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Subject: {ASSM} The Last Fling: Easy Come, Easy Go {Varkel} (Mf Mf oral)
Date: Tue, 17 Jul 2001 00:10:02 -0400
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The Last Fling


an April-December Adventure
Presented as a Series of Episodes by Varkel
Copyright (c) Varangian and Kellis, July, 2001




Episode 2:  Easy Come, Easy Go


"Get the phone, will you, Lou?  I've about got this nailed."

Lou put down the _Financial Times_ and got to his feet.  Across
the room Jack was sparring with the new operating system on his
just acquired computer, neither of which much resembled the
previous.  Lou grumbled, "Don't know why you had to buy a another
phone so quick.  I liked the peace and quiet."

Jack grunted.  "It's probably Kathy Saunders.  Her cavity needs
filling."

That was hardly worth comment.  But the teenagers had been gone
for four days.  If this was Kathy, Lou decided he was willing to
talk.

"Hello."

A man's gruff voice said, "May I speak to Lou."

"Lou who?" asked Lou, suddenly reminded again of the boo-hoo
jokes.

"Are you Lou?"

Lou frowned.  "What if I am?  Who the hell are _you_?"

"Sgt. Rutledge at Seward County Detention.  I'll speak to Jack if
you're not Lou."

"Ah, excuse me, officer.  I'm Lou."

"Just a minute."

Lou peered at the telephone's caller-ID display.  He had never
developed the habit of consulting it because usually his glasses
were somewhere else.  Now they perched on his nose to permit
reading the newspaper.  Sure enough, this call was from SEW CO
DTN.  He yelled, "It's the law, Jack, and something funny's going
on."

Jack turned around with a scowl.  "The law?"

Lou opened his mouth to repeat the phone conversation so far, but
a familiar soprano voice sounded hesitantly in the receiver.
"L-Lou, is it really you?"

"Betsy!" he responded.  Jack jumped to his feet.

"Oh, god, Lou," said the girl.  "I ... I can't say how glad I am
to hear you!"

"What's the matter, honey?  Where's Anita?"

"Anita's here too.  They locked us up with h-hookers, Lou."

"With hookers?  Listen, Betsy, do you know which one of the jails
you're in?"

"Huh?  It's just a jail.  It's got men too."

"Tell Anita we're coming for you.  Let me speak to the sergeant."

Jack, having arrived with his ear near the telephone, nodded
vigorous support.

After a moment the original male voice returned.  "Sgt.
Rutledge."

"Where are you holding my girls, officer?"

"Your girls, are they?  They're in the Freedom Street facility."

"What's the charge?"

"Solicitation of a sex act."

"Have they had a bail hearing?"

"You don't need it for a Class-G Misdemeanor.  The bail is $500
each."

"We'll be right there."

As Lou hung up the phone, Jack started toward the garage.  "Let's
go!"

"Wait a minute, Jack," the smaller man called over his shoulder
as he dashed to the bathroom and opened the safe behind the
mirror.  "They'll want cash."  Quickly he counted out a thousand
dollars, adding another 200 for good measure.

He closed the safe, straightened his shirt collar and rushed
after Jack, who was waiting at the door.  "Well, let's go!"

But Jack had lost his urgency.  "How do we know this isn't
another decoy operation?"

"What?  You're kidding!"

"All you have is some man claiming to be an officer."

Lou paused.  "And the caller-ID."

"Maybe he called from somebody's empty desk in the county
offices."

"That's paranoid, Jack."  Lou sighed.  "But you're right.  Why
take the chance?  Set the burglar alarm."

"Ah, do you remember how to do it?"

Lou snorted.  "Is it too simple for you, Jack?  All you have to
do is press this button."

As Lou's finger descended into the box newly mounted beside the
entry door, a raucous howling began outside and the lights went
out throughout the house.

"Shit!" cried Lou.  "What's the disarm code?"

Jack was aghast.  "That thing will call police headquarters in 30
seconds."

"The code is your ex's birthday.  Come on, tell me!"

"Oh.  Eleven, Twelve, ah, 42."

Feverishly Lou punched keys.  The noise died and the lights
returned.  "Whew!"

Jack observed dryly, "Yeah, it's too simple for me."

Lou responded sheepishly, "I forgot to hit the reset key first."
Cautiously he punched two buttons and looked around.  "Now we've
got 30 seconds to get out of here."



* * *



"We're here to make bail for a couple of girls," Lou told the
uniformed woman.  She sat behind the desk in a dank smelling room
with unadorned cinderblock walls.

"What's the names?"

He opened his mouth and only at that moment realized he had never
heard them.  He said instead, "Would you ask for Sgt. Rutledge?
Tell him Lou and Jack are here."

The woman's eyes narrowed, but she picked up her telephone,
punched a few keys and mumbled something indistinctly.  After
listening for a moment, she asked Lou, "Are you here about Betsy
Elaine Coggins and Anita May Snith?"

"Oh, yes!" Lou declared, trying to conceal his sudden relief.
"Betsy Elaine Coggins and Anita May ... _Sn_ith?"

The woman mumbled briefly, listened again, then returned the
instrument to its cradle.  She shook her head.  "We can't release
them here.  You'll have to go downstairs to Juvenile and attest
to your guardianship."

Jack stepped to the front.  "But you're holding them here, aren't
you?"

"Yes.  Even so, you can't pick them up here."

"They are not juveniles, madam.  Or put it this way:  if they
are, Seward County has just broken the law.  You have
incarcerated them with adult prostitutes, and that's a big no-no
for juvenile girls.  I suggest you call that sergeant back and
get the girls in here, not downstairs."

"You're a lawyer?"

"No, but I've worked with juvenile law quite a bit.  These girls
are eighteen.  Didn't they tell you?"

"They told us.  But they're undocumented and their manner and
speech is a lot closer to 14."

"Well, now you have corroboration.  Call your sergeant, or I'll
call _my_ lawyer, and I suspect he'll want to call the
newspapers."

Lou nodded approval at Jack.  Indeed the taller man had endured
several encounters with juvenile law, even if most of them were
20 years ago in another state.  His now upstanding son had
suffered severely from the social mistake of ingesting proscribed
drugs.  And getting caught.  Repeatedly.

The woman again took up the telephone and spoke briefly.  When
she put it down, she glowered even more disdainfully.  The men
sighed and leaned back against the wall.  At least it had been
recently painted.  It was an institutional pastel green.

About five minutes later the door behind the desk opened.  A
hulking brute of a man with sergeant's stripes led two young
girls, dressed in jeans and T-shirts but barefoot, into the room.
They were Betsy and Anita.  Their hair was in disarray and their
feet were dirty.  Their hands were empty.

Their eyes lit.  "Oh, god," Betsy squealed.  "Lou and Jack!"  She
lunged forward but an arm like a sapling trunk held her back.

"How about you, Ms. Snith?" the huge man demanded of Anita.  "Do
you know them?"

No one could doubt the delight in her face.  "Oh, wow!"

The man whirled.  "Who are you guys?"  Gimlet eyes bored first
into Lou then Jack.

Lou took out his wallet and smiled easily.  "We're the guys who
will post their bail."

"Not without some proof of guardianship."

Jack sniffed.  "We've already gone through this with your
receptionist.  You --"

The woman declared, "I'm the Admitting Guard."

"-- With your Admitting Guard.  You have incarcerated these girls
as adults, which will be duly noted if you claim them to be
juveniles.  In fact they _are_ adults, and now they have the
money to make bail.  The only proof you may demand is the money
and their signatures of compliance."  He looked at the woman.
"Do you have the papers ready?"

"Where's the money?" demanded the sergeant.  His eyes held an
ominous light.

Jack put a restraining hand on Lou's arm.  "Let the girls give it
to him."

Lou shrugged and divided the money into two packets, giving one
to each girl.  "$500 apiece," he noted.

"Oh, wow!" breathed Anita.

Betsy laid her packet on the desk, Anita following.  The woman
frowned but began counting it.

The hulking sergeant watched with a sour grin.  He glanced up at
Jack.  "Aren't you guys getting a little old for this work?"

"What work is that, Sergeant?"

"Pimping."

Jack's eyes narrowed.  "Your name is Rutledge, I believe."  He
craned his neck at the nameplate on the desk.  "And this is Gail
Jarvis.  Ms. Jarvis, you may be called as a witness to this
defamation."

The sergeant laughed aloud.  The woman flashed him a worried
glance but shrugged and turned cold eyes on Jack.  "I'll be a
witness that two geezers who wouldn't even give their names
bailed out two probably underage hookers.  I'm willing to let the
judge make up his own mind.  Sign here, girls.  There's a paper
for each of you.  Don't forget to show up in court on the
eighteenth of next month."

"Where's their stuff?" asked Lou.

"They've got everything they came in with," the woman answered,
"plus two meals at county expense."

"Yuck!" Anita proclaimed, making a face.



* * *



"All right.  What the hell happened to you?" demanded Jack as he
wheeled the big Lincoln onto the throughway.  "You left us four
days ago with over $500 in your purses.  Huh!  What happened to
your purses?"

"We got ripped," admitted Anita, once again in the front beside
Jack.  She had jammed her body against him, one arm over his
back, the other around his chest, her head on his shoulder.  "I'm
sorry," she murmured sadly.  "I always stink when we get back
together."

"And you're dirty, too.  But somebody stole your money?"

Her voice was low.  "It was my fault."

"_Your_ fault!"

Betsy carried on the tale from the back seat, where she tolerated
Lou's close embrace with obvious reluctance.  "A $100 bill fall
on the floor when we pay for some burgers.  Two guys following us
snatch our purses right out'n our hands."  She sighed, then
grinned.  "Easy come, easy go."

"Didn't you scream?" asked Lou.  "Wouldn't anyone help you?"

"Yeah."  She giggled.  "Two old guys, maybe older even than you,
holler, 'Stop, thief,' and shake their fists, but two old bats
grab them and drag them off, looking back like _we_ is the bad
'uns!"

"When was this?" asked Jack.

"Night before last."

"Then what happened?"

"We got pretty hungry yesterday."

"I'll bet.  Why didn't you call us then?"

"We ..."  Betsy sighed.  "We took your money, Lou.  And Jack's
too.  We don't think you wanta hear from the likes of us again."
She sighed more heavily.  "Then we land in jail.  It's our first
time.  I ... I'm sorry, but the sergeant's like, 'You can make
one phone call,' and I can't think of nobody else but you.  I
guess we's just bad news all around, ain't we."

"Not _all_ around," Lou countered with a chuckle.  "How did you
land in jail?"

"We's going through the trash cans when this swell dressed guy
stops us on the beach and says how would we like some big money.
We's like, 'Sure!'  He's like, 'Take out my dick and play with it
and I give you $50.'  Ain't nobody paying attention, so I take it
out and he puts a $50 bill in my other hand.  That's when a
policewoman with a camera comes out'n the portajohn.  He says to
her, 'You get it?'  She's like, 'In the box,' and pats her
camera.  That's when he tells us we's under arrest."

Jack asked, "Are you sure it happened just like that?  He offered
_you_ money for sex?"

"Oh, yeah.  'Nita heard him too."

"Entrapment!"

"What's that?" asked Betsy.

Lou mused dryly, "Trouble is, I doubt seriously the cop will
remember it that way."

"Too bad you didn't carry a recorder, Betsy."

"Well, _he_ might've.  He has this Nerf ball a-hanging on his
shoulder.  On the way downtown I, like, ask the policewoman what
for.  She's like, 'To keep the wind off'n his microphone.'"

Jack said thoughtfully, "I'd be willing to bet a clever lawyer
could trick them into producing that tape."

"Oh, Lou!" Betsy complained suddenly, twisting her body.  "Let
up, will you?  I'm worse than just stinking.  I feel so _nasty_
after being with them dirty women.  They slobbered all over us,
more'n you do.  We both had to fight them off.  If you just let
up till I take a shower, you can do anything you want."

Shamefacedly Lou withdrew his hands from the blonde's T-shirt and
jeans.  In the front Jack laughed briefly and tilted his head
just above Anita's hair to ask, "Was it so bad, sweetheart?"

She turned her face up and whispered in his ear, "I didn't think
so.  Betsy just can't stand women on her 'less she's drunk."

"But you can?"

She giggled.  "I can stand anybody that stays in the right place.
But she's right.  They really did stink!  You pro'ly oughta let
me clean up."

"Oh, I shall."  He turned his face toward the back and spoke
louder.  "We had the man over this week to fire up the hot tub.
You girls don't have to worry about getting clean.  Lou and I are
going to scrub those sweet tails until they sparkle!"



* * *



But Jack was not pleased by Lou's nudity and his own in the
bright daylight.  The hot tub was sunk in a small tile-covered
deck built into an alcove on the side of the house, open to the
sky aside from the ubiquitous insect screen, protected from
curious external viewers by a tall redwood fence.  The smaller
man's rotund paunch and overlapping belly flap offended Jack's
eyes, except that in looking away from Lou he espied his own
reflection in the glass doors opening to the deck.  His skinny
neck, flesh sagging on arms where triceps were once discernible
and the rich blue networks of varicose veins on his legs and hips
constituted at least as great an eyesore.  He recalled Lou's
words during his disparagement of Kathy Saunders -- "Have you
looked in the mirror lately?" -- and realized how much he had
avoided doing just that.

The girls, however, didn't seem to mind, which Jack knew was the
main concern.  And best of all, he and Lou could look at _them_!
Their sleek wet bodies flashed silvery in the blue sky light
while the men's were masked by the agitated water.

Briefly the four played a less frenzied version of the well-known
teenage game, "grab-ass," with the men clutching handfuls of firm
breasts and firmer buttocks.  But the girls retaliated with
handfuls of more sensitive flesh that shortly had their victims
begging for mercy.  A quieter period ensued on the tiles outside
the tub with the girls standing before the men, who scrubbed them
as promised with bare hands and tongues.  Once cleaned and rinsed
the girls again stepped daintily into the tub followed by their
eager hosts.  Lou immediately arranged Betsy into the position of
a dinner plate with her succulent femaleness against his mouth.

"What a marvelous combination!" noted Jack, regarding Betsy's
buttocks resting on Lou's paunch, her legs over his shoulders,
her torso lying back in the swirling water, supported by hands
extended to the plastic bottom.

"Lou and Betsy?" asked Anita, twitching on Jack's shoulder from
the effect of his hand between her submerged legs.  "What's so
great about them together -- or is that what you mean?"

Jack leered.  "I mean a sweet young pussy and an old man's
tongue.  You can't wear out either one."

"Don't a tongue get tired?"

He grinned at her.  "Does yours get tired when you lick Betty?"

She blushed and whispered close to his ear, "We did do that, two
or three nights on the beach, after you shown us how."

"And did your tongue get tired?"

"Yeah."  She shivered.  "But I forget it when I come."

"You mean, when you 'jizz?'"

"Huh!  Girls don't jizz."

He regarded her thoughtfully.  "Some claim they do, out their
ureth-- their pee-hole."

"Yeah, sure.  Girls'll tell men anything."  She laughed
sarcastically.  "I can do that too.  Wanta see me?  Only it tends
to be yellow 'less I drink a lot of beer.  And it stinks."

He nodded slowly before an inquiring expression appeared on his
face.  "I haven't had the opportunity to study a girl's manner of
pissing since Clara, ah, since my college days.  Are you willing
to show me?"

Her voice softened.  "Clara was your college girl?"

He sighed.  "Yeah.  And then my wife for a long time."

"Didn't Lou say you was, like, divorced?"

"Yeah.  I guess I was working too hard.  She came to prefer the
gardener."

The girl's eyes widened.  Her hand slipped under the water.  "His
couldn't've been bigger!"

"I gather his was more available."  Jack grinned.  "But you make
such simple demands on your man!"  He chuckled.  "And I love it
that most of your guys can't meet them."

Her hand moved under the water.  "Betsy's like, 'A big 'un'll
make you sore.'  But I love this one, Jack.  It ... stretches me
so _good_!"

"You sweetheart!"

She moved around in front of him, pressing her sharp nipples into
his chest, her haunches settling over his thighs.  But after
several tries to the point of pain he proved unable to penetrate
her.  They had to conclude that water was inadequate as a
lubricant.

"We need Vaseline," Jack announced, gritting his teeth.

"They's some in the bathroom.  I'll go get it."

She rose to straddle him but he caught her hips.  "Don't go.  We
can always get started in the air.  While you're up there ..."
He rested his head on the padded edge, leaving all below his
shoulders under water.  "Sit towards me on my chest."

"Oh, wow!"  She spread her legs to either side and slid herself
toward his face.  As her wet pubic bush approached, his fingers
slithered under her legs and pried the puffy lips apart.  His
face had brightened with anticipation until that moment.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed in disgust.

She bent far forward, peering into her own cavity.  "What's wrong
with it?"

"How the hell should I know?  The last time I watched a woman
pee, I could see what was happening!"

"Oh."  She had to giggle despite her well-trained caution.  But
she was able to ask with a straight face, "Want me to go get your
eye glasses?"

He mumbled something about his sense of smell still working.  His
hands withdrew to reappear clasping her hips.  He pulled her
against his mouth.  She gasped and began to tremble.  Shortly her
weight settled more fully upon him.  She sagged over his head,
her arms extended to the edge of the tub.  "Oh, Jack," she
moaned, "I sure hope yours don't get tired soon!"



* * *



When they finally left the tub, the girls' hands and feet were
wrinkled as the men's.  All four retired for naps, the blonde
with Lou and the slim brunette with Jack.  The men were
exhausted, though neither would admit it, and the girls had spent
a sleepless night in jail.  It was full dark when they awoke.
The girls, still naked, made cold sandwiches in the kitchen while
the robed men watched.

"My god," Lou murmured, staring meaningfully around at Jack, "do
you think your eyes could ever get tired of such grace and
beauty?  Look at those butt cheeks!  I could run my tongue under
them all day."

Betsy remarked tartly over her shoulder, "You almost did, Lou."
She shivered.  "Nearly drove me out'n my mind."

"_Tongue_ is right," Jack agreed.  "Too bad we can't run
something else in there all day."

"Oh, no!"  Betsy shivered more violently.  "We couldn't walk for
week!"

"Oh, wow!" exclaimed the brunette, winking at Jack.

The blonde brought a plate of sandwiches to the table and stood
grinning at Lou.  "I heard a joke about this old guy in the
hospital.  The doctor's like, 'Open your gown and show me your
sex organ.'  So the old guy opens his gown and sticks out his
tongue."

"Yeah, I've heard it," Lou sniffed.

Jack was curious.  "I'm surprised that _you_ heard it!  Who told
you?"

"The old guy that give us a ride the other night when we's naked.
After he licks on 'Nita.  I told you about it."

"I wanted more," Anita murmured, "but we was sore."  Her eyes
widened.  "Hey, that rhymes!"

Lou cocked his head.  "I'm glad to see your bruises have almost
all faded."

"An advantage of youth," Jack contributed.

Lou continued, staring at the girls, "And I hope you'll let me
prevent you from getting bruised up that way again."

The two girls took seats alternating with the men.  Betsy smiled
before biting into her sandwich.  "How you gonna do that, Lou?
Keep us from getting boyfriends?"

Lou shook his head.  "I know you'll need boyfriends.  But if you
let me, I'll see that you get a lot better ones than Luke and
Bucky.  By the way, how would you like to see them punished for
what they did to you?"

"Punished?"  Betsy's eyes widened.  She grinned but wiped it
quickly away.  "You two'd look worse'n we did!"

"Not we two, Betsy."  His voice was harsh.  "I'm talking about a
bunch of big, tough detectives.  If you'll point out your
ex-boyfriends, so good at beating up women, I'll see them brought
to a place where _you_ can return the favor, where as the saying
goes, their asses will belong to you."

Jack frowned at his friend, but turned curious eyes on the girls'
reaction.  They stared from one man to the other.  Betsy's mouth
fell open.  For once she was speechless.

"You can do that?" asked Anita.

"Oh, yes!  But you'll have to point them out.  'Luke and Bucky,'
even if he is taller than Jack, is not enough identification."

"Maybe they learn," mused Anita, "not to treat other girls so
mean."

Betsy took a long, shuddering breath.  "I don't know, Lou.  We's
shed of them.  I'd as soon forget them, so long as they don't
bother us again."

Jack cleared his throat and declared firmly, "That's a good
conclusion: 'So long as they don't bother us again.'"



* * *



Lou opened one eye owlishly.  To his sorrow it was Jack and not
Betsy who was shaking his shoulder.  "Wha--"

"They've done it again, god damn them!"

Lou raised up and looked hastily around.  The bed was empty.
Jack in a lounging robe stood beside it.

"Don't tell me they're gone!"

"They're gone.  This time you check _your_ wallet!"

"Throw me my pants."

Sitting up in bed, wallet in hand, Lou counted his money and
frowned.  "$274.  I'm certain there was over $300 in here."

Jack grinned sourly.  "Yeah, they're showing us mercy.  They only
lifted about a hundred from me, too.  Ungrateful little bitches!"

"Are you sure they're gone?"  Lou got out of bed, popping open an
underwear drawer.  "Did you check the hot tob?"

"Yeah, I checked the hot tub.  But the money shortage is the
clincher."

Lou slipped into a T-shirt and pulled on his overshorts, then
started for the door.

"Where're you going?" asked Jack.

"To piss first.  Then I'm going to look on the beach.  I'll bet
they haven't gone far."

"It's a waste of time, but I'll join you."

To Lou's chagrin the beach was heavily populated for a
non-holiday.  Umbrellas were set every hundred yards or so with
sunning bodies of all sizes clustered around them.  Then he
reconsidered.  Perhaps this was actually an advantage.  His
wristwatch displayed 9:14 A.M.

"When do you think they left?" he asked his taller companion.

"Who knows?  They're very sneaky little cunts, you know.  I'm
sure they're well-practiced at slipping off with whatever they
can carry."  He gritted his teeth.  "We laugh when they brag of
doing it to someone else, like that farmer who befriended them.
What fools we are!"

Lou smiled tolerantly.  "You just don't understand them, Jack.
Why would you expect trailer trash to have any sense of property
rights?  I'll bet all their lives they've been made to share
everything in sight."

"Huh!" Jack sneered.  "Even a dog understands property rights."

"They've been taught to share," Lou repeated resolutely.  "Which
is why they're so willing to share their pussies."

Jack gulped and closed his mouth.

With a grin Lou turned away to approach the nearest umbrella.
"Excuse me," he intoned.  "I'm looking for my granddaughters,
teenagers in T-shirts and jeans.  Have you seen them in the last
hour or so?"

The young man shook his head.  "No, but we've only been out here
a few minutes."

When four other umbrella-situated groups produced similar
non-results, Jack observed thoughtfully, "Everyone's looking at
the ocean."

Indeed it was generally true, aside from the few who were now
speculating about the two old men.

"Besides," Jack continued, "what did you plan to do if you found
them?"

Lou looked up at his friend.  "Ask them to come back."

"And if they refused?"

Lou sighed and shrugged.

Jack continued sarcastically, "You'd follow them around, begging
like a scorned dog."

Lou shook his head but said contradictorily, "I guess so."

"Well, think about this.  _Why_ did they only take a hundred from
each wallet?"

Lou's eyes narrowed.  "Because they were in a hurry?"

"No.  Because they wanted to keep their bridge unburnt."

Lou took a breath.  "You see it as a hopeful sign?"

"I do, though why I should hope for more of those --"  He shook
his head violently.  "I take it back.  I want them back too.
Correction: my _dick_ wants them back!  Now come on, Lou.  Let's
go home where we'll hear the phone when they need bailing out
again."



* * *



One of life's bitter little truths is that the anxiously awaited
bus, boiling water or telephone call never seems to arrive.  In
fact no telephone in Jack's house rang at all until the third day
after the brief respite from loneliness.  Tired of hearing Lou's
whines, Jack had gone off to his computer and the distractions of
the Internet.  Thus when the phones finally rang, both men
simultaneously snatched up a receiver and bellowed, "Hello!"

Pause.  "Who's a-speaking?"  It was Betsy's soprano, hesitant, as
if she were half persuaded of a wrong number.

"Jack," declared Jack.

"Lou," declared Lou, again simultaneously.

"Huh?  It's both of you?"

"Betsy!" both men screeched deliriously, but Jack recovered
first.  "Are you in jail again?"

"No, it's 'Nita.  I don't know what to do."

"Anita's in trouble?"

"She's hurting bad.  It's her side.  She's all balled up on the
ground beside this phone booth.  I think it's her 'pendix."

"Good god!  Where's that phone booth?  Where are you, Betsy?"

"At a Lazy Seven on Beach Road, I think about Ninety-first
Street."

"Don't go anywhere.  We'll be right there."

"Please hurry.  I ... I'm afraid she's gonna die."

"Hang on.  We're out the door right now."

Lou found Jack waiting at the door to the garage.  "Set that
burglar alarm," the tall man ordered.  Lou complied competently
this time.

"Take my car?" he asked, closing the den door.

"No," Jack answered, pressing the button to raise the door behind
his own car.  "Betsy is familiar with mine."

In Jack's Lincoln, rushing up A1A at half-again the speed limit,
Lou asked dryly, "So you think this is another decoy?"

"I'm withholding judgment.  But it would make a good setup."

"You'll never trust them, will you?"

"What do you mean?" Jack protested.  "Of course I trust them --
to run off and steal me blind at every opportunity."

Lou sniffed.  "They hardly stole you blind this time!"

"Perhaps not.  But I remind you they've been in my house three
times now.  Each time their departure coincided with an
involuntary reduction in our holdings.  How long can that go on,
Lou?"

The smaller man looked away.  His voice was low but by
concentrating Jack understood him to say, "As long as it takes
for them to quit hurting."

"Hurting?  What are you talking about, Lou?"

But Lou only shook his head.  Jack opened his mouth to press the
question but the Lazy Seven sign, a stylized numeral seven lying
on its side like a reversed check-mark, appeared among the palm
trees.  As they approached the intersection, they both saw two
girls sitting on the curb beside the external telephone booth.
One was doubled over, head between her knees.  Jack wheeled the
big car into the parking lot beside them, and both men sprang out
with whatever alacrity each could muster.

"Oh, god, I'm glad to see you!" breathed Betsy in obvious relief.

Jack sank beside Anita, hand on her shoulder.  "What's the
matter, honey?"

"Oh-h-h!" the brunette moaned incoherently.  She looked up at the
concerned old man, tears dripping from her cheeks.

"Good god!" he cried, appalled.  "Lou, give me hand.  We've got
to get her in the car."

Betsy held the door as the two men bundled the slim body into the
middle of the back seat.  Lou and Betsy sat on either side of her
as Jack returned to the driver's seat and snapped the car out of
the parking lot to roar down the boulevard.

In the backseat Lou, holding Anita secure against the lurching
car, asked, "Why didn't you just go to the hospital?"

"Huh!" Betsy sneered.  "You mean Seward Medical?  How's we gonna
get there?"

"How about a taxi?"

She looked away.  "We's broke again."

Lou studied the girls.  They were wearing better quality jeans
but the same style of T-shirt.  Again they were without shoes and
purses.

The obvious questions could wait.  Anita was bent over her knees,
moaning, tears streaking her cheeks.

He asked, "How long has she been like this?"

"An hour or two."

"What did she eat?"

"Nothing so far today.  We had a burger and coke last night."

"Where exactly does it hurt, Anita?"

But the smaller girl only moaned.  Betsy answered, "About midway
of her right side, where my Mom hurt with her 'pendix."

"Has she had any fainting or dizzy spells?"

Jack called sarcastically from the front seat, "Is that Dr. Lou I
hear?"

Lou answered defensively, "I remember an aunt with appendicitis
who fainted and complained of dizziness.  What about it, Betsy?"

"She ain't said nothing about that."

Lou shook his head and took a breath.  "We're going to the
hospital.  I hope Anita's wearing panties this time."

"And a bra," affirmed Betsy.  "Where you really taking us?"

Lou craned his neck, looking around.  "Yeah, Jack.  Seward
Medical is in the other direction."

"We're going to Doctors Care."

"Christ!  That costs an arm and a --  Hmm.  I see."

Betsy asked suspiciously, "What's this 'Doctors Care?'"

"It's a little private hospital," said Lou soothingly.  "Top
notch place.  If my side was hurting, I'd go there myself."

Jack snorted.  "If you weren't so tight."

"You think I'm tight?"

"No, I take it back," Jack answered in a tone of discovery.
"Here lately you are loose as a goose."

Shortly the car bounced over a curb, eliciting a deeper groan
from the folded girl in back, and stopped before a glass door
labeled, _Doctors Care Facility_.  In much smaller letters
beneath that were the words, _Emergency Entrance / All Others by
Appointment Only_.

Turning off the ignition, Jack left the car blocking the door and
hurried around to the other side, where Betsy and Lou had already
lifted the stricken brunette.  Betsy held the glass door open
while the two men half-walked, half-carried the girl inside.
They came immediately to a desk behind which sat a wrinkled old
woman in a crisp white uniform.  Jack, being nearest, received
the full benefit of her fierce stare.

"Your membership number?" she demanded.

Jack looked over his shoulder.  "Come here, Betsy, and help hold
her up."  With a flourish he withdrew a silvery card from his
wallet containing the word, "Platinum," plus a long series of
digits, which he threw negligently onto the desk before the
woman.  "Here's my number."  At that gesture her face assumed a
neutral expression.  She ran the card through a slot on her
computer and watched the screen, invisible to her visitors.
Suddenly her face was wreathed in smiles.

"What can Doctors Care Facility do for you fine people?"

Jack answered, "We have a young lady here with an agonizing pain
in her right side."

The woman's face reset in a pose of sympathy.  "Oh, I'm so sorry,
dear."  She touched several keys on her keyboard.  "What is her
name?"

"Anita Snith," Jack declared.

"Snith, with an N?"

"With an N."

"Date of birth?"

Jack locked questioningly at Betsy, who rattled off a date 18
years in the past.

"Next of kin?"

"Put me down," Jack replied.

The woman regarded him speculatively.  "Relationship?"

"Put me down as the responsible party.  Do you want my address?"

She gestured vaguely at her computer.  "The credit company
furnishes all that.  Please verify your full name."

"Jackson Fulbright Westfield."

"Right."  Typing furiously, she muttered, "And the chief
complaint is severe pain in the right side...  Well, we'll fix
that right away."

Her voice had hardly died away before the double doors behind her
popped open and a wheelchair appeared, pushed by a husky fellow
in a green uniform.  He stopped before the doubled-over Anita and
said, "This must be the patient."

As he and Betsy settled the girl into the chair, the old woman
behind the desk advised, "One of you may accompany Ms. Snith into
the ER."

"I'll go," said Betsy.

The woman responded stiffly, "We prefer the responsible party,
please.  The waiting room for the others is just through that
door."  To the attendant she said, "ID code 17."

So it was Jack who followed groaning Anita and the attendant
through the double doors.  They went down a short hall and turned
into a room full of beds, each in its own booth secludable behind
curtains, drawn closed in three cases.  Two nurses were bustling
around while a white-coated man consulted a computer monitor.
One of the nurses, dark-haired beneath her crisply folded cap,
pointed to a bed.  "In here, please."

She and the green-suited attendant stretched Anita on the bed.
The girl immediately drew her legs up, arms clutching her belly,
groaning louder.  The nurse raised an eyebrow at the attendant.
"ID code?"

"17."

She keyed something on the computer terminal set into the wall
and said to Jack, "This is Ms. Anita Snith, ah, age 18?"

"Right."

Pointing to chairs against the wall beyond the booth, she added,
"Please have a seat over there."

The attendant left, taking the wheelchair.  The nurse drew the
curtains, closing off the booth.  Jack heard her say, "Please
take off all your clothing, Ms. Snith.  I'll help you.  Then
we'll put on this gown."

Anita groaned louder.  Jack strained his ears but otherwise heard
only rustlings and briefly the grinding of electrical motors.
Shortly the curtain was opened.  Anita lay on her right side,
propped up slightly on the raised head of the bed, a pale blue
hospital gown up to her chin, a sheet up to her waist, legs drawn
up under the sheet.  She was still clutching her belly and
moaning softly.  Tears streaked her cheeks again.  A dripping
bottle hung above the bed, tubing running from it to a needle
taped to the back of the girl's right hand.

Jack approached.  "Can't you do something for her pain?"

"As soon as the doctor checks her," the nurse answered.  She
stood poised at the wall-mounted computer keyboard.  The screen
was full of symbols and numerals unintelligible to Jack.  She
took an instrument wired to the computer and pressed it to
Anita's ear until it clicked.  Another instrument included a
strap that encircled the girl's upper arm.  It hissed briefly
before being removed.

The woman looked at Jack.  "I need to take a history of her
problem.  Perhaps you can help.  How long has she experienced
this pain?"

"A couple hours," Jack answered.

"Has she ever had it before?"

Jack blinked.  He took a breath.  "I don't know.  Her, ah, cousin
is waiting --"

"No," declared the girl, peering up through her tears.  "Nothing
ever hurt me so bad."

The woman keyed something.  She directed her next question to the
girl.  "When was your last menstrual period?"

Anita groaned but gritted her teeth.  She looked up at Jack.  "It
started right after the beach."

"About two weeks ago," Jack noted.

"Can you describe your pain?"

The girl shuddered but declared, "It was like a knife in my right
side at first, but now it's all over my tummy.  Oh, it hurts!"

"My god!" murmured Jack, aghast.  "What could _that_ be?"

"Many things," muttered the nurse, typing rapidly.  She turned
away.

"My poor baby," murmured Jack, stroking the girl's bangs out of
her eyes.

Her hand came up to clutch his.  "Oh, Jack, it hurts so bad!"

The nurse returned, followed by the white-coated man, apparently
able to tear himself away from the computer monitor after all.

"I'm Dr. Grenwold.  Excuse me."

Jack backed away in favor of the doctor, who studied the writhing
body.  "25 of Demerol IV," he snapped.  The nurse hurried out.
"We'll have your pain fixed in just a moment," he told the girl
sympathetically, "but first, can you straighten your legs and
turn on your back, please?  I need to check your abdomen."  He
looked at Jack.  "Excuse us, please."

Jack stepped back as the curtain swished in front of his face.
He heard the girl gasp and the doctor say, "I'm sorry I hurt you,
but that told me a lot.  Now feel this and say which pressure
hurts worse, the left side or the right."

Anita squealed twice but said weakly, "They're about the same,
doctor."

"Good, good."

The nurse pushed through the curtain bearing a syringe.  Shortly
the curtain reopened.  The muttering doctor and the typing nurse
hovered before the computer terminal.  Jack heard the initials
"CBC" and something that sounded like "middle shmurts."  In a
moment the doctor approached Jack while behind him the nurse drew
blood from Anita's left arm at the elbow.

"I've ordered a Complete Blood Count, which will verify, I
expect, that she has no infection, particularly of the appendix.
We'll also take a bit of urine to verify no bladder infection."

"But, then ...  What's left, doctor?"

The man smiled.  "Not much, certainly not anything
life-threatening.  We have an automatic blood analyzer.  We
should have the results in just a few minutes, if you care to
have a seat over there.  Soon as we obtain the urine sample, you
can move your chair in here beside her if you wish.  I don't
think we'll have to keep her very much longer."

The Demerol in her bloodstream calmed the girl quickly.  "Oh,
wow!" she said as Jack pulled his chair closer.  "What is that
stuff?"

"A narcotic.  Don't start liking it.  How do you feel?"

"It still hurts, but it's getting lots better."  She leered at
him.  "_You_ got something I wanta feel!"

His hand stroked her shoulder.  "And you shall, Sweeta-nita."

"'Sweeta-nita!'"  She giggled.  "I like it.  I like _you_, Jack.
Wish you _was_ my grandpa!"

"No, you don't," he told her with a smile.  "Then you couldn't
feel that something."

"I'll bet I could, too," she retorted.  Her eyes twinkled.
"Might have to kiss it first."  Suddenly they went out of focus.
"Woops!"

"What's the matter?"

"The room ..."  She took a breath.  "The room twisted."

He gripped her shoulder.  "Take it easy.  You're all right."

She smiled and her eyes drifted shut.



* * *



The doctor stood with Jack outside the closed curtain, behind
which the nurse helped Anita dress herself.  "The young lady is
simply ovulating, Mr., ah, Westfield.  When an ovary releases an
egg, sometimes the follicle tears.  This is very painful and
bleeds into the abdomen, causing a generally painful condition
that lasts typically six hours, after which the pain miraculously
goes away.  It's a bit unusual in one so young as 18 who has
never been pregnant, but it does happen.  It's one of the crosses
our females must bear."

"Then she'll be all right?"

"Yes, she will.  Very, very rarely a complication develops.  The
Demerol will wear off in a few hours.  If she still hurts, bring
her back.  Otherwise I think she'll be fine."

Jack took a deep breath.  He hesitated but finally blurted, "What
about VD?"

The doctor nodded.  "That was a marginal consideration.  We'd
have to do cultures to be certain, but I saw no evidence of such
infection.  Her white count is in the normal range."

"Thank you, doctor."

The man lowered his voice.  "One other thing that you may or may
not have reason to know: her urine showed the ingestion of
tetrahydrocannabinol in the last 24 hours."

"Tetra--  Oh.  Marijuana?"

"The active ingredient.  I'm supposed to report that, Mr.
Westfield, but I've already erased it from the computer."

"Th-thank you very much, doctor!"

The man smiled grimly.  "It's on the bill."

Indeed it was, itemized as _Discretion, $1000_.



* * *



"This is getting old," Jack announced in mild disgust, speaking
from the side of his mouth to the conscious occupants of the back
seat as he drove the car, alone in front.  "What have you two
been doing the last three days?"

Betsy and Lou sat in back with Anita, head lolling in drugged
sleep, between them.

The blonde sighed.  "You know."

"You left us with a couple hundred dollars.  That should have
lasted you more than three days."

"Well, it didn't."

"You didn't even buy better clothes!"

"Yes, we did!" the girl declared, stung.  "We bought undies."

"Well, I guess that's something."  Jack's voice was sarcastic.
"You didn't spend quite _all_ of it on drugs!"

"Drugs?"  Lou's tone was incredulous.  "What're you talking
about?"

"Anita's piss showed she'd been smoking marijuana.  What would
yours show, Betsy?"

The girl snarled, "We didn't spend _nothing_ on drugs!"

"Wait a minute!" Lou interjected.  "The docs have to report urine
tests."

"Not this time," Jack retorted.  "That's part of the service at
Doctors Care.  For an extra thou they don't squeal."

"An extra thousand?  What was the total bill, Jack?"

"Over $2500."

"Okay.  You understand I'm taking half of that."

The larger man grinned around at the smaller.  "Why don't you
handle the next one, Lou?"

"Think it'll be worse, do you?  No, we'll go fifty-fifty on the
girls' expenses.  You hear me?"

"I hear you.  Where did Anita get the mary jane, Betsy?"

The blonde looked away.  Neither man thought she would answer,
but she surprised them.  She took a deep breath.  "All right.  I
can just hear 'Nita saying, 'Tell them all of it.'  So here
goes."


[NARRATION FONT]
When we left your house the time before we landed in jail, we met
a pair of nice businessmen from Miami.  These dudes fed us a
swell dinner in the back room of a ritzy joint and rode us off to
a motel.  They were real nice, sweet guys, with dicks that you
can't keep down.  We stayed with them two days, lounging around
the pool playing grab-ass during the day -- yeah, in bikinis, we
had bought several outfits -- and fucking all night.  Well, most
of the night.  These guys were full of jism, and they kept waking
up.  But the third day they had to go back to Miami, so --  Okay,
okay, hold your horses, I'm getting to that part!

The point is, we made a date to meet them again last Thursday,
the day after you bailed us out.  We talked it over and decided
--  Hell, _I_ decided.  'Nita wanted to put it to you.  I decided
that you wouldn't let us out to meet our businessmen.  So we
borrowed some money and cut out while you were asleep.  Lou, you
are so sweet when you're asleep.  You even had a hard-on.  I had
to kiss it before we left.

We waited all day at the concession.  Lots of guys tried to hit
on us.  We made excuses for our businessmen, but the fact is, we
got stood up.  Those bastards didn't show that day or the next
either.  The second night a dude sat down beside us, said he
wanted some help with a party.  So we went off with him to this
falling down house in the dunes.

Some party!  He had some booze and some pot.  We listened to his
Walkman and got high.  No, he didn't fuck a stroke.  I asked him
if he was that way, and he said the pot took care of everything.
So 'Nita and I did nice things for ourselves and forgot about
him, which was a mistake.

In the night those old blankets of his turned out to have bugs
in them.  So we got dressed and went back to sleep on just the
air mattress.  When we woke up the next morning, the dude and
everything but what we were wearing was gone.  He took our flight
bags and our purses.  No, you're right, he wasn't as thoughtful
as we, he didn't leave us $20.  He didn't leave us anything but
what we have right now.

We looked in all the trash bins on the way down the beach, but no
luck.  I don't know what use he'll find for our makeup and shoes
and spare clothes.


[NORMAL FONT]
Jack thought over her words.  "Then you haven't had anything to
eat or drink all day?"

"Lou got me some crackers and soda from the machines in the
waiting room."  She reached across the unconscious brunette and
squeezed Lou's hand with a smile.  "He saved my life.  But what
about 'Nita?  Did they feed her anything?"

Jack replied, "Intravenously.  See that tape on the back of her
hand?"

"Oh.  That was a real hospital?"

Jack chuckled.  "Real enough to cost a bundle."

"Did you really spend $2500 on 'Nita just now?"  The girl's voice
contained awe.

"I really did.  Well, if Lou gets his way, maybe only $1250."

"I insist," Lou insisted stoutly.

The girl took a deep breath and asked, "How we ever gonna pay you
back?"

"Just keep on being sweet to us," suggested Lou, patting her
shoulder over Anita's slumped head.

Turning slightly, Jack said, "You might try to stop stealing from
us.  Did it never occur to you just to _ask_?"

The girl sighed.  "'Nita wanted to ask.  I didn't believe you'd
let us keep our date."

"Didn't you?"  Jack shook his head.  "I'll admit, we wouldn't
have liked it -- and we don't!  But, Betsy, you know you're not
prisoners."



* * *



"But we got to trust them.  They saved my life."  Anita whined
childishly in the dark.  "Besides they spent all that money for
me."

The two girls shared a bed in the guest room.  The men had
insisted that Betsy stay with the ex-invalid for the night.

"Yeah, they's really nice guys," the blonde sighed.  "But you
know they can't keep on.  They got they own lives and probably
families.  We just won't fit in.  Most likely thing is they run
us off in a week or two, you know, after they gets tired of us."

The small brunette almost wailed in dispair.  "But Jack said he
wanted to be like my grandpa."

She burried her face in the blonde's neck and reached over a hand
to grasp a comforting breast.  "And Lou promised to be my uncle."

"That's just talk, 'Nita, old guy talk.  Once they get everything
they want it'll be another story."

"But they've already got everything from us.  They've stuck their
things in me everywhere and you too."

"Still, they get tired of us in a few days, then you'll see.
They start giving us cold looks and yelling at us.  Why you wanta
wait around for it?"

"'Cause I don't believe it."

Betsy scoffed, "'Cause you don't _want_ to believe it!"

"Well, what do _you_ wanta do?"

"When I kissed Jack goodnight, I seen the bulge his wallet makes
in his pants hanging on that rack of his'n.  Lou's is just the
same.  Let's lift a few hundred before first light and go back to
Kingsley.  That boy you was sniffing at works in the garden
shop."

Anita raised her head to stare at the dark form of her friend.
She announced adamantly, "I ain't gonna steal from them ever
again!"

Betsy shook her head.  "Don't say that, sweetie.  We got to think
of ourselves.  At least we gotta be ready when they throws us
out."

Anita said thoughtfully.  "Even if they _do_ throw us out, we
won't be broke."

"Huh!  How do you know?"

"These old guys have feelings."

"Feelings!" Betsy repeated sarcastically.  "Feelings of us!  But
I tell you, they gonna get tired of it."

"I'm gonna stay till they do," the brunette declared positively.

"Damn, you mean it, don't you?"

Anita sighed.  "Guys!  Why don't _we_ get tired of _them_?"

Betsy gently eased her skin against that of her friend.  "We
don't need guys tonight, do we, pretty 'Nita?"  She leaned down
and kissed the smaller girl's lips very lovingly as her hand
found a modest, pointy breast.

"I love you, Betsy," the little one whispered and stroked the
back of the larger girl, now lying slightly atop her.

"And I love you.  The last couple weeks I figure out why guys
wanta slobber on you."

"Me too."  Anita giggled.  "But here is so different from the
beach.  We're so squeaky clean and the sheets smell so fresh.
Let's lick on each other at the same time."

"Yeah, let's do it.  Scoot down a bit, darling."



End Episode 2
Next:  "A New Home"

Contacts:
	Varangian, ludmax11@hotmail.com
	Kellis, kellis@dhp.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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