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Message-ID: <55095asstr$1167973801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Rogue Writer" <roguewriter@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Trust Comes Easy pt 1 (FF, FFF) Author: Rogue Writer
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Date: Fri, 05 Jan 2007 00:10:01 -0500
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TRUST COMES EASY
By Rogue Writer

(FF, FFF, exhibitionism, toys, threesome, drugs, violence, death,
destruction of a high-grade printer)

AUTHOR NOTE:  If you like this hilariously grim little tale, read some
of my other equally uninspired fiction:

After the Party
Daphne's New Life
How I Spent My Summer Vacation by Carol Hitchcock
A Death, Baked Bob, and the Personal Ad
Screwing My Ex

They came out in that order, and according to one reader I got better
as I went along, so do yourself a favor and read them in order to avoid
getting disappointed by my early lack of skills.

DISCLAIMER: Pay attention!  This story is fiction and not meant to do
anything more than entertain, don't read this stuff with any
intention other than having a good time, don't take life too
seriously and don't swim after you've just eaten.  Isn't it
stupid that I have to write these warnings in case someone goes out and
does something bad because of what they read in my story?  What's
happened in our society to cause this?  I know, I know, lawsuit-happy
people and the lawyers who run commercials that inspire them.  Now you
have to put warning labels on everything.  And I understand that some
things need warning labels.  Hydrochloric acid - big warning label on
that one.  With letters four feet tall.  But I don't need a cup of
coffee with a warning label that says it's hot.  I know it's hot.
I wanted it hot!  Well, not that hot.  I take it light, actually.


1.
Florida, several years ago...

As the woman who had called herself Michelle finished dressing, her
eyes kept going over to the dead body on the bed.  It fascinated her
how just a few short minutes ago the woman laying there was alive,
talking, laughing, writhing in the throws of passion, and now all that
was left was the shell, a motionless body growing cold and a pair of
eyes that looked at nothing.  No, they did look at something; they
looked towards the window and the sunlight streaming in through the
sheer drapes.  But the eyes had nowhere to report that information to,
since the brain had stopped functioning, along with all the other parts
in one of the most complex organisms on the planet.

And Michelle was the one who had stopped it.  She had stuck the knife
into Doctor Sara Gold's heart, ending her thirty-nine year old life.
Right up to the moment she'd done it Michelle felt fear and anxiety
because this was the first time she was going to kill someone.  But
just after, she felt something she didn't expect - power.  It was
the kind of power she hadn't felt in months, the kind of power she
used to feel when someone put their financial future in her hands, the
kind of power that told her she was special, above other people.  This
was why she couldn't stop looking at the body, because every second
she spent with it she felt that power.

Another unexpected surprise was that she didn't feel a shred of
sympathy or sorrow.  Instead of feeling bad, she felt like she had done
the woman a favor.  Last week Sara spoke about hating that she would
soon turn forty, an age she associated with older people.  Now Doctor
Sara Gold would remain thirty-nine forever.  It was the least Michelle
could do for the woman, given how much Sara had done for her over the
past three months.  Doctor Gold was a plastic surgeon, and a decent
amount of work had been done to change Michelle's appearance.  Now,
along with a dye job that made her a redhead, she looked different
enough to make a second-guesser out of anyone who knew her back in New
York, and most likely she wouldn't be recognized at all by some cop
who'd only seen a 'Wanted' poster.

All that work had been done for free, thanks to the false sob story
Michelle had spun the night they met at a local lesbian club - a
viciously abusive girlfriend, a late night getaway, the girlfriend
tracking her down wherever she went, feeling like there was no where
left to turn.  Sara offered to let Michelle stay at her place, and it
wasn't long before they were involved physically and romantically.
The romance part was important.  Michelle expressing her love for Sara
but knowing that staying there might be dangerous for both of them if
the ex-girlfriend showed up, then Sara getting the idea to use her
skills to change Michelle's appearance.

That's the key to any good con - always let the mark think they
came up with the idea on their own.  Michelle had labeled Sara as a
mark from the second she saw her car pull into the club's parking
lot, where she watched from the shadows to pick out who drove in with
the most expensive wheels.  Sara's was a Mercedes Benz with a bumper
sticker on it, something for a stray animal shelter.  Anyone who puts a
bumper sticker on an expensive car like that is the kind of person who
puts their heart before their wallet.  All Michelle had to do was
provide Sara a stray to take home.

On her way out of the bedroom Michelle wiped down wherever she
remembered touching today.  For the past three months she had always
been careful about remembering what she touched when Sara was around
and then wiping it down afterwards.  Whenever Michelle was in the house
alone she made sure to wear some of the rubber gloves a doctor like
Sara had in multitudes.  It made for lots of work, and all because she
had made a Stupid Move, one that had put her fingerprints in the system
forever.

That mistake happened back in college, where she got arrested for
stealing a car as part of a sorority initiation.  Daddy had the power
to fix it, to get her out before a bail hearing and have her record
expunged like it never happened.  But he did nothing, just let her sit
in jail for the night and let the arrest stand on her record.  She even
had to hire her own lawyer and go to court.  Luckily it was knocked
down to community service and a fine.  Afterwards, she asked Daddy why
he'd let her go through all that when he had the power to fix it, and
he said it was to teach her a lesson.  She told him she knew it was
wrong and she was sorry.  That wasn't the lesson, he said.  Plenty of
people break the law or do things that are morally wrong, and people
with power actually need to do those things if they want to gain and
keep power.

The lesson was not to get caught.

In the kitchen Michelle wiped the knife clean of blood and fingerprints
and put it in a plastic sandwich bag.  She put the bag in her purse,
grabbed a manila folder and keys from the kitchen counter, and went to
the back door.  Michelle cracked it open and looked around, trying to
see if any of the neighbors were out and about.  All clear.  She locked
the door and shut it, then strode across the backyard, stopping to pick
up a decent sized stone from the rock garden, and finally down to the
dock where she got into Doctor Sara Gold's boat.  It was a
twenty-foot motorboat that could do eighty miles per hour on the open
water; full of gas and supplies for the trip they had planned.
Michelle started it up and cruised out to sea.  The sun was starting
its downward trek on a Friday afternoon, and no one expected to see
Sara Gold until Monday morning, plenty of time to get south of the
border.  Once there, Michelle would sell the boat and buy a few
documents, then take a plane to somewhere in South America.

When she was out far enough that she couldn't see land, Michelle
stopped the boat, took out the manila folder and opened it.  Inside was
the medical file that Sara had created for her.  It was under the false
name she was using, but there were also pictures of Michelle from
before and after the surgery, not something she could leave behind.
She tore it up page by page, into the smallest pieces she could, before
tossing them overboard.  That felt symbolic for Michelle, like she was
literally tossing her old identity away.  Now she could start new.

Only one piece of business left.

She took out the knife in the plastic bag, opened it and put the stone
from the rock garden inside.  Just as she was about to toss it
overboard Michelle saw the distorted reflection of her face in the
knife, and that feeling of power came back.  Suddenly she wished she
could keep the blade, so every time she looked at it she was reminded
of the power.  That reminded her of a sad fact - all the things
she'd had, all the things she'd worked for years to build, were
forever lost.  She'd fled New York with almost nothing, no mementos
of what had been her power.  If she could keep this one thing...

No.  That was the Stupid Move.  Her father always taught her to avoid
making the Stupid Move, the one that separated the successful from the
losers.  She tossed the bag overboard and it disappeared below the
surface.  Michelle started up the boat and headed south with an empty
feeling in her gut, wanting to feel that power again.


2.
New Jersey, yesterday...

"Maggie, I've got to leave soon," Rich said.

I forced a smile.  "I'll have it on your desk, don't worry."

Rich walked off and I got back to work.  It was Friday afternoon and I
was sitting in my area of the lab, rushing to get my part of a formula
for a big project finished so I wouldn't have to take any work home.
My girlfriend and I were planning to spend the weekend relaxing at our
apartment, watching movies, eating take-out and having sex.  The only
two things that would cause us to get up from the couch were the party
we were throwing Saturday night and a romantic picnic on Sunday
afternoon.  The past two months had been full of busy work, running
errands, helping a friend move, and organizing not one but three events
for charitable causes Kaye is involved in.  So we planned to use this
weekend for spending some "just us" time together.

I couldn't wait, and not only because the "just us" time involved
copious amounts of getting slutty with each other.  At the picnic on
Sunday I planned to ask Kaye to fly with me to Amsterdam sometime soon
and get married, which is legal there and not in the land of the free.
This will be a shock to my friends, who have labeled me Miss
Anti-Romance.  It will be even more of a shock because Kaye and I have
only been dating for eight months, but the truth is our relationship
has been nothing less than extraordinary.  We made love on our first
date, despite the fact that she had a personal law against sex on a
first date, and several days later we said "I love you" to each
other without the slightest hesitation or fear.

The only hitch in the plan for this weekend was the gig I have to play
tonight.  Since I was eight I've played the violin, and these days I
earn some extra money as part of a quartet that hires out for parties
and social functions. The gig had been booked a few weeks ago, before
Kaye and I planned the down time.  Tonight was a dinner benefit for
some charity and I'd already cleared leaving work early with my boss.


But now the project deadline had changed and I had to finish before
Monday.  I couldn't be late to the benefit, so if I didn't finish
now that meant I'd have to finish it at home.  Kaye would be pissed
and I didn't want to pop the question to her when she was angry.  My
eyes kept looking at the clock, like it was going to somehow have
sympathy for me and slow down.  But there were forty minutes before I
had to leave and more than an hour's worth of work to be done.  This
was too much stress to be under just before my pleasure weekend.

Little did I know that was the calm before the storm.

It took an extra ten minutes, but I managed to finish everything, put
it on a memory stick and toss it to the project manager before running
out the door.  Forget the elevator, I flew down the stairs, jumped in
my car and zipped out of the parking garage with tires screeching.  The
first red light was when I felt it, that incredible sense of relief
that washed over me followed by a burst of excitement.  I blasted Black
Flag's 'Rise Above' on my stereo.  Rolling down the window I
screamed, "Yeahhhhh!" and started screaming the lyrics at the top
of my lungs.  The people in the next car looked at me like I had three
heads.

I felt my phone vibrating and turned down the music.  It was Kaye.  No
surprise she was home already since schoolteachers have those hours.

"Hey Pookie," I answered.  That was my pet name for her.

"Hey sexy girl.  I've got a surprise.  You will never guess who I
have sitting next to me."

"Oprah Winfrey?"

"No."

"Gwenyth Paltrow?"

"No."

"Paris Hilton?"

"Ew!"

"Elmo?"

"Stop it!  I said you'd never guess!  Now I hope you don't mind,
but I've offered to let her stay the night..."

"I thought this was a weekend alone."

"I know, I know, but she just came in from out of town, showed up
here as a surprise for you.  One of your ex's."

That caught me off guard.  "Okay, now you have to tell me who it
is."

"No I don't.  But maybe I can narrow things down.  Let's just say
she hinted at the idea of the three of us having some fun together."

That really didn't narrow things down very much.  I've never been
the romantic type, at least not before I met Kaye, so many of the girls
I've ended up with were keen to having threesomes or moresomes.  One
girlfriend deemed me a sex addict, which I didn't argue with.  Sex is
fun.  Sex feels great.  Love hurts.

"So you okay with this?" Kaye asked.  When I took a second to think
she added, "C'mon, you know you want to say yes!"

That's my Little Miss Fun Time.  Kaye loves to party, and if you're
on the fence about staying out too late or drinking too much or taking
one more hit on the joint, she'll be the one who kicks you over the
edge and then jumps in right after.  Funny thing is you wouldn't know
it if you met her at her job.  During the day she's an eighth grade
English teacher, and most of her students come to her without the
ability to read.  A good number of her students are in gangs, and from
what she tells me the girls are more vicious than the boys.  Yet Kaye
maintains order and her students leave the class with better grades and
test scores than they came in with.  Those who've had her know
she's strict and doesn't put up with any shit, and the ones who
haven't learn quickly.  Meanwhile, I get to experience Kaye the rest
of the time, where she turns into Lindsey Lohan on crack.

"Come on!" she chided.  "You know, for someone who looks like a
Blink 182 groupie you can be a big tight ass!"

My eyes darted to my bag on the passenger seat.  Inside was a box
holding identical silver rings, each inscribed with 'Maggie and Kaye
forever'.  I worried about this surprise visitor having some bad
effect on my plans for Sunday.  But then again I understood why Kaye
was so gung ho about this.  She'd never been in a threesome before,
and even though she's always been open to the idea circumstances
seemed to forever align against her.  Most of the women she dated
before either weren't into it or just when it seemed like they were
warming up to the idea the relationship ended.  And when she finally
finds someone who is all about open sexual relationships, namely me,
the aforementioned busy period of our lives swept in on us.

"All right," I said, "that's fine."

"Great.  We're going to grab some dinner while I try to pry out
some embarrassing stories about you.  Have fun playing.  Love you."


3.
The benefit was being held in some rich bigwig's mansion.  A tuxedoed
guard stationed at the bottom of the driveway directed me to park
around the back by the servant's entrance, presumably so my ten
year-old VW Rabbit didn't show up all the Benzes and Cadillacs and
Jaguars out front.  I grabbed my violin and my dress and ran inside,
ducking into a bathroom where I quickly changed and then made my way to
the foyer, which was bigger than my apartment.  The other three members
of the group were already there warming up.  As I took out my
instrument I got a hard glare from Robert Hanson, our self appointed
leader, who is also a certified asshole.

"You're late," he spewed.  Then he craned his neck towards me and
stared at my arms.  Hanson is certain that one day he'll find track
marks there, since he firmly believes that anyone who looks like me
will end up on heroin.

"Stop trying to look down my dress, asshole" I said loud enough to
be heard by the few guests who were standing nearby.  As Hanson smiled
and waved at the startled guests I began playing to drown out any
further bullshit he wanted to throw my way.  There were lots of things
Hanson didn't like about me, which he had made clear soon after he
took over the group.  He didn't like my tattoos, at least the ones he
could see, which were a big black 'X' on my arm, a broken heart on
my ankle and a bar code on the back of my neck, and my piercings, which
were in my nose and lower lip (I did diamond studs for gigs), and
several in each ear.  He also didn't like how I cut my dark hair,
which was shorter in the back and longer in the front, or that I dyed
one lock purple.  He dislikes liberals, and he dislikes liberal
lesbians even worse.  I told Hanson that the only thing that really
bothers me about him is that his hairpiece reminds me of Rose, the
poodle I had when I was little.  But he couldn't throw me out of the
group without cause, mostly because he sensed that the other two
wouldn't stay, and good players were hard to find.

We started on Vivaldi while people walked in and ate Hors d'Oeuvres
and chatted.  They wore expensive clothes and jewelry and talked of tax
shelters and country clubs and constantly smiled at the joy of being
privileged.  A few of them stood in front of us and watched us play as
they made comments to each other.  'This is what a fish must feel
like,' was our joke in the quartet.  I caught sight of a girl, maybe
sixteen, standing next to a young boy around her age who flirted with
her as they laughed and smiled.  When I was her age I was sleeping in
parks and sticking my head in dumpsters behind restaurants looking for
food.  I looked at the girl and thought it must be nice to not have a
care in the world.

Suddenly a fortyish woman came up behind the two teens.  They turned
and the woman gave a stare that quickly sent the boy away.  She shot
the girl a stern look and it wasn't hard to tell they were mother and
daughter.  The daughter looked down sheepishly as the mother whispered
angrily in her ear.  Then the woman took her daughter by the shoulders
and spun her, proceeded to wipe some crumbs off the girls dress and
adjusted it to her liking.  As they walked off, with the mother leading
the daughter by the hand, I discarded my previous thought and
remembered the grass is always greener when you're not standing in
it.

During the performance my mind kept wandering to whom Kaye was with.
It could be Beth Larson, since she always had the bad habit of dropping
by unannounced, or Ginny Roberts, who does everything on the spur of
the moment.  If it was Pam Grace it meant she needed money.  Then a
truly horrible possibility entered my head - Sarah Rosenberg.
Please, please, don't let it be Sarah Rosenberg.  That girl could
talk for five hours straight before she needed to break for air.

Dinner was announced and everyone filed into the dining area.  That
gave us an hour break and I stepped outside for a cigarette and a phone
call.  I was going to demand Kaye tell me which ex she was with, mostly
because I needed to know what embarrassing stories from my past were
coming up.  I dialed her cell phone, thinking they might still be out
to dinner, and it rang and rang and I started to get worried.  But then
there was a click and some noise like the phone was being fumbled in
her hand.  Kaye finally came on the line with, "Hey sweetie!"

"Pookie, who are you with?"

"I can't tell you that, but I can tell you that she...oooh..."

"Kaye?"

"Yes...yesssss."

"Are you having sex with her?"

"A little.  Uhhhhh, Jesus.  Are you mad?  You always talked about an
open sexual relationship, but I didn't know if that...that..." She
gasped.  "That meant sex without each other, or the other present,
or, ah, or...you know what I'm saying."

"Yes, it's okay," I reassured her.

"Good.  'Cause she said having a little warm up was a good thing,
mmmmmmmespecially to get you hot.  She said you liked that sort of
thing.  Sssso we're videotaping it to sh...sh...ow you later."

I had to admit, talking to my girlfriend on the phone while she was
having sex was getting me hot.  Whoever this ex was, she had my number.
 Then suddenly a bad thought entered my mind.  "Um, Kaye, how do you
even know she is who she says she is?"

My mouth stumbled over the awkward statement and that made Kaye giggle.
 "She showed me a, ah, picture of the two of you.  You were cute with
long hair."

That did narrow down the possibilities.  I'd cut my hair a month
after college, and dated only fifteen girls during school, compared to
the twenty-six I'd dated in the five years since I graduated.
Remember, sex addict yes, romantic, not really.

Trying to catch her breath, Kaye said, "Just get your butt
home...when you're done.  We'll try to save enough energy for, uh,
round with you.  Love you!"

She hung up before I had a chance to speak.  I didn't care Kaye was
having sex with another girl, because one of the things that made me
realize she is "The One" was how we agree about our relationship.
While we both feel our hearts belong to one another, we agree that our
bodies should be allowed to play with whomever they want.  Even though
Kaye grew up privileged in Connecticut she had grown away from
conservative ideas quickly.  I grew up in very different circumstances,
but my experiences had turned me off from society's idea of what a
"loving" relationship should be.  I could never survive in a
monogamous relationship, and knew I had to have a partner that felt the
same.  The last place I expected to find such a partner was in an
elementary school.

Kaye and I first met when my friend Lisa was doing her student
teaching. I'm a chemical engineer and Lisa brought me in as a guest
speaker to demonstrate how chemicals work in the world.  Lisa and I
knew each other through our college radio station when we had shows
back to back.  I played punk rock and would usually stay afterwards to
hang out during her show, cleverly titled 'Goth That' and we became
good friends.  Lisa still dresses like she did in college, all black
with the occasional red plaid skirt thrown in.  It was fun to watch the
most timid girl I'd ever known get up in front of a classroom full of
rowdy, inner city eighth graders and try to keep them in line, much
less teach them anything.

"Class," Lisa said.  The roomful of kids were laughing and talking,
screaming and yelling.  "Class!" she tried again.  They went on
like she wasn't even there.

I'd just decided to help Lisa in my typical subtle fashion by
screaming, "Shut the fuck up!" when suddenly the room became as
quiet as a tomb.  All the kids sat at their desks like perfect little
angels, their eyes towards the door.  Standing in the doorway was a
woman.  She smiled at them and said, "Good morning class."

In one collective sing-song voice they kids responded, "Good morning
Miss Foster."

"Work on your journals for ten minutes and then we'll start."

The kids took out notebooks and started writing.  Miss Foster walked up
to us.  She was about my age, twenty-six or so, with wavy auburn hair
that came down to her shoulders and an apple nose with light sprinkling
of freckles across her cheeks.  Just looking at her made me hold my
breath.  She gave Lisa a friendly smile.

"Thanks," Lisa said shyly.

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it.  Before they trust you
to discipline them they need to get to know you.  Speaking of
which..." She turned her gaze to me and suddenly there was this
spark, a flash behind her eyes that said I wasn't the only one eager
to meet.

"Oh, Kaye this is Maggie, my friend who's giving the talk today.
Mags this is Kaye, she's my teaching mentor."

When our hands reached out and took hold of each other it was totally
by instinct, because our eyes never left each other.  "Very glad to
meet you," she said.

I finally found my breath and managed to say, "Same here."

I got through the presentation without a problem.  The kids laughed at
my jokes, and I did an interactive thing where I assigned each kid to
be an element, made them stand together with elements of the same
family and showed what happened when certain elements mixed together.
At one point I caught sight of Kaye sitting in the corner, smiling at
me, and that's when I wasn't making a joke.

Walking down the hallway after my presentation, I was nearly jumping
out of my skin.  "What the hell happened to you?" Lisa asked.

"Lis, that girl is so into me."

"Who, Kaye?  You're kidding!  How could you tell?  Is this that
gaydar thing?"

"No, this is that I could tell she was as into me as I'm into her
thing.  Like when you met John."

Lisa looked back towards the classroom and then at me with a skeptical
look on her face.  "I don't know Mags."

"Why?"

"If it was like the kind of thing that happened when John and I met,
how come I didn't notice it?"

"Lis, you've got something on your shirt."  I pointed my finger
at her chest, and when she looked down I brought my finger up and
bopped her nose, making it the four millionth time I've done that
since we met.  "Because you can be a space cadet Lis, that's
why."

"Funny.  At lunch, I might have another space cadet moment and drop
my vanilla shake in your lap."

"It'll be okay, I'm wearing white pants."  We walked to the
parking lot before I worked up the courage to ask, "Any other reason
you think I'm off about Kaye?"

Lisa turned and twirled her hair between her fingers.  "Kaye just
gets excitable sometimes.  Remember when we saw Quentin Tarintino on
Letterman and he was all hyper and nutty?  She's like that, just not
as annoying."

I held up a finger.  "But he still makes great movies."

"Oh hell yeah.  He should make Kill Bill 3: The Ghost of Bill."

Disappointment must have shown on my face because Lisa's shoulders
slumped and she sighed and said, "Look, maybe tomorrow I could talk
to her about you.  Kind of feel her out."

I kissed Lisa on the cheek.  "Thank you, best friend."

"Uh uh.  This one doesn't come cheap."

"Does this mean you're not paying for lunch?"

The next day Lisa called me at work sounding uncharacteristically
upbeat.  "I talked to Kaye."

I said, "Give it to me."

"Okay, when I got there Kaye was at her desk grading stuff.  So I
asked her what she thought of my lesson plan and she said it was great,
and then I ask her what she thought of your presentation and she said
it was outstanding."

"Outstanding?"

"Outstanding.  So of course I had this moment of jealousy because she
said my lesson plan was just great and not outstanding but then I got
over it when I remembered that she might want to get slutty with
you."

"That's progress."

"I know, because normally I'd be freaked about it for the rest of
the day but I was over it in a few seconds.  So then I said, "Maggie
really liked meeting you."  And she said, "Yeah, she seems really
cool."

"Really cool?"

"Really cool.  I wasn't sure if that was in a friendly way or a
more than friendly way.  So I said, "Listen, Maggie has this theory
about you and I told her I wasn't sure about it and I kind of wanted
to ask you about it and I wasn't sure how to bring it up and..."

I impatiently said, "And..."

"And that's as far as I got because I was obviously beating around
the bush and like I said she can be a little hyper.  So she puts her
hands up to stop me and said, "Yes, I'm gay, yes I'm available,
yes I'm interested."  Oh, and she also said, "Yes, I will kill
you if you tell anyone at school that I'm gay."

I screamed out loud and did a stupid happy dance and tripped over my
coffee table and fell on the floor.  But I was still screaming.  I
continued to do so for a few moments before remembering Lisa.  When I
grabbed the phone all I heard was dial tone.  I figured she was
irritated by my screaming and hung up, but then ten minutes later an
ambulance crew and the police showed up and it turned out she thought I
was either having a heart attack or that someone broke into the
apartment and was jumping me.  That's my Lisa.


4.
I didn't get home from the benefit until a little after nine.  When I
stepped off of the elevator I could hear the music from my apartment at
the other end of the hall.  It sounded like they were in full party
mode and probably wouldn't be too long before someone called the
cops.  I was fishing my keys out of my pocketbook when the door across
the hall opened and my neighbor stepped out.  I think his name was
Mike, and he was a slight, quiet man who had moved in with his wife a
few months ago.  They weren't very talkative people so we didn't
know them very well.  I hadn't seen the wife in a few weeks and just
the other day Miss Prescott, the building gossip queen, told me the
wife had moved out.  She didn't know why for certain, but the way the
guy moped around it was a good bet the wife left him.  Mike looked up
at me and gave me the sad stare he'd been wearing lately.

I gave him a guilty smile and said, "Sorry about the noise.  I'll
turn it down when I get inside."

"It's okay," he said.  "I'm going out."  His eyes went
towards the carpet.  "My first time in a singles bar in eight
years."

I looked at him and struggled for something to say.  Nothing was coming
and I simply said, "Good luck."  It sounded weak.

"Thanks," he said.  I watched him walk up the hall and wanted to
say something else.  Part of my brain said to leave it be, not to get
involved with someone else's problem.  The other part of my brain
just got disgusted with that thought.  As Mike got in the elevator I
made a promise to myself to talk to him more the next time I saw him.

Then I turned to the apartment door and quietly said to myself,
"Please not Sarah Rosenburg."

When I walked into the apartment Kaye was sitting on a chair in the
living room.  As she got up and came towards me I had a chance to do
what I love to do - stare at the beauty that owns my heart.  She was
wearing a sports bra top and a pair of black yoga pants, which allowed
me to appreciate her teardrop breasts, her taut stomach, the curve of
her thighs, and the beautifully sculpted bare feet with a silver toe
ring on her right index toe.  Kaye goes to the gym regularly and is
proud of her body, especially since she was a little pudgy as a kid.
She's not painfully thin like a celebrity and not muscular like the
weightlifting steroid queens, her body has a nice hourglass shape to
it.  In order to accent this, Kaye loves wearing belly chains.  Tonight
she wore a silver chain with colored beads hanging around the length of
it.  Kaye loves wearing belly chains as much as I love watching her in
them.

As soon as she got to me Kaye gave me a passionate kiss, a big hug, and
then stuck a drink in my hand.  "You need to catch up, quickly."

While Kaye loved to workout, she also loved to drink and smoke pot.  It
was one of the contradictions that I loved about her.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a woman standing on the other
side of the room, facing my Rembrandt print.   When she turned it took
me a few seconds to recognize her, but once I did I'd have traded
anything in the world to be listening to Sarah Rosenberg for the rest
of the night.  Plastic surgery had altered her face, which was no big
surprise, and the only reason I even thought of Amanda Gailing was
because she's the one who gave me the print.  But the fact that she
was standing in my living room after four years was nothing less than
shocking.  You rarely expect the fugitive criminals you've known to
come back into your life.

Finding out what she told Kaye about me suddenly took on a whole new
importance.

"Hey stranger," she said, her voice sounding like we were friends
who parted amicably.  It took every ounce of will power I had to not
grab the closest sharp object and lunge at her throat.

"H-hey.  What are you doing...here?"

She walked over to me.  "Just happened to be back in town and thought
I'd look up a familiar face."  She leaned in and kissed me on the
cheek.

"Yours isn't so familiar anymore," I said.  When I first met her
she was a brunette.  The woman who stood before me had blonde hair,
with higher cheekbones and a wider smile than she used to have.  A pair
of very full, and very sexy, Angelina Jolie style lips accented that
smile.  But those smoky bedroom eyes hadn't changed one bit, and
neither had the message her smile conveyed.  When I first met her I
thought it was saying, "I'm wild", but three years later I knew I
had misread it.  Her smile was giving away her true nature.  It was
saying, "I'm trouble".

Suddenly Kaye took the drink from my hand and brought it to my lips.
"Less talking more drinking," she said.  Between the big, shit
eating grin on her face and a playful look in her eyes I could tell
Kaye was drunk.

We all sat down.  "So," I said to Kaye, trying to keep the fear out
of my voice.  "What lies has she been telling you about me?"

"None!  She's good!  I couldn't get a thing out of her.  Actually
we spent most of the time talking about me."

Amanda smiled.  "Yes, and I must say she's everything I expected
you'd end up with Maggie."  Her face twisted a little.  "Except
for the fact that she's not out.  Never thought you'd stand for a
closet case."

"I'm only not out at work," Kaye corrected.  "And that's just
because the principal is a raging homophobic asshole who's got the
school board in his pocket."

I noticed a small silver video camera on the coffee table.  "Whose is
that?"

"Amanda's" Kaye said.  "She suggested we make that hot video of
what we were doing before.  Make you jealous.  I like the way she
thinks."

"She is a little devil," I said.

Amanda smiled at me again, and I vowed that somehow I'd punch her
before she left.  Then I had to ask Amanda the question I'd been
dreading since I walked in the door.  "So, what have you been up
to?"

Amanda smiled that fiendish smile again, stole a glance at Kaye, and
said, "Thought you'd never ask."

Motherfucker, I thought, she's enjoying this.  I knew she hadn't
told Kaye a thing about the past, because Kaye would have beheaded me
the moment I walked through the door.  But then I started to worry that
the bitch was waiting until I got home before she fucked up my life
just for the fun of it.  That's when I realized my predicament - I
couldn't warn Kaye about Amanda without exposing things I didn't
want Kaye to know about me.  I just had to hope that whatever brought
Amanda here would be resolved quickly.  And that it didn't have
anything to do with us.

"I've been traveling a lot," Amanda said.  "You know, with work
and all.  I explained to Kaye that's why we haven't seen each other
in so long.  The world is my office."

"Now that's a cool fucking job," Kaye said, "working for an
international hotel chain, going to exotic places and acting like a
guest to check out the service."

"Yeah," I said.  "Amanda always was able to get away with the
craziest things.  She's practically a criminal."  I smiled at
Amanda.   She didn't look worried in the least.  I realized there was
something about Amanda that wasn't there four years ago. Beyond the
obvious physical changes there was something even bigger that was
different under the surface.  It was in the way she had moved when she
came towards me, the way her arms hung at her sides, the way she
smiled, the way she looked at me and everything else in the room.  It
annoyed me that I couldn't put my finger on it, because whatever it
was, my mind was telling me to be frightened of it.

The CD player was on shuffle and a song by the Sneaker Pimps started.
Amanda looked at me.  "Remember this?"  She turned to Kaye.
"This was our song back in the day.  We loved dancing to it.  And
fucking to it."

Kaye's eyes widened.  I knew she was turned on, by Amanda's candor
and the sultry glance I received after she said it.  "Well," Kaye
said as she picked up the remote and switched to another song.  "We
don't want to get too ahead of ourselves."  She chose a dance song
and stood up, offering a hand to each of us.  Amanda and I stood and
the three of us started to dance together.

We worked our bodies to the rhythm, occasionally taking turns grinding
up to each other.  There was also laughter and goofiness and for a few
minutes I forgot I was in the company of one of the most treacherous
women I'd ever met.

At one point Kaye reached over and turned down the volume.  "I hate
to be a downer, but I need to take a break."  She started walking
away.

I was a little out of breath when I asked, "Where are you going?"

In a proper tone, she responded, "To fire some ass monkeys into the
toilet."

There was a pause, and then we all burst out laughing.  Not a giggly
laugh, but a full-blown go-until-you-can't-breathe-anymore laugh.  It
took almost a minute for us to settle down, but then Kaye lost it again
and Amanda and I followed suit.  Eventually I controlled myself enough
to ask, "Where the hell did you get that?"

Kaye had been laughing so hard that tears were coming from her eyes.
Between giggles she said, "One of my kids.  It took everything I had
not to laugh while I told him that's not the way to ask about going
to the bathroom."

That sent us into a laughing fit again, and it was another minute
before Kaye could function enough to walk away.  Amanda and I were
trying to catch our breaths, still having the occasional chuckle, when
I heard the bathroom door shut.  My laughter stopped on a dime, my
smile dropped and my tone became serious as I gave Amanda a hard look
and said, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Her smile widened and she shook her head.  "Well, well, not much has
changed.  You're still all business."

"You want money?  I'll give it to you.  Just get out of here once
you have it."

"And miss all the fun of watching you squirm?  Little Miss Serious,
always making plans and plotting your every move.  Just the possibility
that you might fall apart is worth sticking around for."

"Stick around much longer and I might have to call the police.
They'd love to sit and talk with you, wouldn't they?"

"You're not going to call the police.  Then you might have to
explain our past to Kaye.  I don't think she'll want to be your
sweetheart much longer after that."

I let my anger get away from me.  "Bitch!"

I threw a fist at her, but she caught it in her hand.  My other hand
grabbed her throat and she grabbed mine.  Her arms were skinny but
proved to be all muscle as she wrestled me down on the couch.  I
pressed my thumb onto her windpipe, but other than a little gagging she
showed no sign that I was hurting her.  She got her fist away from my
hand and pried my other one off her neck, then grabbed a throw pillow
and covered my face with it.  Suddenly I couldn't breathe.  I kicked
and threw my fists at her body but I couldn't see where I was aiming.
 Amanda pressed the pillow harder and I thought she was going to kill
me.

Then she pulled it off and I coughed and gasped for air.  When I looked
up Amanda was putting the pillow back in place.  I couldn't stop
coughing as I heard the end of the toilet flushing.  Amanda helped me
up to a sitting position and started rubbing my back.

Kaye stepped into the doorway.  She was stark naked.

My body actually stopped coughing for a moment.  Amanda said, "So
much for not getting ahead of ourselves."  And then I started
coughing again.

Kaye looked at me with concern.  "Babe, are you okay?"

"Just..." I coughed twice and then held up my glass, "...went
down the wrong pipe."

She walked in and my coughing started to subside as I admired her.  I
loved looking at the curve of her pert breasts, which were capped with
small pink areolas, and her nipples were like hard pebbles on top.  Her
mound had a strip of brown hair that she kept neatly trimmed.  Kaye
walked over to the table and picked up the camera, turned and started
hooking it up to the television.  Her lovely toned ass commanded our
attention, the small butterfly tattoo on her right cheek somehow
managing to enhance its perfection.

Kaye sat between us on the couch, placing her hands on our legs.  The
screen flickered and came to life, a shot of the very couch we were
sitting on.  Kaye sat there dressed in a blue sweater and dark skirt,
the outfit she'd worn to work earlier that day.  Amanda walked into
the shot and sat down.  They stared at each other for a few moments,
but the eager anticipation in their eyes was obvious.  Kaye looked
hesitant, like she wanted to move towards Amanda, her upper body
slightly rocking back and forth, but something kept her from following
through.  Amanda simply sat there, half a smile on her face, and that
thing about her that I couldn't put my finger on came back into my
mind.  I still couldn't figure out what it was, and my hand balled
into a fist at the frustration.

Then almost simultaneously they moved toward each other and started
kissing.  There were no light pecks and it was neither soft nor tender,
just an open mouthed sloppy wet kiss full of passion.  I could just
imagine Kaye sitting through dinner in some restaurant with Amanda,
trying to contain all her bottled up excitement at finally getting into
a threesome, and with the beautiful creature sitting in front of her no
less.

As on-screen Kaye enjoyed the kiss, the Kaye sitting next to me started
to rub my leg suggestively.  I turned and noticed she was staring at me
intently.  I put my arm around her shoulders and started to lean in for
a kiss, but her finger came to my lips and stopped me.  "Un uh.  Not
yet."

I pouted and she smiled.  There was a moan and I turned back to the
screen and saw Amanda was licking Kaye's neck, which was one of her
big turn-on points, and had a hand up under her sweater, presumably
playing with her breast.  Then Amanda pulled back and took off Kaye's
top.  The kissing and fondling continued, and I felt a tingle between
my legs.  Kaye moved her hand to the inside of my leg and I let out an
audible sigh.

On the screen, Kaye's upper body was sprawled out on the couch and
Amanda was sucking on a nipple while her hand toyed with the other one.
 Kaye's eyes were closed and her mouth was open, her jaw moving up
and down slightly with each mini wave of excitement.  Amanda moved her
mouth to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment, then started
to lick her way down Kaye's stomach.  She stopped at Kaye's belly
button and gave it a little rim job, and then Kaye pushed Amanda away
and sat up.  She unbuttoned Amanda's shirt, and just as she got to
the last button she leaned in and they started kissing again.  Kaye
slid the shirt off of Amanda's shoulders, made quick work of her bra
and exposed a pair of breasts I hadn't seen in a while.  They were
large, probably bigger than Kaye's and mine put together.  Kaye
worked her way down and spent some time licking and sucking them, her
tongue snaking over and around the large nipples.

I felt very hot and downed my drink.  Kaye jumped up and said,
"I'll get you another one."  She grabbed the glass and ran into
the kitchen.  There was a moan from the television, where Kaye
continued to work on Amanda's nipples.  Her eyes fixed on the screen,
Amanda said, "She has an amazing tongue."  Then she looked at me
and winked.

Kaye came back in and handed me my drink.  I took a taste and nearly
gagged because she had made it very strong.  Then I realized a little
numbness was exactly what I needed and took a big gulp.  My girlfriend
sat back down and resumed her caressing of our legs.  I looked up at
the screen, which had turned blue.

"That's all you guys did?" I asked.

Kaye turned and with a sultry look on her face said, "Hardly."

I looked back at the screen and two seconds later an image of our
bedroom popped up.  The shot was of the side of our bed, and Kaye was
sitting on the edge, naked.  I realized the camera was sitting on the
low dresser across from that side of the bed.  Amanda walked into the
frame, also naked, and as she approached, Kaye started to lie back onto
the mattress.  Amanda leaned down and they started kissing, and when
they broke apart Kaye crawled back further onto the mattress, where
Amanda worked again on Kaye's breasts.  After a while she started
licking her way down Kaye's belly, and when she reached her muff
Amanda gave a few licks around the strip of hair.  Kaye spread her legs
and Amanda brought her index finger up to the folds, playing with and
caressing them.  Kaye pursed her lips and let out an audible sigh.
Then Amanda positioned to slide her finger in Kaye's hole.

"Wait," Kaye said.  She brought her legs up, grabbed behind her
knees and then brought them back until her feet were behind her head,
essentially folding herself in half.  Kaye was on the gymnastics team
in high school and college, and she had once dreamed of joining the
Cirque Du Soleil.

On screen Amanda said, "Wow."

Amanda on the couch said, "Yeah, still wow."

We both laughed.  I loved what Kaye could do with herself.  I could
lick her from asshole to clit in one swipe.  And that was exactly what
Amanda did on screen.  Kaye gave a loud, "Oh!" on the first lick
and then began to breathe quickly and audibly as Amanda repeated that
same lick back and forth several times.  Then her tongue started
licking the folds of Kaye's pussy, while her index finger started to
play around Kaye's slit, teasing, testing, and occasionally going in
for a shallow dip just to antagonize.  I remembered her doing that to
me a million times in the two years we dated.

Amanda's finger slid into Kaye, and she slowly pumped in and out.
Suddenly there was a moan that didn't come from the screen, and I
looked next to me.  Amanda had put her hand on Kaye's bare leg and
was caressing it.  Kaye's eyes were closed and suddenly I was very
jealous.  Why hadn't I thought of that?  But then I remembered my
rule - never get jealous in a threesome because it's not all about
you.  That's been an easy rule to follow, at least until now, when
the woman I hated more than anyone else is turning on the woman I love
the most.

I leaned in and started kissing Kaye's neck, which made her let out a
breath, and when I started licking she moaned loudly.  Amanda brought
her hand to Kaye's bush and let her fingers dance lightly over the
patch of hair.  I kissed and licked my way down her shoulder and
finally to her breast, running my tongue around the small globe and
licking and sucking her nipple.

"Oh God," Kaye sighed, "you're both turning me on so much."
She gasped and said,  "Somebody kiss me."  Amanda was closer, and
she engaged Kaye's mouth with the same passionate kiss they had
shared on the screen.  Kaye cupped my chin with her hand, pulled my
head up and brought me into the kiss.  Our tongues danced in a
three-way until I finally ended up kissing just Kaye.  Our lips and
tongues joined with the mixture of romance and lust I'd come to
expect from her, the moistness of her tongue and the softness of her
skin mixed with the ferocity of her passion and instantly turned me on.
 Kaye could bring me to an aroused state within seconds of a kiss,
because I could tell which ones were the lovey-dovey kisses and which
were the I'm-about-to-tear-off-your-clothes ones.

We broke off and suddenly Amanda's face was there.  I didn't even
hesitate.  Caught up in the moment I tossed my worry and fear about her
aside and we kissed like lovers again.  Her lips and tongue dominated
the kiss just as she had once dominated my life, thoughts, and wet
dreams.  I felt her hands start to caress me, and even through my
clothes she managed to touch me in ways that made my heart flutter.

When we parted, Kaye started assisting Amanda in taking off her top.  A
loud cry brought my attention back to the TV, where Amanda had narrowed
her tongue's attention to Kaye's clit while her fingers worked
rapidly in and out of Kaye's pussy.  I'd been in many threesomes
and seen many of my girlfriends having sex with another girl, but
something about watching Kaye being pleasured by another turned me on
in a way I'd never felt before.  I had always worried that loving
someone would mean jealousy in this kind of situation, but somehow it
was just the opposite.

Next to me, Kaye started fondling Amanda's breasts while sharing a
few kisses.  On screen, Kaye shook and cried out and then went slack
and started whimpering, which was what she commonly did after a good
orgasm.  Amanda got up from the bed, walked over to the camera and
stuck her face into the lens.

"Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did, Mags."

She kissed the screen and then it went back to blue.  Then I felt a
hand on my shoulder.  Kaye and Amanda were looking at me and smiling.

"End of movie," Kaye said.  "Start of orgy."

We made our way into the bedroom.  There sat the king size bed Kaye had
insisted on having.  It's not that she needed space for when we
slept, usually we fell asleep with one of us holding the other.  No,
Kaye wanted it so that when we have sex there's plenty of room to
have fun.  On the bed sat the real Pookie, or Mr. Pookie as I called
him.  He was a small stuffed bear I've had since I was six, with his
frayed fur and a few obvious patch jobs showing his years.

"I can't believe you still have him," Amanda said.

"Of course."  I carefully moved him from the bed to a chair across
the room.  Facing him away from the action, of course.

The three of us got onto the bed and the fun began.  We got Amanda
undressed the rest of the way and Kaye and I each took a breast.  As I
sucked on a nipple I looked over and saw the love of my life doing the
same thing to the same girl, and I got that feeling again.  It was like
a wave of ecstasy that mixed the highs of love and lust.

At some point the two of them undressed me and after that we got lost
in each other.  I ate out Amanda while she ate out Kaye.  Amanda
fingered my ass while Kaye's tongue toyed with my clit.  I sucked on
Kaye's toes while Amanda gave her rosebud a rim job.  We played in so
many combinations that after a while I couldn't remember whom I'd
done what to.  Finally we were lying there in bed, unable to move after
so many orgasms.  The heavy breathing had ended and we started cuddling
up against each other, the feeling of bare skin comforting after such
an intense high.

"Wow," Amanda said weakly.  "We had to have set a record for
something tonight."

I smiled.  "Maybe it was The Longest Threesome Ever.  How long have
we been at it?"

"I don't know."  Kaye said.  "Didn't look at the clock when
we started.  How many orgasms you have?"

"Lost count," Amanda said.

"Lost the ability to count," I added.

"Well," Kaye said, "I'll just buy a copy of the Guinness Book
Of World Records and write something in the bottom of a page for us."

We giggled.  I put up my hand like I was writing.  "Maggie, Kaye and
Amanda.  They did something, and they did it plenty."

We broke out into laughter.  Then suddenly Kaye stopped and bolted
upright.  "That reminds me!  I have to go call Lucy!  I always told
her I'd let her know after my first threesome."

Kaye jumped out of bed, grabbed her cell phone and dashed out to the
living room.  Once again Amanda and I were alone together.  I felt the
tension grow as Kaye left the room, but Amanda turned on her side and
gave me a warm smile.

"Seems like old times," she said.

I couldn't help but smile back.  "Yeah."

"You haven't lost your edge in bed."

"You neither."

Amanda leaned forward and brought her lips to mine, engaging me with
the kind of soft, tender kiss she knew I loved.  Once again I let my
anger and fear of her subside.  She took me in her arms and the kiss
intensified, her tongue deftly moving into my mouth as our breasts
pressed up against each other, our bodies turning so she was on top,
her leg moving between mine and pressing down.  I moaned and she broke
the kiss, pulling back so she could look down at me, her intense eyes
burrowing into mine and making me feel weak.

"Come away with me."

She had spoken in a breathless whisper, and in my aroused state I
barely managed to say, "What?"

"What do you think I came back for?  I've got everything I need
where I am, except you.  I want you to come with me."  Her fingers
came to my lips and lightly started to trace them.  I felt like I was
sitting on a cloud and falling at the same time.  Four years ago Amanda
was everything I wanted.  A sexy, powerful, confident woman who pursued
her desires with vigor.  I wanted her as much as I wanted to be her.
All those things came rushing back to me in that moment.

"But Kaye..."

Amanda's fingers moved to trace the side of my face, while hers moved
closer to mine.

"Isn't worthy of you on her best day."

And suddenly the spell was broken.  I pushed Amanda away and gave her
the best angry look I could muster at the moment.

Kaye walked back in with a towel over her hand.  "Want to see a magic
trick?"

As Amanda and I turned towards her we erased the harsh looks on our
faces.

Kaye waved her hand over the towel and then pulled it up with a "Ta
da!"  In her hand sat a packed bowl and a lighter.

Amanda and I both smiled at her, the picture of civility.

Fifteen minutes later the three of us were good and high.  It's
always a great feeling getting high after sex, like when Kaye and I
went and had a fun day at an amusement park and then enjoyed really
good food at a restaurant later.

"This is the greatest," Kaye said, and then fell back onto the bed
and stretched out her naked body.  "I love to Shake 'n Bake."

"Shake n' Bake? Amanda asked.

"Having sex and then getting stoned," I said.

Amanda smiled.  Then she turned to me and out of the blue said, "Have
you ever gotten back in contact with your family?"

I froze.  Amanda's first attack, and definitely not what I'd have
guessed.

A confused look crossed Kaye's face.  "What are you talking
about?"  She sat up and looked at Amanda.  "Maggie never had
contact with her family.  Figured since she was left an orphan that
they didn't want to ever know her."

"Orphan?  Maggie was never an orphan.  She...oh shit."  Amanda
looked at me with fake surprise.  Or maybe not so fake.  She went
fishing and happened to hit pay dirt on the first shot.  "I'm sorry
baby, I just assumed you'd have told her."

Kaye looked confused.  "What?  Told me what?"

I swallowed hard, and tried to control my fear.  "I wasn't an
orphan that grew up in a foster home, like I told you.  Actually it was
the opposite, I grew up with a family, parents and a brother, but then
they threw me out of the house."

I could almost feel the temperature in the room drop.  Or maybe it was
my skin growing cold.  Kaye stared at me.  "Wait, so, you lied to
me?"

"I just...I'm sorry."

I could see the surprise in her face, touched with a hint of anger, and
the effort she was making to keep it under control.  Finally she said,
"I can't..." then got up and walked out.

I shot Amanda a nasty look as she smiled and blew me a kiss.  I got up
and went to the living room.  Kaye was sitting on the couch, her legs
crossed underneath her, staring at the black screen of the television.
I thought about asking her if I could sit, but the look on her face
said I shouldn't bother.  I sat on the love seat.

In a low, throaty voice, she said, "You know how I feel about
lying."

That scared me.  Kaye had some bad experiences with an ex-girlfriend
named Trish who turned out to be drug addict.  I didn't want Kaye
associating me with someone who put her through the ringer emotionally
as well as financially.

"Yes, I know" I said.  "I was going to tell you the truth, but I
just hadn't worked up the courage yet."

Her intense gaze came to me.  "So what, you're scared of me?"

I shook my head.  "Once I graduated college and got on my feet, I
didn't want to be anyone's sympathy case.  I'd spent too many
years asking people for help, telling my story so they'd feel sorry
for me, and I never wanted that to happen again.  I didn't want
people to treat me different, including girlfriends.  Like I said, I
was working up the courage to tell you, but I was scared because
you'd had that experience with Trish and I was afraid you wouldn't
understand why I didn't want to tell you the truth from the start."

Kaye sat there quietly, hopefully considering what I'd just told her.
 I sat there scared out of my wits, trying hard not to shed a tear and
determined not to let Amanda screw up my relationship.

Finally Kaye said, "So the pictures you showed me of the foster
family?"

"The Yangs.  They kind of did foster me, for a year and a half.
It's a long, complicated story."

She looked at me.  The anger in her face was gone, replaced by sadness.
 "Well why don't you tell it to me."

I nodded.  "Okay.  I told you I'm from Utah.  My parents, like
ninety percent of the rest of the state, are Mormon, and when I was
fifteen they threw me out."

"Because they found out you were a lesbian."

I nodded.  "Big no-no in the Mormon faith.  I knew they were going to
take it hard, but I didn't expect to come home from school one day
and find all my stuff sitting on the sidewalk."  Kaye's face
softened.  She reached over and put her hand on mine.  I smiled at her.
 "I sat on the curb and cried for a while, but then I made a promise
to myself.  I swore that I would succeed, become whatever I would have
if they had never thrown me out.  It was rough at first.  I started out
sleeping in parks, rummaging in dumpsters for food."

Kaye made a face.

"Yeah, but I learned quickly to choose where I did it.  Restaurants
toss out stuff and it's usually in pretty good shape.  But the
important thing was that I stayed in school, worked my ass off to get
good grades."

A small smile crossed Kaye's face.  "Scholarships."

I nodded.  "It was the only way I was going to afford college.  But
going back to school wasn't easy either.  You of all people know how
kids can be.  Everyone called me 'Faggy Maggie', and people
wouldn't even talk to me because the next day there'd be a rumor
that maybe they were gay too.  The few of my friends tried to stand by
me were given so much shit by everyone, their parents included, that
eventually they gave up too."

Kaye winced.  "My God."

Thinking about those days had me on the verge of tears.  I held them
back, looked up at Kaye and brought up a good memory.  "But I stuck
with it.  I was even the class Valedictorian.  At graduation, when I
went up to the podium to give my speech, all I said was, "Fuck you
all."  Then I walked away."

Kaye smiled.  "Now I know where you get all your charm from."

I smiled back and squeezed her hand.  "Yeah.  That and Mr. Yang.  Guy
had the sharpest tongue I've ever heard.  His family adopted me for a
while after he found me dumpster diving behind his restaurant.  Gave me
a job, let me sleep in a room in their attic..."

"Taught you how to make great dumplings."

"Oh yeah."

We sat silently for a few moments, looking at each other.  Finally I
said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

She took a deep breath and said, "No, I understand.  It's just...it
was hard finding out this way."

That brought my mind back to Amanda.  "Trust me, it's not how I
planned it either."

We went back into the bedroom.  Amanda looked at us, guilt written all
over her face.  "Are you guys okay?  I'm sorry, really sorry."

"That's okay," Kaye said.  "I think we just all need some
sleep."


5.
The clock read four a.m., and light snoring had been coming from Amanda
for almost an hour.  I decided that was good enough and carefully
dislodged myself from under her leg, slipped out from under the covers
and managed to tip-toe to the door without hitting any of the really
creaky floorboards.  I shut the bedroom door behind me and crept to the
bathroom, where I turned on the light and then shut the door without
going in.  Slowly I moved past the bedroom door to the living room,
where Amanda had left her bag.  It was a large leather duffel that was
cracked and weathered with age.  I opened it and started sifting
through the contents.

There were very few clothes.  Either she wasn't staying long or being
a fugitive had taught her to travel light.  I was hoping for the
former.

What did fill the bag were books.  Four were histories of Greek, Roman,
and Egyptian societies, mostly covering the wealthy members of each
society and how they lived and carried on with wild sex.  Another two
were true crime novels, which seemed hilariously ironic, also an FBI
training manual, a book on coin collecting, another book on law
enforcement techniques, and a book on document forgery.  At first I
started to wonder what library she belonged to, but then I realized the
FBI training manual can probably be purchased on the black market and
the rest found on the Internet.

There was a small mesh bag that contained three passports.  All had
Amanda's picture, but the names were Gwen Harlan, Lisa Sutton, and
Michelle Stacy.  There was a small metal lock box as well.  I
couldn't find a key for it.  Whatever was inside was solid and heavy,
as I found out when I turned it over and it clanked against the side of
the box.  I froze and listened to see if the noise woke Kaye or Amanda.
 Nothing.  I carefully put the box down and continued my search.

A folder contained the kind of paperwork that would back up Amanda's
claim that she inspected hotels for a living, which I knew was total
bullshit.  That kind of job required flying everywhere, and even with
good forged documents she'd keep her traveling to a minimum in the
post-9/11 world.  Finally, I found a thin binder.  Inside was a cover
page.

                          As Naked As A Tree
                                 By
                           Carol Hitchcock

I wondered if this was the same Carol Hitchcock who had recently
written a best selling book, one that some friends had told me I needed
to read.  As I flipped through the pages and saw this was a rough copy,
with margin notes in red pen and circled spelling errors, suddenly a
crazy thought hit me - was Carol Hitchcock really Amanda?  But I
quickly realized that couldn't be true.  I'd seen Hitchcock's
picture on the back of her book and watched an interview with her on
television.  Some people ghostwrite with fake names, but I'd never
heard of anyone using an actor to represent themselves in public.  Then
again, Amanda had serious reasons to stay out of the public eye.

Suddenly I heard something and turned.  Amanda was standing over me.

I had no idea how she'd gotten so close without a sound.  And
that's when it hit me, that change I'd noticed.  Being a fugitive
meant living like a wild animal, pursued by predators and having to
stay one step ahead all the time.  Her eyes had an intense, feral look
and every movement she made seemed like it was done with a singular
purpose.  She could probably sit still with an incredible patience,
putting intense thought into every move, executing that move with
deftness and precision.

Like sneaking up on her prey without a sound.

"Find anything interesting?" Amanda asked.  She looked down and saw
the binder in my hands.  "Funny story about how I got that.  I'll
tell you sometime."

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I already told you.  I want you back."

"Do you really think I'm that fucking stupid?"

Amanda chuckled, crossed her arms and shook her head.  "No, and I
should have known better.  The other story I came up with was asking
for your forgiveness, you know, for leaving you to deal with the cops
and all, but that sounded like even bigger bullshit.  And I know
you're a smart one."

"Honestly, I don't care why you're here.  Just leave or I'll
call the police."

"No, you won't."  Amanda crouched down and put her face right in
front of mine.  "You've got it good here Mags, nice place, a good
job, but most of all you've got yourself an outstanding girl.
She's a real wildcat.  Perfect partner for the one person I thought
would never settle down."  Amanda's face took on a ferocious look
as she cupped the bottom of my face in her hand and held hard.  "But
know that if you fuck with me, I'll make sure she never wants to see
your goddammed face again.  Earlier was just a taste.  If she didn't
even know about you getting tossed by your parents in high school, just
imagine how shocked she'll be when she finds out what you did in
college."

I spat in her face.  Amanda stared at me, and a slow smile grew as a
gob of my saliva moved down her cheek.  Suddenly she moved forward and
kissed me on the lips.  I tried to pull back but her grip on my chin
was strong.  She ended the kiss, shoved my face away and stood up.

Amanda wiped the gob of spit off her cheek with a finger and stuck in
her mouth, sucking it off.  "Mmm.  It's like I can taste the
stubbornness."  She looked straight at me.  "Just this one night
and part of tomorrow.  Then I'll be out of your hair forever, and you
can go back to this little domestic bliss you worked so hard to create.
 But you give me trouble, and I'll make sure she tosses you out just
like your parents did."

I wanted to cry.  I wanted to run.  I wanted to wake up and have this
nightmare over.

Amanda held out her hand.  "Now come to bed."

I took her hand.  What else could I do?




Coming in part two - you'll find out what Maggie did in college.
And so will Kaye.

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