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Message-ID: <50079asstr$1104703804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Russell Hoisington" <hoisingr@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} G'Night, Pixie 05/06 {Hoisington} (MF Mf solo oral anal group inc cons M/reluc caution)
Lines: 751
Date: Sun,  2 Jan 2005 17:10:04 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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                          G'NIGHT, PIXIE
                        Russell Hoisington

  ************************************************************

This is an erotic fantasy.  The characters and the situation are
purely imaginary, and this story is NOT intended to be a guide
for actual behavior.  Any similarities between this story and
actual people, or actual events that you should be ashamed of,
are purely coincidental.  If it is illegal in your part of the
world to access and read erotic fiction, or if you are underage,
or if you don't like sex stories, then stop now.

This story is copyright 2004 by Russell Hoisington.  Please do
not remove the author information or make any changes to this
story.  You may post freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in
the "free" area of commercial sites.  That does NOT mean that
they are in the public domain, nor does it mean that I give
permission for you to use them in spam advertising.  I reserve
the right to determine what is "spam advertising" by MY
definition, not yours or anyone else's.

Thank you for your consideration.

  ************************************************************


                               Five
                            Exploring

     Clean-shaven Doug dumped the bowl of hot water down the sink
drain, where it flowed through the new bamboo pipe to a sump in
the sand beneath the cabin.  It was better than dry shaving, but
some soap would have enhanced the experience.  Mary had already
trimmed Alyson's bangs.  "Are we ready?" he asked after putting
the razor in a cabinet.
 
     Mary and Alyson moved to either side of him and stroked his
cheeks and neck.  He felt the fingers of both drag over minute
rough spots.  Something was different between those two, but he
couldn't identify what was different, much less guess why.
 
     "I don't know," Mary said with a frown.  "What do you say,
Aly?"
 
     Alyson put on the standard Patient Female Dealing with a
Hopeless Male look, complete with Put-Upon Sigh.  "If we have him
do it over, we'll never get to go exploring.  I guess we'll just
have to live with him."
 
     "I guess."
 
     The two began giggling.  Doug wondered if he should go check
the level of the bottle of rum he'd found in the file cabinet,
but Alyson rose on her tiptoes and each of his women kissed a
cheek.  And both rubbed their tits on his arms.  He quickly
corrected that thought:  Mary had rubbed her tits on one arm, but
Alyson had merely brushed her tits--her breasts--against the
other one.  Somehow that correction made things worse instead of
better.  I wouldn't have noticed at all if Mare hadn't started
prying.
 
     All wore deck shoes and belts with sheathed knives.  Aly's
belt was leather.  Doug and Mary wore cloth-wrapped nylon rope
with small pouches attached.  They gathered the three canvas
"shopping bags" Doug had made to replace two rotted ones and
trekked out the back door, pausing on the porch for Alyson to
retie one of her shoes while Doug retrieved the machete from a
wall peg.  When all were ready they disappeared into the trees
beyond the outhouse.  They followed the wide, shallow, freshwater
stream for a hundred yards, then crossed it on stepping stones
that Welch apparently had put in the water.  They followed a path
Doug had explored across the gently rising, undulating ground to
the wide empty space where the tornado had cut across the island.
 
     The space was empty only by comparison.  It was littered
with shattered tree stumps and debris from the powerful storm. 
Brightly colored birds chased insects across the expanse.  "Watch
your step out there," he cautioned.  "You can twist an ankle or
ram a piece of wood through your shoe and your foot if you aren't
careful.  And we don't have adequate medical facilities."
 
     They stood silently for a few moments, awed by the might of
the winds that had devastated this section of tropical forest. 
Those same winds had thrown a tree through the side of their boat
a quarter-mile out to sea, over a mile from this location. 
Because of the open area they could see the nearby steep
foothills looming like miniature mountains several hundred feet
into the western sky and blocking their view of the higher peaks
beyond.  Alyson dubbed the path of destruction "The Tornado
Freeway."
 
     Doug led them across a path he'd marked to the trees on the
far side.  After that point they were in unexplored territory. 
"Be careful," he said.
 
     "I will, Daddy."
 
     He knew that.  Fear of getting a splinter would keep Alyson
alert.  His remark was really aimed at the winner three years
past of the Braeden-Seaforth Award for Botanical Research.
 
     The winner gave him her usual sidelong "I know what I'm
doing" look.
 
     "I'm open to suggestions," he said, looking into the thick
tropical forest fanning one hundred eighty degrees before him.
 
     "Up."
 
     Doug and Alyson turned to Mary, who was shading her eyes and
peering at the canopy above.  She looked at Alyson for a moment,
said, "Yeah," and reached into her "shopping bag."  She brought
out a length of nylon rope with a loop at one end.  She whirled
it overhead and whipped the end forward, causing it to wrap
around the trunk.  She marked the spot she wanted and knotted a
second loop at that point.
 
     Mary kissed the others, took a loop in each hand, and
started walking up the trunk, shifting the rope upward as she
went.
 
     "Daddy, what did she mean by that?"
 
     "Why are you asking me?"
 
     Alyson chuckled.  "Yeah."  They found a comfortable log and
watched the pretty birds darting about while others sang strange,
lyrical songs from the trees.
 
     Mary returned with a wide smile and a spike of pinkish
flowers with small white and yellow spots fastened behind her
left ear.  She reached into the bag and pulled out a similar one
plus a short length of thin vine.  "Bromeliads," she explained
and with a deft touch wove it into Alyson's hair behind her left
ear.
 
     Doug gaped at her.  "You went all the way up there for some
flowers?"
 
     Mary glared at him.  "It's for your daughter," she snapped.
 
     He saw how delighted Alyson looked and felt the total fool. 
"And she looks quite lovely with them," he said with what he
hoped wasn't a sheepish smile.  "So do you."
 
     "While you're trying to talk your way out of trouble, look
in the large can in the bag."
 
     Doug withdrew a large clump of moss protecting three beige
eggs the size of small chicken eggs.
 
     "Tomorrow's breakfast," she explained, finishing the braid
and using the vine to keep it from unravelling.
 
     He hesitated, wondering if they were just yolks and whites
or almost developed birds.  "Um, Mare, what if these aren't...
fresh?"
 
     Mary took the can and crammed the moss into place.  "Gee,
Doug, I guess I never thought of that, since I've never spent
weeks at a time in a place like this learning anything.  I just
laid around and watched tropical television while everyone else
did all the work."
 
     "Sorry. I guess I wasn't thinking."
 
     She shook her head and looked at Alyson, who hadn't moved. 
"It's finished, honey."
 
     Alyson jumped up and down with glee.  "Daddy, can I see the
mirror?"
 
     He removed the signal mirror from a pouch and handed it to
her.
 
     "Oh, Mother!  It's wonderful!  Thank you!"  She gave her
mother a big squeeze, then turned the sprig toward Doug.
 
     "Prettiest pixie I ever saw," he said as she threw her arms
around his neck.  She was still jumping up and down, and the feel
of those firm little cones brushing against his chest stirred
feelings he didn't want stirred.  When she stepped back and
handed him the mirror he noticed her nipples were erect.  He
immediately diverted his attention to carefully putting the
mirror back into its pouch, sandwiched between two thin strips of
protective wood.
 
     When he finished he looked toward Mary.  She pointed and
said, "Produce is this way."
 
                              *****
 
     When they reached the embankment the clouds had begun
gathering and they were ascending a moderate slope.  The area
looked as if someone had sliced vertically through the earth and
pushed everything on this side down seven feet.  It ran as far as
they could see to either side.  "Turn back now?" Doug asked.
 
     "We have another hour," Mary said.  "Let's see what's higher
up."
 
     Doug backed up to the embankment, squatted, and laced his
fingers together.  "Pixies first," he said.  Alyson grinned and
put one foot in his hands, steadying herself with her hands on
his shoulders.  He straightened his legs and lifted with his
hands.  She also straightened and used her hands against the dark
embankment for balance.
 
     As the heart-shaped brown curls passed his face his nose
caught a faint hint of her feminine fragrance.  He wanted to look
away, but it wasn't safe to do so.  _If Mary hadn't made that
horrid suggestion, I wouldn't have noticed_, he thought, as if
trying to convince himself.  _But what if I had?  I damned sure
noticed Tiffany Smith's_.
 
     She lifted her leg to place her foot on the top of the
embankment, bringing her plump outer labia into view.  As she
placed her foot on the upper bank they parted to show their moist
inner surfaces and the mouth of her vagina.  When she put her
weight on the upper foot that mouth opened.  He tried to tell
himself it was the same thing he'd seen when he gave her a
gynecological exam a year earlier, but even for a nudist this
view in a tropical island setting was far more erotic than the
same view in a clinical examination room.  Her pheromones weren't
helping, either.  _Damn it, Mare!_  Alyson straightened her leg
and rose from his hands.  Her open slit winked shut and then
vanished as her legs came together.
 
     He looked at Mary.  She was grinning at his dick, which had
swollen enough to indicate four o'clock instead of six.  "Want me
to take care of that before you go up?" she asked, circling her
lips with her tongue.
 
     "No," he snapped.  _For God's sake, I'm a pediatrician! 
Can't she understand that?  She has to understand that.  She must
be digging.  She must have heard something from someone, somehow. 
She must have!_
 
     She shoved a finger into her slit and rubbed a few times,
cooing at him, but gave up when he ignored her.  She shrugged. 
"Your loss."
 
     He helped her up the embankment and handed up the shopping
bags and machete.  Mary fastened one rope around a tree and
dropped the end over the edge.  He used it to walk up the
vertical wall, accompanied by gentle applause from his audience. 
He bowed, then took the machete to hack a blaze mark into the
side of a tree.
 
     A hundred yards later a dip in the land directed the flow of
a stream toward the southwest.  A small yellow-striped blue
lizard sat atop a mossy log and watched them settle beside the
stream before scurrying away on urgent lizard business elsewhere,
just as the afternoon shower began.  The overhead leaves provided
impact protection from the shower.  The water that pattered on
them was cool and comforting after their exertion.  They drank
from the bubbling stream and seated themselves on a broad mossy
patch a few feet from the water.
 
     As Mary doled out the fruit and nuts onto napkin-like cloth
squares for a quick lunch Alyson looked around at the picturesque
wooded glen.  "Daddy, this is beautiful.  Can we come back here
some day?"
 
     He flicked his eyes to Mary in surprise and found hers wide
and staring back at him.  "I don't see why not.  Do you really
like it?"
 
     "Yeah.  I wish we had some place this pretty back home.  It
makes the campground at the lake look blah.  _Eek!_"  A six-inch
centipede crawled from beneath the lizard's log and scurried
toward her in a flutter of legs.  It turned aside and went up the
slope to disappear under a pile of decaying leaves, but not
before she had rolled sideways and jumped into Doug's lap. 
"_Daddy!_"
 
     Both parents laughed.  "Now that's a centipede with one
amazing sense of comedic timing," Mary observed.
 
     Doug agreed and then noticed the warm, moist heat where she
was sitting on his thigh.  _Warm and moist like Tiffany's.  Damn
it!  What the hell's the matter with me?_ he wondered.  _Mary's
got me thinking of my own daughter as a sex object, and I said I
wouldn't do that anymore_.  He gave Alyson a slight nudge.  "I
think it's safe for you to get up now."
 
     The sudden look of hurt in her narrow eyes surprised him. 
"Yes, sir," she said as she rose.  The formal response was
another surprise.  She shuffled head down the few feet to the
edge of the stream and stood there in the rain with her back to
him, her shoulders trembling.
 
     _I swear, I'll never understand women_. He glanced to Mary. 
She was unexpectedly glaring at him and starting to rise.  When
she was upright her eyes softened as they shifted to Alyson, and
she moved beside her daughter.  She put an arm around Aly's
shoulders and spoke to her in a soft voice.  The sound carried to
Doug's ears, but not the words.
 
     His daughter said something, then tilted her head back to
let the rain land on her face.  She washed her face with her
fingertips while Mary returned to sit cross-legged beside Doug. 
"We still have about six hours until bedtime," she said in a
quiet voice.
 
     Doug knew very well how to translate that:  "_You still have
about six hours to fuck up some more_."
 
     "What did I do?" he asked in a whisper.
 
     She gathered the corners of one cloth and handed him his
lunch.  Her eyes turned as cold as her whispered voice.  "This
time you chose to reject her when she needed you."
 
     _Reject her?  This time?_
 
     "Honey, your lunch is ready when you are," she said and
began eating in silence, letting Doug think about her words.
 
     Alyson nodded, wiped her eyes, and returned.  She took a
seat on the opposite side of Mary from himself.  It had appeared
to be a deliberate destination, chosen after she started walking. 
The mossy ground stopped where Mary was sitting.  Alyson perched
herself on another log, took the makeshift cloth bag, and also
ate in silence.
 
     Doug wanted to speak, but he was afraid that anything he
said would make things even worse since he didn't understand the
problem.  The brief rain tapered to a stop and still he didn't
know.  He was so deep in thought he didn't notice the sound
before the other two stood and rushed into the stream, peering
upward.
 
     _Airplane engine_.
 
     He scrambled to his feet and rushed into the stream,
fumbling for the signal mirror.  But the sun was still behind the
clouds.  He looked to the small gap nearest the sun and tried to
calculate whether it would expose the sun in time for him to use
his mirror.  A small single engine plane with pontoons crossed
the gap and disappeared.
 
     "Do you think he saw the SOS sign?" Alyson asked in a
hesitant voice.
 
     "Possibly," Mary said, trying to will the plane to cross the
gap again.
 
     "But not likely," Doug added.  "Unless there are gaps over
the beach.  He's already past it and probably won't be looking
backward."
 
     Mary's head swiveled to gape at Doug, unable to believe he'd
said that, and then to Alyson, expecting to see her in tears.
 
     "Oh," Alyson said softly.  Her shoulders drooped slightly as
she relaxed.  And that was all.
 
                              *****
 
     They spotted a patch of mushrooms just before the Tornado
Freeway.  Mary pronounced them not only safe but wonderfully
flavored.  While they added some to their shopping bags a large
butterfly with metallic blue, black, and gold wings floated
around a tree in front of Alyson.  She whispered to the others to
not move and watched as it landed on her arm.  Its tiny feet
tickled as its proboscis uncurled and tapped her arm, sipping her
sweat for the salt.  Her eyes widened in delight and a broad
smile spread, making her apple cheeks even more prominent.  She
watched the butterfly turn a circle, open and close its wings for
a few seconds, and launch itself to rise in a shaft of sunlight
and disappear overhead.
 
     "Wow!" she whispered and spent the next minute in immobile
silence in case it returned.
 
                              *****
 
     A bright red four-inch feather lay atop a small bush.  Doug
put his shopping bag down, plucked the feather, and held it up in
the hand with the machete, straightening and smoothing it with
the fingers of his free hand.  "There," he said, turning to
Alyson.  "Would you like it as a necklace or an arm band?"
 
     She couldn't have looked more pleased--or more surprised, he
noted--if he'd said she could learn to drive and have her own car
as soon as they returned.  "Necklace?"
 
     "Done.  We'll wash it in the stream first, in case it has
mites."
 
     Her pert nose wrinkled.  "Okay."
 
     Movement on the trail behind Mary caught his eye and he
shushed them.  "Turn very slowly and look about ten feet down the
trail," he whispered.
 
     A small mouse sat on its haunches and studied them in
return.  Mary and Alyson glanced sideways at each other and
started giggling.  The mouse scampered off when they doubled over
in laughter.
 
     _I swear, I'll never understand women_.
 
                              *****
 
     Doug had seen Mary obstinate before, but by comparison she'd
been as pliable as pottery clay.  This time she was as firm as
the fired ceramic.  She locked her fingers behind his neck and
pulled his head down until they were eye to eye in the waning
light.  She spoke slowly and very distinctly, as if to a
misbehaving child.  "You are sleeping in the middle tonight, or
you're sleeping on the cot, and that's final."
 
     "But Alyson...."
 
     She gave him two heartbeats to think of the words.  "Alyson
what?"
 
     He blinked, wondering how to put it.  "She doesn't need to
be sleeping next to a man at her age.  She probably doesn't want
me sleeping next to her."
 
     Her eyes told him that wasn't the right answer, not by a
long shot.  "Doug, I didn't marry an idiot.  Don't turn into one
now."
 
     "What do you...."
 
     "She's adapting remarkably well to being stranded here,
don't you think?  'Can we come back here some day?'  This place
has memories of missing death by seconds, almost drowning, being
lost in the forest, being stranded with no idea of when she'll be
rescued, no contact with her friends, no pizza, no music, no
toilet paper, none of the things she's accustomed to, and yet she
still wants to come back to it.  I'm not a pediatrician, I'm just
a mother, but I find that pretty fuckin' unbelievable, don't
you?"
 
     He hadn't thought about it, but he had to agree she was
right.  "But so what?" he added.
 
     His wife's glare softened into a look that, in other
circumstances, he'd have said was one of pity.  Her voice was
little more than a whisper.  "I was just wondering whether she
wants to come back despite the fact, or because of the fact, that
this is the place where her father rejected her."
 
     Doug shook his head and blinked, trying to make sense of
feminine logic.  "You keep saying that I've rejected her."
 
     She released her fingers and let him straighten.  "That's
because you _keep_ rejecting her.  As soon as the centipede
leaves, you don't ask her if she's ready to get up.  You don't
even ask if she's okay.  You just eject her from where she felt
safe, protected by someone she thought loved her, as if she's a
squatter on your land."
 
     He was aghast at the implication.  "Mare, that's not...."
 
     Heat began creeping into Mary's voice as she raised an arm
toward the lagoon.  "She was out there crying this morning
because she couldn't guess what she'd done to make you so mad at
her so that you wouldn't let her near you at night.  She's
probably out there crying into her diving mask, trying to guess
why you'd rejected her again this afternoon, and thinking that
I'm an idiot for telling her you still loved her."
 
     Mary wasn't making sense.  "But I do love her, Mare!  I even
made her that necklace out of the feather to show her."  He
pointed to the table where the just-completed object lay next to
the small toolbox and Alyson's bromeliad sprig.
 
     The heat in Mary's voice was offset by the cold in her
glare.  "She's not a materialist, Doug.  While she accepts
objects as _signs_ of love, she doesn't equate them _with_ love. 
All the complaining about what she's missing is mostly an act,
you know.  You saw the true Alyson just before you rejected her
this afternoon."
 
     Doug fought to keep his voice steady.  Mary would listen if
you reasoned with her, but not if you argued.  "Please stop
saying I rejected her.  Please."
 
     "You won't let her sleep next to you for comfort or
reassurance except when it's storming and she's scared half to
death.  And then when you finally do give in, the first thing you
do when you wake up and find her there is fall out of bed trying
to get away from her, simply because you had an erection and
humped her butt before you woke up enough to know what you were
doing."
 
     He was surprised to feel the color draining from his face. 
He rather thought that he'd have blushed himself to death if Mary
ever found out.  _Oh, my god!_ he thought.  _Aly was awake and
felt me do it!_  He wanted to run into the woods.  "I wasn't
awake," he protested.
 
     "I said that."
 
     "I didn't know Aly was awake."
 
     "She wasn't."
 
     _Then how...._  He frowned at her.  "_You_ were awake?"
 
     "No."
 
     He shook his head, trying to align the pieces of the jigsaw
puzzle.  Nothing made sense except the thought that she was again
on a fishing expedition.  "Then how did you know I humped her
butt?"
 
     "Because I used _my_ head for something besides an ear
separator today, that's how."
 
     He'd been afraid that would be her answer, though he
couldn't put the pieces together.  He started to ask but noticed
it was growing dark outside.  Alyson would return from skin
diving at any moment.
 
     "Mare, it's not proper for a thirteen-year-old girl to sleep
next to a grown man."
 
     "Really?  When I was thirteen you didn't complain about all
the grown men I slept next to, even when they were buried in my
twat up to their balls.  Or when I was fourteen, or fifteen,
or...."
 
     "She's my _daughter_."  The thought hit him like cold water. 
_She's not fishing.  She knows.  She's trying to use Alyson to
trap me into admitting it.  The Investigating Committee of the
Board must have reopened the case, and now she's working for
them.  She's trying to get me to prove the allegations.  She took
the side of those nosy, interfering bastards!  She wants me to
lose my license!  Well, it won't work._
 
     Mary was blissfully unaware of the turmoil boiling behind
his eyes.  "One of those men was _my father_.  Okay, fine, look: 
if you want to grow conventional morals, we can talk about that
after we're rescued.  But," she jabbed his chest with a
forefinger, "goddamnit, you _owe_ her an explanation.  You want
to say she's your daughter?  Then treat her like she's a human
being with feelings and intelligence and not like she's your pet
fucking dog!"
 
     Doug sighed.  No, he hadn't given Aly any explanation.  He'd
have been confused himself under those circumstances.  Now he
understood Alyson's actions as well as Mary's  "You're right.  As
soon as she gets back I'll have a talk with her."
 
     Mary emphasized each word with a finger jab.  "You're. Not.
Listening. To. Me."  Her eyes searched his as if seeking a spark
of intelligence.  "Tomorrow.  Tonight you take the middle of the
bed because she needs to be next to you even more than she needed
it during last night's storm.  Understand?"
 
     He sighed.  "Not completely, but it can wait.  Okay?"
 
     _"Not completely," my ass!  You'll see.  I'll play your game
and nothing will happen.  It will be your turn to wonder and
doubt for a change.  You won't have anything to give the
committee for proof._
 
     Mary threw her arms about him and squeezed, turning her face
up.  He glued his mouth to hers and returned the squeeze as bare
feet slapped across the front porch and stopped in the door.
 
     "Do you want me to go back to the beach and let you be
alone?"
 
     "No," Doug said.  "I want you here with me."  Mary's gentle
tightening of her arms about him told him he'd said the right
thing for a change.  He looked up to see her clutching her mask,
snorkel, and fins in her right hand and something small in her
left.  "What do you have there?"
 
     "Look!" she said, dropping her diving gear by the door.  In
her open hand rested a two-inch red-and-white shell spiraled
about its long axis.  "It's the most perfect one I've ever seen."
 
     "So it is," Doug agreed.  "You know, that necklace needs a
weight at the bottom of the feather to keep it from tipping
over."
 
     Alyson's eyes sparkled in the twilight.  "You finished it?"
 
     He indicated the table with a flick of his head.  "I
wouldn't want to keep my Pixie waiting."
 
     She looked, gave him a quick kiss, that landed mostly on his
chin, and turned to pick up the necklace.  She held the ends of
the nylon thong together behind her neck and let the feather rest
against her chest.  "Can you put the shell on without hurting it? 
If you can't, I'll find another shell.  I don't want to damage
that one."
 
     "Maybe," Doug said, starting to position the shell against
the bottom of the feather.  He froze when he saw that it was
between her firm tanned cones and their erect nipples.  "Um...."
 
     Mary's head tilted down, and she stared at him from under
her eyebrows.  _She's waiting for me to fondle them,_ he
realized.
 
     "It's too dark to tell now.  I'll see about it first thing
in the morning."
 
     "Okay!" Alyson bounced on her toes in glee, and Mary raised
her face to give him a gentle smile.  Apparently he'd stumbled
into the right thing again.
 
                              *****
 
     From the middle of the bed Doug watched Alyson wiggle her
head into the pillow and grin so broadly that her round cheeks
threatened to push her eyes shut.  "G'night, Mom," she said and
puckered to receive Mary's kiss.  "I love you."
 
     "Good night, honey.  I love you, too," Mary said as she rose
from her knees.  "Don't let the mosquitoes bite."
 
     As Mary adjusted the netting and went around to her side of
the bed, Alyson turned a beaming face that seemed to glow in the
reflected moonlight to her father.  Doug thought he heard a tiny
giggle, as if she were happy.
 
     His right hand brushed aside her trimmed bangs.  He kissed
her forehead, then ran the side of his index finger down her
square jaw.  "G'night, Pixie."
 
     She grinned even wider, puckered, and made the two soft
grunts.  He pressed his lips to hers.
 
     "_MmmmmmmmMAH!_"
 
     "G'night, Daddy.  I love you.  Thank you."
 
     "You're welcome," he said, wondering if he were being
thanked for the necklace, sleeping in the middle, or something
else.  But Alyson was happy, and he didn't need to know right
now.
 
     He still hadn't decided how he was going to sleep.  He
finally opted to turn onto his right side and wrap his upper arm
and leg over Mary.  He'd keep his dick safely and innocently next
to Mary all night if she'd let him.  To his relief, she didn't
object.  He felt Alyson spoon up behind him.  She threw her left
arm over his chest and wiggled into a comfortable position.  He
felt a warm dampness as she kissed him between his shoulder
blades and whispered, "I love you."  Her breathing became slow
and regular in mere seconds.
 
                              *****
 
     Doug sat at the table, resting his chin on his left fist and
clutching a glass of coconut milk in his right hand.  Alyson was
right.  Any attempt to attach the shell to the necklace with the
tools and techniques available would surely damage it.  He rose
and took it to the mantel.  It would be safe there until they
were rescued.
 
     _Rescued.  That better happen soon.  I don't know how much
longer I can go without somehow slipping up and giving Mare the
evidence the Committee needs.  Goddamnit!  It was OVER with.  WHY
did the Committee have to reopen the case?  And how did they
manage to bring Mary in on their side?  I always thought she was
on mine through anything.  Or was that it:  she's pissed because
I never told her what was going on?
 
     She thinks that because of Tiffany that I'm a threat to
Alyson!  Doesn't she realize that I never touched Alyson and
would never hurt her, no matter how much I thought about her back
then?  I usually thought about Aly while I was fucking away, but
I never acted out my fantasies for real.
 
     Tiffany couldn't see what I was doing, so she doesn't even
know that I used my tongue instead of my finger on her clit once. 
So Mary can't know that.  She can't even suspect it.
 
     Or can she?  She knows how I love to eat pussy.  Maybe she's
hoping to learn that.  Those bastards on the committee would love
it, especially that old fool Hodgson.  I'll bet he was the one
who reopened the case.  He must have learned that I was consulted
on his malpractice case.
 
     _
 
     He heard Mary enter and realized his fists were clenched,
his teeth were gritted so tightly his jaws hurt, and he was
breathing so hard he was almost snorting.  He forced himself to
relax and then turned as she dripped her way through the door and
took a seat at the table, reaching for his half-full glass.  _Act
normal_, he warned himself.
 
     "If I dripped water through the house like that, my wife
would kill me."
 
     She grinned.  "Think you married the wrong woman?"
 
     "No."  He nodded to the door.  "How'd it go?"
 
     Mary drank half the remaining coconut milk in one pull and
wiped her lips.  "The bromeliad had an extremely quick burial at
sea, and now she's looking for a replacement shell."
 
     "Well, I hope she...."
 
     The prolonged, sharp scream from the lagoon wasn't one of
fear but one of pain.
 
                      Continued in Chapter 6
 
Copyright Russell Hoisington 2004
 
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Russell Hoisington
State of Confusion

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