bag and started filling it

By late afternoon I had filled my garage with trash bags to go to the curb during the week and had run the vacuum around the place. It was starting to look less like a disaster area. I picked up the phone and dialed Chloe's number.

"Hi, it's me. Okay if I come by and do your battery?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Care for some dinner?"

"I already ate. Sorry."

"It's okay," I replied. "I'll grab something on my way."

I arrived at the Towers lot sucking down the last of a milkshake and tossed the empty onto the floor of the passenger side. Then I grabbed my toolbox and headed for the lobby door. Chloe buzzed me in and I headed for her place.

I carried the battery to her car, set it in place and reconnected the cables. Then I gave Chloe the sign and she turned her key. The car roared to life.

"Kill it," I said. "Remember -- only drive it to the shop."

"Got it."

I stashed the bucket and charger in my car. "I'll be on my way -- as soon as I wash my hands."

"Come on up."

She let me into her apartment and I headed for her bathroom. As I washed my hands I saw something hanging from the shower rod -- a red, open-top fountain syringe. I was sure it hadn't been there earlier when I took my shower. It's the sort of thing I would've noticed.

I thought maybe Chloe used it to douche, but when I examined it I saw it had the enema tip attached to the hose.

I stepped from the bathroom. "Chloe," I said, "do you take enemas?"

She took a step back and her face turned white. "N-n-no ... w-what makes you..."

"The fountain syringe hanging from the shower rod. I know it wasn't there this morning."

"Oh, my God..." Her face turned from white to deep red. "I must've forgotten to put it away..." Chloe sat down hard onto her sofa. The color was draining from her face again.

"Chloe, are you all right?"

"I feel faint..."

"Put your head between your knees." I stroked her back. "Are you all right, now?"

"I think so." She started to sit up.

"Stay there for a while."

She rested for a while as I caressed her back; then she sat up and pressed her hand to her chest. "I thought I was having a heart attack. I told myself if anyone ever found out I'd die of embarrassment. I seriously thought it was happening." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm so humiliated. You must think I'm some wierdo."

"I do not. Nothing could be further from the truth."

"Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I won't if you don't want me to."

"Oh, God..." She started sobbing.

"It's okay, Chloe," I said. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I have an apparatus just like it hanging from the shower rod at my house."

She looked at me from behind her hands. "You do? You take enemas, too?"

"Yeah -- they're great. I love 'em." Color started returning to her face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She sat staring at her feet. "I don't know."

"Do you want some time to think about it?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"I don't know."

"Can you say anything but 'I don't know?'"

"I don't know."

"Maybe I should go. Why don't we plan on getting together during the week, after you've had a chance to calm down and think about it? I'll call you and we can meet somewhere after dinner -- or, right here -- and talk."

"I don't know."

"I'll be on my way, then. I'll call... See you later, Chloe."

I headed toward the door and unfastened the deadbolt. "Wait," she called. "Don't go." I bolted the door again and sat on a chair across from her. "I'll tell you the whole story. My parents were a couple of hippies -- into alternative lifestyles. Hence the Dune stuff."

"Hence the name Lichna."

"Yeah ... My siblings had similar names ... Harrah ... Farok... We all went by our middle names. My dad especially was into naturopathic medicine -- preventive mainly. Some of it was from ayurvedic, some homeopathy and some of his own synthesis. We never went to the doctor and we never had vaccinations ... and, we never got sick."

"So, I guess it worked."

"Maybe... Part of his regimen was regular enemas. Like I said I don't know where he got it from, but they're one of my earliest recollections. It was part of a weekly routine -- giving our insides a bath, he said. I never questioned them and I never minded them ... in fact I thought they felt kinda good ... especially the way he gave them."

"How long did this go on?"

"'Til I was seven or eight." She drew in a deep breath. "My brother made a comment about the enemas to one of his teachers. That did it. We were all dragged into the school nurse's office and interrogated. After that, some social worker got on the case and we were questioned ... my parents were questioned. Eventually they decided it wasn't a case of child abuse and dropped it, but none of us ever received another enema."

"Typical," I replied. "It really makes me angry when the government starts poking its nose into law-abiding folks' family practices."

"Tell me about it. A couple times the cops raided our house, looking for drugs. Some neighbor who didn't agree with how we lived must've phoned in a tip that my folks were growing the stuff. Of course they never found anything."

"What happened next?"

"The embarrassing part... When I was about twelve I started giving myself enemas."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"We're back to that, are we?"

"No -- I really don't know. Even though they stopped giving us enemas they didn't discard the equipment. My folks never threw anything away. I came across it and it invoked ... feelings. I discovered a little instruction booklet that described the procedure. I read it over and over and eventually tried it and I liked how it made me feel."

"You said you enjoyed them from the start."

"It's more complicated than that. Yes, I liked feeling the water flowing in me and the fullness. And, the sensation afterwards -- after your third or fourth and the last of the enema works its way down from deep inside you and you push it out..."

"I know that sensation well," I interrupted.

"...I live for that sensation; and for the relaxed, tranquil, empty feeling afterward that lingers into the next day." She pressed her hand against her abdomen. "I discovered all that. But there was something else I discovered ... a thrill."

"Something sexual?"

"I didn't realize what it was 'til I was older, but yes, that. From that point on, they've been part of me -- a secret part ... a guilty pleasure. Sometimes I do use them ... to help me ... you know ... get off. Most of the time it's because ... because if I go a week without one I start feeling lousy. My stomach starts to bag out. They're part of my routine -- every Saturday night."

"Except last night."

"Right -- since you were staying over I decided to do it this morning instead." Tears started rolling down her face. I grabbed a facial tissue and handed it to her. "My love life has revolved around them ... around protecting my secret. As soon as I get serious with a boyfriend ... if he starts spending too much time hanging around ... I pull the plug." She sobbed. "I knew it was a matter of time before it happened with you."

"Chloe... It doesn't diminish how I feel for you. In fact it strengthens it."

"How?"

"First, there is nothing wrong with what you're doing. Just because it isn't mainstream doesn't make it wrong. Do you understand?"

"I'm trying."

"How does it hurt anyone?"

"I don't know... I guess it doesn't."

"Have you ever gone on line and looked up enema sites?"

"No..."

"You ought to. It'll dispel any notion that what you're doing is wrong."

"I'll try that."

"Second -- since I'm into this activity myself ... this is something we can share -- it makes you my dream girl. Do you understand that?"

She began laughing and crying at the same time. "I'm beginning to."

"Finally -- You needed enormous courage to tell me what you did -- courage and trust. I'm in awe of you for that. I just hope I'm worthy of it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Really, really?"

"Really, really."

"Really, really, really?"

"An infinite times really," I replied. "So all this time you've kept your enemas in the closet."

"Deep in the closet. I can't believe I was so careless today."

"I believe everything happens for a reason." I sat on the sofa beside her and she snuggled against me.

"How did you get started?" she asked.

"You know -- that question occupies every enemaphile when he meets another. How DOES one get started putting a hose up one's butt and filling oneself with water?" She shifted how she was sitting so her legs rested across mine. I caressed her smooth thigh. "I had my first enema at a chiropractor's office."

"They do that?"

"Where I grew up they did. I was nineteen and I had thrown out my back, pinched a nerve and it gave me a bad case of constipation. The enemas -- and the adjustments helped. The fact the enemas were administered by a comely female chiro technician helped, too. Well, after about two hundred forty-seven sessions I figured out how to adjust my own back ... and give myself my own enema. Like you, I discovered the sexual dimension. Unlike you, I never kept it in the closet. I always told my partners about it ... once I got to know them well enough. There are two crisis points in my relationships. The first is when I admit using them to my partner."

"How have they taken it?"

"Most were okay with it."

"What's the second?"

"It's when I suggest we try including them in our love play."

"You do that?"

"We both know there's a sexual element. Why not exploit it? Variety is the spice of life. It's the spice of sex, too."

"That makes sense ... I guess. How have they reacted to that?"

"Not so well. It was the second crisis that caused the wheels to fall off my most recent relationship."

"That's what you were reluctant to tell me."

"I would've gotten around to it -- once I was comfortable enough. I haven't found a woman who was into it."

She grasped my hand and squeezed it. "You mean, 'til now."

"It's what I'm hoping." I continued stroking her legs and holding her around her shoulders. I could feel her body relaxing. "Do you see this was a lot of anxiety over nothing?"

"I'm starting to..."

"Tell me what your regimen is like," I asked her.

"Is this like show-me-yours and I'll-show-you-mine?"

"Sort of..."

"It usually takes me three to feel really clean inside. I love that feeling."

"You don't need to sell me. What temperature do you like?"

"I make the first one pretty warm."

"You're rather petite. How much can you hold?"

"Three pints makes me pretty full -- it makes my tummy bulge."

I stroked the side of her abdomen. "Not much room to spare in there," I said. "That's something I'd like to see."

"I can't believe I'm talking to you about this."

"Don't if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It's a funny thing -- talking about it with you feels good." She cuddled closer. "I start with three pints and take as much water as will make me feel full. I try to hold it for ten minutes. For my second one I do the same. Then for my last one I fill the bag with not-as-warm water and take as much as I possibly can. Afterward I feel really good -- relaxed and ready for sleep."

"Where do you do yours?" I asked. "You don't do them in your bedroom. I didn't see any place to hang a bag. I always look."

"On the bathroom floor. I hang the bag from a towel bar."

"We should put a hook in your bedroom ceiling so you can hang it over your bed. Being comfortable makes a big difference. It really adds to the pleasure."

"I wouldn't want to make a hole in my ceiling."

"Okay..."

Chloe slipped her fingers under the placket of my shirt and stroked my chest. "Sometimes when I'm in the right mood I take another one -- in the bathtub. I run a deep, hot bath and take a warm enema while soaking. The shower head is detachable..."

"I noticed."

"Sometimes I use it ... to..."

"You use it like a vibrator."

"Yeah ... it's heaven."

"Sounds delicious," I replied. "I am in jealous awe of the female orgasm. I can only imagine what it must feel like."

"I discovered that little trick by accident once when I was staying at a spa. It was the reason I picked this apartment."

I kissed her hair. "My regimen is about the same, except I use some soapsuds in the first one."

"What does that do?"

"It gives it a bit of a kick. You don't add anything to the water?"

"No -- just plain water."

"Ever try strong coffee or alcohol?"

"No."

"Every enemaphile wants to try those at least once in his life." I caressed her knee. "Chloe -- I have an idea. Why don't I spend the night here? No expectations. We can talk and keep each other company. Then, in the morning I'll follow you to the shop and drive you to your office. I'll even pick you up at quitting time and we can fetch your car if it's done."

"I think I'd like that. What about your job?"

"I'm my own boss and I don't have to punch a clock."

"I envy you."

"It's no walk in the park, believe me... There is one problem, though. I'm still wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday. I'd really like to go back to my place and pack a bag. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise me you won't do some batshit crazy thing while I'm gone ... like having second thoughts and not answering the bell or something."

She giggled. "I promise."

"I'll see you in a little bit."

Chloe opened her door for me. I set my bag on the floor. "I have a surprise for you," I said. Then I set an object on her living room floor. It was made with two pairs of plywood legs and a piece of PVC pipe. A dowel with a hook slid inside the pipe and was held in place with a screw knob.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's a home-made enema stand. I used it for years before I bought a real I.V. stand at a rummage sale. See? The height is adjustable. Now you can take one in your bedroom without making any holes."

"You dragged that thing through the lobby? I hope no one saw you."

"Who'd know what it was for?"

I returned to her sofa. Chloe lounged against a cushion with her legs across my lap. I ran my hand along her smooth skin.

"It's beginning to sink in," she said. "I did some thinking while you were out."

"And?"

"How can you be so open about it?"

"I'm not, really. I don't advertise what I do any more than my orientation or any aspect of my love life. It's private, but it is part of me. When I find an intimate partner, I tell her."

"Aren't you afraid she'll think you're ... strange?"

I shrugged. "I AM strange. It's part of who I am. My life partner will be the woman who accepts me for what I am ... and loves me for who I am."

Chloe grabbed for a facial tissue. "I ... I ... I..."

"What is it, Chloe?"

"Oh, God why is it so hard to say?" She drew in a deep breath. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Chloe."

Now the tears began to flow. "Oh, God I never thought ... never thought anyone..." She sniffled.

"Chloe, you have an issue with conformance, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't want anyone thinking you're different. You ARE different. We're all different. I've never met another woman who makes her own lingerie. You keep even that aspect of you in the closet." Chloe began dabbing her eyes. "Do you get it yet? Chloe, I don't love you in spite of your oddities. I love you BECAUSE of them."

She lunged at me, held on tight and sobbed. I held her and stroked her back.

"They're what make you interesting," I continued. "Why would I want a girl like any other on the street?"

"I dunno..."

"I wouldn't." I pet her honey hair. "I know what it is -- why you're like this. It's because of your relationship with your parents, isn't it? They were the non-conformists."

"I think you're right. I loved them as a kid... I just wished they weren't so odd! I was so embarrassed in school. My whole life I tried to be like everyone else."

"The enemas are something we can share. It's private between us -- just you and me. That makes it all the more special, don't you think."

"I guess it does."

I held her on my lap. She grabbed the fabric of my shirt in her fist and held on. I put my arm around her and she rested her head on my shoulder. We sat, hugging each other.

"I'm still having trouble believing it," she said. "I'll be so happy with you..."

"Let's not go too far too fast, Chloe," I replied. "There's much we don't know about each other."

"I know what I need to know. I told you -- I have good instincts."

"We've known each other less than a week."

"Yes, but I feel like I've known you all my life." She looked into my eyes and then kissed my lips.

Chloe kissed me again -- this time one of the deep, open-mouth, tongues-touching variety. She began unbuttoning my shirt. I put my hand on her knee and caressed her smooth, cool skin.

"Chloe -- we don't have to prove anything tonight."

"I want to. I love you, and I feel like a boulder has been lifted from me. I want it. I want YOU."

I kissed her lips; then her chin and her neck. She caressed my face and ran her fingers through my hair.

Then she looked in my eyes. "How do you use an enema in lovemaking?" she asked.

"Use your imagination. You said you use them autoerotically. Add a partner."

"Hmmm ... interesting ... mmm ... very interesting. I think I kinda like that idea."

"Do you think you want to try it?"

"Unh-unh. I KNOW I want to try it."

I carried the home-made stand into her bedroom and adjusted the height by eye. "Is this about how you have it?" I asked.

"About... It's really cool how you made that out of ordinary materials. Why two hooks at the top?"

"In case I want to hang two bags ... dual temperature, extra volume... That sort of thing. I'll make your enema. Do you have a measure?"

"It's in the bathroom -- top cabinet. I'm going to change. I know exactly what I'm gonna wear."

I retrieved the fountain syringe and the measure from her bathroom, carried them to the kitchen and began running water. In the meantime I grabbed a box of baking soda from her cabinet, measured a couple tablespoons and dumped them into the measure.

I'm pretty good at judging temperature by feel and I wanted to make it nice and hot. I filled the measure -- it held a quart -- stirred it, dumped it in and repeated.

Chloe emerged from her bedroom barefoot and in her morning-after robe. She had tied her hair in a ponytail. I scanned her up and down -- I could tell she was wearing something black under the robe, but I couldn't see what. "Do you have the douche tip?" I asked.

"What for? I think it's in the box..." She ducked into the bathroom and returned with it. "Here ... why use this?"

"It's bigger, and there's a bulge at the tip. It's easier to hang onto." I attached it to the hose and flushed out the air. "How about some lube?" She headed back into the bathroom. "Grab a towel while you're there," I called after her.

Chloe followed me into her bedroom. I hung the bag on the stand and draped the hose over the hook. Then I spread the towel on her bed, slipped out of my shirt and jeans and softened the lights.

She untied her robe and slid it off her shoulders. Underneath she was wearing a baby doll top made of the sheerest black fabric. The hem grazed the tops of her buttocks. I could tell it was designed to be worn with a pair of briefs or tap pants, but tonight she wore nothing else. It closed at the bodice with a pair of buttons, but otherwise was open; and it left nothing to the imagination.

"Did you design that one, too?" I asked.

"Of course."

"It's sensational. You're sensational."

"I'm nervous," she replied. "My heart's pounding."

"Nothing to be afraid of. What position do you normally use?"

"On my back."

"Me, too."

"I like watching the bag."

"Me, too. You can also watch your stomach get big."

"I never noticed that. I notice I look big when I get up."

I patted the towel and she stretched out on it. "Get comfortable."

"Oh, I am... You know I am sorry I didn't have a stand like that before. This is better than lying on the floor..."

I flipped open the cap on the tube of Vaseline, squeezed out a glob and smeared it on the nozzle. Then I turned to her. She regarded me, then reached and felt my very firm member. "My, my..."

"This is quite a thrill for me, too" I said. "You're the first woman to agree to let me do this." I knelt by the bed. "Lift your legs."

Chloe hooked her forearm under her knees and pressed her thighs against her breasts. I squeezed another dab from the tube and began lubing her pinkish-brown hole. Then I picked up the nozzle, touched the tip to her spot and rotated back and forth until the tip eased past her sphincter.

"Okay?" I asked.

"Okay..."

I slid the nozzle in all the way, up to the hilt. "Now, how does it feel?"

"It feels okay ... not too big. I see what you mean about hanging on to it."

"It's less apt to slip out. Go ahead and put your legs down."

I climbed onto the bed and knelt, straddling her thighs and began caressing her chest, running my hands along the sides of her breasts. Then I reached for the hose, snapped open the clamp and then notched it down to a trickle.

"Mmm... It's warm... Warmer than I make them."

"Too warm?"

"No... The heat feels good. It's flowing in really easily."

"It ought to, if you had a good series this morning. I put some baking soda in the water."

"What will that do?" she asked.

"It's soothing to the colon ... makes it easier to hold for a while. It also adds some electrolytes so you're less apt to absorb it and spend the night peeing." I reached for the bottle of lotion on her nightstand, poured some into my palm and smeared it on her belly. Then I began a slow, counter-clockwise, circular massage of her abdomen.

"Oh, that feels good," she said.

"Does it turn you on?" I asked.

"Yes, but it's way more complicated," she replied. "You see -- my father used to rub my stomach like that when he gave me enemas. It brings back feelings..."

"Good feelings?"

"For the most part... It makes me feel a little guilty enjoying it, now. I guess there's always something sexual between fathers and daughters."

"Mothers and sons, too," I replied as I continued to rub her belly.

"Whatever it was, my dad never acted on it. He never showed it. He never did anything inappropriate ... at least not in my eyes."

"Only in the eyes of some stodgy school nurse." I filled my palm with more lotion and held it to warm it. Meanwhile, with my right hand I unbuttoned her bodice and let the fabric fall to her sides. Then I smeared the lotion on her nipples and began massaging her breasts.

"Oh... That's nice, too..." She lifted her arms above her head and expanded her ribs to press her breasts against my fingers.

I alternated between stroking, massaging, loving and worshipping her breasts and her abdomen. A glance at the bag told me it was about half-empty, and I could begin to feel the fullness in her belly.

"Your stomach's starting to bulge," I said.

She looked down. "Oh, yeah..."

"Are you feeling full, yet?"

"Not very..." She looked at the bag. "It looks like more than I usually take. How much did you put in it?"

"Two quarts. You don't have to take it all. I thought it would be better to have some we don't need than need what we don't have."

"I suppose... The warmth ... the volume ... your touch... It's all indescribable. And, having you administer it feels like such luxury. Giving one to myself won't seem the same after this."

"Maybe you won't NEED to give one to yourself after this." She bit her lip and her eyes opened wide. I kept my eye on the bag and when it looked like only a pint or so remaining I closed the clamp.

"Why did you stop it?" she asked.

"I didn't want you to get too full ... yet." I straddled her thighs again and ran my hands along her stomach. "You're definately filled," I said as I caressed her abdomen. "I can feel the heat of the water through your skin."

She stroked her sides. "I guess you can..."

"You can feel the outline of your entire colon," I said and as I guided her hands. "Here's your sigmoid..." I pressed her fingers on her lower left side, inside her hip bone. Then I led her hand along her descending colon, across her distended belly and down her right side to her cecum, swollen to football size. She smiled and traced it again. "Does it turn you on?"

"Majorly," she replied.

It was definitely turning me on. I climbed off of her so I could kiss her breasts, the soapy fragrance of the lotion filling my nostrils. I worked down her body, covering her distended abdomen with kisses. I proceeded down the outsides of her thighs until I reached her knees, then worked my way back up kissing the insides of her legs.

Chloe rolled apart her thighs. I regarded the hose leading up and into her bottom; then I kissed her smooth mons and labia. With my tongue I worked between them and began a back-and-forth on her clit. Meanwhile I slipped my arms under her thighs, cupped my right hand over her left breast and caressed her stomach with my left.

Chloe's eyelids drooped and she rolled her head to one side. Her breathing grew heavy and her heart accelerated. I kept a steady rhythm on her clit and began squeezing her nipple in time with my tongue.

She began to sing to me again like the night before: mmm ... mmm ... mmm on each exhale. I could feel her heart pounding through the flesh of her breast. I grabbed the hose and snapped open the clamp. Then I reached under her thigh with my left hand and began pinching both her nipples.

Chloe began panting heavily through wide-open mouth. I watched her belly swell more as the last pint of the enema flowed into her. She pressed her palms against her abdomen and explored the fullness with her fingers. Her thighs began to twitch with each stroke of my tongue on her clit.

"Ohhh," she grunted, arched her back and gasped. "Oh, God!" she shrieked and began flailing at the air. I grabbed her hands and locked my fingers with hers. She tightened her grip and shrieked again; then she let go of my left hand and bit her knuckle to staunch another moan.

Chloe touched my cheek. "Stop," she panted, "before I have an accident."

I came up from between her legs. Her face and chest were flushed and glistening; and her bangs were stuck to her forehead with persipration. "You okay?" I asked.

"I am so okay... That never happened before."

"What never happened?"

"More than one. It felt like I could keep going but I was afraid I'd make a mess."

I glanced between her legs and saw the nozzle had slid out of her, stopped only by its bulbous tip. "You're right," I said and grabbed the hose. "It nearly did slip out..." I slid it back into her, then began teasing her with it by rotating it and working it in and out before I withdrew it and hung the hose across the hooks on the stand.

"Ohhh..." she moaned. "I think I almost came again..."

"Maybe it's time to re-assess your 'no anal' policy."

"Maybe..."

"You took the whole two quarts," I observed.

She looked at the bag. "I guess I did." She ran her palms along her belly.

"Any discomfort?"

"A little ... not bad."

"Do you want to go expel?"

"I think can hold it a bit longer. You gave me my pleasure -- let me give you yours."

"I can after you go."

"No... I want to experience it with the enema."

"Roll onto your side and rest a moment." I lay beside her, caressing her arms and kissing her neck. I reached around her and caressed her very hard and full belly. Lying on her side emphasized the distention.

Chloe probed and patted her abdomen. "My stomach is huge ... majorly huuuuuge." She put her hand on mine. "You were wonderful," she said. "Your touch ... your tongue ... how the water felt flowing in ... the warmth... It was really powerful ... really emotional. I was afraid I was going to cry."

"It wouldn't have bothered me."

"I hate girls who cry during sex," she replied. "I did feel very, very loved." She began to roll onto her back again. "I think I'm ready."

I hopped off her bed, grasped her ankles and turned her so she was laying athwart the bed with her feet on the floor and her buttocks on the edge. I propped a pillow under her shoulders. Then, I knelt, adjusted my stance and went into her standing so I wouldn't put any pressure onto her stomach ... a good way to take a pregnant woman, by the way. I began a gentle rocking of my hips.

"This feels good, too," she said. "You feel bigger than last night."

"Your rectum is inflated with water. Maybe it's squeezing me from the inside. Can you come again?"

"I don't know..."

"How about if I help?" I grabbed her thigh with my right hand, pushed my thumb into her slit and pressed it against her clitoral shaft.

"That's good..." She placed her hands on my chest and pinched my nipples as I rocked. "You like this, don't you?" she asked.

"Mmm... It's wonderful."

"You just got bigger and firmer."

"I didn't think I could get any bigger or firmer."

I looked at her beautiful body as I rocked and she stroked me -- her perfect breasts and her abdomen swollen from the volume of the enema I had given her. I could feel my climax approaching. I tried to hold it off, but I couldn't ignore the sight of her breasts heaving, her ribs moving and her tummy bulging.

I grabbed her buttocks, pressed against her and pumped my fluids into her. She lifted her face and gasped.

"Did you come?" I asked.

"I might have. I did feel yours. It was all pretty intense."

"Do you need to go, now?"

"Not quite" She rolled onto her right side. "It feels like you're still inside me. I wanna savor..." I lay beside her, caressing her stomach. The muscles in her abdomen jerked when I nuzzled her neck. "Oh, God... I still feel it..."

I pulled myself against her, closed my eyes and was out like a light.

Chloe climbing into bed roused me. "Where did you go?" I asked, half asleep.

She kissed my cheek. "I was just getting rid of the enema."

"Right ... right. That is a problem using them in sex."

She kissed my lips. "It was worth it."

"Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied as she cuddled against me. "It took a while to get the last of it out, though."

"Baking soda can be like that." I rolled onto my back, held her against me and felt her caressing my shin with her foot. Then, I switched off the light.

The next morning neither of us were eager to get out of bed. As a result Chloe was running late, so we agreed she would borrow my car while I took hers to a guy I know who's both cheap and honest. I climbed in, started the motor and headed to Larry's. I was pretty confident I could make it there on the charge in her battery.

Her car was the sort I wouldn't be caught dead driving -- a white Neon with a blue interior. It must've been the first model year -- '95 or so. Thinking how perfectly it fit her personality, though, made me smile.

I made it to the shop without incident. I'm an expert at limping cars to the garage. Once I drove a '76 SAAB all the way without a clutch -- through downtown. I ended up sitting there all morning while Larry and his flunkies tinkered.

By noon, Chloe's car had an alternator that kept her battery charged. I grabbed her business card from my wallet and punched in her number. "Hi, it's me," I said. "I have the damages on your car."

"How much?"

"Two-fifty."

"I was expecting it to be more."

"We tried to keep it as low as we could."

"Did you pay him already?"

"No, just mail him a check -- I have the address. You're a friend of mine and he trusts me. Besides I told him I know where you live."

"There are mechanics who operate like that?"

"Larry's a great mechanic but a lousy businessman. What time are you off? I'll bring your car over."

"I'm usually home between five-thirty and six."

"Okay see you then."

"You can stay for dinner can't you?"

"I guess. I gotta get my ass in gear and finish a report for a client that's due later this week and already I'm behind half a day."

"You won't have any trouble catching up, will you?"

"No, not really. Gotta run -- love you."

"Oh, I love you, too. See you tonight." She hung up.

I sat at my laptop working on my report. It was mid-afternoon when I heard the doorbell ring. I opened it and a delivery gal handed me a long, slender box. Inside was a single red rose and an envelope. I pulled out the card but the envelope felt heavy yet. I tapped on it and out slid a passcard and a key. Thank you for an amazing weekend, the card read. My place is yours, anytime -- don't even call ahead. I love you so much. --Chloe. PS: I'm planning something special for dinner tonight. You might want to pack a bag. --C