Prick Van Winkle

   Chapter 1

   It all happened very innocently, but also very mysteriously.  It
happened on a spring day in 1950, when Bob Winkle took a nap.

   It was a Saturday, and he and his wife had already celebrated their
third wedding anniversary by a long, sweet lovemaking session when they
first woke up.  They pretty much had to do it then, since the children
would prohibit both opportunity and mood later in the day.

   As he sat, he had a glass with him, an anniversary present from his
older brother, who lived in Kentucky, back in the hills, where no one
bothered him.  His brother had a taste for homemade whiskey, and a talent
for producing it as well.  The recipe for that moonshine was a closely
guarded secret that his brother claimed to have inherited from their
grandfather, and which produced the best amber-colored bottled lightning
around.  That golden fluid was aged for years in gallon sized oaken casks,
and slid down the throat smoothly.  His brother knew that Bob appreciated a
good toddy too, and sent him a bottle from time to time.  A note had come
with this gift, saying that this batch was made with the last of his
special European ingredients, was "almost magical", and that Bob now owned
the last bottle of it.

   Being in a good mood, and having completed all his chores for the day,
Bob had poured himself four fingers of his brother's "magical" whiskey, and
sipped at it happily as he sat in his brand new Barca Lounger.  That chair
was another anniversary present, this one from his wife, Valerie, who
decided on that gift because it had leather upholstery.  He smiled to
himself, feeling the whiskey seeping into his veins.  Who had decided that
leather was the right gift for a third anniversary?  How silly was that
anyway?  He felt his eyes begin to droop, and decided he had time for a
short nap before Valerie called him to dinner.  She had said she was making
meatloaf to celebrate.  That was his favorite dish.  She made it every
anniversary as a tradition.

   Valerie was very traditional about things like that, and, as it turned
out, about other things too ...  like taking care of her family.

   Valerie Winkle was extraordinarily happy with her life up to that point
in time.  Bob was an energetic and cheerful home-bringer of the bacon, so
to speak, not to mention his energy in the bedroom.  He had kept her
pregnant, if not barefoot, ever since slightly before they got married and
she now had three beautiful girls to remind her to pay that special little
attention to him when he came home at night.  She really wanted a boy or
two.  She had a wonderful home, nice neighbors, pleasant, if distant
in-laws and all the sex she could ever hope for.  Bob was as highly sexed
as she was.

   The first clue she had that her life might change was when, after making
her traditional meatloaf dinner for her loving husband, and getting the
three girls fed, the youngest of which eased the slight pain and pressure
in her swollen breasts by sucking lustily at both of them, she went to wake
up the love of her life.

   Except that he didn't wake up.

   It was only puzzling at first.  He was warm to the touch, and breathing
...  snoring softly, in fact ...  but he wouldn't wake up.  Puzzlement led
to discomfort as she spoke to him in increasingly louder and louder tones
and shook him until the new chair began to creep across the floor. 
Discomfort morphed into real fear as, in desperation, she upended a pitcher
of water on his face and chest.

   Nothing worked.  He slept on.

   Eventually she called her Father-in-law, Percy, who appeared and was
just as puzzled, uncomfortable and then afraid as she had been.  In the end
they called an ambulance, not knowing exactly what to tell the attentive
attendants when they arrived.  There were no wounds, and no known drugs
involved, other than an empty glass on the end table, and a bottle that was
missing only a few ounces.  He was carried off to the hospital on a gurney.
A sobbing Valerie rode with him, while Percy arranged for his wife to come
watch the children.

   There was no fear at the hospital, much to Valerie's astonishment. 
Vital signs were taken by a young resident, who pulled the stethoscope from
his ears and addressed the crying woman.

   "He's fine," said the young doctor in that voice that young doctors
cultivate to get people to believe they're actually older and more
experienced than the two or three years of actual medicine they've
practiced might suggest.

   "What do you mean, he's fine?" asked Valerie.  "If he's so fine why
won't he wake up?"

   "Well ...  er ...  I don't know exactly," admitted the twenty-three year
old young man who was supposed to know everything.  "But he's fine." His
face got earnest.  "I mean there's no indication that he's in any pain, or
has anything wrong with him.  His respiration and heartbeat are completely
normal for a sleeping man.  I don't think he's in a coma, because his
reactions are all wrong for that.  I'll talk to the attending physician and
see if we can do some tests."

   There were, in fact, tests done.  Then there were more tests done. 
Pretty soon there were eight full fledged doctors examining Bob.  They
poked and prodded and drew blood and made x-ray images until they had no
more tests to do.  Then they sat around and were ...  puzzled.

   Three of them wanted to say he was in a coma, since that was a quick and
easy solution to the problem, and would result in fewer people questioning
their expertise, something they were now worried about.

   That suggestion went down the tubes when another doctor, idly flipping
through the chart said "Can't be a coma.  He got an erection while the
nurse was giving him a sponge bath."

   "Well we could CALL it a coma," said one frustrated physician.

   "No we can't, because it's not a coma," insisted another.

   To avoid making a decision, they put him in a room and had nurses take
care of him as if he WERE in a coma.  Then they forgot about him ...  or
tried to.

   The next crisis concerning Bob was the first clue that something
exceedingly strange was going on.  The doctors, in their haste to distance
themselves from a man they couldn't cure ...  couldn't even diagnose, for
that matter, neglected to order the kinds of things that people in comas
routinely get ordered to undergo.  Such as a feeding tube and a catheter.

   The nurses, not having an order to do these things ...  didn't.  They
knew it would be a problem eventually, but nobody was telling them anything
about their patient.  When the head nurse finally corralled the Internal
Medicine doctor who was listed on Bob's chart, and informed him that the
patient wasn't being fed or evacuated, there was panic.  That's because an
entire week had gone by.

   That crisis was un-resolved in much the same way as his initial
appearance and problem was ...  un-resolved.  When the doctor examined him,
there was no sign of dehydration, and his bladder was completely normal,
except that it was empty.

   The doctor, knowing that no one would believe him, elected to simply
tell the nurse to continue monitoring the patient, and to notify him
immediately if there was any change.

   The nurses shook their heads, as nurses often do when communicating with
doctors, and did the things they didn't have to have a doctor's order to
do. Namely, they moved him around in his bed, gave him sponge baths, and
... monitored him.

   By the time the Internal Medicine Doctor realized he had something of
significant scientific importance on his hands ...  mainly that a man who
wouldn't wake up somehow needed neither food or water to survive ...  he
was in the prickly position of having to admit that he had denied the
patient both of those commodities.

   And he couldn't do that ...  now could he?

   So, the timid doctor gave a pass to something that, had he pursued it,
might have made both Bob and himself famous beyond measure.  He did share
this information with Valerie, who was properly astounded, but cautioned
her not to tell anyone, lest they want to do an autopsy to find out what
was going on.

   "But he's not dead!" squeaked Valerie.

   "Exactly," said the doctor darkly.

   It didn't take long for Valerie, eyeing mounting hospital bills, to
ascertain that soon she would be a pauper.

   Bob had always handled the finances in the family.  He had a den, and an
old roll top desk that had been his great grandfather's, given to him,
oddly enough, in 1935, when Bob was only fifteen years old.  The old
gentleman had been over a hundred at the time, and insisted that the
heirloom be passed down to Bob.  His actions had been tossed off as those
of a senile, but friendly old fellow, who died not long afterward.  Bob's
parents used it until Bob got married and moved out, at which time he took
it with him.

   That old desk had so many nooks and crannies in it that it took Valerie
two weeks to go through everything, trying to get a handle on what she
needed to do ...  or even COULD do.

   The last cranny she inspected, as is quite often the case, turned out to
be the most important one in the desk.  It contained an insurance policy,
in the name of Bob Winkle, and insured him against the loss of income due
to "accident, injury or infirmity" which caused him to be unable to
continue working.  Unknown to anyone currently alive, with the possible
exception of Bob, who was ...  and was not, exactly ...  alive, he had
taken out this policy on the insistent advice of the very same great
grandfather who had bestowed that roll top desk on him when he got married.

   "You get yourself one of them insurance policies that pays if you can't
work," the old man had said in his raspy old voice.  "It's important."

   "But Gramps, I'm in the best shape I've ever been in in my life,"
objected Bob, who, at fifteen was sure nothing could ever happen to him. 
Besides, he had only been working for a month, and had much better uses for
his money than giving it to some insurance company.

   "You listen to me, boy," said the old man imperatively.  "There's things
you don't know about ...  things we'll talk of later maybe ...  but you GET
one of them policies.  They didn't have that sort of thing when I was
growin' up and I sure could have used it."

   "I didn't know you were ever out of work," said Bob, who, like many
grandchildren, never learn much at all about their ancestors or how they
grew up.

   "There's a lot you don't know," said the old man in a crotchety voice.
"You just do as I say and do it quick.  You unnerstand?  Now, I'm tired and
I want to rest.  You run along now and take good care of that desk.  It's
been in the family a long time."

   Bob had not, in fact, bought the policy right away.  But, when the old
man suddenly died, only a few months later, his last command niggled at
Bob's conscience and he then purchased the policy.  He was surprised to
find that, since he was so young and fit, that it wasn't nearly as
expensive as he expected it to be.

   But, as I said, nobody knew that.  And, in the grand scheme of things,
it didn't really matter.  Had Bob and his great grandfather been able to
talk more, it might have made a HUGE difference in the way things went.

   But the old man died, and so what he might have told Bob was lost ... 
until Bob figured it out for himself.

   That would take a shade more than fifty years.

   In fact, three other people would figure out what had happened to Bob
before he did.  They were quite sure no one would believe them at first, so
they kept it a secret, but that will be discussed later.

   What was important then was that Valerie, Bob's loving wife, had him
sent home, to rest in his own bed, in his own room, and collected on the
insurance policy.  The insurance company tried to weasel out of it,
naturally.  They pronounced that he hadn't had an accident, and that he
wasn't injured.  It was the "infirm" part they couldn't find a way around.
Bob was the very definition of "infirm".

   So they had to pay off.  And, there was no clause in the policy that
said how LONG they had to pay off.  That would cause problems later on, but
Valerie had plenty of time to research laws and contracts and every time
she threatened to take them to court they caved.  She had help, from a
number of researchers who found Bob's condition irresistible.

   So by now you're wondering where this is all going, no doubt.  The fact
is that you needed to know every bit of information I've already told you
...  and more ...  but you'll learn that in a bit ...  assuming I don't
kick off like Bob's great grandfather did.  If that happens this will be
one of those annoying stories that got started, and then languishes, with
the notation of "incomplete and inactive".

   We don't want that, so I'll forge on ahead and tell the rest of the
story.

   There are lots of details, but we'll skip by some of them and just say
that Valerie, who still loved her unresponsive husband, provided him with
the care, little though it was that was needed ...  and the years went by.

   Valerie was aware that he needed neither food nor water, though she did
have to shave him occasionally to keep his face clean.  She eventually had
to give him a haircut too, but that wasn't needed all that often.

   But she knew that if anyone else found out that he stayed alive and
healthy without eating or drinking, things would become ...  difficult.  So
she made sure that it looked like he had an IV tube firmly in place, and
ran a tube out from under the sheet to a collection bag that always had a
yellowish liquid in it, though it wasn't urine.

   For the first two or three years lots of people wanted to study Bob.

   But after everybody looked at him and measured him and asked their
endless questions, they all shook their heads and went away.  She wouldn't
let them use shock therapy on him, and limited the number of times he was
hooked up to an EEG or EKG, all of which indicated he was completely normal
and should be awake.

   Eventually, Valerie was left alone with her husband.

   Now, you have to understand that Valerie Winkle was quite normal, even
though her husband was not.  She was, at the time he took his ...  nap ...
all of twenty-one years old, two years younger than Bob.  They had married
when she was eighteen and, during those three glorious years she had become
accustomed to not only pleasing her husband after a long day's work, but to
being pleased herself.  While she didn't know it, Bob was, as the saying
goes, hung like a horse.  He had even, in Junior High School, endured the
nickname "Donkey Dick", which name was given to him in the locker room
during gym class.

   He endured it, that is, until his father sent him to Karate lessons. 
His Sensei strongly preached non-violence and self defense only.  But his
Sensei didn't have to listen to boys (and some giggling girls) calling him
"Donkey Dick", and since his feelings were hurt, Bob felt no compunction
about defending that hurt.  It was semantics, a word he didn't even know at
the time, but he was justified in defending his feelings at the time.  He
parlayed the reputation he got from THAT into a football career in High
School, earning the new nickname "Grinder" for his ...  enthusiastic ... 
tackles.

   The only reason all this matters is that Valerie, who had never had a
man other than her football star husband, was used to a donkey dick on a
regular basis.  Now, not only did she not get to talk to the love of her
life, she didn't get reamed good and proper, in the manner to which she had
become accustomed.

   Valerie was a chaste woman, and she took her wedding vows seriously. 
People, as time went by, probably would have looked the other way if she'd
have decided to dally while her husband lay unresponsive in her house.  One
of her friends, a woman of somewhat less than sterling repute, even
provided her with a "life-size" rubber replica of the very organ she no
longer had access to.  She blushed for days afterwards, and for months
every time she saw the woman.

   But she tried it.  There came a night, when she had sat and talked to
Bob, like the doctors had suggested, even reading to him from his favorite
books, and had reached the end of her emotional rope.  She retired to her
own room, pulled out the dildo and managed to get it inserted, almost
crying from the shame of it all.

   It wasn't, shall we say, a thing that took her to the heights of
passion. After fifteen or twenty minutes, she threw the thing in a drawer
of her nightstand where it never saw the light of day again until a
daughter found it while they were cleaning out her things after she died.

   It was when she talked to Bob about THAT fiasco, that things improved,
at least to some degree, and at least for Valerie.

   It happened while she was giving him his sponge bath, and when she got
to the part of him she had been trying to replace, she told him about the
abortive attempt to satisfy herself.

   "Bob, it was just horrible!" she exclaimed, moving the sponge over his
abdomen and across his pubic hair.  "It wasn't warm, like you, and it was
so SMALL!  I could hardly FEEL the stupid thing.  It wasn't like you, my
darling.  Oh, I miss you so much.  I miss what we used to do in bed."

   By now she had his penis in her hand.  No one had told her that he had
become erect during a sponge bath.  The nurse who reported that little
detail neglected to mention that she had done just a tad more than wash the
massive thing she had found under the hospital sheet.  And Valerie had
always been prim and proper while she bathed him.

   This time, however, she took just a little longer, holding that part of
him that had so pleased her in the past.  She rambled on until she suddenly
stopped, shocked to find that what was in her hand was a completely
serviceable erection, of the proportions to which she was accustomed.  AND
...  it was nice and warm.

   Valerie looked at Bob, expecting to see his eyes open and a smile on his
face as he yelled "SURPRISE!"

   But he slumbered on, just as before.

   Then she looked around, as if she expected to find someone else in the
room.  The girls were in bed, and of course no one was there.  She looked
back at the penis her hand was suddenly sliding up and down and licked her
lips.

   It wasn't as if he were dead or anything.  He was still her husband. 
And she needed him so badly.

   It took her only seconds to drop the robe she had been wearing and,
blushing like a virgin bride, she climbed up on the bed, straddled her
husband and...

   Well, THIS time, those heights of passion were reached, and in a LOT
less than fifteen minutes.

   She talked to him as she rocked back and forth, full to the brim of
warm, thick, firm and living cock.  She told him how wonderful he felt, and
how much she loved him and, then she realized that the heights of passion
were clearly in view AGAIN, and she moaned for a while.

   She stopped eventually, panting.

   "You never went this long with me before this," she said, her voice
amazed.  "I so wish you were awake to enjoy this with me."

   Then she went again.  He was still hard, and she was still horny, and it
was during her fourth orgasm that she felt the wet heat deep inside her
that rang the clarion gong in her mind that he had just completed his
passion with her.

   She rose off of him, staring as his thick white spend dripped out of her
gaping pussy and fell back onto his now softening prick.

   "Ohhh BOB!" she squealed, throwing herself down on top of him and
kissing his face over and over.

   Alas, his lips were not as responsive as his lower body had been.

   Valerie was still euphoric, though.  So much had happened in so little
time that had made her life SO much better that she couldn't be sad about
his lack of returning her kisses.  Instead, she promptly began cleaning him
up again, this time without the sponge, like she had so many times before
they had gotten married.

   She smacked her lips when she was done, no longer ashamed to be naked
with her unconscious husband, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

   "Good night, my darling," she said softly.  "You made me very happy
tonight.  Please wake up." She stood, looking down at his limp body.

   In the morning she thought it was a dream.  She worried about it because
she KNEW it wasn't a dream, but somehow wanted it to BE a dream.  Her
embarrassment was back.  She was distracted and put coffee in June's
cereal. June was only three, but she knew the difference between coffee and
milk immediately and cried.

   That upset Valerie more and she put her husband out of her mind to take
care of her children.

   When they went down for a nap, however, she couldn't put him out of her
mind any longer.

   She returned to his bed and, filled with trepidation, lifted the sheet
from his nude body.  More to prove that it wasn't true than anything else,
she manipulated the object of her desire.

   "Bob, something happened last night and I don't know if it was real or
not." she said.  "Are you IN there Bob?"

   His staff rose like a young bamboo shoot, growing visibly in her hand.

   She stepped back from the bed, her mouth open, her breath frozen in her
lungs.

   That lasted about fifteen seconds.  It's truly amazing how much can race
through a human brain in a mere fifteen seconds.  Valerie reached
"acceptance" of the situation in only nine seconds.  The other six were
spent on seeing just how fast she could slip out of her dress, and bra and
panties.

   Then, like Annie Oakley, she rode, yipping and hooting until five year
old Martha, holding her three year old sister's hand, stepped into the room
to find out what was wrong with Mommy.

   "What are you doing Mommy?" whined Martha, watching as her mother's
breasts bounced up and down while she sat on top of Daddy, who didn't talk
to anybody any more.

   "I'm taking care of Daddy sweetheart." was her reply.  At this point she
wasn't concerned about appearances.  How much would a five year old
remember in a year anyway?

   Well, the fact is that a five year old can remember an awful lot ... 
especially if she continues to see something happen year after year after
year, which is exactly what Martha, June and Betty all did as they grew up.
Quite frequently they got to see Mamma ...  taking care of Daddy ...  who
one day would wake up and thank her profusely, Valerie was quite sure.

   The fact that the three girls were rather routinely presented with new
siblings ...  all boys, interestingly enough ...  made an impact on them
too.  Even back in those days girls, when they got around twelve or
thirteen, were able to figure out what sex was all about.  By then, Valerie
was so used to making love to her almost-but-not-quite-non-responsive
husband, that she didn't even try to hide it from the girls any more. 
Instead, she taught them everything that was needed to run the house and
take care of their father, with the exception of that one thing she
reserved for herself.  She told all her girls that, some day, they'd get to
do this.  She didn't mean with Bob, but the way she said it was interpreted
by all three girls as exactly that.  Some day they would do with their
father what their mother did with their father.

   Thus it was that, when Betty was thirteen, and Martha was fifteen, and
their mother contracted one of the diseases that we laugh at nowadays, but
which killed people quite frequently back then, Martha just naturally
assume the matriarchal role in the household.

   It would astonish us now, but back then, if you were well behaved, and
showed an ability to cook, clean and wash the clothes, the relative who
came to stay with you while your mother's body was laid to rest might
actually go back home and leave you to raise yourself.  It all depended on
the relative.  Both Bob's and Valerie's parents had passed on, and there
were no really close relatives living nearby.  The girls had access to the
bank account, because while she was ill Valerie had instructed Martha in
those matters and gotten her signature registered at the bank.  They had an
income, and went to school, and knew how to get medical care.  So the
distant cousin who stayed with them for three weeks went back home and the
girls and their brothers faded from the radar of their relatives.  Everyone
was busy and had lots of other things to think about.

   So Martha took care of her sisters and brothers.  It just seemed natural
to continue taking care of her father too.  And since Valerie wasn't there
to try to wake him up by jumping up and down on his penis ...  Martha
decided that "some day" had arrived.

   She hadn't been much impressed with things the first time she sank down
on her father's stiff prick, like she had seen her mother do so many times
before.  Whenever her mother did it, the penis looked wet and slippery. 
But when she tried it, it wasn't that way at all.  In fact, it wouldn't
even go inside her.  She knew to play with it to get it hard, but once it
was hard it just bent as she tried to sit on it.  It was June who came up
with the solution.  She got a stick of butter and rubbed it all over their
father's penis.  This time, when Martha notched it in the opening of her
fifteen year old pussy and sat down, the donkey dick seemed to stab upward
and she was impaled.  It is probable that, had she been able to climb right
back off, it all would have ended there.

   But her legs were more or less paralyzed by the pain of losing her
maidenhead and, by the time she got her legs under her, her vaginal canal
had already adapted to the point that, when she leaned forward to get her
feet under her to stand up, and her little unused clitty pressed
deliciously against Daddy's rock hard prick, she decided that maybe ... 
just maybe ...  she'd stay there for another minute or so ...  just to see
if it got any better.

   It did, of course, and her two sisters watched in awe as Martha began
jumping up and down excitedly, eventually getting her own belly stuffed
just as full of Daddy's virile spunk as Mommy ever did.  And, since Martha
was now the "woman of the house", she made it known in no uncertain terms
that the other two girls were too young to ...  take care of Daddy.

   That lasted all of ten months, after which Martha wasn't as comfortable
with a thick prick stuffed up inside her, since there was a baby taking up
most of the room that prick used to fill.  On a sunny day in 1962 Martha
gave a last convulsive push, and had her father's daughter.  It had been a
long, hard labor for a sixteen year old girl, and Martha was a bit peeved
at her father and the baby for causing her all that agony.  On top of that,
she couldn't think of a name for the baby.  She, being tired, and it being
a sunny day, she just named the girl ...  Sunny.

   It was while Martha was in the hospital that June, now fifteen herself,
usurped the duties of ...  taking care of Daddy.  She had been jealous of
Martha for months and months, even when Martha's belly swelled like she'd
swallowed a basketball.  Now that Martha couldn't do anything about it,
June commenced to lose her own virginity.  She remembered the scream,
followed by the sobs, followed by the moans, finally followed by the joyous
bouncing around Martha had done and, not being stupid, June eased herself
onto her father's prod with much more care.

   June had also shoved several things up inside her during the last year,
since mean old Martha wouldn't let her use the real thing.  So her
defloration was, for the most part, only slightly painful, mostly because
of the stretching.  She sat quietly for a few minutes and began to rock
like both her mother and Martha had.  She had a good time from the very
beginning.  She had such a good time that, when Betty wandered in to watch,
she insisted that Betty try taking care of daddy too.  She wasn't stingy
like her big sister.

   Betty, always having been the youngest, and always feeling left out when
her sisters got to do things before she did, was quite happy to join her
sisters.  She had to wait until the next day though.  June's pussy was
dripping with great globs of thick white stuff that Daddy had shot off
inside her, but no matter how much they played with the penis that had just
put it there, it wouldn't get hard again.  They had to wait until the next
day, at which time whatever had been broken had repaired itself.

   Betty had a much rougher time of it.  She was only fourteen and Bob
really was a big man.  Betty worked hard to get a little more in, and then
a little more after that, and a little more after that.  When she felt the
head of his penis pushing at something up inside her that just wouldn't
move, there was still an inch of him left outside of her.  But that meant
there were six or seven inches INside her, and as she began raising and
lowering her tightly stuffed pussy up and down, it began to feel better and
better and better.  She was able to feel better for a long time until she
suddenly felt something happen up inside her that was warm and felt wet
too. Then her father's penis softened and, as she stood up, she too had
long strings of white goo dripping out of her pussy.  It was delicious for
her to be like her older sisters.

   So, by the time Martha got out of the hospital and back home, the cat
... or pussy, as it were ...  was firmly out of the bag and firmly impaled
by something long and strong that spurted regularly enough that it could
have been called "Old Faithful".

   After that all three girls took turns taking care of Daddy.

   As things go, it was June who delivered her own sister next, in the
summer of 1963.  She went into labor while she was at a movie theater,
which could be why she named her daughter Gidget.

   Betty wasn't far behind, giving birth to her daughter before she reached
her sweet sixteenth birthday.  Her water broke while she was curled up in a
chair reading Pollyanna to her father.  Being as unimaginative as her
sisters, she named the girl Polly.

   ==========================

   What with the insurance from dear old Daddy, and the life insurance from
their mother's untimely death, the girls did fine, even though every time
they got pregnant from taking care of Daddy again ...  they had boys.

   It sounds like the girls had no thought for anything other than riding
their father's boner.  But that's not true.  They did become a bit more
circumspect about their daily ...  and nightly ...  attempts to make sure
their sleeping Daddy was happy and would be happy when he finally woke up.
The fact that they were getting all the stiff prick they wanted ...  WHEN
they wanted it ...  and that the man giving them all that stiff prick
didn't argue, or fart, or snore or tell them they were stupid, made them
treasure all that quality time with their father.  They also learned in
school that incest was frowned upon by the community at large, so they kept
their activities quiet, both from the community, and their brothers, who
grew up, moved out and started families of their own.

   As such, they made sure their own children ...  who, like their mothers,
were also Bob's children ...  were not aware of what went on in the room
where Grandpa was sleeping.

   By the time Bob's granddaughters, Sunny, Gidget and Polly, got to be to
the age where it was more or less natural for them to ask their mothers who
daddy was, and why nobody had ever seen daddy, the three women simply
explained that, during the sexual revolution of the sixties, things like
that happened.  To divert attention away from fathers, the girls were
encouraged to read stories to their grandfather so that, when he finally
woke up, he'd be happy.

   The girls, however, could think of a lot of things to do that were more
interesting than reading to a sleeping man, things that didn't involve the
sleeping man at all, and they usually did those things.  Thus it was that
after the "grandchildren" were all in bed, their mothers went the extra
mile to ensure Bob's happiness themselves.  They had, by now, learned to
use birth control, else Bob's "grandchildren" number in the teens.

   Eventually, first Sunny, then Gidget and finally young Polly went away
to college.  Their mothers, who had raised their children in the big old
house - sort of a mini village kind of concept - finally had a chance to
find a place of their own.  June and Betty found cheap houses not far from
the homestead and Martha stayed with Daddy.  All three, however, kept
taking care of Daddy, who slept on.  Almost everyone in town was impressed
with how Bob's daughters had all forgone a lot what most women wanted - a
husband - in the pursuit of taking care of the old man, who somehow didn't
look old enough to be a grandfather.  But then again, everyone knew that
sleeping kept you young, and that's all he ever did.  Besides, while the
women didn't have husbands, they obviously had round heels, as evidenced by
all those babies they'd had without all those husbands.  Many a man in
Circleton wished he could have been one of the fathers of some of those
children ...  or the next one.  But their advances were rebuffed, and in a
nice way that didn't make the men feel dirty.  Basically, Martha, June and
Betty were well liked by everyone in the neighborhood.

   Sunny, Gidget and Polly did all the things girls everywhere do.  They
met boys, loved them, hated them, and met more.  They studied, had
sleepovers, went to parties and lost their virginities in ways completely
different than their mothers had.  Though, not to put too fine a point on
it, Gidget lost her virginity to a professor who actually looked older than
her grandfather did, so one could suppose her experience was close to that
of her mother's.  The man "prepped" Gidget during several of their heavy
petting sessions, making sure that she could take two fingers before he
skewered her with his academic member.

   Sunny succumbed to a smooth talking assistant football coach when she
was a 19 year old cheerleader at Crampton University.  She was quite sure
she could marry him and live happily ever after.  When she told him about
the happy news that they were going to be parents, he was less than
enthusiastic about it, but agreed to "do the right thing." She named the
little girl she bore him Valerie, in honor of her grandmother, the baby's
great grandmother.  She found out fairly soon that despite "doing the right
thing" her husband was a louse and divorced him when little Valerie was
only five.  Having graduated and being employed, she went on with life. 
She never remarried, having decided that men were more trouble than they
were worth.

   Gidget managed to parallel her cousin's story remarkably closely.  She
went to a different university where she became the victim of another
educator, as mentioned before.  He swore he was going to divorce his wife,
as he was spurting deep inside Gidget's unprotected pussy, and it only took
her two or three months to figure out what kind of asshole he was.  She
broke it off, changed colleges, and had the asshole's daughter in 1982. 
She was named Rebecca, primarily because the professor who had knocked her
up was also a closet anti-Semitic and she knew that giving his daughter a
good Hebrew name would hurt him more than anything else she could do.

   Polly, determined not to make the same mistake as her two cousins,
shopped around until she found a man who was sensitive, caring and polite
in the extreme.  He also didn't push her into anything, which made her feel
better, if not a little superior to her cousins.  In fact, she managed to
remain a virgin until 1983, when she was every bit of twenty.  She was both
amazed and delighted that, when she proposed, to the man who she finally
awarded her virginity to, he not only accepted ...  he helped her plan the
most beautiful wedding she could have imagined.  He also helped decorate
the house and made baby clothes for their daughter, named Francine, born in
1984.  He was better with a sewing machine than she was.  Her only
complaint was that her perfect husband didn't seem to have much of a sex
drive.  That was because, as she found out in the nineties, when it was
okay to admit these things, that her husband was, and always would be, a
flaming homosexual.  He had married her in an attempt to "fit in".  Still,
he was as much fun to be around as any of her girlfriends, and they stayed
together ...  as friends.

   As fate would decree, all three cousins ended up right back in
Circleton, so named, supposedly, because a group of settlers who made it
all the way across the prairie and the mountains without incident, had to
circle the wagons to fight off a band of roving Paiute Indians when they
finally got to the West coast.  The settlers had actually won the day. 
They stayed there and built a town, figuring that if the Indians wanted it
enough to fight for it, there must be some reason.  No gold was ever found
in those parts, but by then everyone was pretty much tired of moving.

   At any rate, there they were, in sleepy, backwater Circleton, leading
their separate lives, while their mothers took care of Grandfather, who
slept on, just as he always had.

   There was a natural inclination for their daughters to band together. 
While their ages were disparate, they were cousins, and that counted for
quite a lot.  It didn't hurt that their mothers, who were technically
cousins, had been raised in the same house and thought of themselves as
sisters.  The younger cousins played together, went to school together, got
in trouble together and basically acted like sisters themselves, even
though they lived in separate houses.

   They also spent what some folks might call an inordinate amount of time
standing beside their great grandfather's bed, staring at him.  Their
young, fertile minds and young fertile imaginations came up with scenario
after scenario of what was wrong with Great Grandpa Winkle, what he was
thinking as he lay there, and what would happen when he woke up (they all
just KNEW he'd wake up).

   While their mothers had little interest in the old man ...  who didn't
look at all old to the girls ...  his great granddaughters learned from
their grandmothers that he enjoyed being read to, and liked for people to
tell him stories, and describe their day to him and all that sort of thing.
No one ever told them how it was actually known that Bob liked that, but
then kids will believe most anything a trusted adult tells them.

   So they did that.  And, at the odd moment when the other two weren't
there, each young girl talked to the only man they felt like they could
confide practically anything to without worrying about what he'd say back,
or who he would share those secrets with.  They talked about all kinds of
things they'd never have talked about with a man who was awake, including,
as they grew older, how they felt about certain boys, and what their bodies
felt like sometimes when they touched themselves certain places ...  or
when a boy touched them in those places ...  things like that.  In short,
he got told a lot of these kinds of secrets.

   Great Grandpa Winkle was a very good listener.

   Of course it wasn't all sugar and spice for Bob's descendents.  There
came a time, in 1970, for instance, when a man from the insurance company
came, saying that the company had been paying disability for too long, and
demanding to see the beneficiary.  He was duly taken into the room where
Bob Winkle lay.  He didn't believe it was Bob, since the man in his files
would have to have been at least fifty-five years old.  This man was
obviously only in his early to mid twenties.  A court case ensued, which
was resolved by the taking of Bob's fingerprints, which proved that he was,
indeed, the same Bob Winkle that the insurance company was indebted to. 
Heads were shaken, but a court ruling is a court ruling and all the people
involved were too busy with making money to seek further into Bob's
condition.  Once again, he was forgotten by all except his daughters, and
their granddaughters.

   And so, life went on.  Martha, June and Betty had settled into a
rotating schedule in which they cared for their father, who was still
ensconced in the family home which Martha lived in, even though the papers
on the deed still listed her father and mother as owners.  Each of the
women, now in her early fifties, mounted his sleeping form with great
regularity, sighing and moaning as they gently rocked themselves to sweet
orgasms, and welcoming into their bellies the warm spurts of his not so
sleeping issue.  He had given each of them a beautiful daughter, and
several sons.  His sons ...  or grandsons, depending on how you look at it,
had all become successful at various pursuits and were pillars of their
respective communities.  While his other daughters, or granddaughters,
again depending on how you look at it, had been somewhat less successful in
their pursuit of true love, they were, for the most part, well adjusted and
carried on with little more pain in their lives than anyone else would
experience.

   ==========================

   It was a sunny morning in May, 2000, when Betty shuddered, her pussy
clasping her sleeping father's prick tightly as waves of pleasure swept
over her naked body.  At fifty-two, Betty was still a healthy and well
preserved woman.  She would like to have lost fifteen pounds, and she
mourned the loosening of the muscles that had held her generous breasts up
for so many years.  She observed this as she held up those breasts, one in
each hand, squeezing the fat brown nipples that perched on their tips.  She
had to hurry.  Her granddaughter, Francine was due to arrive in half an
hour for a birthday shopping trip.  Betty had already had one orgasm, and
was tempted to go for another one.  She decided she didn't have time
though.

   Over the years she had learned that she could make her father's long
hard prick spurt whenever she wanted it to by using her pussy muscles just
so ...  by rocking just this way ...  and making him cum was a habit by
now. She and her sisters had decided long ago that Daddy deserved to cum as
part of his "care".  She began to do what she knew would get his prick to
spurt.

   Her father, as usual, made no sign or movement, but she felt his
wonderful long penis swell a bit and then the warm wetness she loved so
much filled her deep inside.  She leaned over, as she had done so many
times in the past, kissing his slack lips softly.

   "I love you Daddy." she said softly.  It was something she had been
saying for so long that it was a routine statement.

   It was the same general routine that she had carried out, as had her
sisters, for almost forty years.

   It should not be hard, therefore, to imagine the level of her surprise
when her father's eyes opened and stared up into hers.

   Betty's first reaction, the most normal of reactions, was shock.  Part
of that shock was because his eyes were brilliant sky blue.  She had never
seen her father's eyes, or at least couldn't remember seeing them.  He had,
after all, gone to sleep when she was still suckling her mother's breasts.
Part of that shock was because, while she "knew" that this man was her
father, his youthful appearance belied that fact.  He looked like a man in
his early to mid twenties.  While she had been young, that hadn't seemed
notable.  But as she aged, and he stayed the same, her mind had begun to
rebel at the notion that this handsome young man could be anything other
than what he appeared to be ...  just a handsome young man.

   It was very conflicting, because she loved the concept that he was her
father, and while she had only nice memories of the man who had impregnated
her four times, it was still difficult for her to fully grasp the idea that
he really was her father.  Maybe that was one reason why it was so easy for
her to have let herself be impregnated by him.  Who knows?  It was, after
all, an unusual situation.

   Another part of her shock was because he took a deep breath and let out
a long sigh, part of which was probably due to the fact that his prick was
right in the middle of spurting her full of semen.  She had neither seen
nor heard him do anything other than lie there quietly.  And, of course,
part of the shock was because while her sisters had always stubbornly
claimed he would wake up some day ...  she secretly didn't believe it.

   But, her sisters were right.  Today was that day.  He had awakened.

   Betty's next reaction followed closely.  She was suddenly intimately
aware of how she was dressed ...  or rather not dressed ...  and, despite
the fact that she had done this very same thing with this very same man,
literally thousands of times, she was acutely aware that she was engaged in
having sex with a stranger.

   Her face was only inches from his, her body frozen as if she were made
of stone.  She stared into those endlessly deep blue eyes.  His penis gave
two more convulsive spurts and stopped.

   You could literally have heard a pin drop.

   Chapter 2

   Bob Winkle returned to consciousness in much the same manner as a man
who has been sleeping through a thunder storm, and suddenly awakes to find
a tornado is in the process of ripping his house to shreds.  There was a
lot going on, and his mind couldn't seem to center on any one thing.  Among
the various different stimuli vying for his primary attention were
thoughts, some unconscious, such as the fact that he was twenty-three years
old, that Valerie had said she was going to fix meatloaf tonight, and that
his Barca Lounger was so comfortable that it felt like he was actually
lying in bed.

   He was also aware, on some level, that he was in the act of making love,
though the circumstances were strange.  He felt his penis shooting, which
was something that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.  But the woman
on top of him - that, in itself was strange...  no woman had ever been on
top of him before - was a complete stranger.  That didn't bode well for him
at all.  No wife has the capacity to understand why, on her third wedding
anniversary, her husband has sex with a complete stranger.

   He remembered hearing the word "Daddy" as his consciousness returned,
and he knew he was a father, with three children, but the voice hadn't
sounded like that of a child.

   He was also hungry.  Famished, in fact.  And thirsty too, so much so
that his mouth felt like cotton.

   As his mind began to disregard some things and tune in to others, the
woman sitting on top of his just-finished-spurting prick got top priority.
Not unusual, under the circumstances.

   "Hello." said Bob thickly.  To be honest, he couldn't think of anything
else to say.

   "Daddy!" squeaked Betty.  To continue being honest, she couldn't think
of anything else to say either.

   "Daddy?" rasped Bob.

   "Daddy!" Betty repeated.  Her mind still hadn't adapted to the
situation. Her statement was both a simple repeat of what she'd said, in
answer to his question, and a shout to herself that this really WAS
Daddy... HER Daddy...  her AWAKE Daddy.  At the same time, while part of
her mind was telling her to DO SOMETHING!, another part of her mind simply
said: "Okay, we have an emergency here.  We're not trained for this kind of
emergency.  Shut down all systems and restart to see if that does
anything."
Bob was still trying to figure out what "Daddy!" meant, coming from this
woman's mouth, when her quite lovely blue eyes rolled up in her head and
she flopped limply down on top of him.  He had fleeting thoughts that her
breasts were warm and soft on his chest, and that her hair smelled good,

and that she was heavy.

   He had another fleeting thought that Valerie might walk in at any
moment, and that she would NOT understand or appreciate what was going on
here.

   Then his mind screamed "What IS going on here!?"

   He pushed the woman off of him and she flopped bonelessly beside him on
the bed.

   On the bed.

   He was in a bed...  not in his Barca Lounger.  His head swiveled as he
sat up.  The woman's right leg was still lying across his thighs and they
acted as ballast to help him sit up in the soft bed.  Yet another part of
his mind whispered that he needed to get a little more exercise, since it
shouldn't be that hard just to sit up.  His muscles felt slightly weak for
some reason.

   He could tell he was in his bedroom.  Or at least it was very LIKE his
bedroom.  The bed was the same...  his bed...  and some of the furniture
was exactly the same, though it had been moved from where it had been when
he'd decided to take a nap...  fully dressed...  in the living room...  in
his Barca Lounger...

   Bob looked at the woman curiously.  He moved her leg and it plopped down
as she rolled the rest of the way onto her back.  She looked to be about
his mother's age and there was something eerily familiar about her.  He
examined her face, and was sure he must know her from somewhere, though he
couldn't for the life of him remember seeing her anywhere.  Women her age
didn't travel in his circles all that much.  His eyes strayed to her
breasts, which were trying to fall off her chest, but were held there by
tightly stretched skin.  They had more the appearance that they were
slightly drunk, leaning, but not quite falling to her sides.  The nipples
stuck up as if they were erect.  He had the sudden urge to pinch one, to
see if it was as hard as it looked, but didn't.  His eyes went naturally
downward to a smooth patch of brown pubic hair that lay flat on her mons
above full sperm-covered labia.

   Sperm-covered labia.

   His mind remembered the feeling of orgasm as he awoke and he looked in
his own lap at his shrunken, messy penis.  It was sperm covered too.  He
had just had sex with this woman.

   It was obvious, but crazy too, in that insane way that jars the mind and
makes the world twist suddenly ninety degrees off true.  He couldn't
remember getting into bed with her, much less having sex with her.  It was
like a dream.  Like his mind was playing some trick on him.

   His mind began to play more tricks on him.  He had vague, gauzy memories
of this happening before...  many times before...  of orgasms while he
slept...  of voices speaking to him...  telling him things.  As the
memories swirled in his brain he tried to pin them down and examine them.
He had fleeting images of stories being read to him, of people asking him
questions...  and telling him that they loved him.  The only thing he could
center on was that all the voices were female.  One memory popped in his
mind like a soap bubble and the suddenly remembered voice of a woman saying
"June!  Again?!  You're insatiable!" and another female voice responding "I
can't help it.  He's so hard and it feels soooo good.  Oooooo he's cumming
Martha!  He's shooting in me Martha!"

   Then that memory vanished and he was left to wonder who June and Martha
were.  He had children named June and Martha, but these had been the voices
of women, not toddlers.

   His eyes returned to the naked woman's face.  She looked vaguely like
Valerie, his wife.  He looked longer.  Yes, the jaw, the eyebrows and the
cheekbones!  They were what his wife might look like if she were older than
she was.  He stared, seeing his wife's face suddenly aged twenty or thirty
years.

   He shook his head.  This was insane.  Something was wrong.  He had to
find Valerie and find out what was happening to him.

   Leaving the unconscious woman on the bed - he was so distracted that he
didn't even cover her up - he swung his legs down off the edge of the bed.
He felt weak and staggered as he stood, having to help himself up by
pushing on the bed with his hands.  He stood, weaving drunkenly as he got
his bearings, and looked around for his clothing.  Not seeing anything in
plain sight, he stumbled over to the dresser and opened his underwear
drawer.

   It was full of T shirts.

   He held one up.  It was obviously too small to fit him.

   He opened other drawers, finding all kinds of women's clothing, but
nothing of his.  His brain was beginning to hurt from the strangeness he
was experiencing.  He'd find Valerie.  She'd know what was happening.  He
began stepping toward the bedroom door.

   ===============

   Francine breezed through her great aunt's front door as if she lived in
the house.  She'd spent enough time in this house that she knew it up and
down.  Sideways too, for that matter.  It had developed as a hangout for
her and her cousins, when they wanted to get together, but not under the
eyes of their parents.  Great Aunt Martha (sometimes just Aunt Martha) was
pretty cool for somebody her age, and left them alone, for the most part.
Fran and her cousins, Becca and Val, had spent hours and hours together in
this house.  When they were younger they had played, sometimes with dolls,
sometimes board games, sometimes other more active games, like hide and
seek.  As they grew older they spent more time talking.  They talked about
everything from their favorite TV shows to fashion, to why the man called
their great grandfather, but who looked about twenty, slept in that bed in
the other room for all these years.

   At first they hadn't believed that the man had slept for years.  But as
their own years piled up, and they never saw him wake, he became another
fixture in the house.  They watched their grandmothers read to the man,
sitting beside the bed with their reading glasses on, reading a chapter or
two from some book to the sleeping man.  Eventually they took turns reading
to him too, the only difference being they read things they thought were
good, rather than things they thought their sleeping great grandfather
might like.  It was difficult for them to believe that he would ever
awaken, or that he could hear them.

   Still, there was something calming and nice about reading to him.  That
led eventually to saying other things to him, and asking him questions. 
All three girls began to think of him as some mysterious power who heard
their complaints, and dreams, and wishes and somehow could do something
about them.  After a camping trip all three young girls would troop in and
tell him all about what had happened, and what was fun, and what was not.
Individually, as they grew into adolescence, they told him other things,
secret things, things they didn't even tell each other.

   Then one day, while Val was fourteen, Becca was twelve and Fran was ten,
they were playing hide and seek in the house where their great grandfather
lay sleeping, something happened that changed their lives.  They didn't
think about it that way, but it changed the way they thought about
things... so it changed their lives.

   As the youngest, Fran was "it" first, of course, and had to hide her
eyes in a corner and count to a hundred slowly while Val and Becca hid
somewhere in the house.  It was a big house, with both a basement and an
attic, so their games were both long and instructive.

   On this day, Val, whose grandmother owned the house, decided to hide in
the attic.  She had hidden there before, and there was one place she'd eyed
for a long time, but had never used.  There was an old roll top desk
against one wall.  It was rumored to have belonged to the very first Winkle
who came to America way back in 1899 or some such thing.  It was made of
some dark, almost black wood which was very hard, and beautiful in a dusty
sort of way.

   The girls didn't know it, but this had been Bob's favorite piece of
furniture, the very same one in which Valerie had found the insurance
policy...  the desk that was a gift from Bob's aged great grandfather.  Bob
had used it as a home office, with its myriad of cubby holes and little
drawers and slots in which a whole life's worth of bills, correspondence
and important papers had been stored.  It was his very attachment to it
that caused it to end up in the attic.  Valerie, when her husband refused
to wake, went through several phases of grief.  During one of them, she
moved everything that reminded her of her sleeping husband's normal life to
the attic.  Some of it had come back out again, over the years, but the
desk, weighing hundreds of pounds, sat there, still full of papers that
were now thirty or forty years old.

   There was a hole under the desk, for a person's knees, and a bulky old
wooden desk chair that filled that hole.  It was Val's opinion that, if she
removed the chair, got in the hole and then pulled the chair back in behind
her, no one would think to look for her there.

   She was right in that.  She was so right that she sat in the hole, under
the desk, for almost forty-five minutes, once seeing Fran's skinny legs
walking right by where she was hiding.  The stakes in this game were high,
since whoever stayed hidden the longest would be exempt from the next
session of helping Great Grandma Martha, or Great Aunt Martha, depending on
who you were, wash dishes.  The admittedly sweet, but also slightly odd old
woman seemed to have this equally odd idea that washing dishes together by
hand was a bonding experience that all young girls should participate in
frequently.

   So Val sat patiently, waiting for Fran to come around and announce
defeat to the room in general, before going on to announce it all over the
house.  And, as she sat, trying to get out of more "bonding" with her great
grandmother, Val got bored.  And, as she got more and more bored, she did
the only thing she could.  She examined her surroundings closely.  And, as
she examined things around her closely, she observed something singularly
odd.

   She knew there was a drawer in the desk that was right above a person's
lap when they sat there.  She had been in that drawer numerous times,
looking for treasure, and at the odd things that were in there.  For
instance, there was an odd silver thing that looked like pliers, but was
used to punch a single hole in a piece of paper.  She and her cousins had
figured out that much, but couldn't figure out why anyone would want to do
that in the first place.

   There were other interesting and strange things in that drawer too, but
that wasn't what got her attention.  What got her attention was the fact
that that drawer was only about a foot deep.  Yet, as she looked at the
underside of the hole, she could see that the drawer could be...  should
be...  twice that long.  And...  there was a square of wood visible, with
four edges, in the space that wasn't being used by the drawer.  It looked a
little like a trap door, with a slot in it, and a little metal bulge in the
middle of the slot.  She reached up and fingered the little metal bulge,
more out of idle curiosity than actually trying to make anything happen,
but the results were both interesting and surprising.

   There was a squeak and the bulge moved.  One edge of the square dropped
down slightly, like a trap door trying to open, and then stopped.

   Val reached for that edge and pulled gently.  The little door opened
wider, until it hung down at a forty-five degree angle.  She couldn't see
into whatever was exposed, because it faced the chair.  She pushed the door
back up and pushed the chair out, scooting out after it.  She wriggled
around, her fourteen year old body being cramped in the small space, until
she could reach and pull the door down again.

   What was revealed to her was a compartment, about a foot square, and
perhaps four inches deep.  In it rested a dusty book about an inch thick.

   Holding her breath for some reason she wasn't thinking about (and
couldn't have identified if she had been thinking about it), she reached
gingerly for the book.  When she pulled it down she saw it was leather
bound, the surface smooth and deep brown under the dust covering it.  She
brushed at the surface of the cover with her hand and blew away a cloud of
dust.  Dim gold colored letters in a line across the surface were revealed.

   Backing out now, because it was too dark under the desk, her desire to
hide had vanished.  She sat on the floor, the chair pushed back further,
examining the letters.  They looked gold, or what had once been gold
colored, and were impressed into the surface of the leather somehow.  She
recognized it as Old English lettering, which was hard for her to make out,
both because of its faintness, but also because the letters were so
embellished, with extra whorls and lines in them.

   The first letter evaded her completely, it was so ornate.  The second
was an "a" and the third looked like a lower case "n".  Then there was a
short space and another outrageously ornate capital letter, followed by
what was obviously an "i", another "n" and possibly an "h".

   "GOTCHA!" shouted Fran, who had Becca with her.

   Val was so startled that she dropped the book when she jumped.  She felt
a flash of anger at having been found by the younger girl, and her
adolescent mind snapped to that problem.

   "I wasn't hiding any more!" she announced.  "You took too long to find
me and I came out."

   "Oh horse puckey." snorted Fran.  "That's not the rule and you know it.
I got you fair and square."

   Becca, less intent on ending the game or winning, which she already
hadn't done, was the first to notice the odd posture that Val was in.  The
fact that she was sitting on the floor wasn't so odd.  It was WHERE on the
floor she was sitting that seemed strange.  It was almost like she had
pulled out the desk chair and then sat down on the floor instead.  Becca
saw the book lying in Val's lap.

   "What's that?" she asked, pointing.

   "OH!" squealed Val, remembering the book and forgetting to continue
arguing that she hadn't lost the game after all.  "I found it while I was
hiding.  It was in a secret compartment of the desk!"

   This was an announcement of great import to her cousins.  They had all
examined the desk and its contents in the past, as they dreamed and
imagined of finding treasure or secrets.  All they had found were old
papers and things, some of which they still hadn't figured out what were
for.  They had gone back again and again, searching for just such a secret
compartment, sure that it existed, and sure that it contained something of
great value.

   They had eventually given up on that dream.

   Now it was suddenly reawakened, and visions of secret bank accounts, or
maps to buried treasure leapt into the girl's minds.

   "It looks like a book." said Becca, her fingers itching to touch it.

   "Of course it's a book." muttered Val disgustedly, brushing her lap off
and standing up.

   "What's in it?" asked Becca eagerly.

   "I don't know yet." said Val, clutching the find to her burgeoning
breasts.  "I was looking at it when you two scared me half to death."

   "Well OPEN IT!" shouted the excited girl.

   "I will." said Val, suddenly sensing the power she held in her hands. 
Her cousins wanted to see what was in the book, and she controlled that
right now.  She wanted to see what was in it too, of course, but one
woman's power over another cannot be easily dismissed.  "I was trying to
figure out what's on the front of it.  I'll open it in a minute." she said.
She watched her cousins to see if her power had been recognized.  She was
gratified to see both girls tense and squirm.  Power is so delicious to
wield.

   "Hurry UP!" squealed Fran, young enough that she didn't realize she was
playing right into Val's self satisfied little power trip.

   Then, in a flash, Val's appetite for being in control was satisfied and
her own eagerness took the fore.

   "Look at the letters!" she said, thrusting the book out, the cover
facing the other two girls.

   "I can't read them." complained Fran, still bouncing around, wanting to
open the book and be stunned by what was revealed inside.

   Little did she know how stunning the contents of that small book would
be.

   The girls tried to puzzle out the letters for a minute or so, but the
suspense was too much, and finally Val turned the cover, lying it flat on
the old desk's surface.

   Spidery script was revealed.  Long lines of it, closely spaced, covered
the first page.  It, too, was difficult to read, being both tiny and faded.
More pages were turned, looking for anything that they could easily
recognize.

   But the whole book was the same.  They turned at last to the last page,
where a signature flowed almost halfway across the bottom.  It was that
signature that caused them to take the time to figure out what was in the
book in later days.  It was that signature that made their hearts burst
with curiosity, and awakening as to how special their family was...  how
exceptionally special their great grandfather was.  It was that signature
that changed their lives forever.

   In flowing script, in letters large enough for them to easily read, was
the signature that they knew could completely overturn their lives, and the
lives of all those around them.  That signature exploded in their minds
with the effect of a nuclear explosion.

   Just twelve little letters turned their game into something that would
affect them both immediately, and for the rest of their lives.  Those
twelve little letters were:

   Rip Van Winkle.



   Every child in 1970 had heard the fairy tale of Rip Van Winkle, the man
of Dutch extraction, the man of no account who had gotten drunk on magical
liquor one day and then fallen asleep, to awake twenty years later.  The
tale was originally told to encourage sobriety and a good work ethic in
youngsters of the early nineteen hundreds.

   But it was only an old fairy tale.  Everyone knew that.

   Now, to these young girls, however, there were some obvious questions,
and some equally obvious indications that no one in their family had ever
mentioned.  The name of the man sleeping just downstairs...  Winkle...  for
instance.  And the fact that he had been asleep for as long as anyone could
remember.  As unlikely as it was that no one in the family had ever
considered those two clues together, it was just as unlikely that three
intelligent girls could fail to notice those clues, with that book, and its
mysterious signature in their possession.

   After their intuitive leap that somehow their great grandfather was
related to Rip Van Winkle, the next thing that burst upon their new
consciousness was that everyone else in the family obviously knew about
this...  and had kept it secret from them.  They didn't stop to think how
hard that would have been for anyone who knew the "truth".  They didn't
think about the fact that, had anyone known, money could have been made off
that fact, or that doctors would be constantly in attendance of the man, or
even that he probably wouldn't even be in the bed downstairs if the family,
or the public at large knew he was associated with, or related to the
fabled Rip Van Winkle.

   Instead, all they thought of was that they had discovered secret, hidden
knowledge, which they obviously were not supposed to have, and which they
would make a blood oath never to reveal.  They even cut their fingers to
exchange blood in the old Indian way as they made the solemn pact.  It was
something that came to adolescent girls easily, and the romanticism of what
they had found, and the secret they...  secretly shared...  kept their bond
for them, even up until the day he awakened.

   To be fair, as the girls got older and older, they came to the
understanding that the secret knowledge they had probably was NOT known to
the adults in their lives.  By then, though, it was too late to proudly
produce the amazing little journal and chirp "See what I found Mommy? 
Isn't it interesting?  See the old English letters on the front that say
Van Winkle?" No, by then their secret was so dark and so buried that they
still could not bring themselves to tell anyone about it.  Besides, by
then, they were jaded enough by the world to assume that no one would
believe them OR the journal either, even if they brought it out into the
light of day.

   But THEY believed it was true.

   Much time was spent poring over the spidery writing, which detailed the
account of what happened to Rip, their great great great great grandfather.
They eventually all became expert at deciphering his cramped writing in the
thin book, and all three of them read the account of his life, as recorded
in the journal.

   For that is what they had found.

   They had found the journal he had kept after awakening in the Catskills,
where almost none recognized him, nor believed he was who he claimed to be.

   Rip had been lucky enough that old Peter Vanderdonk had recognized him
and supported his story, describing a supernatural group of boatmen who
were rumored to return to the mountains every so often to play ninepins. 
He himself had heard their thunder in the past.  At last Rip was allowed to
be who he was, though few actually believed it.

   Rip had moved in with his daughter and resumed his old lifestyle, living
to a ripe old age, again a normal man.

   Still, the story of the crazy old man who claimed to have slept for so
long skittered around in the dark of night in towns and villages not so far
away, who had heard the legend.  They used it to frighten children into
behaving themselves, and to turn drunkards away from the thing they loved
so much.

   He told how he was found, years after he woke, by a man named Diedrich
Knickerbocker, from New York City, a man who was researching old Dutch
customs, and he told Knickerbocker his story, loaning him the journal for a
span of weeks, so that the lessons he had learned by his harrowing
experience could be passed on to others.  At the time, his tale had been
all but forgotten as succeeding generations put less and less credence into
the truth of his ramblings.  He mourned, in the journal, how his
grandchildren, proud to be a part of the new America, changed their names,
dropping the Dutch "Van" so that they would no longer be associated with
the doddering old drunk who told the crazy tale of little people and
magical drink and a long long nap.  He mourned the fact that even HE had to
use the name Winkle in his new life, for his old name was too well known
after Knickerbocker wrote his tale and he was harassed by sensation
seekers.

   He told of how his new life was much more successful than his last, and
how he had given up strong drink.  He talked of new children, though he
never listed a new wife, and it was unclear who the mother of his new
children was.

   His last entry told how he had adjusted to his new life, and that he was
putting his old one away.  He wrote how he planned to secret the journal in
the desk he had brought with him from England when he crossed the big ocean
on a sailing ship so long ago.  Then he said his will would demand that the
desk, with its secret contents, be passed down to the elder males of the
line.  He was worried that what had happened to him might happen in some
way to others of his line in the future, and he wanted to warn them.

   No hand had touched that journal since then, until Val pulled it from
its hiding place.

   Oddly, while they talked with each other frequently about the
information in the journal, the level of secrecy that surrounded the
journal prevented them from telling even their sleeping great grandfather
what they had found.



   Chapter 3



   Over the next six years, the girls matured and their relationship with
their great grandfather deepened in a way that, to an outsider would have
been fascinating and strange.  It would have been strange to their mothers
too, who had basically ignored the sleeping man in the bed, since THEIR
mothers did all the taking care of him...  in more ways than one.

   Martha, June and Betty, knew that the day would come when they could no
longer care for their father, and they knew that their daughters had no
real connection to the man.  They also knew that, had Sunny, Gidget and
Polly known the facts, they might have felt a LOT more connection to their
grandfather...  who was actually their father...  AND the father of all
their brothers too.  But that was a family secret, and though telling
Sunny, Gidget and Polly the actual identity of their father was discussed
on more than a few occasions, it was always agreed that no good could come
of that.  Their daughters had enough problems with men as it was, and
didn't need anything else to upset their worlds.

   But, some day, someone would have to take over the care of Bob Winkle.

   And so the grandmothers chose their granddaughters as the persons to
eventually pass that particular torch to.  They planned on waiting until
the girls had finished college.  Then, perhaps, they would be mature enough
to take over.  There were hot debates between Martha and her sisters about
just how much would be told to the three young women.  Those debates had
never resulted in a clear decision as to exactly what...  care...  would be
described...  and prescribed.  They all knew that if the man didn't wake up
soon, it would be taken out of their hands.  Once he went over a hundred,
someone would take notice of his history, and they would no longer be able
to keep a lid on things.

   Val, Becca and Fran had no grandfathers, in the normal sense of the
word. Only Fran had a father she knew and talked to, but his dad was dead.
Sunny had no contact with her ex-husband's family.  It would have been
confusing to an outsider, or even an insider who hadn't grown up knowing
the situation.  Bob, on the surface, was their great grandfather, when in
reality he WAS their grandfather.  Or maybe he was both.  It was easy to
get confused.  But it was also easy to encourage everyone in the family to
just call him Grandpa.  Everyone knew exactly who you were referring to if
you just said "Grandpa".

   So they taught the girls to read to him, and encouraged them to talk to
him as if he could hear them, like any grandpa would listen.  It was a
mission of mercy and love, which was easy for the girls to understand when
they were under ten years of age, if a bit harder to believe as they grew
older and began to doubt.

   But the finding of Rip's journal changed all of that.  Now the girls
KNEW that he would wake up some day...  just like Rip had.  And, since Rip
had slept only twenty years, it stood to reason that Bob would wake up
soon. He was, at the time of the finding of the journal, already
twenty-four years overdue to come out of his slumber.

   Rip had talked at some length about his theory of why things had
happened to him the way they had.  His level of scientific knowledge was
severely limited, and a lot of his rambling had to do with overtones of
divine punishment, or the winds of fate, or maybe even witchcraft...  all
unscientific explanations for what had happened to him.  But he also
predicted that, whatever it was that had happened to him, it might happen
to another member in the family.  It was for this reason, he said, that he
wrote the journal.

   The girls, as they decoded and read about his life, had the benefit of a
good American education, though, and as time went on they postulated a
genetic flaw, or capability, depending on how you looked at it, that was
recessive, and so didn't repeat itself very often, and which caused the
sleeping "sickness" they witnessed.  They had no idea how close to the
truth they were in that hypothesis.

   It was the deepening of this bond between three young girls and a man
who had never said a word to them that caused them to begin to confide in
him their most secret feelings.  He suddenly had a magical quality about
him, and being with him made them feel like some of that magic might just
rub off.  In a strangely familiar way - one could argue about their
genetics - they reacted to him in much the same way as their great
grandmother had when she gave him that sponge bath that had such a profound
impact on her and her daughter's lives.

   Not that they were taught to give him sponge baths.  Their grandmothers
still reserved that right for themselves.

   But they were growing adolescent girls...

   And they were curious about men.

   As such, when they were alone with him, they had an opportunity that few
girls have to assuage that curiosity.  They explored.  All of them lifted
the sheet and stared for long minutes at his manly equipment.  And all of
them eventually touched that wrinkled worm that they had been told - at
least so far as the ones on boys - would get long and hard and was supposed
to go in a girl's vagina.

   Val and Becca touched it longer than little Fran did, and discovered,
almost as their great grandmother did, that there was life in that odd
looking lump of flesh.  As she began to date Val...  practiced...  on the
sleeping man the things she felt the urge, or was requested to do with the
boys she went out with.  This, she kept secret, even from her cousins, but
as she tried each new thing, she talked to her sleeping relative, telling
him what she wanted to do...  asking him if it would be okay for her to try
it on him...  telling him she hoped it was as much fun for him as it was
for her, and wondering why his penis seemed to be so much longer and larger
than any of the ones she saw on boys her own age.  Her specialty, as it
turned out, was masturbation.  She soon learned that it was messy, but a
girl at school told her the solution was to catch it in a towel or
washcloth.  You could then fold it up and the mess was controlled.  It also
kept you from having to fight the boy off in case he wanted to do other
things with his penis.  Val perfected it on great grandpa who produced LOTS
more sperm than the boys on her dates.  That, for the most part, was all
she ever did, either in the bedroom with the sleeping man, or on those
dates.

   Becca did virtually the same thing, also keeping it secret, except that
the girl she talked to said to take it in your mouth.  Then you could
either swallow or spit to control the mess, and the boys just LOVED it. 
The first time she tried it, she handled Bob's cock until it was long and
hard and then tentatively put her lips over the sheath-covered head.  She
pulled off quickly, making a face and trying to taste something that, it
turned out, just wasn't there.  It felt strange in her mouth, but there was
no bad taste, like she had expected.  She skinned the foreskin down and
tried it again.  This time everything that touched her mouth was smooth and
hard, and she liked it much better.  So she kept licking and sucking the
thing, finding that it was very exciting to do so.  She was only sixteen at
the time, and the sudden rush of salty/sweet fluid in her mouth not only
surprised her, but it completely unnerved her as well.

   While she knew that something came out of that amazing thing, she hadn't
ever been able to tell when it was going to happen.  Usually it happened
after she stroked it a lot, maybe fifteen minutes.  When she put her mouth
on it, it exploded in less than five.  Then her mouth was full of something
she suddenly didn't want to taste.  But, by the time she got to the
bathroom, her stomach heaving and her hand keeping her mouth closed, the
emergency seemed to have passed.  She did spit, but she didn't upchuck, and
the lingering taste of his spunk didn't seem so bad as it first had.  By
the time she got back to clean him up, she decided it hadn't been bad at
all.  The next time she got some time alone with him, she repeated her
experiment and this time she savored his offering, swirling it in her mouth
and swallowing it down.

   She had done so countless times since, making that a special little
ceremony she did with him.  She learned the hard way that the spunk of
different men has different tastes, some of it not so good, and while she
eagerly drank her great grandfather's spend, most of the other, when she
was aware it was about to come out, she let fly into the air, watching in
glee as the boy groaned and cried out and promised her anything at all if
she'd just leave her mouth on him.

   For Fran, the discovery that Great Grandpa Winkle had what she secretly
called...  his winkle...  was a thing of more innocence.  Curiosity led her
to look, and touch, and look a lot of times in the future.  She had no idea
how that was supposed to go inside a girl.  It just lay there like an old,
soft banana.  But she knew WHERE it was supposed to go.  And she played
with that part of herself while she stared at his winkle, squeezing an
amazing number of orgasms out of her young clitty as she told her ancestor
what she was doing.  In her mind, the thing she stared at, and which gave
her so much pleasure, would someday go inside of her and she would
magically understand all the things she wasn't sure about now.  Well,
perhaps not THIS winkle, but one like it, most certainly.  She found that
highly erotic and immensely satisfying, and couldn't wait for her sixteenth
birthday, when she would be able to go on dates and explore men, like the
stories she heard from her cousins.  Until then, she'd just have to make do
with Great Grandpa Winkle while he slept.  She had only recently tried what
she had heard all boys liked a girl to do, stroking her hand up and down
the sleeping man's penis until, just like she had heard, it stiffened and
lengthened and then erupted in streams of thick silvery stuff that made a
horrible mess.  She'd had to run and get a washcloth to clean him up,
terrified that someone would come in and find out what she'd done.  Though
she didn't yet know it, she had done something that came as naturally to
her, if a bit later in life, as it had come to her two older cousins.

   Which was why, on that lovely morning in the spring of 2000, when Fran
walked into her Great Aunt Martha's house to collect her Grandmother Betty,
so they could go shopping for her sixteenth birthday present, she was,
shall we say, overcome by the sight of the man she KNEW to be Great
Grandfather Winkle, walking upright, stark naked, down the hallway directly
toward her.

   She knew it was him, because she had gazed at his face for hours on end.
She knew it was him because of the thing dangling between his legs.  It was
as recognizable to her as her own hand, because she had gazed at IT for
hours on end as well.

   But she had never seen him either awake or walking, and because he was
both of those things at the present, her brain, being suddenly under great
pressure, instructed her vocal chords to relieve the pressure instantly.

   She screamed.

   Then, perhaps because of another genetic similarity between her and her
grandmother, she fainted.

   ======================

   Bob was having a rough day, and that day, at least the part he was awake
for, had only been five or six minutes long.  First he had awakened from
his nap, in his Barca Lounger, to find himself in bed instead, with a woman
who reminded him of what his lovely wife Valerie might look like at some
point in the future.  Not only that, but this lovely woman had just ridden
him to ejaculation.  Then, before he could ask her who the hell she was,
and what the hell she was doing, she promptly fainted on him.

   Now, when faced with a much younger woman who was the spitting image of
his lovely wife Valerie when they had first met, she had screamed and
fainted as well.  He hadn't even had time to draw breath to ask her who the
hell SHE was, and what the hell she was doing in his house.

   He stood, looking down at the girl on the floor.  She was a cute little
thing.  He noticed that she was wearing an oddly designed top that, while
it covered her breasts, had no shoulders, and didn't cover anything else.
It had a strap that went from one side of the front up and around her neck
to the other side.  As he moved her from her crumpled and uncomfortable
looking position, he saw that there were buttons on the front, like a shirt
might have.  It was as if someone had taken a shirt, cut most of it off,
added the neck strap, and called it...  something.

   The girl moaned softly and Bob looked at her face.  The resemblance
between her and Valerie was astonishing.  But this girl was only in her mid
teens, and his wife was twenty-one.

   He felt sudden pain in his bladder, the insistent kind that suggests
that if you don't find a urinal or handy bush, you'd better plan on
changing your pants.  Since he wasn't wearing any pants, he stood up and
turned for the bathroom.

   It was right where it was supposed to be, and it was exactly as he
remembered it...  except it was totally different.

   The walls had wallpaper on them, whereas when he'd gone to sleep there
was only white paint.  The stool was exactly the same, but the bathtub,
with its clawed feet was gone completely.  In its place was a gleaming
white thing that formed not only a tub, but ran up the walls as high as he
was tall.  There was a nozzle sticking out of the wall, about the height of
his head, obviously a shower head, but it was like no shower head he'd ever
seen.  It was a monstrosity of plastic and metal, with images on it of
different kinds of water drops.

   He felt his penis leaking as his bladder screamed and found that he had
to go so badly that he was erect.  He sat down on the toilet and, when he
finally got a stream going, held his cock down so he wouldn't pee between
the seat and the porcelain of the toilet.

   He looked around.

   Gone was the white metal cabinet that had been on the wall where he had
stared into the mirror while shaving.  It had been mysteriously replaced
with something made of beautiful wood, with a line of large round light
bulbs projecting from the wall above it.  It had two doors on it, rather
than the one on the old cabinet, and each door had a mirror.  There were
cubby holes on either side of it that had all manner of things sticking out
from them.  He noticed something that looked like a gun lying on the
counter, which was also new, along with the sink installed in it.  The gun
was made of plastic, and had a muzzle as big as a golf ball.  It also had a
cord coming out of the handle.  He blinked, trying to figure out what such
a gun would shoot, and how it could be powered by electricity.  There were
tubes, and bottles of all sorts sitting on the counter top.  He reached to
pick one up and read the label: "Vaseline Ultimate Care".

   Vaseline he was acquainted with, but it came in a glass jar, not a
plastic bottle.  It took him two full minutes to figure out how to get
anything out of the bottle.  There was a cunningly hidden cap that flipped
up, revealing a small hole in the top.  How was someone supposed to scoop
out any Vaseline through such a small hole?  He tipped the bottle and a
greenish fluid squirted out of the hole as his fingers accidentally
squeezed to hold the bottle up.  The stuff went everywhere and he dropped
the bottle in his attempt to stop it.

   His head hurt.  Everything was so similar, but so completely strange. 
He got up and opened the door of the new cabinet.  He saw what he
recognized as pill bottles, brown, but not the right color of brown, and
made of plastic, and not glass.  He sifted through them, reading words he'd
never heard of before, with directions on how to take the medicine inside.

   Aspirin!  Bayer Aspirin!  He knew that name.  He took the bottle down
and stared at it.  Plastic.  Everything seemed to be made of plastic!  He
turned the cap, but nothing happened.  He turned it again, and again,
unconsciously growling.  He could see it turning, but it wasn't coming off.
Where was he?  This was his house...  but it wasn't his house!  Everything
looked different.

   He felt fear for the first time.

   ===========================

   Betty came to, her mind swimming and off balance, but it cleared
quickly. She raised her head to find herself lying on the bed.  Her father
was nowhere to be seen.

   She experienced panic, and then blinked.  Why was she so upset that her
father had awakened?  Wasn't that what all of them had dreamed about all
these years?  She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed,
having to scoot to reach it.  She left a trail of Bob's semen as she did so
and remembered why she was so embarrassed.  While she was quite used to
having sex with her father, she doubted that it would make a positive
impression on him.

   She jumped up off the bed, ambivalent about what to do.  She spied her
clothing lying on the floor where she'd abandoned it in her haste to get
her father's long, thick prick in her pussy.  Bending she quickly dressed
and then went looking for the man she didn't know if she could face or not.
Half of her was overjoyed that he was awake.  The other half was terrified
of what he'd say when he saw her again.



   Francine's eyes popped open and intelligence flooded her mind at once.
She sat up and was dizzy for a moment as her heart tried to compensate for
her sudden consciousness and the blood it seemed to demand.  Her great
grandfather was gone.  She looked behind her and saw the door still open,
the beautiful day drifting inside on the air.  She had a sudden vision of
the man stumbling down the street, stark naked, while neighbors called 911
to report the "crazy naked man" on the sidewalk, or in the street.

   She giggled, but then sobered quickly.

   "Grandma?" she called.

   ===================

   Bob raised his head at the sound of a girl's voice calling "Grandma?"
That didn't make any sense.  Where was he?  It had to be the girl who'd
come crashing through the front door...  HIS front door...  though, now
that he thought about it, it had looked different somehow.

   Glass.

   The door had glass in it...  about three quarters of it was glass, with
some kind of pattern on it.  And to one side there was another long and
narrow section that had glass in it too, with the same pattern.  It was not
the door to his house.  He took a long breath, trying to get his heart to
slow.  It was thudding in his chest.  His head still ached horribly.

   He stood up and looked around.  Seeing a bath towel hanging on a towel
holder he didn't recognize, he pulled at it and wrapped it around his
loins. He turned to the bathroom door, but couldn't make himself leave this
little room.

   Suddenly, so suddenly that it seemed like magic of some sort, the woman
who had been riding him naked appeared in the doorway.  She wasn't naked
any longer, but was wearing shorts and a blouse.

   "Daddy?" the woman said, question in her voice.

   "Daddy!?" he croaked.  He cleared his voice.  Ignoring the woman he
turned to the sink and tried to turn the water on.  There was only one
protrusion from the top, a large plastic (EVERY damn thing around him was
plastic!) knob.  He turned it, but nothing happened.  He swayed, and the
knob took part of his weight and moved away from him, toward the wall. 
Water gushed from the tap and he jerked his hand away from the knob. 
Feeling thirst he knew would never be slaked, he leaned over and slurped at
the running water with his lips, drinking as deeply as he could, for as
long as he could hold his breath.

   Remembering the woman he stopped and stood, wiping his mouth with the
back of his hand.

   "Daddy!" the woman said, this time with conviction in her voice.

   "What's happening to me?" he asked, his voice clearer.

   "It's all right." said the woman, her voice taking on a soothing tone
you often hear when a young child is hurt, and his mother is reassuring
him. "You've been sleeping." she said.  Now her voice sounded uncertain, as
if she might be telling him something not entirely true.

   "I took a nap." he said, remembering.

   "You took a LONG nap Daddy." said the woman.

   "Who are you?" asked Bob.

   Betty didn't know what to do.  While all of them had talked about him
waking up, no one had thought to have a plan of action for when he did. 
She knew he was confused and probably scared, and that somehow disturbed
her.  She had dreamed of what her father would be like, but that dream had
only included smiles and hugs, and trips to places she wanted to go with
him and...  him making love to her with his eyes open.  Betty had pursued a
career as a Psychologist, and her training and routine empathy with her
patients broke through her panic.  She realized that right now, her father
was simply a scared naked man who she suddenly realized had no idea who he
was talking to.  She had a sudden fear that he might go insane if she just
blurted out who she really was.

   "Come out of here." she said, her voice soothing again.  "Come sit down.
I have a lot to tell you.  It's going to sound strange, but everything will
be all right.  I promise you everything will be all right.  Now... 
please...  come sit down."

   "You called me Daddy." said Bob, frowning.  His head still hurt.  "My
head hurts." he said.

   The girl he'd seen appeared in the doorway beside the woman.

   "It IS him!" she squealed.  "Grandma it's really HIM!"

   "Hush Frannie!" barked Betty.  "He just woke up.  He's confused.  Don't
scare him!"

   Bob felt as weak as a kitten.  Part of his mind rebelled at the thought
that he was afraid of these people.  Wasn't he a man?  Wasn't he in his own
house?  Well, it looked a lot like his house...  but then again it didn't
look like his house at all.  Bob had never heard of alternate realities,
though while he was sleeping numerous science fiction authors had written
stories about them.  Still, the concept came full blown into his mind as he
stared at the two women.  He could have written a book about parallel
universes himself at that moment.

   "Please." begged the woman.  She held her hand out to him.

   Bob looked at the hand...  the same hand that had been on his chest when
he woke.  He didn't know what was going on, but he knew suddenly that he
had nothing to fear from this woman.  She had, after all, been having sex
with him only a short time ago.  That made his head hurt again and, in self
defense, he looked at her as a woman instead of the stranger she was.  He
also looked at the Bayer aspirin bottle.  He picked it up again, and again
turned the cap endlessly.

   The woman took it from his hand and with half a turn the top came off
smoothly.  He goggled.  She shook two out into her hand and offered them to
him.  He took them and tried to swallow them, but his throat was dry.  The
water was still running in the sink and he bent over to get a mouthful of
water to swallow the pills.  When he was done she touched the knob and it
moved forward.  The water stopped.  Bob looked at her.

   She was probably in her mid to late forties, still shapely and beautiful
in a mature way.  She looked like she hiked a lot or did something to stay
in shape.  Her hair was brown and lustrous.  She seemed to have on makeup,
but not much.  She was barefoot, and wore no visible jewelry.  All in all,
he had no trouble thinking that men might find her desirable.  That led him
to his last look at her, sitting atop him, her breasts swaying thick
nippled above his face.  He pushed that out of his mind and looked at the
young woman.

   A teenager, no doubt, with that youthful bouncy look that was so
attractive to all men.  Her hair was in a pony tail, and was long and dark,
but somehow had golden highlights or streaks in it too, as if her head grew
two completely different colors of hair.  She still looked like Valerie,
but now he could see differences.  His wife, when they'd met, wasn't flat
chested, but she wasn't big either.  This girl's breasts strained the
strange garment she was wearing, and he could see a lot of the dark crease
between her breasts, exposed as it was by her top.  It would be
scandalously revealing if she were outside the house.

   He thought back to seeing her come through the front door.  She had BEEN
outside.  Her bare midriff exposed her belly button and flat stomach.  Her
jeans were well filled with wide hips.  She had the body of a woman in her
mid twenties, but her face and demeanor were those of a much younger woman.
His groin ached as he looked at her, remembering the first time he'd coaxed
Valerie into taking her shirt off.  They were already engaged, and he had
begged and pleaded for months during their long heated petting sessions to
let him see her.  She had refused over and over again, letting his hands
wander, but not letting him see her charms.

   Then one moonlit night, she had broken from a long hot kiss during which
his hand had moved all over her breasts, her bra having been pushed up long
ago.

   "You're going to pop a button." she scolded him.

   "You could take it off." he'd said hopefully, like he had a hundred
times before.

   "You're really going to marry me...  aren't you?" Her voice had held a
pleading note.

   "Of course I am." he said firmly, taking his hand out of her blouse.  "I
love you.  If I have to never touch you again before we're married to prove
it to you I will!" He had pulled away from her.

   "Wait!" she yelped.  She stared at him in the dark, her eyes wide and
white.  "I know." she said.  She reached for him.  "I know you love me."
she'd said.

   And then, before his shocked eyes she'd taken off not only her blouse,
but her Capris as well, and then her underwear until she was like something
mythical that had pale skin that almost glowed in the dark.

   Valerie didn't do things by halves.  The first time he got to see her
naked, she stripped him silently and then, without a word, pulled him down
on top of her to surrender her virginity to him.

   It had been glorious.  It had been stupendous.  There weren't enough
superlatives in the dictionary to describe how perfect it had been.

   And now, his wife's reincarnation, or whatever she was, stood before
him, showing him more skin than he'd seen on his own wife in all the years
before that night.

   "Yes." he said suddenly.  "I need to sit down."

   Betty backed up and looked down the hall.  The bedroom was closest, but
she couldn't take him back there.  She shepherded him to the living room,
to the couch and patted the cushion.  He sat, staring up at her as Fran
came to stand beside her.  For once the girl wasn't blathering.

   Then Betty had to decide where to sit.  She chose an easy chair that sat
perpendicular to him.  She sat, leaving Fran standing, staring at her great
grandfather.

   "Sit down Fran." said Betty.

   Fran had other ideas.  The most momentous thing in her whole life had
happened, and she was bursting to tell someone about it.

   "I have to go." she blurted.

   "No...  you don't." said Betty firmly.  She intuitively knew what her
granddaughter intended to do, and she needed time to prepare...  Daddy...
for the storm that was about to break.  "Sit down, young lady." she
ordered. "There will be time to blab about this later."

   Bob stared as the girl named Fran scrunched up her face in exactly the
same way Valerie had used to pout.  His jaw dropped at the eerie
similarity. She went to the other end of the couch and plopped down.  The
couch shuddered and Bob unconsciously raised her estimated weight up ten
pounds.

   Betty fumbled mentally to decide what to say first.

   "What do you remember about being asleep?" she asked, instead of telling
him anything.

   Bob, despite having been given no information that would explain what
was going on, somehow felt relieved to be able to concentrate on something
besides his strange surroundings.  It made him quite willing to think about
that.

   "I had strange dreams." he said slowly, remembering hazy voices.  "I
heard voices." He looked up at the woman.  "I couldn't see anything.  It
was like I was in a cloud."

   "What do you remember about the voices?" asked Betty, her psychologist
training automatically keeping him talking.  She suddenly felt more
relaxed. She could do this.  She was sure now.

   Bob thought.  He closed his eyes.  That helped.

   "They were almost all women's voices." he started.  "It's mostly bits
and snatches that I can remember." He paused and was silent for a long time
as memories began to flit around in his mind.  "I remember someone, a male
voice I think, saying I was sick.  But most of what I remember are the
women's voices." He opened his eyes and looked at the woman.  "Stories. 
Women told me stories." he said.

   Betty nodded and smiled.  "Good.  That's good." she said.

   Bob was suddenly uncomfortable.  This woman was examining him.  She
seemed almost distant, and that didn't make any sense, based on what she'd
been doing with him earlier.

   "Who are you?" he asked.

   "I'll tell you who I am, but let's wait just a little bit longer." said
Betty, smiling again.  "I want to give this to you in bite sized pieces.  I
know you must feel very strange right now." She floundered, unwilling to
start the process of telling him all that had happened.  She was still wary
of what effect that might have on him.  "I promise you, though, all your
questions will be answered and everything will be all right."

   Bob frowned.  He wanted to trust this woman for some reason.  He
realized that his heart rate had slowed.  He wasn't feeling so panicky any
more.

   "All right." he said.

   "Can you remember what the stories were about?" the woman asked him.

   Bob leaned back and relaxed, closing his eyes again.

   "It's all sorts of things." he said.  "There was a lot.  It's all
jumbled up in my mind." He thought for a while.  "Some of it was stories,
like from a book I think.  And some of it was people telling me things.  I
remember them saying I'd wake up." His eyes snapped open and he stared at
the woman.  "And that everything would be all right." he said, tightly.

   He sat forward, tense again.

   "Your voice." he said, staring at Betty.  "Your voice was one of the
voices I heard." He looked confused.

   Betty leaned forward to indicate she was paying close attention.

   "Yes, I spoke to you often while you slept."

   "But why?" asked Bob.  "Where's my wife?  Where's Valerie?"

   He started to get up and Betty leaned forward to put her hand on his
chest.  The feel of her hand was almost shocking and it took him back to
what she was doing when he woke up.

   "In the bedroom." he said, his chest pushing against her hand.  "You
were..."

   "Please." she interrupted him, glancing meaningfully at the girl he had
completely forgotten about.  She lowered her voice.  "Not now.  She doesn't
know."

   Bob rocked back and bounced off the back of the couch.  SHE didn't know?
What about Valerie?  What would Valerie say when she found out he'd had sex
with this woman?!

   "Please." begged the woman.  "I'll explain...  but later...  please?"

   "You mean you CAN explain...  that?" Bob asked, dumfounded.

   Betty blushed bright red, but nodded.

   Bob turned his head toward the girl.

   "Say something." he said.

   "What?" asked Fran, suddenly uncomfortable that the man she'd never seen
awake was paying attention to her.

   Bob looked around.  There was a magazine lying on an end table next to
him.  He picked it up.  "Vogue" was the title.  He'd never heard of that.
The woman on the cover was both gorgeous and scantily clad to the point
that he wondered what kind of pictures would be inside.  He leafed through
it, seeing women in scanty panties and bras, like in the Sears catalog.  He
saw a story with a picture of food and thrust the magazine toward the girl.

   "Read that." he said.

   Fran took the magazine gingerly, in two fingers, like she was afraid it
would bite her.  She looked at the article, and then back at her great
grandfather.  Slowly, she began to read.  With the resilience of youth she
was soon reading faster.  She stopped half way through.

   "This sounds pretty good!" she said brightly.

   Bob was staring at her.

   "Your voice too.  I remember your voice in my dreams." he said.

   "That's because I read you things all the time." she chirped.

   Betty looked pained.

   Bob paled.  "That's not what I remember your voice doing." he said,
thinking of the last time he'd heard that young voice.  It was a recent
dream, and he could remember it better.  That voice had been talking about
how, when she began to date, she hoped it would be a boy named Randy.  She
had said she was going to do something with the boy.  His pale visage
turned deep maroon as he remembered the rest of it.  In his dream he had
felt a cool hand on his prick, and then it had rubbed him most deliciously
until he had been satisfied.  He remembered another time she talked about a
boy.

   "Who's Thomas?" he blurted.

   Now it was Fran who flamed bright red, right after her mouth opened and
shut and she darted a look at her grandmother.  Her hands went to cover her
face.  Thomas was a boy she hoped would ask her to dance at a school dance.
She fantasized about touching him...  down there...  and she'd practiced on
Bob while he was asleep, telling her sleeping great grandfather why she was
doing it.  She'd never actually touched Thomas that way, but had
"practiced" several times after that anyway.

   "You remember THAT?" she squeaked.

   Bob frowned.  It had been a most wonderful dream.  Remembering that
dream, he began to remember more like it...  but with different voices.  He
ignored the embarrassed girl next to him as he concentrated.  He realized
that he had heard the voice of the woman sitting next to him a lot of
times...  a LOT of times...  and that during many of those times she had
been doing the same thing to him that she had been doing when he woke up.

   Then his mind was flooded with sounds of other female voices, and the
feelings that went along with those voices as they told him intimate
things, and did intimate things with him.  There were a lot of voices... 
more than five that he could suddenly remember clearly.

   Valerie's voice was one of them.  He remembered HER voice in his dreams.
He had a sudden memory of a small, piping voice saying "What are you doing,
Mommy?" and his wife's voice saying "I'm taking care of Daddy, sweetheart."

   He reeled, actually swaying back and forth on the couch and moaned as
the sounds filled his head.

   Betty didn't know what was happening to him, but it was obviously
traumatic.  She tried to think what her sister had around the house that
might calm him.  She was both shocked and astonished when the man suddenly
pulled at the towel wrapped around his waist, baring his groin, at which he
stared in horrified fascination.

   Bob's mind teetered right there, for just a few seconds, on the edge of
insanity, as the images his brain had supplied while he heard all those
voices surged through his brain.  He knew he was on the brink of a
bottomless pit and tried to find something to help him lean back from it.
The images didn't go with the voices he now heard, which might be the small
thing that preserved his sanity.  He grasped that mentally and his brain
denied that either of these women were actually the voices that went with
his dreams.  To admit that would BE insanity.

   He looked up to see the two women staring at his lap, and whipped the
towel back over his privates.

   "This is insane." he mumbled.

   "You're not insane." blurted Betty, a little too loudly.  She was still
recovering from his actions.

   He looked up.  He felt tears in his eyes.  The question his dreams
forced upon him came bubbling out of his mouth.

   "How long?"

   The woman blanched.  Her eyes darted to the girl and back to him.

   "Fifty years." she said softly, her voice making it clear she didn't
want to say it.

   Perhaps the physical reaction to the stress of his awakening wasn't just
a female trait after all.  As Bob's mind tried to grasp the concept that
her answer forced on him, his overstressed mind rebelled and shut down. 
His eyes went out of focus and drifted closed, as he slowly leaned and
toppled, his head bouncing off the couch cushion right beside Fran's hip.

   Again he appeared to sleep.

   Chapter 4

   "SHIT!" yelled Betty.  Her father appeared to have fainted...  or gone
back to sleep.

   "GRANDMA!" squealed Fran, wriggling to try to get away from her great
grandfather's head, and pressing up against the end of the couch.  Things
just weren't meeting her expectations at all here.  She had believed that,
when Great Grandfather Bob woke up, he'd remember everything, and know who
he was, and what had happened.  Her fantasy hadn't included, however, him
remembering what she'd done to him as he lay sleeping.  Somehow that part
of it he wouldn't remember.  And he didn't know who she was either!  It was
all too creepy for her suddenly and her mind couldn't cope.  So she seized
on her grandmother's epithet, which was something she knew what to think
about.

   "GRANDMA!" she squealed again, horrified at the first vulgar word she
had ever heard her grandmother speak.

   "OH HUSH!" ordered Betty sternly.  "Take care of him.  I've got to get
some help!"

   She practically leapt out of the chair and tried to remember where she'd
left her purse.  Her cell phone was in it.  It was a brand new model, that
allowed her to actually store phone numbers in it.  She'd only had it a few
months, but already phone numbers she'd known by memory for years had fled
her mind.  She had to call Martha and June immediately.  She suddenly
realized that she didn't know where Martha was...  and that it wouldn't
matter anyway, since Martha didn't have a cell phone.  She dashed to the
bedroom and saw her purse on the chair that sat beside her father's bed. 
She clutched at it and dug frantically for the phone.  Finding it, she
punched the numbers that would get her June's home phone.

   =======================

   Fran stood up.  She stared at her great grandfather.  Oddly the fact
that he looked like he was sleeping again initially made her feel better.
She naturally fell into her habit of talking to him as he slept, reaching
to move him to what looked like a more comfortable position.

   "It's okay, Great Grandpa." she murmured.  "You just woke up, that's
all. We were all surprised."

   Quite suddenly she didn't want him to be asleep again, like he had been
in the past.  She hadn't gotten to say much to him, but he seemed like a
nice man all the same.

   "Don't go back to sleep." she implored him, running her hands over his
chest in little fluttery movements.  "We want you to stay awake."

   She froze as the blue eyes opened and stared up at her again, like her
hopes had suddenly come true.  She dropped to her knees beside him and
leaned closer to his face.  She could hear her grandmother screaming dimly
in another part of the house.  It unnerved her and she clamped down on her
own emotions.

   "Don't be afraid." she said softly, staring into his eyes.  Then, like
her grandmother had said, "It's going to be okay."

   ======================

   "HE'S AWAKE!" screamed Betty into the phone as soon as it stopped
ringing, and before anyone could announce the ubiquitous "Hello?"

   "What?" came the tinny voice of her sister.

   "HE'S AWAKE!" screamed Betty again, her emotions crashing.  She began to
sob.

   "Betty?" came June's voice.  "Betty what's wrong?  Who's awake?"

   There was a split second of a split second of silence as June's mind
caught up.

   "HE'S AWAKE?!" June shouted at Betty through the phone.

   "YES!" moaned Betty.  "And I don't know what to DO!"

   "I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!" shouted June.  "DON'T DO ANYTHING!"

   "WHAT DO YOU MEAN DON'T DO ANYTHING?!" shouted Betty at her older
sister. "HE JUST FAINTED!" She took a breath.  "I think..." she added.

   "WHAT?!" shouted June.  "WHAT HAPPENED?" then, her voice dropped from a
scream.  "Never mind.  I'll be right there.  Did you call an ambulance?"

   Her sister's modulated voice brought some control back to Betty and she
dropped her voice too.

   "No, I didn't call an ambulance.  Do you think I'm CRAZY?" her voice
rose.  She clenched her teeth and took a breath.  "He just fainted when I
told him how long he's been sleeping.  I have to get back to him. 
Frannie's with him.  He may wake up any second.  Bring some clothes with
you.  AND HURRY!" she finished, viciously punching at the button that cut
the call off.

   June stared at the phone in her hand, now dead.  Clothes?  Bring some
clothes?  It clicked in her mind.  Clothes for their father!  She didn't
have anything for a man.  She'd have to stop somewhere and get something.
The idea of doing that was just unbearable.  He was awake!  She had to see
him now!  She ran for the sideboard where she knew her keys were lying, and
then out the door, not stopping to lock it.

   The first moment June realized something was wrong was when she felt the
heat on the soles of her feet.  She had been sunbathing on the patio out
back, where she could wear the bikini that she wouldn't have even thought
about wearing in public.  She had bought it on impulse, one day when she
was feeling like she was getting old.  She sagged a little these days,
despite the fact that she still ran a mile every day and did forty sit-ups
every night, not counting Jazzercise classes she went to religiously.  She
wore spandex to those classes, and men looked at her as she walked to and
from the parking lot.  That made her feel good, but looking at her aging
body in the mirror once she got home had made her feel ambivalent.  She
stood in front of the mirror, in the impossibly small "swim suit" she'd
brought home.  It was clearly incapable of supporting her breasts if she
actually went into the water in the thing.  The narrow strip of bright
orange cloth that covered her pubis didn't cover the fluff of dark brown
hair that sprouted from the sides.  Still, as she stretched and turned, she
didn't look anything like her fifty plus years.  She had decided she didn't
look a day over forty-five.  But she wouldn't wear something like this in
public.  Oh no.  Never.  Still, she kept it, carefully shaving her mons so
that she didn't look ridiculous.  She loved wearing it on the patio, with
its high, cedar privacy fence.

   Her daughter, Gidget, had reacted like any daughter would the first time
she saw her mother in the bikini.

   "MOTHER!" she had snorted.  "What in the WORLD were you thinking?"

   June had bristled.  Gidget could wear something like this at the pool
with no problem, and it rankled her.

   "I was THINKING," she said to her daughter, "that I might get a little
sun in the back yard!  But don't worry your pretty little head...  dear...
I won't go out in public and embarrass you!"

   The hurt had been obvious in her voice, and Gidget had been contrite.

   "I'm sorry.  I guess I'm just old fashioned or something." she said,
trying to undo the hurt.  Her own life was messed up enough that she had no
call to criticize others.

   "Or something." June had grumped.

   On the other hand her granddaughter, Rebecca, had been like a bright
light in a dark room when she saw June in the bikini.

   "Wow Grandma, you look HOT!" she had said.

   "Thank you dear." said June.  "Though you'd look much better in it than
me."

   "Well, I'm not bringing my boyfriend over here if you're going to be
wearing that!" said the girl, who had just graduated High School and was
spending her last summer at home before going to college.

   "Oh?" asked June sweetly.  "You have a boyfriend now?  Tell me all about
him."

   Becca laughed.  "Well if I DID have a boyfriend, I sure wouldn't let him
see you in that suit.  He'd dump me in an instant!"

   "You're sweet." said her grandmother, beaming.  "I'm going to have to
get you another graduation present."

   Becca had laughed and then gone on about her business, which was to lie
out in the sun with her grandmother, in a swimsuit that was remarkably
similar.

   Now, as June hopped across the hot concrete sidewalk toward her car, she
realized she was wearing that very suit, and she was out in public... 
barefoot!  She came to a jarring halt and, in a half second of indecision,
almost turned to go back into the house.  But the idea of waiting even a
few more minutes to see her father...  awake!  She couldn't stand that
thought, and darted for the car.  She'd borrow something from Martha to put
on.



   Betty went back to the bathroom and opened doors and drawers, looking
for something like smelling salts, or even something strong smelling that
wasn't intended for her purpose.  There was some Vicks Vapo Rub around
somewhere.  Maybe that would do.  What if he didn't wake up again!?  What
if the stress had put him back into whatever kind of sleep he had been in
all these years?  She had to settle for a bottle of Listerine.  That would
knock somebody out from three feet.  Maybe it would wake him up.  She heard
her granddaughter's soprano voice speaking rapidly and intently, though she
couldn't make out what she was saying.  She hurried out of the bathroom and
down the stairs.

   "And you kept sleeping all the time, and Grandma and Great Aunt Martha -
that's whose house this is - and Great Aunt June took care of you, and
Becca and Val and I helped sometimes, and we read to you and told you
stories and talked to you and stuff..." She broke off as Betty came into
the room.

   Bob was awake again, staring at the girl, rapt with attention, his mouth
open, his head now lying on the couch arm as Fran has obviously been
telling him all about his life as a terminally sleeping man.

   Fran took a deep rasping breath.  She had talked so much she was
panting.

   Bob's eyes broke away from the youthful face who had, in the space of
perhaps five minutes, told him a significant portion of what had been going
on for as long as she could remember.  Those eyes went to Betty, who froze
in mid step, the bottle of Listerine held helplessly in her hand.

   "Frannie?" she gasped, wondering how much damage the girl had done with
her outburst.  Then her brain realized he was awake again.

   "Daddy?" she gasped again, switching her attention to Bob.

   Bob blinked.  Contrary to Betty's fears, the machinegun delivery by this
young woman next to him had so captivated his attention, as she rattled off
her description of his physical condition for...  apparently...  fifty
years, that he just listened, fascinated by the story.  His mind grappled
with the details, but the girl's delivery was so matter-of-fact that he
couldn't doubt that she believed what she was telling him.  His brain
cramped a little at the concept that what she said was true, especially
since that meant the woman standing across the room must be...  Betty... 
his two year old daughter.

   "Betty?" he whined.

   Betty unfroze.  Whatever the damage, she had to take action.

   "Daddy?" she said soothingly.  "I know this is hard for you to
understand, but I can explain everything.  You've been asleep for a long
time Daddy."

   Bob swallowed.  This was too bizarre to contemplate.  The analytical
part of his mind nudged his consciousness and wanted to be heard.  If true,
what they were telling him would account for the changes he had seen. 
Things would change in the house over fifty years.  Strangely, that
comforted him.  While the idea of sleeping for fifty years was pure
insanity, it DID explain some of the equally insane things he had seen,
like the changes in his house.

   His house.

   His and Valerie's house.

   "Where's Valerie?" he croaked, wishing he could drink something.  His
mouth was suddenly cotton dry.

   Fran misunderstood.  "Val?  She's probably still in bed.  She likes to
sleep in on Saturdays and..."

   "FRANNIE!" barked her grandmother.

   Both of the other people in the room stared at her.

   "He's not talking about your cousin." said Betty, again fearful that
what she was going to have to tell her father would damage him terribly.

   Fran still didn't understand.  She wasn't used to thinking about her
great grandmother, since she had never met the woman.

   "Frannie," said Betty.  "Go get your...  go get him something to drink.
Hurry up now!" she said urgently.

   Fran bounced up like she had springs in her legs and loped off toward
the kitchen, obeying her elder as she had been taught to.  It was while she
was pouring a glass of Coke that she puzzled out who he had been asking
for. She almost dropped the glass as it hit her that his wife was gone.

   Back in the living room Betty sat down next to her father.  She put her
free hand on his arm.

   "Daddy, you were asleep for fifty years." She swallowed.  "Mom... 
wasn't."

   Sorrow crashed down on Bob.  Her meaning was clear.  His beautiful
Valerie was gone...  dead while he slept for some reason.  His heart
swelled to a throbbing lump in his throat and tears filled his eyes. 
Suddenly he was sobbing and grasped at the woman next to him...  the woman
who claimed to be his baby girl...  the woman who had aged fifty years
since he had last held her in his arms.  She hugged him fiercely, putting
little moaning kisses on the top of his head and murmuring sounds of sorrow
along with him.  He couldn't get the image of his young wife out of his
mind.  He remembered her telling him to sit in his new chair while she
fixed his favorite dinner, her smiling face bright in his mind.  The
thought that he'd never see that face again was agony and it struck deep in
his heart.

   He slumped against his...  daughter.  She WAS his daughter...  wasn't
she?  Her warm body pressed against him, her hands fluttering up and down
his back and one arm as she made little sounds of consolation for his loss.

   It was her loss too, and they grieved together.

   Eventually the pain diminished slightly, and his mind came back to the
present.  Having his daughter's arms around him...  despite the oddity that
it was...  was comforting.  His mind suddenly returned to his awakening
moment, with this woman in his arms sitting naked on top of him.

   He jerked away from her, astonishment on his face.

   "Betty?" he rasped.

   Her smile was wry.  "I know...  it's hard to believe.  I wanted to wait
and give this to you in little bites, but Frannie let her mouth run as
usual."

   "You're my daughter?!" he moaned.

   She nodded, smiling wider now, glad that he seemed to be coping with the
idea.

   "But in there..." he waved a hand toward the upstairs, "when I woke
up..."

   Betty blanched and then flushed furiously as she realized he was
remembering what they had been doing when he woke.

   "We've...  uh...  well you see..." she stuttered.  "Martha and June and
I...  we had to take care of you when Momma...  went." She stopped, her
throat tightening.  "Momma took care of you that way." she finished in a
blurt.

   Bob closed his eyes, searching back in his memory for Valerie's voice,
yearning for those memories to surface.  Betty stayed still, unsure of
whether to say anything or not.  Fran walked into the room and Betty put
one finger to her closed lips.  Fran stopped where she was, uncertain what
to do.

   Bob's face took on a smile as the memories he searched for trickled into
his mind at first, then surged as his wife's voice whispered in his mind.
He DID remember her voice.  She had talked with him and he couldn't answer
her for some reason.  She had begged him to wake up.  He remembered feeling
her body against his in his dream...  not a dream, he realized now, but a
strange reality that he still didn't understand.  But that meant that his
dream had been real.  She had stayed with him...  all those years... 
loving him and talking to him.  He remembered her hands on him...  all over
him...  lovingly stroking his body.  He remembered her picking up his hands
and pressing them to her breasts as she rode him, like his daughter had
been riding him when he woke.

   That snapped him back to the present like a splash of cold water, and
his eyes opened.  He looked at this strange, but now familiar woman.  He
didn't have to close his eyes to remember her voice.  This time hadn't been
the first time she'd mounted him.  Not by a long stretch.

   And there had been others too.  Martha and June.  She had said THEY took
care of him when Valerie died.  Some of those other voices he remembered
must be theirs.  They had done the same things with him that their mother
had, lovingly, and for year after year after year as he was helplessly
asleep.

   Part of his mind rebelled at the taboo acts they had performed.  But
another part realized that they had saved the spark of consciousness that
had remained in his sleeping body.  Their love and attention had kept him
alive...  sustained him like food and water would have.

   Food and water.

   He hadn't eaten in fifty years.

   "I'm starving." he announced suddenly.

   Betty looked shocked for a second.

   "Yes!  Of course!  Why didn't I think of that?" She frowned.  "We can't
take you out like that." she said, glancing at the loose towel in his lap.
"I called June and gave her the...  um...  news.  I told her to bring some
clothes for you."

   "I don't have any clothes?" asked Bob, raising an eyebrow.

   "Come on Daddy." said Betty.  "You didn't wake up and didn't wake up and
didn't wake up and you didn't need any clothes.  Come to think of it I
don't know what Mamma did with your clothes.  Maybe they're in the attic."

   "Nope." chimed Fran.  "We've been through everything up there and I
don't remember any clothes."

   "You've what?" asked Betty, looking concerned.  "What were you girls
doing up there?"

   Fran wished she'd kept her mouth shut.  She was the only person in the
room who had a good idea of why Great Grandfather Bob had been sleeping all
this time.  But even at sixteen she couldn't break her vow of silence
without talking to her cousins.  It had been a serious vow, with
bloodletting and everything.

   "We used to play up there." she said defensively.  "You know...  hide
and seek?  Stuff like that."

   "Well you never told me about that." said her grandmother.

   "Why would I Grandma?  We were just playing." said the girl, her
ponytail bobbing.

   Bob felt suddenly woozy as the terms Mamma and Daddy and Grandma were
thrown around.  He looked at Fran.

   "So you're related to me?" he asked.

   "I'm your great granddaughter!" Fran said proudly, and too fast for her
grandmother to shush her.  "You have a whole bunch of other great
grandchildren too!"

   Bob's jaw sagged and his head swiveled towards Betty.

   "You got married?  Had children?"

   Betty flushed.  How did you tell your father that all your children...
and those of his other two daughters for that matter...  were sired by him?
It would put him back to sleep for sure.

   "We'll talk about that later, Daddy." she said standing up.  "Right now
we have to get you something to eat!" She said that excitedly, in an effort
to get his mind off his unanswered question.  "Come on." she urged.  "I'm
sure there's something in the fridge."

   Both women herded him into the kitchen as he tried to re-fasten the
towel around his waist.  He felt distinctly odd about that.  The memories,
now that his mind wasn't completely taken up with trying to figure out what
was going on, were coming back stronger and more clearly.  He was
uncomfortably aware that, had he dropped the towel completely, both of
these women would only be seeing something they had been intimately in
contact with...  for years.  Still, the inhibitions he'd had in 1950 were
still in play.  For that matter he still felt a little naked because his
chest and legs were bare.  He put that out of his mind when they entered
what he remembered as his kitchen.

   It wasn't anything like what he remembered, though.

   First off, the floor was different.  Instead of individual checkered
tiles, there was a vast sheet of something that the bones in his feet told
him was soft, and gave just a little.  There was some kind of stone counter
top, gleaming and slick in the late morning light.  He looked up and saw
that light coming through a large window in the ceiling.  Next his
attention was drawn to a huge thing that sat where the Frigidare used to
be. He watched as Betty pulled the door open and saw that it was, indeed,
an ice box.  It was twice the size of the appliance he remembered buying
his new wife on a proud day back in 1948.  Betty pulled something out of
the top portion of the big box.

   "I'll just heat you up a Danish.  You can eat that while I fix something
else."

   The package in her hand was frosted and obviously frozen and Bob watched
as she went to a smaller box on the counter that looked like it might be a
toaster oven perhaps.  While she pushed buttons that made beeping noises,
he examined the refrigerator.  There were two depressions in the door, each
of which had a little lever of some sort in them.  He experimentally pushed
one with a finger and ice cubes tumbled out, scattering all over the floor.
He stepped on one as he danced to get away from them and ended up sitting
on the floor on top of several more.

   Fran was laughing as he scowled, but helped him up.  There was a long
beep from the toaster oven thing and Betty opened the door to pull a
steaming pastry of some kind out of it.  While Fran got him to the table
and sat him down, Betty placed the plate in front of him.  He touched the
gooey looking thing.  It had gone from frozen to steaming in the time it
had taken him to spill the ice and get up off the floor.  He was amazed.

   "I'll make some coffee." said Fran brightly.  She went to the counter
and got a glass carafe from its storage place in some kind of plastic
holder and filled it with water.  Bob watched intently as she pulled a
paper packet from a box and put it in a little drawer of the storage thing
and then she poured the water in another opening.  Flicking a switch that
caused a little red light to go on, she put the empty carafe back in its
storage place and came to sit down.

   Nothing happened.

   "I thought you said you were going to make coffee." Bob said hopefully.
It didn't feel like he hadn't had a cup of coffee in fifty years, but his
mind knew it, and he was already salivating, thinking about having a cup.

   "I am." said Fran.  "It'll be ready in a few minutes."

   It was then that Bob saw brown liquid begin to drip magically into the
empty carafe.  He watched in awe as the pot filled up and the smell of
fresh coffee assailed his nose.

   Betty was at the ice box again.  This time she got in the bottom and
pulled out a can of some sort.  It was long and thinner than usual.

   "How about biscuits and gravy?" she asked.

   Bob nodded and watched as she peeled the paper off the outside of the
can.  He was trying to figure out why she would want to do that when she
apparently got frustrated and banged the can on the edge of the stone
counter top.  The can burst, making a popping sound and Bob jumped.  She
was side-on to him, and his eyes grew round as he realized that she
suddenly had biscuit dough in her hands...  biscuits already formed... 
that she was laying out on a pan.  Fifteen seconds later she put that pan
in an oven that was mounted in the wall of the room.

   "So," said Fran, sitting across from him.  "What was it like?  Being
asleep all that time I mean."

   Bob looked at the young woman who looked achingly like his wife...  his
dead wife...  and tears welled up in his eyes.  He blinked and rubbed them.
As he tried to frame an answer she reached over the table and touched his
arm.

   "Don't cry." she wheedled.  "Everything's going to be fine."

   He wanted to smile at her innocence, and her optimism.  He realized he
felt better.

   "Well," he started.  "I couldn't see anything.  It was like I was inside
a big cloud or something."

   She smiled, nodding, urging him to go on.  She had a beautiful smile.

   "I could hear things.  The voices, of course." he felt a slow blush
making his upper chest and neck hot.  "But now I remember hearing other
things too.  I think there was a radio on sometimes."

   Betty looked over from the counter.  She was behind Fran, so he could
watch her at the same time he looked at the girl.  He had been watching, as
Betty reached into a cupboard and took out a paper packet of something.

   Betty raised her head momentarily.  "Mamma used to put the ball game on
in your room.  She said you loved baseball." She frowned.  "And there were
radio programs she said you liked.  One of them was about some kind of
crime fighter who nobody could see or something like that.  It was scary to
listen to when we were little."

   "The Shadow." sighed Bob.  He remembered hearing the episodes in his
dreams...  that weren't dreams.

   Betty tore the paper packet open and dumped it into a bowl (plastic yet
AGAIN!) and added water at the sink, which looked for all the world like it
was made of steel.  That was crazy, since steel rusted whenever it got wet.
She stirred it and put the bowl into the toaster oven, punching more
buttons and making more beeping noises.  He heard a whir and noticed that a
light went on inside the box.  He could see the bowl turning inside.  He
started to warn her that a plastic bowl would melt inside a toaster oven,
but was distracted by Fran, who reached out and touched his arm again.

   "What should I call you?" she asked.  "Great Grandfather Bob is awful
complicated to say, don't you think?  I don't have a grandpa.  Sometimes we
just call you Grandpa.  Could I still call you Grandpa?"

   Bob looked at her hand touching his arm.  His arm was not that of an old
man.  He realized with a start that, technically, he was in his seventies.
His eyes widened as he remember looking into the mirror in the bathroom. 
He didn't look any different than when he'd sat down to take a nap.

   "Why didn't I age?" he asked helplessly.

   Betty looked up again.  "We don't know.  Doctors looked at you and said
you weren't in a coma, but they couldn't say what was wrong with you.  I
suppose that, after a while, we kind of got used to everything.  We did
have to shave you.  You needed a haircut maybe twice a year."

   The memory of feeling hands and lather and a razor on his face leapt
into Bob's mind.  Those hands that smoothed over his chin after a shave had
almost invariably smoothed over other places on his body too.  Then there
had been the heat and wet surrounding his penis and the incredible orgasms
he had thought were dreams.  He flushed, remembering them.  He remembered
them with Betty's voice...  many times.  The hand touching his arm made him
want to remember the same thing happening with this beautiful girl across
from him, but he stopped thinking of that with shame.  Instead he tried to
answer her question.

   "I think people would look at you funny if you called me Grandpaw." he
said.  "I look a little young to be a Grandpaw."

   "Oh." said the girl.  "Yeah, I forgot that." She frowned and her face
was beautiful that way too.

   "How about Uncle Bob?" he suggested.

   "I already have six uncles." said the girl dismissively.  "Well, they're
actually great uncles, but I call them all Uncle." She smiled and Bob's
heart ached for his lost wife.  "I think it would be weird to call you
Uncle Bob, even if I don't have an Uncle Bob yet."

   The toaster oven gave out a long beep and Bob winced.  He'd forgotten to
tell his...  daughter...  that the bowl would melt.  He was astonished when
she casually opened the door of the oven and took the bowl out with her
bare hand.  It was steaming and she stirred the contents with a wooden
spoon.  A series of beeps came from the oven in the wall and Betty opened
the door.

   "Perfect." she announced in a satisfied voice.

   Bob noticed that this time she used an oven mitt to handle the tray,
which had twelve beautiful brown biscuits on it.  His stomach growled. 
Abandoning the mitt, Betty snatched at biscuits with her bare fingers and
let them fall on a plate.  She used a fork to tear them open and then a
coffee cup to dip into the obviously un-melted bowl that had been in the
toaster oven.  Bob stared as a plate of biscuits and gravy was placed in
front of him.  They had been in the kitchen less than fifteen minutes.  A
fork appeared beside the plate as he stared.

   "Juice?" asked Betty.  She pulled open the door to the big ice box again
and leaned inside.  Bob couldn't help but stare at her well shaped bottom.

   "We've got grape juice, tomato juice...  um, there's some cranapple in
here too."

   "Cranapple?" asked Bob.

   "A mixture of cranberry and apple juice." said Betty looking at him
oddly.

   "Hmmm, never heard of that one." he commented.  "Sounds good, though."

   "Cranapple it is." said the woman, pulling a container from the box.  He
almost winced as he saw it was made of plastic.

   But what she brought to the table was a glass (real glass!) of wine
colored fluid.  She set it on the table by his place and sat down between
him and Fran.  She looked at the now cooled Danish and the untouched
biscuits and gravy.

   "I thought you said you were hungry." she said.

   Bob blinked.  His stomach had been growling since the coffee smells.  He
picked up the fork and dug in.  While he destroyed the biscuits and gravy
Fran got up and poured him coffee.  He waved away an offer of sugar and
cream, his mouth full with deliciousness.  He saved the pastry for last,
and when he bit into it a heavy sweet taste exploded in his mouth.

   A door he hadn't seen in one wall, and which hadn't been there when he
took his nap in 1950, suddenly crashed open and a statuesque brunet burst
into the room.  She had a wild-eyed look to her, and her hair was flying
loose all over the place in errant wisps.  Bob almost choked as he saw she
was almost naked, her body covered - if you could use that word - only with
a few strips of bright orange cloth that did more to emphasize her large
breasts than cover them, and which drew a man's eyes directly to the
juncture of her legs.  Her breasts were heaving as she panted.  It was the
smallest, oddest bra and panty set he had ever seen.  Things sure must have
changed in fifty years if a woman could run around outside in her
underwear.

   "WHERE IS HE?" she gasped.

   Then her eyes fell on the apparently naked man sitting at the table, a
fork suspended halfway between the plate and his mouth, which was chewing
slowly.  She froze.

   "DADDY?" she screamed.

   "JUNE WINKLE!" shouted Betty a split second later.  "CALM DOWN!  And
WHAT do you think you're doing going out dressed like THAT?!"

   Fran put in her two cents.  "Gee Auntie June, you look great in that
suit!"

   "doohne?" gasped Bob around a mouthful of Danish.  He swallowed. 
"June?" he repeated.

   "DADDY!" the almost naked woman screamed again, and she rushed to his
seat.  Rather than wait for him to stand, she more or less pushed the table
out of the way and straddled him, sitting on his lap.  Then she basically
smothered him with warm brown flesh.  Bob found his face crushed between
her bounteous breasts and felt the insane urge to lick her skin there,
which he somehow knew would taste salty since there was a sheen of sweat in
the valley between her breasts.  She pulled away to shower kisses on Bob's
cheeks and lips.

   "JUNE WINKLE YOU STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!" screeched Betty, standing up
and waving her hands in the air.

   Bob felt soft lips leave his and was confronted with deep green eyes
staring into his.  He saw adoration there, but his eyes slid down to the
breasts that were now hanging, supported only by those few wisps of orange
cloth.  He could see clear through her cleavage to her slightly round belly
below.  He forced his eyes back up to find she had dipped her head to see
what he was looking at.  Her eyes returned to his wide and alarmed.

   "Oh my GOSH!" she yelped, standing up and trying to cover her breasts
with her arms and hands.  "I was sunbathing when you called and I was so
excited I just couldn't wait to come over here!"

   That voice hummed in Bob's memory.  It went with a hot, wet mouth that
had made love to his stiff prick on many occasions, and an even hotter,
wetter pussy that she had sheathed his prick in, once it was "hard enough
to do me some good, Daddy", as his memory recalled.  He felt his prick
lurch under the towel in his lap at the memories.

   "His clothes, June.  I asked you to bring clothes." said Betty steadily.

   "Where would I get clothes for a grown man?" asked June, looking
delicious in her shiny brown skin and almost nothing else.  "Robby's been
married for years, and I pitched the clothes he didn't take with him long
ago.  Sam went down to Arizona for a construction job and he's smaller than
Daddy anyway." Sam was her other son, who had moved back in with her after
a messy divorce.  He kept making forays out into the real world, but
couldn't seem to actually untie the apron strings.

   Betty sat back down and dropped her head into her hands with a groan.

   Bob wanted to smile.  June had been a rampaging vessel of emotions when
he last saw her.  At three she was into everything, running around, talking
a mile a minute and exhausting both her mother and father.  It didn't look
like fifty years had changed all that much in her.

   Except for her body, of course.  Bob felt shame as his prick stiffened
even more under the towel.  Then the universe warped a little bit as
memories of what this woman had done with him in bed over fifty years
rushed back to the front of his conscious mind.  He still didn't understand
what was going on, but it was clear that, after he went to sleep, the mores
of society had changed, allowing daughters to have sex with their sleeping
father.  His shame at lustful thoughts were a bit outdated, apparently. 
Still, now was not the time to have an erection, especially with her
sitting right there on it.  She didn't stay seated though.  She hopped up
and stood back.

   "Stand UP!" squealed June.  "Let me SEE you!" She danced, her hands
falling from covering her almost-nakedness in her excitement.  Her breasts
wobbled and jiggled deliciously as she moved.

   "Maybe there's something around here you could...  put on?" he directed
toward his middle daughter.

   June blushed.  "Yes, of course.  Martha will have something that would
fit me."

   Mention of his oldest daughter caused Bob to think of another voice from
his dreams...  a mature voice that went along with the same kinds of
memories that June's and Betty's voices made race through his brain and
blood.  That other voice must be Martha's.  His wife...  and all three of
his daughters...  had made love to him repeatedly...  almost regularly...
while he slept.

   His erection was complete.  There wasn't anything he could do about it.
He decided that he was very glad he was sitting down.  He decided to stay
that way.

   Chapter 5

   Thankfully, by the time Betty had decided that there might still be some
clothes left in a box that her son had left behind, and that they might fit
Bob, and June had found a blouse and a pair of jeans that fit her, and Bob
had managed to drink two more cups of coffee, his penis was behaving itself
again.  With a stern warning directed at June not to "do something stupid"
Betty marched out the door.  She left Fran there saying, oddly enough,
"Watch your Auntie June." and disappeared.

   June had many of the same questions for him that Betty and Fran had, and
he was content to let Fran answer some of them while he examined this new
woman in his life.  She was healthy and what, fifty years ago, he would
have called "well preserved".  He had never found himself attracted to
older women, his young wife giving him all the loving and more that he
could have desired.  But his memories of this woman's alto voice, and what
went along with that voice, caused him to look at her much more frankly
than he might have otherwise.  Her animated personality, and vivaciousness
made her seem much younger than the fifty-three years of age he knew she
had to be.  He was startled to realize that her birthday was only two days
away.  He resolved to get her something.

   While they talked Fran went to the phone and made two calls.  Her voice
was excited, but muffled.  She was grinning when she hung up the phone and
returned to the kitchen, where Bob had decided to stay, just in case
something happened "down there" again.  He felt refreshed, though even so
small a breakfast had filled him to the point that he felt slightly
bloated. He figured that his stomach must have shrunk during fifty years of
being empty.

   A car door slammed outside.  Soon after Betty opened the door, her arms
loaded with clothing.  As she reached to shut the door there was the
screech of tires and two more car doors slammed shut.  There was the sound
of excited voices...  young female voices...  as Betty turned, her face
agitated.

   "It's the girls." she announced.

   "I called them." said Fran smugly.

   "You shouldn't have!" barked Betty.  "It's too soon for him to have so
much excitement!"

   She was almost bowled over, as she tried to block the doorway.  She was
pushed into the room by a tall black-haired girl and a shorter girl with
dark red hair.

   "WHERE IS HE?" they chorused together.  Their eyes found him, still
sitting at the kitchen table, bare chested, his level gaze examining them.

   Bob was pretty well in control of himself.  The food had helped, and his
mind was clearer now than it had been since he awoke.  There were only
three female voices he'd heard while he slept that hadn't been matched up
with women.  One, he knew was Martha's voice, which was older.  The other
two had to be the voices that had announced themselves to the sleeping
man...  on many occasions...  as Becca and Val.  He now remembered two
voices saying they were Val.  His mind had separated them simply as his
wife, and the other Val.  He now suspected, based on what he had already
learned, that one of these two young women was that other Val.

   The two women skidded to a stop as they saw the man at the table.  For
all their excitement as they had entered, they were now frozen and mute. 
Betty shook her head and closed the door behind them.

   His initial impressions of the girls were based mostly on appearance. 
The taller of the two had jet black hair that was long and straight,
falling well past her shoulders, and held back with something.  She was
thin in the waist, and was wearing a pair of pants that flared outward at
her ankles, like the bell bottoms sailors wore when he was a young man. 
But the resemblance ended there.  The ones worn by this woman were so tight
that if she had a wart on her ass it would show through.  They were also
low slung to the point that he wondered how she kept them up.  Her shirt
looked like a T shirt that the lower half had been cut off of.  Her breasts
pushed that shirt out so that it would have been easy to reach up under it
and grab handfuls of...  what was pushing them out.  He could see skin from
just below those thrusting breasts all the way to where he would have
expected to see the start of pubic hair.  He couldn't tell how old she was,
but she was obviously older than the red head and Fran.  Her high
cheekbones and the lack of anything resembling fat on her face gave her a
mature worldly look.

   The red head had on loose shorts and what looked like a man's shirt. 
The tails had been tied in a knot between and below her breasts.  The shirt
was too big for her and was loose, but he could tell that she was well
developed for a girl in her mid to late teens.  Her hair was in a loose
braid, but a lot of it had fallen out, giving her a wild windblown
appearance.  She looked like she spent a lot of time outdoors because her
skin had a nut brown color, like June's and was darker than that of the
others.

   Bob felt a need to take some kind of control over his life.  He started
by hazarding an educated guess.

   "Well, one of you must be Becca, and the other is probably Val."

   Five sets of female eyes all locked on him.  No one said anything at
all. Their mouths were open and it was clear to him that he had scored a
hit.

   Feeling a little giddy, he made his face remain calm and pushed a little
further.

   "I remember you two reading to me...  and other things."

   Both girls' faces went ashen white.  The red head moaned and looked
down. The raven-haired one covered her mouth and her eyes went large and
round.

   Betty frowned, and was the first to move.

   "Other things?  What other things?"

   She looked around, her frown deepening as she saw the embarrassed looks
on their faces.  She looked back at Bob, who was smiling, completely
unaware that he was perilously close to opening a can of worms.  None of
the grandmothers who had been so familiar with him were aware that their
granddaughters had also become...  familiar with him as well, if a little
less so.  That the girls hadn't told each other about their private
activities only made them a fragmented force, that couldn't work together
to defuse the situation.

   The only thing that kept all those worms in that can was the fact that
Bob was able to recognize that something was wrong.  Betty's face was
taking on classical look of suspicion, which signaled to Bob that all these
women didn't necessarily know about each other's activities.  He felt the
little bit of control he'd tried to grab for slipping away.

   "Um...  you know..." he caged.  "They told me things...  private things
I suppose.  They probably didn't' think I'd ever wake up and remember
them."

   Betty looked at him, three small lines creasing her brow.  It was
obvious she was evaluating his statement.  Bob realized she was a very
intelligent woman, something that made him both proud and a little nervous
at the same time.

   "What kind of private things?" asked Betty suspiciously.

   Bob smiled widely.  "Now I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I blabbed
things spoken to me in confidence...  would I?" He stared intently at
Betty. "I mean isn't it true that women should be allowed to have
certain... secrets?"

   Betty flushed.  This was dangerous territory.  She and her sisters had
adjusted to the fact that they all loved their father in ways that society
wouldn't understand.  They had kept very secret who the father of their
children were.  That had been no small feat, seeing as how each had had her
first child at age fifteen.  There had been some fancy footwork as the
girls visited the doctor alone for their prenatal checkups.  More than once
Martha had called the doctor's office pretending to be her mother and
explaining that she had to work, and could the doctor please give her his
report over the phone?  The fact that the sexual revolution was in full
swing had helped a little.  There had been other children too, a pair of
boys for each of Bob's daughters, all sired by the sleeping man.  But by
then they were older, and no one asked them any questions.  Bob's daughters
knew that things couldn't go on like that, and that their children should
be raised in as normal a fashion as possible.  So a pact was made that none
of the children would be told who their father was.

   It had been difficult.  Any woman who has three children by an unknown
father is odd in modern society.  To have three sisters all do that was a
powder keg.  That they had been able to pull it off in a small town was a
miracle.  While they worried about the neighbors, they did not worry about
their father.  None of his daughters had thought he'd remember anything if,
and when, he woke.  Right now Betty was the only person in the room who
knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her father knew at least what she
had been doing.  She was, in fact, doing it when he woke up.

   June was thinking along the same lines.  She didn't know what her father
remembered about his time asleep, but if he remembered anything at all, she
didn't want him talking about it in front of the girls.

   "Yes!" barked June, making everyone in the room jump.  She shot a
conspirator's look at Betty.  "Of course a girl sometimes has secrets. 
It's nice to know my father is a gentleman." she added.

   The two new arrivals didn't relax so much as wilt while standing there,
darting looks around as if to see if they were really safe.  None of them
seemed to catch on to the fact that all five women in the room were
uncomfortable...  and that all of them thought they had something to hide.

   Just as the grandmothers didn't know about the erotic activities of
their granddaughters with Bob, they were firmly convinced that their
granddaughters didn't know about how intimately their grandmothers had
cared for Bob over the years, and would be horrified if they did.

   The uncomfortable silence went on so long that it was Bob who felt the
need to break it.

   "So which one is Becca?" he asked.

   The redhead came alive and smiled timidly.

   "That's me." she said shyly.  She had told this man all sorts of secret
intimate details about herself, and spent enough hours with him that they
now added up to a couple of months.  But to her he seemed like a completely
different man as his blue eyes stared at her.  She felt a tingle in her
belly at that level gaze.  He was much more handsome awake than he had been
asleep.

   Bob looked at the tall thin beauty.  She looked like a fashion model.

   "So that means you're Val...  Valerie?" He glanced at Betty.  "Named
after my wife?"

   Betty nodded, smiling.

   Val had a little more self possession, being the oldest of the cousins.
She smiled and said in a formal voice.  "It's wonderful to finally meet you
Great Grandfather Bob."

   Fran waved her hand in the air, like she was waiting to be called on in
school.  Everyone looked at her.

   "Um...  we were just talking about that.  He says we can call him Uncle
Bob...  if we want to..." She suddenly looked uncomfortable in the
spotlight.  "I mean so he doesn't sound so old..."

   It still felt stilted and uncomfortable in the room, and Bob didn't want
things that way.  He waved a hand in the air.

   "I don't really care what you call me.  I'm just glad to be awake and
get to meet all of you.  At least I THINK I'm glad to be awake.  I have a
feeling all of this is going to take some getting used to." He pointed
toward the counter.  "Take for instance the obvious improvements they've
made in toaster ovens.  That one got my breakfast ready much faster than
they would have...  back in my day."

   All the women looked at the counter where he was pointing.  Becca was
the first to speak.

   "Toaster oven?  What's that?"

   June laughed.

   "He's talking about the microwave." She turned back to her father. 
"You're right.  A lot has changed since you went to sleep.  You're going to
see some amazing things.  I can't wait to show them to you." she finished
excitedly.

   Betty came alive too.  She held out the clothing in her arms.

   "I brought some of my son's things.  Your grandson.  He's off doing
something somewhere, trying to make money.  I think they'll fit you."

   Bob's first instinct was to go somewhere private and get dressed.  But
as he reflected on the uncomfortable reactions of the women, based on his
comment that he remembered "other things" he suddenly felt wicked.  After
all, every woman in this room had either handled his stiff prick, or taken
it into her pussy.  He had a glimmer of a suspicion that not all of them
knew that, and another glimmer of a way to find out.  He casually spread
the clothing out on the table in front of him.  He picked up a pair of
shorts made of some soft material.  They had the regular pockets, but in
addition had an extra set of big pockets on the thighs, with a flap that
kept them closed.  He pulled at the flap, but it didn't seem to want to
move.  He thought that was odd and pulled harder.  There was a
ripping/tearing sound as the flap came up and he stopped.

   "I didn't mean to tear them." he said helplessly.

   June laughed again.  "You didn't tear them.  That's Velcro.  It keeps
things closed when you want them closed, but lets you open them when you
want them open."

   She reached for the shorts and closed and then reopened the pocket flap
several times.

   "See?"

   "Wow" said Bob, examining the hook and loop system with fascination.

   He picked up a T shirt that had the words "No Fear" on it and put that
back down.

   "Can't wear that one.  I'm terrified." He grinned to show he wasn't
serious.  The fact was that his stomach was in knots, based on what he was
about to do.  He picked up another shirt that had buttons down the front
and a floral pattern on it.  It reminded him of those kids who rode long
boards, standing on them in the surf.

   Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do, he stood up
and dropped the towel on his chair.  All five women stood and stared at the
naked man as he picked up the shorts with trembling fingers and stepped
into them.  They were too big and he had to hold them up with his hands.

   "Got a belt?" he asked, looking over at Betty.

   Her eyes were large and her mouth was in the shape she could use to
whistle.

   "I...  I didn't think." she croaked.

   He glanced at each of the other women, trying to make it look casual, as
if he thought one of them might, for some strange reason, be in possession
of a man's belt.  His purpose was to gauge the look on their faces at
seeing him naked.  He felt satisfaction when all of them looked surprised,
but none of them displayed the outrage he would have expected had they
never seen him naked before.  Psychologically, they were used to seeing him
that way, and none of them thought fast enough to act as if they hadn't.

   And...  none of them objected to what he had done.  He thought to keep
them off balance.

   "Unless you don't mind me walking around nude, somebody needs to find me
something to keep these pants up."

   Nobody said anything and he almost grinned.  Then Betty jerked and
spoke.

   "Frannie, honey, go out to the garage and see if there's a piece of rope
or something out there."

   Bob saw something white peeking out from under the shirt he was going to
wear and pulled it out.  It was a pair of briefs, and was the first thing
he'd seen that looked like the clothing he remembered.  Feeling naughty
somehow, he let the shorts drop and stepped out of them.  He took his time
stepping into the briefs and pulled them up.  In contrast to the shorts,
they fit him perfectly.  His penis made a distinct bulge in them.  He was
having fun now and just stood there.  All five women were still watching
him.

   "Go on Fran!" barked Betty, and Fran jumped and then went out of the
room.  She was looking over her shoulder as she did so.

   Bob picked up the shirt and slid his arms into it, shrugging it up onto
his shoulders.  He left it open.  He knew he'd feel silly if he was wearing
only a properly buttoned shirt...  and underwear.  He looked around.  It
was awkward and uncomfortable again.  He looked at the two newest arrivals.

   "Well, sit down or something.  You don't have to stand just for me.  I'm
sure, if you're like the others, that you have some questions for me, and
I'd like to find out a little about everybody too.  It looks like I'm going
to have to live the rest of my life in a future world, so we may as well
get on with it."

   His matter-of-fact approach to the situation had a remarkable effect. 
Val and Becca went immediately to empty chairs at the table and sat, as if
they were afraid they'd be shot if they didn't.  June went to the sink and
poured herself a glass of water.  Betty picked up the dishes she had served
Bob on and took them to the sink, butting her sister hip-to-hip to get her
to move over so she could put the dishes in the sink.  Bob watched with
half an eye as she ran some water over the plate and then opened a metal
cabinet door under the counter and put the plate in a rack inside, still
dirty.  She dropped his silverware in a basket mounted on the open door. 
Looking over her shoulder at Bob she asked if he wanted more coffee.  When
he shook his head she came, got his cup, and put it in another rack that
slid out above the one that held the plate.  Then she closed the door and
reached up to a long white tube on the wall.  Bob saw her pull and tear off
a square shaped towel looking thing, which she ran quickly under the tap,
getting it partially wet.  She came to the table and started wiping it
down. As she started to leave he reached out and grasped her wrist, peering
at the towel.  It was paper!

   Betty smiled.  "Paper towel.  Use it once and throw it away.  Cuts down
on the laundry."

   "How about that." said Bob, amazed.  "They should come up with something
like that for diapers too.  Talk about laundry!"

   There were feminine giggles all the way around.

   "They did that already Daddy." said June.  "They have diapers that come
in packages and when you take it off the baby you just fold it up and toss
it in the trash.  I didn't get to use them until my I had my last child. 
They're expensive, but it was worth it, believe me!"

   Fran bounded back into the room with a six foot piece of rope in her
hands.

   "I found this!" she announced proudly.

   Betty took it from her and went to a drawer.  She looked inside and
moved some things around and then went to another drawer, pulling out a
knife.  Bob stood up as she approached him and raised his arms in the air.
She knelt in front of him, her face only a foot from the bulge in his
briefs, and reached behind him to pull the rope around his waist.  That
brought her face only inches from his groin and Bob had the insane urge to
lean forwards and make her lips bump his...  bump.  He stopped himself, and
was distracted by thoughts whirling in his brain.  He was, physically, a
young man.  His wife was gone, and had been gone for some time.  He still
had his whole life ahead of him, apparently, assuming he didn't go back to
sleep like he had before.  His brain wrestled with the morals he had gone
to sleep with, and the knowledge that the five women in this room had been
intimate with him repeatedly and willingly.  True, they thought he was
unconscious, but their participation had been both willing and happily
consummated.  He was sure of that.  There was a whisper from somewhere in
his brain that it was normal to want that to continue, while another voice
whispered just as urgently that it was perverted and wrong.  The first
voice notified him that his penis was currently filling with blood and that
he really should lean forward just a couple of inches.  The second voice
insisted that he stop thinking that way completely.  Before he could make a
real decision, Betty stood up and cut the rope with the knife, handing him
the piece she thought would fit.

   Relieved that the temptation was gone he fumbled with the rope, sliding
it through the belt loops of the shorts.  His bulge had grown to perhaps
twice its original size.  He missed the fact that all five women were
staring at it while he prepared the shorts.

   He also missed the fact that Val and June licked their lips as they
noticed.

   He bent over and pulled up the shorts, knotting the rope tightly.  He
didn't miss the chorus of sighs as his bulging prick was concealed from
view.  He looked up and smiled.

   "All better?" he asked.

   He almost laughed when no one answered for a space of five seconds, and
then Betty blurted "Yes."



   To prove that morals in 2000 weren't gone...  only twisted a little in
the Winkle family...  the mood was much lighter and happier once Bob was
clothed.  Conversation flowed more easily, at least until Becca asked the
question: "So what was it like?  How much do you remember?"
Taking a chance, Bob just told the truth, though a very synopsized

version for the present.

   "I remember everything that anyone said to me, and everything that
happened to me."

   That tensed things up again pretty much instantly.

   "Everything?" squeaked Val.

   "Yup" said Bob.  He wasn't sure how to go about having a waking
relationship with all these women, but if he was going to have any kind of
relationship at all, it didn't need to be clouded up by a bunch of guilt.
On impulse he added.

   "I had a good sleep, all things considered.  I'm sure that all this will
have its difficulties...  but, I have to say nothing happened to me while I
slept that I'll ever be sorry for."

   The relaxation that flowed through the room was palpable.

   Bob frowned.  "Maybe I spoke too quickly." he said.

   The tension returned just as palpably.

   "I'll always be sorry at the time I lost with Val...  my wife.  And I'll
always be sad I wasn't there for you girls as you grew up." He looked at
Betty and June.

   There were tears in Betty's eyes.

   "It's okay, Daddy.  We did fine.  Mamma missed you so much.  But we made
do.  I mean you were still here, and we got to see you.  We did okay,
honest."

   "I'm glad you feel that way." Bob said honestly.  "I'm awfully proud of
you two...  and Martha too, even though I haven't met her yet.  As hard as
it is to think about what I missed...  what I deprived you of...  it's nice
to know you're not bitter about it."

   "We could never be bitter about you Daddy." said June softly.  "We loved
you all those years, and we knew you loved us too."

   Bob's mind flitted to memories of just HOW they had loved him, but he
ignored those.  He knew she wasn't talking about physical love, and he had
heard their emotional love in their voices.  The younger girls too, though
not as deeply.  To them he had been more of a secret pal, a guy they could
talk to, and experiment with, he now realized.  But they had been tender
and loving towards him too, even when they didn't have to be.

   "Tell me about your families." he ordered.  He was the patriarch of the
family again, and he wanted to start acting like it.

   He had just been brought up to date on the dates everyone was born, and
the names of the children, where they all were and what they were doing
these days, when the back door opened and another woman walked in.

   "What in the world is going on in here?" she asked, authority in her
strong voice.

   That voice was familiar to Bob instantly, and he knew this was Martha.
That she was older than Betty and June was evident, though not in obvious
ways.  Her skin was a little darker and showed more effect of sun and
weather, almost as if Becca were her granddaughter, rather than Val.  But
she was tall and slim, like Val.  She had on a dress and had two plastic
sacks (was EVERYTHING made of plastic these days?!) hanging from each hand.
The sacks were full of little boxes and Bob could see tomatoes through the
thin walls of one.

   "I go out to get a few things and there's a party going on at my house
when I get back?" she said in a falsely grumpy voice.  "Am I even invited?"
she drove on.

   Then she saw Bob.

   Her face scrunched up and then smoothed as her eyes went wide and her
mouth fell open.  Plastic sacks thumped to the floor beside her feet.

   "Hi, pumpkin." said Bob calmly.  "It's good to see you again."

   He had always called her pumpkin.  At age five, when he had gone to
sleep, he had loved telling her that they had found her in a pumpkin patch,
and she was so cute that they took her home to keep forever.

   "Daddy?" she whimpered, her strong voice vanished.  "Daddy?" she whined
again.  Her strong voice came back loudly.  "DADDY!  OH DADDY, DADDY,
DADDY!"

   She almost tackled him, but he was ready for her, his arms spread wide
and a grin on his face.  She felt good in his arms as she was suddenly
sobbing and babbling into his neck, crushing him with her hug.  All she
could say was "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy" over and over again.

   Just as suddenly she pushed back away from him, rubbing at her face with
her hands.

   "WHEN did you wake up?!  WHY didn't somebody TELL me you woke up?!  Oh I
can't BELIEVE you're awake!?  Where did you get those clothes?!  Oh, I feel
faint.  I have to sit down."

   Hands reached for her and she plopped into a chair, only hitting half
the seat and leaning dangerously to one side before helping hands moved her
over.  She looked up through shining eyes and then jumped up out of the
chair to hug her father again.  This time she planted a completely
unabashed kiss on his lips, crushing them against his, before sobbing some
more.

   "OH Daddy I'm SO glad you woke up.  I've been waiting for you SO long. I
love you SO much!"

   She kissed him again and then moved to his cheeks, kissing his face all
over.  She stopped abruptly and her face fell.

   "Mommy died Daddy.  She's gone."

   She fell against him sobbing and clutching at him, her grief
overflowing. Other eyes in the room got wet with tears of grief too as Bob
stroked her back, murmuring to her that it was all right, and that
everything was okay.

   Martha pushed away, gently this time.

   "I don't know what to say." she whined.

   Bob grinned.  "For somebody who doesn't know what to say, you've been
doing pretty well.  As I recall I couldn't get you to shut up the last time
I saw you."

   Martha looked shocked and slapped at his shoulder.  Of all his
daughters, she was the only one who had already had a firm relationship
with him...  one that she could remember vividly...  when he went to sleep.

   "Don't be mean to me Daddy." she scolded, sounding five years old
somehow.

   Bob laughed and pulled her back.  This time he kissed her, and he told
his morals to go away and bother somebody else.  Her willingness to kiss
him as she had gave him the permission he needed to kiss her back, and he
did so happily, making a long grinding kiss.  He felt her sag in his arms,
as though her knees had gone weak.

   He helped her sit down again, sitting beside her.

   "You sure have grown up a lot." he said, smiling at her.

   "I HAD to!" she barked, her tears stopping.  "Mamma said we had to take
care of you!"

   Another thing about Martha that was different from her sisters was her
attitude about what "taking care of Daddy" had meant.  When she was five,
and before he had gone to sleep, Martha had announced that, when she grew
up, she was going to marry him.  Bob and Valerie had smiled at that, and
Bob had said that he'd be proud for her to marry him some day.  Her parents
both assumed that such a common phase would pass.  But the events
surrounding her family had affected her in ways that most little girls are
never affected.  When she began "taking care of Daddy" she still thought of
him as HER man, whom she inherited from her now departed mother.  And, as
the years went on and she became more mother than daughter, Martha thought
of him as her husband.  He gave her children, and she loved him both
emotionally and physically.  In a way, her five year old fantasy was lived
out.  In a strange way.

   As a result, while she agreed that his grandchildren would not be
exposed to all that caring for Grandpa entailed, she never felt the least
bit guilty about loving him, or having those grandchildren.  Her lifelong
love affair with her father made it much easier for her to be more open
about it than her sisters had been, at least in front of the GREAT
grandchildren.  Even now, kissing him...  and being kissed by him in front
of the girls didn't bother Martha.  She was just too happy that her father
was awake and in her arms.

   To prove that her sisters were less comfortable with their erotic roles
in his life, June spoke.

   "Martha, he remembers everything that happened while he was asleep."

   Martha didn't break her eye contact with her father.

   "Everything?" she asked.

   "Everything." he stated.

   Martha felt flurries in her stomach, but that was all.  They were only a
result of the girls being present.

   "Mamma said we could take care of you." she said carefully.  "She even
showed us how."

   More memories of young voices, in concert with Valerie's voice, surfaced
in his mind, like an audio diary unfolding.

   "Are you taking care of Daddy AGAIN?  Mommy?"

   "Yes dear, this makes us both feel happy."

   "I'd like to feel happy." said a young voice.

   "Some day you'll get to do this." said Valerie.  "You just be patient
and wait for some day to get here."

   "I can't wait." came the young voice.

   "You have plenty of time Martha." echoed his wife's voice in his memory.
"It's worth waiting for, because it's the most lovely feeling in the whole
world."

   Then there was the same voice, but older now.

   "It's my turn now Daddy...  my turn to take care of you." And "Here's
the butter, try that!" from another voice.  He remembered the sensation of
intense pressure surrounding his penis, and of moans of pain and whimpering
and then joyous laughter as his prick spurted in the body attached to that
young voice.

   "I remember your laughter." he said, amazed that the memory had surfaced
so clearly.

   Now Martha blushed.  But she smiled too.  "It was wonderful Daddy.  It
made me feel so close to you." Her eyes darted to the young girls in the
room.  "We'll talk about that later."

   Bob wanted to smile.  He was pretty sure now that the older women didn't
know about the younger women, and that they had been doing almost the same
things with him.  Still, he didn't want to push things.

   "We have a lot to talk about, I imagine." he said.

   Chapter 6

   It was a fascinating afternoon, let me tell you that.  Bob was mildly
interested in seeing what changes had come to the world while he slept, but
the memories of what had happened kept rising, and becoming more clear as
he talked to the six women who had been so much a part of his affliction...
if that was the right word.  He felt like he knew them better than was
possible.  All of them had talked to him, at one time or another, about
things they were worried about, or what their hopes were, and even about
other people in their lives.  In a strange way (if this situation wasn't
strange enough!) it was as if he had been awake the whole time, and was
just an exceptionally good listener.  So, in once sense, he knew these
women very well.

   Of course that didn't go the other way.  The women had gotten nothing
from him other than sexual satisfaction for most of their lives, older or
younger.  Becca, it turned out, had an interest in history, and she asked
him question after question about what life had been like in the thirties
and forties, during which time he had grown up.

   Val, on the other hand, was practically giddy with laughter as first she
brought him things to look at, and then took him by the hand and dragged
him throughout the house, showing him normal every day things that were
taken for granted by everyone alive today...  except Bob.  They were almost
all brand new to him.  Even something so mundane as a Bic lighter was a
thing of fascination as he tried to figure out how the girl had gotten
flame out of a plastic (!) tube that he couldn't seem to make work to save
his life.  When she laughingly showed him the safety feature that
controlled the gas, he grinned sheepishly.

   But being around her - all the women, really - was so satisfying, on so
many levels, that Bob didn't mind being made fun of occasionally, and being
pretty much unable to do anything for himself, because he couldn't figure
out how to make many things operate.

   The women were so taken with him, and he with them, that they never left
the house the rest of the day.

   One of the pinnacles of his update was a truly astonishing session in
front of a television that was physically smaller than anything he had ever
seen before, but which had a screen larger than many TV cabinets he had
seen (but had not been able to afford to buy).  Bob explained that, when he
had gone to sleep, he had been trying to figure out a way to scrape
together the $95 necessary to buy the latest television set on the
market... with its three inch screen.

   Finally Martha chased the other women out, telling them her father was
exhausted by their nattering.  That, in itself, took an hour, as each woman
came up with yet another thing to talk about or ask about that just
couldn't wait until the next day.

   June was the last to go.  Bob had received only four goodbye hugs and
kisses by that time, but he was already in a state of high arousal from
having three young, tight bodies plastered to his, whose lips were anything
but tight, and who brought back memories of ecstasy.  Now June molded her
lush body against his and kissed him long and deep.

   "Welcome back Daddy." she whispered, licking his ear and making him
shudder.

   "It's good to be back." he said, resisting the urge to let his hands
drop from her lower back to her firm buttocks.  His mind was awhirl with
the conundrum of a past in which touching his daughters - or any woman
other than Valerie, for that matter - was considered WRONG!, and his
current desire to repeat with all of them what had happened while he slept.
That part of him seeped out as he whispered back.  "I liked your... 
bathing suit."

   She reluctantly pushed away from him as she blushed, and then frowned
and turned to Martha.

   "What if he goes back to sleep...  like last time?" she asked.

   Martha pushed her toward the door.  "That's the last thing you need to
put on the poor man's mind.  He's been through enough without having to
worry about resting after a long day.  You'll be here for breakfast, along
with the rest of them, I imagine.  He'll either be awake by then, or not.
Now leave him be."

   Martha's practical attitude changed radically once the door closed,
however, and she was left alone with her father.  She had a look of almost
panic on her face when she turned to him.

   "What if she's right, Daddy?  What if you DO go back to sleep?"

   Bob thought about that for a few seconds.  With his memories fully
exposed, he'd have precious little to complain about if he DID go back into
the long sleep.  So much had happened in this one day of being conscious
again that he felt like he'd lived several years in just this single day.
In another way he felt like he might be asleep right now, and dreaming this
whole crazy thing.

   Still, the look of panic and concern on Martha's face was real.

   Bob smiled.  "I don't think I'd have waked up if whatever was keeping me
asleep wasn't done with me."

   Martha smiled tentatively.  "Really?  I don't know what I'd do if you
went back to sleep...  like that I mean.  We have so much to catch up on.
There's so much I never got to tell you."

   "I remember everything you said to me." he said, hugging his daughter.

   Martha's eyes were startled as she tried to remember the myriad things
she'd said to her sleeping father over the years.  While he could remember
them all, she couldn't.

   "I'm still nervous." she said, holding both his hands.  "I'm afraid to
go to sleep myself."

   "Then we won't." he said.  He wasn't really sleepy, after all.  It's
pretty hard to wake up from a fifty year long nap and be sleepy right away,
after all.  He was tired, but it was that good kind of tired where sitting
just feels wonderful.

   So they sat and talked, and Bob reminded her of some of the things she'd
said to him that she'd forgotten about.  Some memories brought laughter,
and some embarrassment, while others made other emotions surge in them
both. It was difficult for Bob to broach the sexual activities that had
gone on - they seemed so bizarre and strange to a man whose mindset was
still in the late nineteen forties.  But both of them knew that some of the
things they talked about this night had been said in the heat of passion,
while daughter impregnated herself on her father's rampant prick.

   "Do you really remember us making love to you?" Martha finally asked,
her face darkening a little.

   "Oh yes." he said, blushing himself.  "I can remember each and every
time if I try."

   "Did you...  like it?" asked the woman.

   Bob's forehead wrinkled as he pondered how to answer that question.

   "For me it was just a haze of white.  I knew people...  you girls... 
were there, but I didn't realize it was you.  I mean I recognized Valerie's
voice, and yours when they were younger, but it was all just a cloud I was
in.  I don't remember feeling anything exactly.  I remember each orgasm I
had, but not how I felt about it." He looked at her.  "Isn't that strange?
Now that I'm awake I can close my eyes and play back each time it happened,
with whatever woman or girl was with me, but I can't remember how I felt
about it."

   "We tried to hard to wake you up." said Martha, leaning toward him. 
"Mamma said she was doing that because it would make you happy when you
woke up.  I think us girls might have misunderstood that at the time.  We
thought that was what was SUPPOSED to wake you up.  We thought she meant
you'd wake up because you loved us.  Later we thought out she was trying to
shock you into waking up, but by then we were hooked.  We couldn't quit. 
Looking back at it now, of course, Mamma just loved doing it with you.  And
we did too, later.  And then you got me pregnant, and June and Betty
couldn't stand it until they got pregnant too."

   "I got YOU pregnant?!" laughed Bob.  "I think it was the other way
around, little missy."

   Martha's eyes glistened as tears filled them.

   "You haven't called me little missy for fifty YEARS Daddy!" she bawled.

   A hug was called for, and given.  That hug somehow turned into a nuzzle,
which turned into a kiss, which turned into more kisses which had both of
them panting within the space of just a few minutes.

   Martha pushed him back, her chest heaving.

   "I'm tired after all, Daddy." she said, looking at him through thick
long lashes.  "I want to go to bed now."

   She stood, and had his hand in hers.

   "I'm still worried that you might go back to sleep.  I think you need to
sleep with me tonight...  so I can keep an eye on you..." After what they
had just talked about, and what they had just been doing, her meaning was
clear.

   Bob felt himself being pulled in two directions.  He stood while his
mind warred in his skull.  Her hand was warm in his, and, small as that
was, it made the difference.  All he could remember was a cloudy haze... 
and voices.  He wanted to put sight into that equation.

   "Okay." he whispered.



   Martha made no bones about it.  When they got to the bedroom she
unashamedly stripped off her clothing as if he weren't even there.  He
stared at the woman whose voice he knew so well, but whose body didn't
match anything in his memory.  Her full breasts sagged a bit, but the dark
areolas perched on top of each one, with a firm nipple on each one that
pointed more up than out.  Her stomach had a middle aged pooch to it, a
roll that was the perfect size to fit into a hand, and her hips were fleshy
too.  Still, she looked more in her mid forties than the over fifty years
she actually was.

   "I loved being able to...  take care of you." she said softly, almost
shyly as she waited for him to remove his clothing.

   He stood there, all his muscles locked except the one in the pants he
was wearing.  It was almost as if that one took all his newly-awakened
brain's power to manage as it swelled.  She drifted, at least to his eyes,
toward him and he felt her hand flicker across the front of his pants.

   "I looked forward to it every day." she murmured, looking straight into
his eyes.

   "Every day?" he choked.

   "Well, almost every day." she corrected herself.  "I just knew that
someday you'd wake up because of what I was doing with you."

   "Well," he sighed, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was
holding, "I guess that sort of happened.  When I woke up Betty was on top
of me."

   Martha's eyes twinkled as she smiled.  "I'm not surprised.  Betty loved
taking care of you as much as I did." Her brow furrowed a little.  "Please
hurry up Daddy.  I need to take care of you again.  I can't wait to see
your eyes this time.  I've dreamed of looking into your eyes while I..."

   Now she blushed, and her eyes darted to his ear, but then came back
immediately.

   "While I feel you spurting inside me Daddy."

   That galvanized him, and it seemed like only a few blinks of the eye had
taken place - the most time was getting the rope around his waist
un-knotted - before he stood naked in front of her, his penis jutting
almost obscenely toward her naked mons.  Her fingers casually grasped it
and squeezed gently as she leaned in for a long kiss.  Her tongue probed...
just the tip...  and he opened his lips in surprise.  He had never kissed
anyone like this except Valerie.

   Then, suddenly, they were on the bed and he was above her as her hands
pulled at his hips and he was surrounded by heat.

   "Ohhhh yessss Daddy." moaned the woman under him.

   His release was both unanticipated and shockingly powerful as he
suddenly spurted helplessly.

   "Ohhhhh baby." he moaned.

   "DADDY!" squealed Martha, laughing.  "You always lasted MUCH longer than
THAT!"

   He took a breath, not knowing what to say, but her finger came up to his
lips and sealed them.

   "Don't you worry about it.  You make me feel special, cumming that
quickly.  We have all night.  We can't go to sleep...  remember?  Now, suck
my nipples please?  I've always wanted you to suck my nipples."

   Bob looked down at the nipples under discussion and his head dropped. 
They were larger, and softer than the nipples he had sucked the last time
he'd been awake.  To his astonishment, he felt something happening in his
groin and felt himself becoming erect again.

   Martha cooed and giggled, stroking his back and shoulders, urging him
on, calling him her Daddy Bull.  This time he wasn't so rock hard, but he
was able to probe her deeply for much longer.  He found himself in that
nebulous place inside his mind that said what he was doing was forbidden...
that Valerie wouldn't be pleased...  and then remembered that she was the
one who had taught this woman how to love him physically.  He let go of his
inhibitions and surrendered to her loving embrace.

   She brought him back twice again and they made love well into the wee
hours of the morning.  They talked at length about all the children he'd
created in his daughters, and that none of them were aware of who their
biological father was.  For some reason he kept quiet about what the great
granddaughters had done with him.  None of them had actually had
intercourse with him, and the secretiveness of his daughters about doing
that themselves led him to believe they would not approve of what their
granddaughters had done.  Discussion about that could come later.

   But exhaustion claimed them, as hard as they fought it, and eventually,
in a tangle of naked arms and legs, they couldn't stay awake any longer.

   Again, Bob slept.



   Author's Comment: What do you do when the story you're telling is as
confusing as this one can be?  We have women who, officially are
granddaughters, but biologically are daughters.  We have great
granddaughters, officially, who are in fact granddaughters biologically. 
That confusion is compounded when the various relationships between the
women are addressed.  I'm fond enough of all you folks out there who read
my stories to want to tell a story without making you cry with frustration
while you're reading, so here's the deal: From this point on, I'm just
going to use official titles for each of the women - not biological ones.
At least most of the time.  It's kind of like a contract between you and
me. I'll try not to confuse you...  and you try to keep up.  Sound like a
plan?



   Bob was awakened by a racket and violent motion in the bed.

   What happened was that both he and Martha, exhausted after their
extended lovemaking session the night before, had slept late.  Or at least
it was late by virtue of the fact that there were three more women in Bob's
life he hadn't met yet, and they now knew he was awake.

   Becca, Fran and Val had all gone home after leaving Martha's and had
excitedly babbled about how Great Grandfather Bob had awakened.  Their
mothers were caught up in the excitement.  They had not been even remotely
as involved in his care as their daughters, but still were part of the
mystery of his long sleep, and they were obviously excited to go and meet
him.  It was too late that night to do so then, but all three called each
other to spread news that everybody already knew.  In the process they all
agreed to meet at Martha's the next morning.  No time was agreed upon,
primarily because each of Bob's granddaughters wanted to be the first to
get there.  June and Betty, though they weren't part of that conversation,
had already decided to come back early the next morning too.

   It might have evolved quietly...  peacefully...  sanely...  instead of
the landslide that happened.  The first trickle of sand that started rocks
rolling was when Gidget, driving rapidly down the street, was blocked by
her sister Sunny, who backed out into the street from her driveway like she
was in labor and heading to the hospital.  Becca and Val were in the cars
with their mothers, of course, and immediately set up a chant urging their
mothers to drive faster and "beat" the other to Martha's house.  That
madcap race was observed by Polly and Val, who only lived a few blocks from
Martha's and were walking.  They both broke into a sprint, not wanting to
be last to arrive.  Betty and June both drove up a split second apart, and
just long enough before all the others to be standing outside their cars as
screeching tires morphed into slamming doors.  Polly and Val came hammering
up the street, yelling "WAIT FOR US" between gasps for breath.

   So it was that eight excited women descended on Martha's peaceful house
around six in the morning.  To be truthful, none of them intended to
disturb anyone, but their angst about whether Bob had gone back to sleep...
and would wake up again like a normal man...  resulted in each of them
deciding to arrive early.  They didn't have any actual plans to DO anything
in particular, but they all wanted to be there.  It was chaos, though chaos
with attempts from various directions to inflict order.  June and Betty
tried to establish matriarchal control in the yard.  They were ignored by
their daughters, who raced for the back door and burst into the kitchen
much like a S.W.A.T.  team might have.  Nobody yelled "CLEAR" though.

   Still, Martha awoke in her father's arms to what sounded like a home
invasion.  She was terrified on several levels.  There was the "What in the
nine hells is going on?" kind of terror, followed quickly by the "Oh SHIT!
That's Sunny's voice I hear and I'm in bed naked with her grandfather!"
kind of terror, which was compounded when she also heard the voices of her
nieces, Polly and Gidget.  There were other voices too, a babble that made
it difficult to figure out just how many people were out there as she
bolted up out of bed and searched frantically for her robe.  This led to
the "What if there's a TV camera crew in my kitchen!?" kind of terror.

   What gave her the time to make it trembling to the door of her room, and
into the hall where she could repel boarders, was the fact that all of the
women in the mob went to the room where they thought they'd find Bob... 
the room he'd been in for fifty years.

   That room, or bed, to be more precise, was empty, of course, and like a
tsunami that has hit a cliff, the wave of women rebounded out of the door
and flowed aimlessly around looking for the object of their search.

   It was Betty who figured it out first, and she turned toward her
sister's bedroom.  There, in the hall, holding her hands out like a traffic
cop facing angry motorists, stood a disheveled Martha, her hair flying in
all directions, her robe tied haphazardly around her waist, her eyes open
wide in...  well...  terror.

   Martha started to relax a little when all she saw in the hallway was
Betty, but like in a bad disaster movie, the hallway behind Betty was
suddenly roiling with women acting like they were at a Christmas sale at
Macy's and were all going for the very last Tickle Me Elmo doll on the
shelf.  The cacophony was horrendous as all the women demanded to know
where their Daddy, or Grandfather or Great Grandfather was and whether he
was awake or asleep.

   Martha, when she didn't see any TV cameras, set her feet and put on her
most ferocious frown.  Holding her arms out like she was going to hold them
all back by pure force of her will, she planted one palm on each wall of
the hallway and yelled "STOP!"

   On the other side of the bedroom door, Bob's eyes popped open as that
bedroom door was slammed shut.  He lifted his head, while his arm moved to
where Martha had been the last time he'd been awake.  His mind cleared
surprisingly fast as the sounds of mayhem came through the door.  After
what he'd gone through the day before, the noise of babbling voices didn't
phase him, and he sat up and looked around for something to put on.  All
there was were the clothes he had been given the day before and he calmly
pulled them on while he listened to the mayhem slowly quiet after someone
screamed "STOP!" at the top of her lungs.  He stood and went to the door,
listening.  The voices were somewhat muffled, but he could discern them
without too much trouble.

   First there was a trio of "Is he awake?" followed by a duet of "He's not
in his bed!"

   Martha had not had time to properly think or prepare for this.

   "He's in my bed!" she blurted.

   "Oh IS he now?" crowed Betty.

   "Why is he in YOUR bed?" asked Sunny who, as a little girl, had spent
many happy moments climbing into bed with her mother on cold winter
mornings.

   "Well...  um...  you see...  I wanted him to be comfortable." Martha
came up with.

   "So..." said June, her voice tight, "Where did YOU sleep?

   Sunny chimed right in "Yes mother, where did you sleep.  Grandpa's bed
hasn't been used."

   "Well, uh, I slept on the couch!" said Martha weakly.

   "I just bet you did." growled June.

   "Well, it just seemed wrong, sleeping in his bed and all." went on
Martha.  "Kind of creepy, you know?" She was trying hard, but was behind
the power curve.  She had a stroke of what she thought was genius.  "He
fell asleep and I sat there, with him for a long time, watching him. 
Finally I took a nap on the couch.  I just got up to go in and check on him
when you all barged into my house."

   Gidget missed the undercurrent that was threatening to sweep Martha
away.

   "So is he AWAKE?" she asked excitedly.

   "Um...  I THINK so." said Martha, grasping.  "I mean I was just about to
shake him when you all stormed in here."

   "I just bet you were." growled June again.

   "June!" said Martha with warning in her voice.

   "Well it's not FAIR!" yelled June.

   "JUNE!" shouted Martha.  "LOOK AROUND YOU JUNE!"

   "Oh shut UP!" yelled June.  "I want to see my Pappa!"

   "I just BET you do!" crowed Betty, laughing.

   "What's going on here?" asked Sunny, her voice taking on a note of
suspicion.

   Bob decided that things were crazy enough out there and pulled the door
open quickly.  He stepped out into the hallway to see Martha still holding
up the walls and eight feminine faces peering past her shoulders with
various moods painted on their faces.

   For Gidget, Sunny and Polly, those moods were of astonishment...  a
fairy tale come true right before their eyes.  Their mouths dropped open
and all three took in deep breaths.  Bob looked at them interestedly. 
These were the three voices that weren't so familiar...  the three women he
didn't really know in any real sense.  While he had managed to wrap his
mind around the fact that the other six women had been intimate with him,
and while he now knew that these women were his biological daughters, he
was suddenly at a loss for words.

   "Hello." he said.

   "Grandpa?" came the cracked voice of one of them.

   "I guess so." he said smiling.  "And you are?"

   There was a surge of bodies and Martha was brushed aside as if she
weighed nothing more than a piece of paper.

   "SUNNY!" squealed the woman.  "I'm Sunny, and this is Polly over here,
and this is Gidget, and that's my daughter Val and..."

   "He met us already!" cried the three youngest women, laughing.

   "Oh!  Yes!  Of course." Sunny blushed and grinned.  "This is SO
ex-CITING!" she squealed.

   Both Polly and Gidget had to do the same "Grandpa?" routine, reaching
out to touch him to make sure he was real.  Martha, feeling disgruntled and
neglected, not to mention upset that her lovely interlude with her father
had been all but destroyed, reasserted her matriarchal position in the
family and started yelling to give the man some room to breathe, and about
why was everyone standing in her hallway when she had a perfectly good
living room.  The girls asked about breakfast, of course, and that set in
motion another wave of women who were hell bent for leather to fix
something to eat for the exciting man who was being swept along with the
tide, grinning and laughing at the antics of all those women.

   It took half an hour before anyone was able to speak without
interruption, and for questions to be answered.  Bob sat in an easy chair
while the women flitted about, changing seats for no reason, or going to
the kitchen only to be chased out by Martha, who couldn't stay there
because she couldn't stand the suspense of wondering if her father was
saying something that would give away the fact that they had made wild
glorious love all night long.  So she kept drifting back into the living
room, only to have to go back into the kitchen when one of the others got
up and invaded her space.

   But, eventually, things did settle down after that.  There was still the
occasional awed comment, like "This is just so STRANGE!" and "I just can't
believe you're really AWAKE!"

   It was Sunny who asked the question - or more correctly, string of
questions - that made everything go quiet.  At that point all the women
happened to be in the room.

   "So, what are you going to do now?  Where will you live?  What will you
do?"

   Bob blinked.  He hadn't actually thought about that.  He did so,
realizing instantly that he was on a very slippery slope.  Martha had
obviously wanted to continue her former relationship with him.  It was just
as likely that Betty did too, based on her actions.  He looked at June,
remembering the sound of jealousy in her voice and added her to the list of
women who would want some intimate time with him.  Then there were the
three younger women, all of whom had done things with him.  Would they too
want to keep doing things now that he was awake?  Part of him hoped so,
because they were all cute and beautiful and interesting.  It was the three
middle aged women who were the unknown variables in the equation.

   "This is his home." stated Martha firmly.  "Technically he still owns
it."

   Bob saw the faces of both Betty and June begin to harden and held up his
hands.

   "All of you are my family.  I'll want to get to know all of you, and
spend time with each of you.  I have a lot of catching up to do, and lots
of questions about your lives that I'd like to find out about."

   He looked around the room.

   "How about if I live with each of you for a while?  I wouldn't stay too
long or anything - you all have your own lives to live and all that - but
that would give me a chance to spend some time with each of you and catch
up until I can figure out what else to do."

   June, Martha and Betty traded glances with each other.  There was no
blushing or prevarication.  All of them knew what the other was thinking
about.  Martha knew her sisters were upset with her for trying to preempt
time with their father...  and lover...  so she offered the first olive
branch.

   "I think that sounds like a perfectly wonderful and workable idea." she
said.

   Gidget looked at her sister, Polly.  "What about Roger?  What will he
think?  Do you even have room?"

   Polly snorted.  Roger was her husband, but in name only.  After Francine
had been born he'd come out of the closet and announced that he was gay. 
For Polly, the devastation that could have caused was blunted by the fact
that Roger still loved her and he loved his daughter.  He had told her he
just wanted to be honest with her.  As a result, they decided to stay
together, living as husband and wife.  But they slept in separate bedrooms.
They were closer to loving roommates.

   "Roger won't care at all." She looked critically at her grandfather. 
"On the other hand, Grandpa is kind of a hunk, you know?  Roger may hit on
him.  And all the bedrooms are full."

   "He can stay in my room when he comes to visit." offered Fran, her voice
innocent.

   While most of the women in the room didn't realize the import of that
"kind offer", a lot of them felt the tug of suspicion.  Bob had the
appearance of a twenty-something year old man, who was quite fit and
handsome.  It was hard to think of him as being their seventy-something
year old grandfather or great grandfather, not only for themselves, but as
they saw him with the others too.

   Betty was one of the women who felt suspicion in the otherwise innocent
remark of her granddaughter.  "Of course, when he's staying at my house,
you all are welcome to visit as much as you like.  I wouldn't want you to
be uncomfortable at home."

   "Oh, it wouldn't be any trouble at all!" piped Fran.  "I have mamma and
daddy's old bed and it's huge!  There's plenty of room for two people in
it." Her comment was, at the same time, based on the pure logic of a mostly
innocent girl of tender years, and the hormones flowing through that mostly
innocent girl's bloodstream.

   "I don't know about that." said Polly doubtfully, suddenly seeing the
youth and virility that was obvious in her grandfather...  now that she
thought about it.  "I'm not sure that would be proper dear.  You know no
boys are allowed in your bedroom."

   "Maaahm" moaned Fran.  "He's my great GRANDfather, not some boy who
wants to get in my panties."

   It took every muscle in her body to keep Fran from clapping a hand over
her mouth.  She couldn't believe she'd said that.

   "Francine Elizabeth Anderson!  That was uncalled for!" said Polly,
exasperated and embarrassed.

   Sunny laughed at her cousin's discomfiture.

   "We can worry about that later.  It's a good plan.  But what about the
other?  What are you going to do?  You're still a young man, for all
intents and purposes.  I feel more like I'm talking to someone my son's age
than my grandfather."

   "I have no idea." Bob admitted.  "I was an accountant when I went to
sleep.  Does the world still have accountants?  How have you all taken care
of me all this time, for that matter?  I must have been a real burden."

   Martha waved her hand.  "There was an insurance policy that paid out...
is still paying out...  and...  oh MY.  What will happen now?  You're not
asleep any more!  The insurance company will have a fit!  They'll probably
say you've been faking it all this time or something!"

   Becca sat up straight all of a sudden.

   "THE JOURNAL!" she gasped.  "We forgot about the JOURNAL!"

   "What journal?" asked her mother.

   Now there were two young faces that went tight.  The most closely
guarded secret of their youth...  well ALMOST the most closely guarded
secret anyway...  had now been blurted in front of a whole BUNCH of adults
who would be VERY upset about it once they found out what had been kept
secret from them.

   Val, the eldest of the younger generation, tried to pawn if off.

   "Oh, it's just a diary.  Our diary.  We sort of...  um...  kept it... 
together." she said airily.  She was trying to give the impression that it
was a meaningless little thing.

   Becca, though, was worried about her Aunt Martha's comment that the
insurance company would think it was all some kind of fraud.

   "We HAVE to tell them, Val!" she insisted.  "If the insurance people
start making trouble it's going to be important!"

   "Tell us what?" asked Martha, looking at her granddaughter with a
piercing look.  "What have you been keeping secret?"

   Val may have been a self possessed nineteen year old young woman, but
under the intense gaze of her grandmother, and the questioning looks of her
mother and other older female relatives, she all but wilted.

   "Well?" asked Martha, her voice dark.

   "We were playing." Val started weakly.  "Hide and seek." She trailed
off.

   "And?" prodded Martha.

   "I was hiding up in the attic.  We were very young Grandma." She looked
around.  Neither of her cousins would meet her eyes, but every other eye in
the room was nailing her to her seat.  She swallowed.

   "I was hiding under that old desk up there.  You know the one that has a
lot of Great Grandfather Bob's papers in it?" She waited for a nod, but
didn't get one, so she went on.  "And I found a book...  a diary sort of...
in a secret compartment of the desk."

   "A roll top desk?" asked Bob, leaning forward.  "My great grandfather's
roll top desk?"

   Val looked at him, a tentative smile on her face, and nodded.

   "Yes, that desk.  And anyway we looked at this old diary and it sort of
was signed."

   "Sort of signed?" asked Betty, leaning forward herself now.

   "Yes." said Val.  "And it talked about a man who slept for a long long
time...  like Great Grandfather Bob was sleeping."

   "Sort of signed?!" prodded Betty again.

   "Yes." said Val miserably.  "It was signed...  Rip Van Winkle."

   Chapter 7

   There had been one of those moments we authors call a "pregnant moment",
where everybody knows something of great import has just happened, or is
about to happen, and that lives will be changed as a result.

   That pregnant moment gave birth rather more quickly than anything living
that gets pregnant.  But, like most births, this one was loud and full of
angst, if not a little fear and pain.

   The three girls found themselves somehow transported to the couch, where
they were suddenly sitting side by side, staring up at the faces of six
women and one man.

   The telling of that conversation, if that's the right word for what
happened for the next fifteen or twenty minutes, would be long and tedious,
so let me just summarize the main points, or comments that were... 
discussed.

   "How on EARTH could you...  forget...  that you had found something like
this?" asked Martha.

   "We didn't exactly forget..." whined Becca.  "We decided not to tell
anyone about it."

   "YOU WHAT!?" gasped four or five adults.

   Val, the oldest, and the one who already lived away from home, where she
could go again once the dorm opened back up, held up her hand.

   "At first we thought everyone but us knew about who Great Grandfather
Bob was.  We thought it was a secret, and that we weren't supposed to know
yet."

   She held up her hand again when four or five adults tried to interrupt
her.  When it quieted down (and it did - isn't THAT interesting?) she went
on.

   "Then, when we read the journal, we knew that telling anyone wouldn't do
anybody any good.  Rip Van Winkle didn't really understand why what
happened to him...  and he didn't know why he woke up, or what it was that
woke him up.  All that would have happened if people found out was that
Grandpa would be taken away from us and dissected or something."

   "And we knew he'd wake up." chimed in Fran.

   "And how, exactly, did you know your great grandfather would wake up?"
asked her grandmother.

   "Well..." said the girl uncomfortably, "Rip woke up.  So we figured
Grandpa would wake up too."

   Becca got her two cents in.  "And we knew that when he DID wake up, THEN
we could tell our secret."

   "That would be the secret that all of us already knew about...  right?"
asked Gidget acidly.

   "Well," whined her daughter, "After a while we couldn't tell anybody
because we were too old to play hide and seek and that's how we found it -
playing hide and seek - and if we said we found it that way people would
have laughed at us and...  and...  and..." She burst into tears, so
frustrated was she under the intense scrutiny of all those hostile adults.

   Bob was on his knees in front of her instantly.

   "Hey, don't cry." he said soothingly.  "We're not mad at you.  It's just
a surprise, that's all.  Come on now.  It's all right."

   He held her hands, leaning against her knees, which were tightly closed
as her body had taken on a defensive posture.  His touch, and his youthful
face so close to hers, electrified her and memories of what she had done
with this man...  to this man...  as he lay sleeping added to her emotional
burden.  She blushed beet red as she felt tingles in various places around
her body, and leaned back.  She pulled her hands from his, more from self
defense against the emotions racing through her, than because she didn't
want to touch him.  Then she balled up her fists and wiped her eyes,
sniffling.

   Bob stood up and faced the other adults.

   "They did the best they knew how.  And she's probably right.  It
probably wouldn't have made any difference.  All it would have done was
upset everyone.  I'm awake now, I'm fine, I remember everything that
happened while I was asleep, and we're going to be a family again.  That's
all that really matters."

   "Where IS this journal?" asked Martha, ignoring his heartfelt speech.

   "It's in the desk." said Val.  "We put it back in there for safe
keeping."

   "In the desk." said Martha woodenly.  "You know, about five years ago I
almost donated that desk to the local Public Television Station for their
fundraising auction.  The only reason I didn't was because I didn't think
we could get it down out of the attic without it falling apart." She looked
decidedly grumpy and that made her look older than usual.

   So then ten people tried to cram themselves into the attic to retrieve
Rip's diary.  None wanted to be left out of the adventure, and all insisted
on climbing the steep steps and packing themselves into the dusty, hot
room. Fran was the smallest, and she ducked under the desk and fiddled. 
There was a creak and a snap and her hand came out from under the desk with
the book in it.  It was snatched from her hand by Martha and there was the
beginnings of a tussle when all three of Bob's daughters tried to take
possession.

   Bob had to raise his voice to restore order, and pointedly said "May I
have my Great Great Grandfather's journal...  please?"

   His daughters had the sense to look abashed, and the book went to him.



   Again, I must beg the gentle reader's indulgence as I tell this tale. 
The following weeks and months were a veritable whirlwind of activity,
examination and discovery, and all the Winkles - the Van Winkles as they
now privately called themselves - were neck deep in that physical and
emotional turmoil.  As such, to tell their story demands that many
different kinds of activities be described and some of that turmoil will
inevitably seep into the narrative.  So if I bounce around a little, have
patience.  All will, sooner or later, be revealed.

   Bob read the journal out loud to his "new" family.  Because of the
length, it was decided to break it up into many small segments.  It became
an evening ritual for Bob to read a few pages each night, as they began to
adjust to the fact that he was really awake, and was not, apparently, going
to go back into his mystical slumber.  With the exception of Martha, who
had somehow convinced the others that he should stay in his old house "for
a few weeks...  to fully adjust..." the other women went on with their
lives in a more or less usual fashion.  The one difference was that only
Martha still got to have sex with her father.  In fact, as Bob got used to
the idea, Martha got to have a lot MORE sex with her father than she had in
the recent past.

   That didn't mean the other women who had been engaged with him in the
past forgot about it.  Not at all.  In fact, as they all gathered each
night to listen to Bob read from Rip's journal, something began to happen
that some of the women had not anticipated.

   As he read to them, his baritone voice had an almost hypnotic quality,
and the smooth planes of his face moved and twisted as he unconsciously
used skills he had learned in High School speech class and musicals.  His
voice was that of an old time storyteller, mesmerizing the nine women.  He
always seemed to know just where to stop, when something was about to be
revealed, and inevitably the women moaned as he closed the old journal,
begging him to read more.

   Rip told, in his spidery, tiny writing, talked about his termagant wife
who, along with all the other women of the town he lived in, made his life
miserable for such common things as tippling a mug of ale now and then, and
for enjoying a beautiful spring day by not wasting it on manual labor.  He
was overjoyed at being unemployed, as that gave him time to play with the
village children and make their toys and go hunting with his faithful dog,
Wolf.

   He wrote at some length about the virtues of home gardening and of
fowling, a pursuit which he didn't feel was real labor.  Both, he felt, fed
his family, which was, after all, a father's role, yes?  That his wife
disagreed with him, and wished to be wealthy enough to never have to raise
a finger around the house, made him sad beyond his ability to describe in
the journal.  That was a theme he went back to over and over again.

   Sunny, Gidget and Polly, none of whom had ever been intimate with this
man, and had, for the most part forgotten him most of the time, began to
become infatuated.  Each of them had tried to find the man of their dreams,
and somehow each had found something much less.  They loved their children,
but the fathers of those children had been found wanting, much as Rip
claimed to have been found wanting by his shrewish wife.  And yet, rather
than identifying with the wife, they chose to believe the description Rip
made of himself, as an easygoing, happy-go-lucky loving man who wanted
nothing more than to have enough to eat, to enjoy a beautiful day and to be
able to play with children and make them happy.  In their minds, had his
wife been less of a bitch, he would have been loving and considerate of her
too...  of course.

   And the man who read all this to them was, as they believed, the direct
descendant of old Rip.  He had even MET the man when he was a child...  had
actually SPOKEN with old Rip.  The old roll top desk and the journal in it
were gifts to Bob by the legend himself!  And Bob was handsome, and polite
in a way that men had forgotten how to be, it seemed.  Whenever he
accompanied one of them on a trip somewhere he was most solicitous, opening
doors for them, taking their hand to help them in or out of the car, and
generally paying them the kind of honest compliments that twenty-something
men just didn't do these days.

   And it wasn't just the women in his family who noticed these things. 
Saleswomen all over town fawned on him, giving him the kind of service
that, in New York City, would have demanded a tip.  He didn't tip them. 
Instead, they gave him their phone numbers.

   And at night the women listened avidly as Rip told of how his wife's
razor sharp tongue beat down all happiness in the house, even to that of
Wolf, Rip's faithful old hunting dog.  His description of how Wolf's tail
crept between his legs and his ears laid back even before they went into
the cottage each day, successful hunting or not, made them all sigh.  Polly
and Sunny both had dogs in the house, and Gidget was still getting over the
death of her own.  Again, their heartstrings were plucked by the old man's
words.

   All the women delighted in taking Bob places.  His ever present
amazement at the advances of technology were a source of constant laughter.
It usually took Becca, Val or Fran to give him explanations of how things
worked, but Sunny, Polly and Gidget almost always had a better sense of the
timeline of when things had appeared on the market.  There were constant
references such as "I remember when that first came out.  I was ten or
eleven at the time and we couldn't afford one until they'd been in stores
for several years."

   Computers seemed like magic to Bob.  Conversely, the manual can opener
in June's kitchen drawer was completely familiar to him.  While its overall
appearance was different than what he remembered, it was instantly
recognizable to him, being practically unchanged in fifty years. 
Automobiles, as Bob referred to them, also left his mouth hanging open. 
Air conditioning was something he neither understood, nor thought
necessary. At the same time, news reports about concern over this or that
country's nuclear ambitions produced discussion in which were voiced many
of the same concerns that people in his day had worried about.  The first
time he saw Val get a call on her cell phone left him laughing helplessly
as he later described how she suddenly decided to talk to a noisy piece of
plastic she pulled out of her purse.  It was only after her actual
conversation that he recognized the same language people had used fifty
years ago to answer the phone.  He was fascinated by the radio, and spent
literally hours sitting hunched by one, hopping from station to station as
he explored what to him was the amazing variety of sounds the little box
would produce.  Conversely, television didn't much interest him.  The
programs his great granddaughters watched horrified him.  The ones their
mothers liked seemed empty and vulgar.  It wasn't until someone tuned the
television to programs in black and white that his interest perked up. 
Mary Tyler Moore and Dick Van Dyke were his favorites, and he'd stop doing
almost anything to see the Honeymooners or Jack Benny.  Even though most of
them had been produced after he went to sleep, they were much closer to the
world he remembered than anything else on the tube.

   And every two or three nights, the clan would gather, and more of Rip's
journal would be revealed.  And on each of those occasions the bond between
the women and Bob would be deepened.

   June, rather than Betty, was the next after Martha to resume her
previous activities with her father.  For a month she sat and wiggled
excitedly as she sat with him, or went places with him, or had him over for
dinner.  Then one day he showed up unexpectedly, sent to her house by
Martha to borrow something.

   She was in her bikini again that day, lying out in the sun.  The first
she knew of his presence was when his shadow fell over her face.  She
flinched, not expecting anyone to see her, and opened her eyes.

   "Daddy!" she said, relieved that it wasn't a stranger.

   "I was hoping I'd get to see you in that getup again someday." he
chuckled.

   There had been much discussion about many things between Bob and the
various women in his life now, but talk about sex had been avoided.  There
were too many secrets trying still to be kept.  Even though Martha dragged
him into bed almost every day she still tried to keep that a secret from
the others.

   But all of the women who had been intimate with him were fully aware
that he retained memories of what they had done.  It made for some
emotionally charged interaction sometimes.

   June sat up.

   "Daddy, can I ask you a question?" she asked.

   Bob stared down at the vast expanse of sweat-dotted skin on her body. 
Having gotten used to making love with Martha, his prick was almost always
interested in a beautiful woman.  It reacted to June.

   "Of course." he said, wishing he could adjust his thickening penis.

   "You remember how you said that you can remember...  everything?" She
got flustered.  "I mean about what happened while you were asleep?"

   That didn't help Bob's condition at all.  Her voice was tied to some
really great "dreams."

   "Yes, dear." he said.  He couldn't help but treat his daughters as
daughters, even though he appeared younger than them.

   "How did you feel about that?" she asked, looking away.

   "I thought they were dreams." he said.

   "I mean now." she corrected herself.  "What do you think about...  what
we did?"

   "Let's go inside." said Bob, feeling his own skin beginning to produce
sweat.  "I'm supposed to borrow a weed whacker, whatever in the world that
is."

   "I'm sorry, Daddy." said the woman getting up.  "I didn't mean to bring
back bad memories."

   He held out his hand to pull her up.  "Who said anything about bad
memories?  I'll be happy to answer your question.  I just want to do it in
the shade."

   "Oh." she said, her voice small.

   When they got inside June offered him something to drink.

   "The weed whacker is out in the garage." she said.  "I'll get it."

   "That can wait." he responded.  "How would you feel if I said I wanted
to kiss you?" he asked.

   June's eyes went round.  She wasn't prepared for that.

   "I'd love for you to kiss me." she finally said.

   "And what if I said I wanted to take that little bitty bathing suit off
of you and look at you naked?" he asked.

   "Ohhh Daddy." she whimpered.  "I miss what we did so much."

   "Then let's do it again, sweetheart." he said.

   It was hot, sweaty, frenzied lovemaking.  They didn't even make it to
the bedroom.  He got his kiss and while he did his hands went to unfamiliar
ties and hooks.  She helped him and then her fingers frantically tore at
his own buttons and hooks until he stood naked, his shorts in a pool around
his ankles.  His prick was rock hard and reaching for her.  Her routine was
to mount him in bed, and that memory caused her to grab a nearby kitchen
chair.  She pushed him into it, his ankles still encumbered and then swung
one long leg over his lap.  Fisting his prick she kissed him again as she
notched it and then sank down on it.

   "Mmmmmm," she moaned into his mouth, her hips jerking spasmodically as
her pussy was filled with hard dick.  She jerked and bounced and cried out,
having an orgasm within the first twenty seconds of their tryst.

   "Ohhh Daddy I love you so much." she moaned, her green eyes staring into
his.  "I love THIS sooo much."

   "I know, baby," he grunted, trying to force his hips up off the chair.
"You told me so lots of times."

   "I loved it when you made me pregnant." she moaned.  Martha had informed
her sisters that she had spilled the beans about all Bob's children.  There
had not been any direct conversation about that between Betty and June and
Bob.  There had never been an appropriate time.  Now she felt free to talk
about it.

   "I still can't believe you three did that." he said, unconsciously
yielding up to the desire to make her pregnant again.

   "There was nothing as good as carrying your baby around inside me." she
sighed.  "It made me feel so close to you.  It made all of us feel so close
to you.  I think that's why none of us ever got married.  We couldn't
imagine being able to feel that close to any other man."

   "But you could have had so much more in life." he objected.

   "We were happy, Daddy." she smiled, jerking her hips toward another
orgasm.  "We never regretted what we did for a minute." She leaned back and
stared into his.  "Like I'm happy now." she husked.  "Spurt in me Daddy.  I
want to feel that again and see your eyes."

   It wasn't hard at all for Bob to let loose.

   "Yes, baby," he moaned.  "I want to do that again too.  Here it is sweet
June...  Uhhhhhh."

   His prick bulged and spat as his daughter's smile widened, her eyes
never leaving his.  When his penis had coughed its last, she gave him a
tender kiss on the lips.

   "Thank you Daddy.  Thank you so much.  I love you so much.  I can't
believe how much I love you."

   "I'll always love you too, sweet pea." he panted.

   It was after that that June insisted it was her turn to host her father.
All he owned were a surprising array of clothing, but it only took one
carload to get that transferred.  Martha groused about it, but June only
smiled and said "You had your turn.  Now it's mine." She had a harder time
with Betty, who groused too.  Finally the three women agreed that Bob would
be invited to make the rounds, whenever he felt like it.  They got together
to tell him about that decision.

   He laughed.  "You all are acting like a harem." he said.  "And you're
treating me like some sultan or something."

   "You ARE our sultan, Daddy," said Betty.  "And we feel...  we've always
felt...  like we were your wives.  When momma left us we just took over for
her."

   Bob was surprised to find how easy it was to agree to their crazy plan.



   It was strange to hear Rip talk, through Bob's voice, about sitting in
the shade of the tree outside the small inn that had a big painted portrait
of King George III on the facade.  He told of how they got news from
passing travelers, or when an old newspaper happened to come their way and
was read out loud to them all by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster.  His
description of the people, the food, the basic feel of the village itself
were all fascinating to the modern Van Winkles.

   "It was my hunting that was also my escape from the dagger tongue of
Dame Van Winkle, who, with the other women in the village set upon we
peaceful men as we discussed politics.  They haled us wastrels, vagabonds
and tools of the devil.  And so, one lovely autumn day I went for squirrel,
to get some peace."

   Bob closed the book with a sharp snap, and there were sighs all around.

   "Can't you read just a little more?" wheedled Gidget.  She had never
married, like her mother before her.  The difference was that the man she'd
lain with, and who had given her Rebecca, had been her professor at the
time.  She'd fallen prey to his attentions, but he wouldn't leave his wife.
It had soured her on men.  Still, she had no experience with having a man
around underfoot who was not being productive.  So her sigh of "He sounds
like such a nice man." was met with a snort from Sunny.

   Sunny HAD been married, and was now divorced from the man who sired Val.
She was only too familiar with the downside of a man who had no ambition,
and who paid way too much attention to himself, neglecting both his young
wife and their new daughter while he worked as what he called a portrait
painter.  Sunny compared his portraits to what she saw on the covers of
science fiction books about aliens.

   "He was a man who could have made a good living for his family." she
said.  "But he chose to go off and do what he liked.  Don did that.  That's
why I divorced the bum."

   Val frowned.  "Mom, you know I love Daddy.  I don't like it when you
call him a bum.  He's an artist."

   "Well, if you call a man who hasn't sold more than two paintings in his
whole life an artist, then I agree, he's an artist.  He could have gone
into graphic arts and made a good living though, and we wouldn't have had
to scrimp and save for your college."

   It was obviously an argument they'd had before, and Bob tried to lighten
the mood.

   "You know, I used to be quite a hand with a bit of charcoal and paper."

   Sunny made a face.  "Don't even go there." she said, holding up a hand,
the palm facing him.  "I'm beginning to get to know you and I like you a
lot so far.  Don't ruin it for me." she teased.  Actually she DID like her
grandfather a lot.  She appreciated the little things he did for her when
they were together, and whenever he visited their house he was always the
perfect guest.  He was everything in a man she liked, without all the
things she didn't.  More than once she'd glanced at him and wished that he
weren't her grandfather.  She'd have liked to feel again what she hadn't
felt for years with a man.  She wasn't too keen on men by the time her
divorce was finalized and since then she'd been too busy making ends meet
to have a social life anyway.  Still, at thirty-eight, there was a lot of
life left in her.  She was perky and interested in life and hadn't come
even close to using up all her passion.

   Bob also reawakened something deep inside Sunny that she had kept secret
and buried for a long time.  The last person she had told about it had been
here ex-husband and he had used it against her.  Among the people in the
room, only Sunny knew that she had had a fantasy lover in her life for
decades.  He didn't have a face, because she didn't know what he looked
like.  She didn't know where he was, or what he was doing.  All she knew
was that he was her father...  and in her mind they did wonderful sweet
passionate things together.



   The group broke up and most of them left.  Bob was still staying with
June, and Becca hung back, telling her mother she'd be home in a while. 
She said she wanted to talk to her grandmother.

   In fact, it was her great grandfather she wanted to talk to.

   She waited until her grandmother went to the kitchen to clean up the
dishes they'd used.  Bob looked at her questioningly.  He hadn't had much
time alone with his great granddaughters.  It wasn't that he wanted to - or
not - it was just that one of the adults was always around.  The girls had
plenty of input, but usually only when another adult was in earshot.  He
also hadn't pushed it because he had no idea how they felt about the things
they'd done with him while he slept.  His daughters had made it clear that
they loved being his lovers, and wanted to continue in that role.  But the
girls, while they certainly didn't shy away from him, didn't send him any
clues either.  Becca was the first to approach him privately.

   "What's up beautiful?" he asked.  He flirted with all the women in the
sense that he paid them all compliments as often as he could do so
honestly. Because he was honest in these things, he was also naturally
charming.

   Becca smiled.  She wasn't immune from his charm at all.

   "I wanted to talk to you." she said hesitantly.  "To ask you something."

   "Shoot." he said, leaning back in his chair.

   "Except that I don't know if I should or not." she added.

   "Well, I don't know if you should or not either." he said amiably.  "I
guess you'll have to be the one to make that decision."

   Becca frowned.  "It's just that I used to talk to you all the time." she
said.

   "I remember." he said simply.  "But, as you might recall, I never talked
back."

   "I know, but somehow it always worked out that I knew what to do if I
talked about it with you first." she said.

   "Oh, so this is about a boy, huh?" he guessed.

   "Yeah...  Phillip Hampstead.  I have a date with him Friday night."

   "That's not a name I remember." said Bob.

   "I never talked to you about him, exactly." she said.  "I mean I've sort
of been doing the same things with him that I did with...  some others..."

   "And with me?" Bob couldn't resist asking.  His memories of her hot
mouth sucking down his spunk were bright in his mind.

   She colored, her cheeks turning pink.

   "Um...  yes...  you really remember that?" she asked nervously.

   "Oh yes." he said, smiling.  "You're very good at it, you know."

   "Really?" she asked, her voice high.

   "Have you had any complaints?" he asked.

   She blushed more.  "Well, no...  but...  I mean...  most of them never
had it done before I did it."

   Bob didn't want her getting even more nervous.

   "So what's your question?" he asked.  "About this Phillip boy."

   Becca darted a look toward the kitchen to make sure June wasn't in
earshot.

   "Well, I've never let any of the boys do anything...  you know...  down
there?" She was beet red now, almost like she had a sunburn.  "And anyway
Phillip wants to put his hands in my pants while I...  um...  you know.  He
swears it will feel good and that he'll stop if I tell him to and...  I
just don't know if I should let him."

   Bob didn't say anything for a few seconds.

   "He swears he'll stop if you want him to, huh?" he said.

   Becca nodded.

   "Have you ever...  hmmm...  touched yourself...  down there?" he asked.

   She looked away and down at the floor, but nodded.

   "And that feels pretty good, doesn't it?" he prodded.

   She nodded again, ducking her head so her dark red hair covered her
face.

   "Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of." he said softly.  She looked up,
looking through her hair.  "I mean we're on pretty familiar terms...  you
and I.  I don't want you to feel embarrassed about asking me these things.
I don't know for sure, but I suspect most girls do it at one time or
another."

   She smiled a thin smile and he went on.

   "The point is that when a boy does it, it might feel even better and...
well, you might NOT want him to stop.  And that can lead to other things
that you might not want to do...  but by the time you have to make a
decision, you're not thinking clearly.  Do you understand what I mean?" he
asked.

   She shook her head and he sighed.

   "When a man and a woman do these things, it's just natural to want to do
other things, and pretty soon you're making love with the guy.  But if you
had the chance to stop and think about it, you might not want to go that
far."

   Her head came up and her eyes were wide.

   "I don't want to do THAT with him!" she said, her voice a loud whisper.

   "That's what I mean.  If you start letting him play, you might let him
do that anyway."

   "I would not!" she said, her voice firm now.

   Bob knew better, but he also knew that young people think they know
things that they just don't know.

   "I have a proposal for you." he said.

   "What?" she asked.

   "How about you and I go somewhere tomorrow...  or at least before
Friday. I think I can show you what I'm talking about.  We'll need to be
someplace private.  If it's all right with you I'll touch you the way
Phillip wants to touch you and you can find out for yourself what it's
like."

   Becca's smile widened.  THIS was something that felt natural to her...
something that matched her prior experience with this man.  Being intimate
with him was something that did not worry her in the least.

   "Okay!" she said, smiling.  "That's a good idea!  I LIKE that idea." she
said, getting excited.  "Where should we go?"

   Bob was at a loss to answer that one.  Back in the day there had been a
local makeout spot that all the kids went to, but he had no idea if it
still existed, or had been covered by houses, like so many other places had
while he slept.

   "We'll find something." he said.  "Why don't you give me a driving
lesson?  Martha tried a few days ago, but it was a disaster.  I was afraid
she'd have a heart attack."

   "Deal!" yipped Becca.  "I'll pick you up around ten, okay?"

   "Deal." said Bob, mimicking her speech.

   Becca skipped off out of the house and Bob went to find June.  He came
up behind her and reached around to fondle her breasts.  He was already
erect.  Just thinking about playing with Becca the next day had gotten him
that way.  Now he had a chance to deal with the problem.

   "You're horrible." said June, leaning back against him.  She reached for
a dish towel while he mauled her heavy globes.

   "You taught me to be that way." he said into her hair.

   When her hands were dry she turned in his arms and kissed him.  Then,
giggling like a school girl, she took his hand and led him to the bedroom
where they had spent the last several nights entwined in each other's arms
as he prodded her deeply.  This night was no different and she arched her
naked body under his as he shoved deep and his extraordinary semen flowed
into her belly in long, strong streams.  He watched her face as he came,
staring into her grateful eyes as she accepted his offering...  staring at
what Becca would look like when she was older.

   Whatever lucky man snagged that girl was going to be happy for a long,
long time.

   Chapter 8

   The next morning Bob announced that Becca was going to give him a
driving lesson.

   "Do you really think that's wise?" asked June, still happy and sated
from their early morning repeat of the night before.  She almost wished
that she were younger and not on the pill.  Her father was an ardent and
enthusiastic partner in bed.  "You know Martha talked to me after she drove
with you."

   "I did just fine." said Bob waving a hand.  "The car just has a lot more
power than I'm used to." he said dismissively.  "It was Martha that was the
problem.  She just got way too excited, that's all.  And besides, Becca
just had that, what do you call it?  - drivers training?  - not long ago.
Sometimes I think you girls have forgotten most of the rules." He grinned
as he said it.  He loved being a backseat driver in a strange twist of
tradition.

   "Well for pity's sake don't try driving anywhere there is a lot of
traffic.  The last thing we need is for you to get arrested for driving
without a license.  Can you imagine what trying to explain to the Police
about you would be like?"

   "I promise." he said blithely.

   Two hours later Becca showed up, excited enough that her grandmother
thought it was odd.  Why would the girl be so tickled at getting to give a
driving lesson?  She dismissed it though.  All the women liked to spend
time with Bob.

   Bob never got to drive.  Instead he gave instructions to Becca to go
places he remembered that might be remote and private.  All of them now had
housing developments or strip malls on the property.  So they decided to go
up into the mountains to the east.  A State forest provided the perfect
place to get off the road and go for a little hike.  Becca, thinking ahead,
got a blanket out of the trunk and they set off into the woods.

   They found a spot that had not only a little meadow of thick grass, but
a truly amazing view of the valley below and spread the blanket out.

   Both were a little nervous as they sat, side by side, initially just
looking out at the lovely vista below.

   "Are you all right?" asked Bob finally.

   "Uh huh." said Becca, dipping her head and not looking at him.

   "We don't have to do this if you don't want to." he offered.

   She looked at him.  "I do want to." she said firmly.  "I kind of
miss..." her voice trailed off and she blushed.  She tried to explain. 
"With boys I go out with it always seems tense, like something could go
wrong any second.  But with you it's just fun."

   "Hey, I kind of miss it too." he said, more to make her feel less
nervous than anything else.

   He decided to adopt what he perceived as a fatherly approach.  He had,
after all, had all the fears that any man has when a daughter is born to
him.  Even when they were babies Bob had dreaded the day they would come
home and announce that they liked a boy, or wanted to go on a date.  That's
probably harder on a father before it happens than after it happens... 
depending on the boy.

   So he began telling her what boys wanted.  Well...  what boys wanted
when he was growing up.

   It turned out things hadn't changed all that much.

   She agreed that boys wanted to kiss, and to touch her breasts and to see
her breasts.  She knew well that their hands would wander downward to her
buttocks and hip and try to get between her legs.  She had always resisted
that, for no other reason than she knew she was supposed to.  But
everything else felt so good she just knew that that would feel good too,
which was why she was now having second thoughts about keeping those hands
away.  She told him as much as they talked.

   "Yes, sweetheart," he said patiently, "but what I'm trying to tell you
is that the feelings get very intense." She looked doubtful still, so he
asked her.  "Haven't you ever felt like if a boy stopped doing something
you'd just die?"

   She thought about that for a few seconds and shook her head.  "No." she
said simply.

   He looked at her, astonished.  "You mean it's always been easy to stop?"
he asked to confirm.

   She looked at him and nodded.  "Sure.  I mean it feels nice and all
that, and I like doing that, but I always tell them when it's time to stop
and take me home." She frowned.  "THEY don't want to stop, but I don't have
any problem at all."

   Maybe boys hadn't changed much, but it sure sounded to Bob like girls
had changed.  In his day when it was time to stop and take the girl home
she loudly proclaimed that she didn't want to stop at all...  and that was
WHY it was time to stop and go home.  Then again, this beautiful young
thing was only eighteen.  Bob clearly remembered what he had been like only
five years ago...  sort of...  and he knew full well that what he had
learned between being eighteen and being married for a couple of years had
taught him an astonishing amount about how to really please a woman.  And
what he lacked then, Martha and now June were making up for by coaching him
on how to make them virtually sing in bed.  The only thing he had brought
into the bedroom that they had never experienced was what he did with his
mouth and tongue between their legs.  That, oddly enough, they had never
experienced.  Well, maybe not so oddly, considering that their sole lover
had been unconscious for the entire time they'd been making love with him,
not counting the last month.

   At any rate, Bob decided that he'd have to try a few things with this
delightful young thing to see for himself if girls had changed so much as
her comments indicated.

   "Let's...  reenact some of the things you've done," he suggested, "and
I'll do what Phillip wants to do with you, and then you can see how you
feel about it.  How's that?"

   Becca nodded, almost violently.  She wanted to know what it was like.

   "How should we start?" he asked.  His new moral attitude still wasn't
settled in, and he felt strange making advances toward this young girl.

   "Well," she said gazing into his eyes.  "Most of the time the guys just
start grabbing at my boobs.  But I like to kiss for a while first."

   Bob made an internal grimace.  Boys were always pushing the envelope. 
That hadn't changed either.

   They started sitting up, and just leaning into each other for light,
soft kisses.  He gave her several and pulled back to see what she thought.
Her eyes were round.

   "That's really different now that you're awake." she said.

   She came back for more and soon they were lying on the blanket, their
bodies pressed together as the kisses got longer and wetter and hotter.  He
put one hand on her hip and slid it up her side, stroking her side gently.
When he thought the time was about right, he let his fingers drift to her
breast and she kissed him harder.  They broke again.

   "Is that about right?" he asked.

   She nodded.

   "They want to feel them under your shirt, don't they?" he asked.

   "Yes." she was breathing deeper now.

   "Will you take your shirt off?" he asked.

   She smiled.  "Not for them, but for you I will."

   She sat up and unashamedly unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged out of it.
Her utilitarian white bra bulged with soft skin.  She reached behind her
and undid the clip, shrugging her shoulders to let the cups fall and the
straps slide down her arms.  The bra ended up in her hand and she froze as
he stared.  These were young, vibrant breasts.  It wasn't that Martha and
June and Betty were old and baggy or anything.  Quite the opposite,
actually.  All three women had taken pretty good care of themselves, but
their breasts were heavy and gravity wins in the end.  Their nipples were
more well formed than Becca's, primarily because their nipples had been
sucked into shape by numerous infant mouths during innumerable sessions of
breast feeding.  In his memory, his wife's breasts were more like these,
except that they weren't as large, or heavy.  Three babies had made
Valerie's nipples almost constantly prominent.  She bought hard, cone
shaped bras that made hard perfect points in her blouses just because of
those nipples.  A bra looked like what it was - a bra.  Anything else would
have telegraphed those nipples to the world, and she didn't want to do
that.

   Becca's, though, had never been sucked.  Her breasts were firm and
round, with no hint of sag to them.  They looked hard as rocks, with pink
upturned nipples on them that were flat looking, like small coral-colored
buttons.  Bob stared at them so intently that she actually leaned back a
little, anxiously.

   "Are they okay?" she asked.

   "They're beautiful, Becca." he said.  He said it in that voice that all
the women had learned was an honest compliment.  It made her tingle to hear
that voice.

   "Are you going to touch them?" she asked.  The men in her experience had
to be fought off, rather than encouraged, and this was a strange situation
for her.

   "Oh, yes, I'm going to touch them." he said.  "I'm going to touch them
like the boys will want to touch them."

   He lay her back down and leaned over her to take one nipple in his
mouth. She wasn't prepared for the action, or the feeling, and gasped. 
There was a kind of almost pain, so exquisite that she couldn't breathe for
a few seconds.  Then as he suckled and played with the nipple she dragged
in a ragged breath and let it out in a long, long sigh.  He moved to the
other one and began pinching the first, rolling it between his fingers,
never letting up, pulling at it and then pressing it into her flesh.  That
flesh looked hard as a rock, but was as soft as a baby's butt.  Bob
realized he was the one that was rock hard.

   He pulled back to find that Becca's mouth was open wide and her eyes
closed tight.

   "You ready for me to stop yet?" he asked.

   She opened her eyes.  "No!  It feels better than I thought, but I'm
fine. Aren't you going to do it some more?"

   "I'll do some more later.  Right now I want to kiss you some more."

   "Okay" she agreed readily.

   This time, as they kissed, he pressed for and got entry with his tongue.
He slid his hand to her bare midriff and stroked her skin just above where
her ovaries were, almost like he was trying to coax them into dropping an
egg for him.  Becca wiggled and her leg went over his.  She pressed her
pussy against his leg and ground it against him.  Bob pushed her away and
his fingers went to the button of her shorts.  He fumbled, not able to get
it because it buttoned backwards from how men's pants buttoned.  Her hand
brushed his out of the way, her lips still locked on his, and suddenly her
shorts were open and unzipped.

   Bob didn't wait.  He slid his hand into the front of her panties. 
Instead of easing things along, his fingers pressed for entry and her legs
parted as she lifted one knee.  Bob felt sparse hair and then the beginning
of her slippery slit.  He pushed, forcing his hand between the cloth and
her skin and slid a finger right into her pussy.

   Becca was enjoying herself immensely.  She was making out with a man she
felt very close to, even though she'd only been able to actually have a
conversation with him for just a few weeks.  His kisses were much nicer
than those she'd gotten from her dates, and what he'd done to her breasts
was just flat fabulous.  She was beginning to think she should have let her
dates do more with her breasts after all when he sought entry into her
pants.  This was what she came here for, and she impatiently helped him get
access to her pussy.

   Then things happened that she hadn't planned on.  She'd had her own
finger in her pussy on numerous occasions.

   But it didn't feel like this!

   Bob's finger was longer and bigger around, and when he fucked her virgin
pussy with it he mashed her clit at the same time, digging deep inside her.
She felt his finger touch something way up inside that felt tingly pain and
tingly pleasure all at the same time.  Suddenly his lips were gone from
hers.  She wanted to complain, but they went back to her nipples and what
felt like electricity seemed to suddenly be shooting all through her body.

   Bob sped up with his hand, adding another finger and massaging her pussy
lips rapidly as his finger flashed in and out of her pussy.  Her nipples
had spiked up now, and were long enough he could chew on them in between
sucks.  She lay back, her arms making vague motions as she flopped on the
blanket.  Then she went rigid and made a keening noise that Bob had no
trouble interpreting at all.

   Becca couldn't breathe again.  Everything felt so fabulous...  so
wonderful...  not at all like it was with the boys on her dates.  Well,
maybe a little like that, but WAY more intense.  She closed her eyes
tightly, just concentrating on the feelings that coursed through her young
body.  She felt the orgasm coming, knew what it was, even welcomed it. 
But, just as it hit, he stopped thrusting his finger into her and, instead,
put three fingers on her clitty and dragged them up and then back down
rapidly, causing all three fingers to squeeze and maul her clit and then do
it again and again and again.  Her shorts, still on, pressed his fingers
tightly against her body.  Her orgasm, rather than being the sweet gentle
ecstasy she was used to, exploded upon her consciousness like fireworks. 
She went rigid all over, paralyzed temporarily and then her buttocks
bounced off the blanket thrusting her hips up into the air enough that it
hurt her tender buttocks when they fell back to the ground.  She heard the
sound of a puppy being beaten, yipping and whining and suddenly realized
the sounds were coming from her own throat.

   Becca relaxed limply on the blanket.  Bob was suddenly gone and she felt
her hips being lifted.  She raised her head to see him taking her shorts
and panties off.  She was suddenly stark naked, lying on a blanket in the
sunshine, surrounded by woods.  Bob stood up and dropped his own clothing.
She eyed his long, hard prick, comforted that it looked so familiar, but
distinctly uncomfortable because he was awake and she was naked.

   "What are you going to do?" she asked breathlessly.  She still felt
almost groggy from her orgasm.

   "What you do on your dates." he smiled.  "With a little twist."

   He lay down beside her, except the wrong way, with his head at her hips.
She rolled her head to stare right at his rigid prick.  Then his hands were
on her hip, pulling, rolling her onto her side.  He put a hand under her as
she rolled and, by force of muscle alone, lifted her until she rolled up
onto his body, his face between legs.  Her legs automatically spread and
her knees hit the ground on either side of him.  She squawked and then
caught her breath in a gasp as he fastened his lips against her pussy and
sucked her loose pussy lips into his mouth.

   "Awwwww" she moaned, opening her mouth just as her face ended up above
his jutting prick.  She hesitated a few seconds, only because the feel of
his tongue penetrating her sex was so overpowering, and then dropped her
mouth over his cock.  This was something she knew how to do very well, had
learned how to do on this very penis in fact.  But somehow she couldn't
concentrate on sucking and licking and kissing like she was used to doing.
His lips found, sucked, and squeezed her clit and when he nibbled it with
his teeth another of those devastating orgasms washed over her and she
gagged on his prick as she jerked and it went clear to the back of her
throat.  She pushed up and off of it, grinding her pussy into his face and
rubbing her hips back and forth, mashing her sex against his mouth until
she almost smothered him and he had to grab her hips and move her to get a
breath.

   Then her world turned up side down again as he rolled her off of him and
scrambled between her legs.  The iron hard thing she had just had in the
back of her throat was suddenly lodged firmly between the pussy lips he had
just sucked and licked and he hovered over her, the tip of his prick
stretching her cruelly.  His panting face swayed above her own and she held
her breath.

   "You see?" he panted, leaning down to kiss her lips gently.  "Things can
happen so fast that you have no control over them." His prick didn't budge,
but Becca could feel a pulsing down there, almost like a heartbeat, where
his hard skin was pressed firmly against her clit.

   "If I were a boy on a date, it would be inside you already." he said
heavily.  "You'd have lost your virginity and wouldn't have been able to do
a thing about it."

   The thought of that long hard thing ripping her open horrified Becca. 
She was intimately aware of how big and long that thing was, poised at her
pussy's gates.  She had had to stretch to get her mouth over it when she
was younger.  And now, the pressure she felt suddenly was tinged with pain.
But at the same time, his body over hers, and the ecstasy she had just gone
through screamed at her that if all those things had been SO wonderful,
surely having him inside her would be even better.  She lay there panting,
trying to get control of her own emotions, and her hips thrust up against
the pressure of their own accord.

   "You want it in you?" he growled.

   "Yes." she panted.  "No!...  Ohhh I don't know."

   Bob let his weight down and pushed a little harder.  He felt flesh give
way, fighting him all the way and suddenly his glans popped inside her
tightly stretched pussy lips.

   "AHHHHHH" she whined.  Now there WAS pain...  real pain.

   Then it was gone, like magic and she realized he was getting to his
knees.  She lifted her head and saw his bobbing penis moving away from
where that pain had been.  She stared at her own pussy, expecting to see
torn flesh and blood.  But there were only her pink labia, gaping open just
a little...  and a feeling of emptiness in her loins.

   Bob sat down on the blanket and leaned on one arm.

   "That's what I was talking about." he said softly.  "When you let things
go too far, not only is it hard to stop, sometimes you can't stop even if
you want to.  A lot of girls get hurt that way."

   She stared at the man she knew so well, but hardly knew at all.

   "You put it in me!" she squeaked.

   "A little." he said.  "Not nearly as much as one of your dates would
have."

   She panted.  "You took it out!"

   "Of course." he smiled.  "That wasn't part of the deal...  was it?"

   She stared at him, her mouth open.  She couldn't believe how the pain
had flashed to a feeling of profound emptiness.  She wanted to shove her
own fingers inside her to ease that feeling of emptiness.

   "I don't want it out." she whined.

   "Becca, sweetheart, it would have hurt you." he said.

   "It DID hurt me!" she said.

   "See what I mean?" he grinned.  "And that was only a little bit.  If I'd
have kept going you'd be crying right now."

   Becca thought about that.  Her hand slid unconsciously to her pussy and
she put a finger in it, pulling it up against her clit.

   "Maybe." she said, drawing out the Maaaaayyyyyy as she pulled hard. 
That felt good.  But it didn't feel as good as she somehow knew that long
hard prick three feet away from her would feel.

   Bob laughed.  "See what I mean?  I TOLD you things change when you play
that way.  You don't want to stop right now...  do you?"

   She knew he was right and didn't like it.  She had always been in
control on her dates.  She played with the boys and let them give her
tingles, but she always felt in control.  Until now.

   "I don't like you any more." she pouted.

   "Need to have just one more little orgasm?" he grinned.

   He moved so suddenly that she had hardly jerked before his hand pulled
her fingers out of her and his mouth fastened back on her clit, his tongue
licking it just before he sucked it into his mouth.

   "OHHHHHHHHHHHH SSSSHHHIT!" she groaned, letting her head flop back down
on the blanket as her knees flexed, pushing against his face.

   He was relentless, sucking and licking and biting at her until she
shuddered and went rigid one more time.  His hands went under her buttocks
and welded his mouth to her sex as she came so hard she got light headed
and flopped on the blanket again.

   Then, as she lay limp, he pushed himself up and jacked furiously on his
cock until long ropes of semen arced out and landed on her from breast to
crotch.

   The old Becca would have been incensed at this, but the new Becca felt
the heat of that issue, landing in long stripes across her naked body and
her hands went to it, rubbing it all over her skin.  One messy hand slid
down and rubbed at her pussy mouth and she jerked as her overly sensitive
clit objected to the touch.  That hand came back up and settled on one
breast, slowly rubbing his spunk into the skin.  The other scooped up a
glob on her abdomen and brought it to her lips.  She sucked her fingers
clean and put her hand down for more.

   Bob sat back down, gasping for breath, and looked at the naked girl
spread out before him.  He'd had to beat off.  The urge to stick it back in
her had been almost overpowering.  He felt much better for not having done
so, even though he'd made a terrible mess.  Watching her scoop up that mess
and put it in her mouth made his balls lurch one more time and a single
droplet of sperm oozed out of the tip of his prick and collected in the
bunched foreskin there.

   Neither said anything as they caught their breath.  For having shared
something so intimate both felt a little odd, and unwilling to talk.

   Becca eventually sat up and used one corner of the blanket to clean
herself up before getting back into her clothes.  Bob, when he saw her
reach for her bra, got dressed too.

   Neither of them said anything as he picked up the blanket and walked
with her to the car.  Only after it was started and moving did she turn and
speak to him.

   "I see what you mean." she said, smiling.  "You were right.  You could
have done anything you wanted with me."

   "I just don't want you to get hurt.  Sex can be a beautiful thing, but
not when someone isn't fully committed to it." he said.

   She stopped the car suddenly and turned to him.  "You never got to
practice driving." she said, opening the door.

   "No, really, that's all right." he said.

   She insisted though, and he drove from there to the entrance to the
park. The only problem he had was that he kept feeling the urge to shift,
and that wasn't required with this car.  Twice he reached for the shifter
lever on the column, to have his hand slapped each time by a giggling girl.
She told him to make a turn onto a gravel road and, as the car weaved
somewhat erratically from side to side...  she gave him a blowjob and got a
mouthful of the spunk she'd been intending to get all along.

   Chapter 9

   The following Tuesday, Bob enlisted the aid of Val to drive him to
Sacramento, some sixty miles west of Circleton.  He wanted to do something
about the insurance payments before anyone could accuse him of hanky panky.
He and Val talked about many things on that drive, but in the interests of
brevity (hah!) we'll skip most of those.  Suffice it to say that Val was
excited, not only because it gave her time with what was now her favorite
man, but because she'd get to go to a real boutique to shop for a new
bikini.  She dropped her great grandfather off at an imposing glass fronted
building and drove off toward the shopping district with a promise to
return in an hour.

   A more sophisticated author would say "the storm broke" when Bob walked
into the Amalgamated Indemnity of America's corporate offices and calmly
announced that he was no longer "infirm", and that as such, they no longer
were required to make the monthly payments to him that they had been making
for fifty years.

   But I'm not that sophisticated.  What actually happened was that the
shit hit the fan.

   Priscilla Hardy happened to be the adjustor who was approached by a very
timid young man named Paul, who was an intern with the company that summer
and who had been asked to take over the front desk by Missy Walker, the
receptionist, so she could go get a cup of coffee.  Most people just sent
Paul to get them things, but Missy had been there...  had that T shirt...
and was almost militant about not making the interns "step and fetch"
things.  So she smiled sweetly and asked Paul to watch her desk for a few
minutes.  When a few minutes later, a man walked in off the street and
explained what he wanted, Paul had no idea what to do.  So he took the man
to Priscilla.

   Priscilla was a hard driving young woman, who took control of things by
telling the man to sit down while she reviewed his file.  She asked for a
doctor's release while she tapped keys on a computer keyboard.

   "I don't have one." said Bob calmly.  "I didn't see the need to go to a
doctor.  I'm not infirm any more and I just thought you folks should be
told that."

   "This is highly irregular." she muttered as his file came up.

   She blinked when she saw the date of the original claim and the dates of
the list of payouts.  The file was for a seventy-five year old man.  She
looked at Bob, who was obviously in his mid twenties.

   "Mr...  Winkle...  is it?" she asked.

   He nodded.

   "May I see some identification please?" she said, her voice level. 
There was all kinds of fraud in the insurance business.  This man was
trying to get them to stop making payments to a man he claimed to be, but
obviously wasn't, which didn't quite fit the usual fraud pattern, but she
intended to get to the bottom of this.  She picked up the phone and dialed
security - just in case - while Bob got his wallet out.

   Bob's wallet, it turned out, had been put in the roll top desk that
Rip's diary had been found in.  It still contained all the usual documents
- driver's license, social security card, pictures of his three baby girls,
and, scraps of paper with long defunct phone numbers on them and, hidden in
a hard to find slot, a single folded five dollar bill.  That bill was
unusual because the seal was in blue, not green, and along the bottom were
printed the words "Silver Certificate".  Val, Fran and Becca had found the
wallet, of course, when they went through the desk looking for treasure. 
They hadn't discovered the money, but after Bob woke up they remembered the
wallet and retrieved it from the desk, handing it to him like the treasure
it really was.

   In 1950, a driver's license was an un-laminated card, with typewriting
on it and no photograph.  Bob's had been issued to him only a few weeks
before he went into his long nap, and was in pristine condition.  When he
handed it to Priscilla, and she examined it (both front and back) her
suspicions gelled.  Still, security wasn't there yet, so she put on a
smile.

   "I'm afraid I'll need a picture ID Mr.  Winkle."

   "And I'm afraid that's the only identification I have." said Bob calmly.
He hadn't thought it would be this difficult to get an insurance company to
stop giving him money.

   Priscilla sighed with relief as she saw Chuck, the security guard she
had ignored for more than a year, approach.  Chuck was a beefy young man
who had failed the Police Academy entrance exam because he was basically
stupid.  He seemed to inflate as he approached her desk.  Chuck was a
surfer when he wasn't being a security guard, and he was good at posturing.

   "What seems to be the problem here?" he asked, importantly.  His hand
went to the can of pepper spray he kept at his belt.  There wasn't actually
any money in the building, so they wouldn't let him carry a gun.  He had
adopted the pepper spray instead and carried it in a pouch where he thought
a pistol should be.

   Bob looked up at the towering...  and glowering man.

   "There's no problem." he said.  "I was receiving payments for being
infirm, and I'm not infirm any more."

   Priscilla handed Chuck Bob's driver's license.

   "This is the ID he provided." she said, as if that explained everything.

   Chuck frowned at the card, peering closely at it and holding it up to
the light, as if he could see through it.

   "What's this?" he asked.

   "It's my driver's license." said Bob patiently.  "I know it's expired,
but it's all I have."

   Chuck searched until he found the expiration date.  It was May 15, 1952.
He frowned.

   "What are you trying to pull here?" he asked, trying to make his voice
sound low and grave.

   Bob felt the first tingles of frustration as he realized he was dealing
with something he obviously wasn't prepared for.  He had thought it would
be simple.  He'd walk in, say "Thanks for all the help" and walk out.  He
looked at Priscilla.

   "Are we done here?  Is there anything else I need to do?"

   Priscilla was at a complete loss as to what to do.  She'd called
security not because she wanted them to do anything in particular, but
because it made her feel powerful.  This couldn't be the man listed as the
beneficiary in the file she was looking at, so something had to be wrong,
but she couldn't figure out what that was.  She made a decision.  This man
was obviously NOT Robert Winkle, and he was trying to get the company into
some kind of trouble so there would be litigation and they'd have to pay
out even MORE money.  Yes, that just had to be the scheme here.

   "I can't just stop the payments on your say-so." she said to Bob,
explaining it as if he were simple minded.  "Mr.  Winkle is over seventy
years old.  I don't understand why you want us to stop paying him, but he
probably needs this money and I think you're not a very nice person to
pretend to be him."

   Now Bob knew that this wasn't working.  He didn't want to argue about
it, but he also knew that the money should stop being paid and that someone
would try to make trouble if he kept taking the money.

   "Look," he said patiently.  "I took a nap in 1950 and didn't wake up
until just a month ago.  Your company's insurance policy has been paying
out all this time.  But I'm awake now.  You understand?  I'm awake now.  I
don't want to cause any trouble.  I'm just here to inform you that I'm
awake."

   He stood up to leave and Chuck went into action.  The story he'd just
heard made it clear to him that he had a wacko on his hands.  He grabbed
for the pepper spray and gave Bob what was supposed to be a two second
burst in his face.  Chuck, however, had been carrying his cartridge of
pepper spray for a year and a half, and enough dust and grime had collected
around the trigger mechanism that it stuck.  As Bob howled and went down,
his hands scrabbling at his eyes, Chuck dropped the canister and grabbed
the handcuffs from the back of his belt.  He yanked Bob's right arm,
twisting it behind his back yelling "You have the right to remain silent!"
He said that three more times, unable in his excitement to remember the
rest of the phrase he'd practiced over and over in the mirror in his
mother's basement, where he lived.  By the time he got Bob's left arm
cranked back and had closed the cuffs as tightly as they'd go, he was
panting and jubilant.  He'd just made his first "collar"!

   In the meantime, his canister of pepper spray bounced and rolled,
merrily spraying a stream of its contents up into the air and all over
generally.  It rolled to a stop spraying directly into the air return vent
next to Priscilla's desk.  The mist formed by this process drifted in the
excellently conditioned air.  Only the best had gone into the structure of
the corporate HQ at Amalgamated.  The air in the whole building was reputed
to be recycled every three minutes.

   Priscilla freaked out.  She, too, assumed Bob was a wacko, but he didn't
seem violent - merely deluded - and when Chuck "went into action" and some
of the over spray of Chuck's pepper spray came her way, making her eyes
water and making her sneeze, she panicked.  She screamed and tried to run
from her desk, and tripped over a wastebasket, sprawling on the floor.

   People at desks nearby had been watching as the incident progressed.  No
one had ever had to call Chuck before, so when he showed up and began his
"investigation" there were a lot of interested people watching.  None of
them had seen what the man did to cause Chuck to spring into action, but
there was obviously a struggle going on, and Priscilla was running
screaming from her desk, so that suggested the man might have a gun.

   911 was called by three different people.

   Rodney Jackson, who had a crush on Priscilla, jumped up from his desk to
go and render aide.  He was elated to find that, in the fall, Priscilla's
skirt had whipped up, exposing the peach colored thong she had worn under
it that day.  Her bare buttocks were exposed to his delighted, if somewhat
misty gaze.  He was torn between trying to get away from what was making
his eyes tear up and hurt, and getting a better look at something he
thought he'd never get to see in his whole life.  He intended to roll her
over, primarily so he could see the front of those panties, when a cloud of
pepper spray enveloped his head.  His eyes squeezed shut and he gave a
massive sneeze.  Instead of gripping her waist to turn her, as he intended,
one hand went squarely between her naked buttocks and he fell on top of
her, incapacitated.

   Priscilla, her vision still blurred by tears, felt a man's hands being
forced between her soft buttocks and, now in a complete panic, screamed
"RAPE!' at the top of her healthy young lungs.  She kicked with her legs
and one foot impacted a decorative floor lamp that happened to have halogen
bulbs in it.  It tipped, and two of the bulbs shattered with an explosive
pop.

   By now, others in the big room had gotten a sniff of Chuck's pepper
spray and were in the process of fleeing in panic.  As they streamed out of
the room, pushing and shoving, Henry Stevens was slammed into the edge of a
doorway.  His forehead hit the sharp molding and split open.  He staggered
back, bleeding like a stuck pig and, tried to run.  Unable to see because
of the blood in his eyes, he slammed into another wall and flopped
senseless to the floor.

   Mildred Hopkins, a matronly woman of about forty five years, if you took
her word for it, came out of the ladies room to a scene of pure chaos. 
People were screaming various things, one of which was "He's got a GUN!"
Many more were coughing their lungs out and staggering around with
streaming eyes.  It was about then the halogen lamps burst and Mildred
swung her gaze to see Henry reeling, his face bleeding, fall to the floor
limply.  Being a woman of iron disposition, and having watched every police
show that ever aired on television, she calmly reached over and pulled the
fire alarm, and then sank down behind a desk and pulled the phone to her
heaving chest.  She was the fourth person to call 911.

   "SHOTS FIRED!" she screamed into the phone.  "ONE MAN DOWN!  THE PLACE
IS ON FIRE!  WE NEED HELP AND WE NEED IT NOW!" she screamed into the phone.

   It didn't help that Alice Trumble, unable to see where she was going,
tripped over the phone cord and jerked it out of the wall, cutting
Mildred's running commentary to the 911 operator off mid stream.

   Police radio bands everywhere are constantly monitored by the news
media, not to mention a crowd of ambulance chasing lawyers.  The arrival of
Sacramento's finest was, therefore, recorded by no less than four camera
crews and three lawyers, all of whom had a fist full of business cards they
were handing out to fleeing people as fast as they could.  The police had
to fight for parking spaces with a ladder truck and two pumpers as the SFD
blazed onto the scene.  Within minutes the scene was crisscrossed with
three inch hoses.  By now, the entire four story building was being
evacuated by panicked and screaming "survivors." And, even though no flames
or smoke were seen, water flowed through those hoses as each fireman
attempted to be the first one to put water on the fire, wherever it was.

   Try to imagine three hundred people, eyes streaming from drifting pepper
spray, trying to negotiate their way to safety amidst a maze of hoses and
those streams of water.  Within minutes there were bodies all over the
sidewalk and street, moaning victims of falls, with various cuts, bruises
and contusions.  It looked like a war zone.  It took the fire scene
commander five minutes of screaming into his radio and a bull horn to get
the water stopped.

   And the media got it all in full, living color.

   The crowning moment though, was while the cops were barricaded behind
their cars, pistols and rifles aimed intently at nothing in particular in
the building.  They were waiting for the hostage negotiator and the S.W.A.T
team to arrive and darting out from cover occasionally just long enough to
pull another moaning survivor through a puddle of dirty water to safety,
making sure that a cameraman noticed while they did this.

   Suddenly Chuck appeared in the now empty double glass doors of the
building, the chain connecting the handcuffs to Bob's wrists firmly clamped
in his right hand.  Bob, being semi-conscious and completely out of it,
wasn't helping any, which meant Chuck had to drag him along, Bob's arms
lifted high up behind his back and stretched to the breaking point.  Had
Bob been conscious, the pain in his stretched shoulders would have had him
screaming.

   The number of hammers cocked and slides jacked back sounded like a
truckload of crickets had been spilled in the street.  Chuck, wiping his
own eyes with one hand, staggered out onto the sidewalk, stopping only
because there were two moaning bodies lying there blocking his way, too far
from safety to be "saved" by anybody.

   "I GOT HIM!" he yelled to half a million viewers of the breaking news as
they watched the live video feeds.  He grinned and looked blearily around,
waiting for adulation and interviews.

   What he got instead was rushed by the S.W.A.T team, which had just
arrived and knew that sometimes, the hostage taker comes out pretending to
be someone else.

   Amid screams of "I GOT HIM MOTHERFUCKER" and "HE'S MY COLLAR YOU FUCK!"
Chuck went down in the melee as the butt of an M-16 connected solidly with
his head.

   And it was all on live feed, in living color.

   We've all seen the local news "break a story", usually involving someone
saying something like "I heard him [bleep]slapping the [bleep] out of her
and she was screaming and then the cops busted down the door.  Man, they
beat the living [bleep] out of that guy.  But I feel safer now, that's a
fact." Well this sentence didn't turn out to read very well, but you get
the idea.  Anyway, the media, as everyone knows, is addicted to drama and
violence and being the first to announce anything.  Having video of the
violence is even better.  So, while Detective Sergeant Zack Simpson, the
unlucky investigator assigned to "sort things out down there" figured out
what actually happened, the media reported, variously:

   "BRENDA ROGERS, CHANNEL FIVE EYEWITNESS NEWS, LIVE AT THE SCENE.  TODAY
A MAN TRIED TO ROB THE AMALGAMATED INSURANCE BUILDING, RESULTING IN CHAOS!
DETAILS AT ELEVEN.  BRENDA ROGERS, LIVE IN DOWNTOWN SACRAMENTO!"

   "FRED COMPTON, WZTF FIRST WITH THE NEWS.  A TERRORIST PLOT WAS FOILED
WHEN THE TERRORISTS BOMB APPARENTLY FIZZLED.  THE LIVES OF HUNDREDS WERE
SAVED BY THE QUICK ACTION OF AN UNIDENTIFIED AMALGAMATED SECURITY GUARD! 
(flash to tape of Chuck dragging Bob out of the building) WE'LL TRY TO GET
YOU MORE FOR AN UPDATE LATER.  FRED COMPTON, WZTF FIRST WITH THE NEWS,
SACRAMENTO!"

   "THANK YOU GEORGE, I'M JULIE DENMAN.  TODAY IN SACRAMENTO A MAN WAS SHOT
WHILE HE TRIED TO DEFEND AN UNIDENTIFIED CO-WORKER FROM A RAPIST!  IN THE
ENSUING STRUGGLE UNIDENTIFIED CHEMICALS WERE RELEASED INTO THE AIR DUCTS
AND HUNDREDS SUFFERED.  WE'RE WORKING ON THE STORY.  BACK TO YOU GEORGE!"

   and

   "KIP JACKSON HERE WITH KZWT ACTION NEWS!  I'M AT THE OFFICES OF THE
AMALGAMATED INSURANCE COMPANY IN FRESNO, WHERE POLICE JUST CAPTURED A MAN
WHO TOOK AT LEAST TWENTY PEOPLE HOSTAGE BECAUSE AMALGAMATED REFUSED TO GIVE
HIM MONEY.  GUNSHOTS WERE FIRED AND AT LEAST FIFTY PEOPLE ARE BEING TREATED
AT THE SCENE, SOME OF THEM FOR LIFE THREATENING INJURIES!...  What?  I
didn't say Fresno.  No way I said Fresno.  Are we on the AIR?!  YOU STUPID
[BLEEP] WE'RE STILL ON THE AIR..."

   Meanwhile, inside, Detective Simpson walked around, a handkerchief over
his nose, looking at the destruction caused by the stampede.  While the
state-of-the-art air handling system recycled the air in the building every
three minutes, it didn't have filters that would remove pepper spray, so
the air was faintly tinged with the stuff, making Zack's eyes water.  The
perp was in custody, in bad enough shape they were taking him to the
hospital.  He could be interviewed later.  Zack was trying to figure out
something...  anything that would give him a clue as to exactly why he was
here, and exactly what kind of evidence he should be looking for.  The
employees he had spoken quickly with, for the most part, didn't know a
thing about any hostages, or any robbery, or any gunshots.  The vast
majority of them left the building because they started sneezing and their
eyes burned.  A patrolman stuck his head in the door.

   "Hey Detective?  There's a guy out here I think you should talk to."

   "Yeah, right." said Zack heavily.  This had all the earmarks of a
situation it would take him a double shift to figure out.

   He went outside where another burly patrolman had a firm grip on the
collar of one Rodney Jackson, who couldn't see much because his glasses had
been knocked off by a flailing Priscilla when she tried to beat off her
attacker.  He was moaning something and looking dejected.  As Zack got
closer he heard the repeated litany of moans: "I didn't try to rape her...
I didn't try to rape her...  I didn't try to rape her..."

   "Rape who?" asked Zack as he walked up to the mousy looking man.

   Rodney's head jerked up.  "I swear on my mother's GRAVE officer I didn't
try to rape her!" He started shaking and looked pleadingly, if a bit
myopically, at Zack.  His clothes were wet from the water a paramedic had
splashed in his face to clear his eyes of pepper spray.

   Zack nodded to the patrolman, who let go of Rodney, who almost
collapsed. He coughed dryly and rubbed at his eyes.

   "Don't rub them." said Zack.  "Blink them.  When you rub them you just
push more pepper spray into them.  If you have to, put your hands in your
pockets.  Blink as much as you can.  Now...  who was it you didn't rape?"

   His manner, more than anything else soothed Rodney a little.  He jammed
his hands in his pockets and looked hopeful.

   "Priscilla." he said.  "I tried to save her and that stuff got in my
eyes and we fell down and my hand sort of went between her legs and she
yelled rape but I didn't try to rape her, honest I swear all I tried to do
was help get her away from that man." He finally had to stop to take a
breath and Zack held up his hand, expecting another barrage of words to
come rushing out of the man's mouth.

   "Just breathe and blink for now." said Zack.  "You and I are going to
find a nice quiet place to have a nice little chat and you can tell me all
about it.

   Rodney blinked and looked startled.  He looked around and squinted.

   "My glasses are around here somewhere." he said, peering at the floor.

   Zack saw a pair of glasses lying next to a desk.  They were a little
twisted.  As he approached them he had to step over a fallen lamp.  He saw
the pepper spray canister lying against the wall by the air return vent. 
He smiled.  It was the first thing he'd seen since he got there that made
any sense at all.  He bent over and got the glasses, handing them to
Rodney, who peered at them and lit up like he'd won the lottery.

   "Is there a coffee shop around here someplace?" asked Zack, leading
Rodney out of the office.



   Rodney, as it turned out, was a goldmine of information.  He knew all
the names of the major players except Bob, if not the circumstances of what
exactly had set off the whole debacle.  But he was quite sure there had
been no gun, and that the man who had been talking to Priscilla had not
done anything strange or threatening except stand up quickly.  He had seen
Priscilla fall and used that as an excuse to be her savior.  When Zack
wanted to know why Chuck had used the pepper spray, Rodney frowned and
answered: "You know...  I have no idea."
Zack's next stop was at the hospital.  He intended to talk to Chuck
next, but found out he had been taken into surgery to repair a cracked
skull.  He asked for the man who had been brought in by the police, got the
information and turned to find a tallish and gorgeous young woman facing

him.

   "Did you just ask about my great grandfather?" she asked.  There was
worry in her eyes, which were the most fascinating shade of lavender Zack
had ever seen in his life.  Her long, straight black hair framed her face,
and those eyes and her earnest expression made his heart start beating more
strongly in his chest.

   Zack was forty-two, and had worked his way up from the streets.  It had
taken enough time and effort that he'd lost his wife in the process.  She
wanted a husband, not someone who occasionally slept over and made her
pregnant once in a while.  She had taken the kids with her and now lived in
Portland.  That was just far enough away that he couldn't run up to see
them without taking some vacation to make it worth the trip.  He did that
occasionally, which used up his vacation.

   Zack knew he was a good detective, and he could question or interrogate
anyone under almost any circumstances.  On the purely social scene, though,
he was all thumbs.  He'd met, wooed and married Rosie when he was young,
and when she left he didn't have the heart to try the dating thing.  Worse,
the few times he DID go out with a woman, he invariably got into a
situation where he had to arrest someone, or bring his official presence to
bear.  That tended to put a damper on further dates.  He worked long, hard
hours, and the kind of women he usually met on the job weren't the kind of
women he wanted to spend time with off the job.  In short, Zack Simpson
didn't have much of a social life outside some time spent with other cops
off duty.

   Now, with this heart-stoppingly beautiful woman standing so close to him
that he could smell the peppermint on her breath, her bulging breasts only
a hair's breadth from touching his chest, all he could do was switch
between looking at her eyes, and her impossibly white teeth which peeked
out between lush red lips.

   He swallowed.  "Your grandfather?" he asked, not understanding.

   "No, my great grandfather, Bob Winkle.  I know he doesn't look that old,
but I can explain that." she said.  "The police took him away and they had
handcuffs on him and he looked all beaten up and terrible and they won't
let me see him and I can't go home until I find out what's happening." She
stopped to take a breath.  Unlike Rodney, though, when she took that
breath, Zack felt his knees go a little weak.  "Won't you help me? 
Please?" she begged.

   Zack forced some control back into his legs.  He hadn't had a good look
at the perp in the first place, but if all this was over some poor old
geezer then somebody's head was going to roll.

   "Come along, miss...  ?" he paused significantly.  She actually blushed
and his knees got wobbly again.

   "Valerie..." she said softly.  "Valerie Johnson."

   "Well, then Valerie Johnson, let's just go find your...  great
grandfather did you say?"

   "Yes, I dropped him at the insurance building to go in and get a policy
cancelled or something like that and I went shopping and when I came back
there were fire trucks and all these people were hurt and they had my great
grandfather and were putting him in an ambulance, except that he had
handcuffs on and I'm so worried and nobody will tell me anything and..."

   Again she stopped to take a big breath and Zack felt his prick begin to
stiffen.  With a sigh at how unfair the world was he held up his hand.

   "Just come with me Valerie, and we'll figure out what's going on."

   Bob, however, was under heavy guard.  Two policemen stood outside his
room, glaring at anyone who came anywhere near the door.  He didn't know
either of them and stopped to produce his badge.  One of them snatched it
out of his hand and examined it closely before handing it back.

   "No weapons inside the room." he said, his voice short.  He looked at
Valerie.  "And she can't go inside."

   Zack looked at him.  "You know what, friend?  When your mother sucks my
dick...  that's the day I'll let you tell me where I can and cannot take my
weapon.  And when your sister lets me do her in the ass, that's the day
I'll let you tell me who I can and cannot take into an interrogation."

   The patrolman was so surprised that he couldn't react before Zack walked
by him and into the room, pulling Val by her hand.  He turned to her
briefly.  "Sorry.  I need to work on my patience a little."

   Val smiled at him and he thought he might actually fall on the floor. 
"I thought you were wonderful." she said.  Then her eyes went to the man in
the bed.

   Bob was lying on his back on the bed, his arms at his side.  His face
was swollen and red and he had a bandage over his eyes.  His head turned
toward the sound of their voices.

   "Val?" he croaked.  "Is that you Val?"

   Zack watched the girl run to the bed and throw herself onto the man.  He
winced as she showered the visible parts of his irritated face with kisses.
Then again, if that's what it took to get this girl to kiss you, he'd think
seriously about lining up to be sprayed.

   There were, of course, the "Are you okay?"s and the "What happened?"
kind of questions.  Zack cleared his throat.

   "Who's with you?" asked Bob.

   "Oh!" yipped Val.  "I forgot.  He's a detective.  He helped me get in
here.  Nobody would tell me anything and they wouldn't let me see you and I
was so worried and I didn't know what to do and I couldn't go home without
you and..."

   This time Zack was ready for her deep indrawn breath.  He shamelessly
got into position to watch as the tips of her fabulous breasts appeared to
inflate.  With a groan he realized she wasn't wearing a bra under that T
shirt, and her nipples were plainly visible.

   He introduced himself to the man in the bed to get his mind...  and
eyes...  off those nipples.  "Detective Sergeant Zack Simpson, mister... 
Winkle is it?"

   "Yes." said Bob, his face staring straight up in that way blind people
do when they talk to someone, but don't look at him.  "Bob Winkle.  Val and
I live in Circleton.  We're...  related." he said.

   "Yes," said Zack, examining the man.  He looked to be about twenty-two
to twenty-eight.  It was hard to tell because of the bandages.  But he
obviously was not a geezer.  Zack sighed again.  Such a shame.  He finally
finds a beautiful girl he can legitimately spend some time with -
interviewing her, of course - and she turns out to be simple-minded.  It
was just his luck.  "Valerie told me you're her...  uh...  great
grandfather, I believe it was."

   To his amazement Bob nodded.  "Yes.  It's a very strange story, but what
she told you is true."

   "Well, I'd like to hear that story some day." said Zack.  "But first I
need to ask you a few questions about what happened today."

   "I have a few questions about that myself." said Bob.

   "First," said Zack, "Why don't you tell me why you went there in the
first place."

   "That's easy." said Bob.  "Except that it has to do with that strange
story you'd like to hear some day."

   Then Bob absolutely made Zack Simpson's day.  In twenty years of law
enforcement, Zack had heard them all, or thought he had, until Bob Winkle
told him the whopper to end all whoppers.  Except that, as Bob talked, and
Valerie added in details, Zack had the strangest feeling that both of them
actually believed the story they were telling.  When Bob said that he
provided his driver's license to the woman at the insurance company Zack
stopped him.

   "Do you still have that license?" he asked.

   Bob felt around his body.  "They took my clothes when I got here.  And
anyway, the last time I saw it that security guard had it.  I was going to
ask for it back when I stood up and I got run over by a Sherman tank."

   "Figures." thought Zack to himself "The one piece of evidence that would
support his crazy story and it's conveniently left behind." He pulled out
his cell phone and punched a number.

   "Harry?  You wouldn't by chance be over at the Amalgamated building
right now would you?" Harry was a crime scene processor.  "You are?  I want
you to look for something for me.  It's described as a California Driver's
license issued on or before 1950...  that's right...  you heard me.  Yeah,
yeah, yeah.  It should be in the vicinity of the desk where all this
started.  There's a pepper spray can against the wall, and a lamp lying on
its side...  Yeah, you see where I'm talking about?...  okay, look around
there on the floor...  That's right, a driver's license...  You're
kidding!...  really?...  does it look legit?...  Harry I owe you a beer. 
Hold on to that for me.  Yes it's evidence.  Just take good care of it, and
collect the pepper spray cannister too.  okay.  Later."

   He looked up to see Val looking at him, a frown on her face.  The fact
that Zack was beginning to think there might be the slimmest possibility
that she wasn't simple minded after all, and that he had stumbled across
the most amazing story of the century, made him miss the import of that
frown.

   "Evidence?" she asked, her voice flat.  "Why would my great
grandfather's license be evidence.  He didn't do anything wrong!  You just
heard him.  All he tried to do was the right thing, and LOOK AT HIM!" Her
voice was getting louder and louder.  Now her face was positively livid. 
"I WANT TO TAKE HIM HOME AND I WANT TO TAKE HIM RIGHT NOW!" she yelled.

   Zack held up his hands.  "Look Miss Johnson...  Valerie...  I know he
didn't do anything wrong." He winced.  "Okay, I believe he didn't do
anything wrong.  But we need to get all the answers to the questions that a
lot of people are going to be asking.  People got hurt today, and your...
great grandfather is one of them.  Property was destroyed.  Somebody is
going to want to lay blame for all of that, and if I know big corporations,
they're going to want to blame it on Bob here.  If he's innocent, I need to
prove that with evidence, so that the facts are clear.  My job is to
prove...  or DIS-prove that a crime was committed, and to prove or
DIS-prove who committed it."

   "Oh." said Val, a little overwhelmed by his smooth demeanor.  It was
hard to stay mad at him.  He had helped her.  And he was cute too, in a
homely sort of way.  "If you're going to help Grandpa then I guess it's
okay."

   Zack got Val's phone number - both home and cell - and convinced her to
go on home.  Bob was being kept overnight for observation, and technically
he was still under arrest, though Zack hadn't seen what for yet.  The
doctor came in and explained that Bob didn't actually need the bandage on
his eyes, but they put one there just so the light wouldn't be painful. 
His eyes had been mostly closed when the pepper spray hit his face.  By
morning it wouldn't be necessary.  They had cleansed the eyes and there
would be no permanent damage, though the burns to the skin on his face
would take several days to fade away.  One shoulder had been dislocated
when he was brought in, and the other strained badly.  That was actually
the worst injury he had suffered.  The cuffs had been applied so tightly
they had cut his wrists, but those lacerations were shallow and would heal
with little or no scarring.  Before Val left Zack gave her his card and
wrote his home number on the back.

   "I don't give that to just anybody." he said.  "If I find out you gave
those numbers to anybody else I'll have to come get you and work you over."
He smiled to show he wasn't all that serious.

   Val, feeling much better now that she had some idea of what had
happened, and what to tell her grandmother about Bob's injuries, was
feeling light hearted.

   "Oooooo" she said in a little girl voice.  "I've never been worked over
by a big bad policeman before." She laughed, kissed her great grandfather
on the lips and hurried out of the room.

   "Man!" said Zack under his breath.

   "I know what you mean." said Bob from the bed.

   "Beg your pardon?" asked Zack, astonished.

   "Hey, I may have been asleep for fifty years, but it didn't have any
affect on being able to recognize a gorgeous woman when I see one." Bob
smiled.  "And I FEEL twenty-five.  Unfortunately, she's got two more
cousins who are just as good looking."

   Zack looked after the receding young woman.  "I'm going to have to come
out there to hear the rest of that story, mister Winkle.  I'd appreciate it
if all those cousins you mentioned were there so I can question them too."
He chuckled.

   Bob laughed with him and then winced as his burned face hurt.

   Chapter 10

   The next morning, as it happened, two new police guards were on duty
outside Bob's door.  Brian Spruell was a rookie, and thoroughly unhappy
that he had been given this duty.  Denny Smith was a Corporal and had a
thing for nurses, so he wasn't quite so dour about it.  It was quiet, and
boring, but then police work seemed to be broken into two parts: 98% quiet
and boring, and 2% "excitement", where somebody was likely to be killed.  A
lot of guys joined the force for the 2%, thinking it would be fun, but
Denny had been around long enough to know that "excitement" actually
translated to "stark terror".

   Then, about nine in the morning, the peace and tranquility Denny had
been enjoying vanished as they were inundated by nine women who showed up
like a tidal wave and demanded entry into the room where Bob was being
kept. It took both men to bar the door, their hands up and a multitude of
threats spilling out of somewhat panicked mouths.  The noise and bustle
caused two nurses and a doctor to stop what they were doing and yell for
quiet.

   Bob was actually feeling pretty good by then.  The doctor had removed
the bandages over his eyes during the hours of darkness, when he could try
opening them without the glare of mid-day light coming through the windows.
His vision had been blurred at first, but had cleared during the night. 
There was some residual pain in his shoulders, and his face still felt raw,
but it was livable.  He came to the door and opened it behind the two
officers.  It got quiet almost instantly as the women peered past the
police.

   Denny turned his head to see what they were looking at and felt a chill
run up his spine.  The man standing right behind him could have taken his
pistol easily before anyone could stop him.

   But he hadn't.

   "Good morning ladies." said Bob over the Denny's right, and Brian's left
shoulders.

   "DADDY!" squealed Martha.  She was already in the front of the crowd and
pushed forward, pressing her breasts against Denny's chest.  "Are you
okay?" She pressed against Denny harder.  "We were so worried about you."

   Denny resisted the urge to push the woman back.  He didn't know too much
about what was going on.  His instructions were to keep the man in the room
until Detective Sergeant Simpson said otherwise.  Denny had worked with
Zack before and knew that the mere fact that the man in the room wasn't
restrained to the bed meant that Zack didn't consider him a flight risk. 
Still, he had gone into the room several times, to make sure nothing
dangerous was going on in there.  The prisoner had been sleeping two of
those times, and there had been a moment Denny's heart had stopped when he
saw the bed - and room - was empty.  Then the toilet had flushed and Bob
had stepped out, moving back to the bed.  Bob had been nothing but polite.
Even so, standard procedure was to keep unauthorized persons out of a
prisoner's room.

   "I'm really sorry ladies," said Denny.  "But I can't let you go in
there."

   Martha moved sideways suddenly and was replaced by Sunny.

   "That's my grandfather, buster." she growled.  "And he got beat up by
the cops, and I want to see him, and if you don't let me I'm going to have
your badge!" she snarled.

   Denny smiled.  This woman was younger than the first, but bore a
remarkable resemblance to the older woman.  Her breasts in his chest felt a
little firmer too.  Then "father" and "grandfather" tripped over each other
in his brain.  He turned to look at Bob.

   "Grandfather?" he said, his voice skeptical.

   "It's a long story." sighed Bob.

   Denny turned back to Sunny, whose jaw was jutted out.  She was a good
looking woman, even mad.

   "Miss...  ?" he waited.

   "Johnson." she finally admitted.

   "Well, Miss Johnson, I guess you're going to add to your collection of
badges then, because you're not going in there with your...  grandfather. I
hope you're not going to hold this against me." he said smoothly.  "You
could have weapons.  We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

   Sunny looked startled.  No one had ever accused her of anything even
remotely criminal in nature and she was shocked to her core that this man
might think she'd do something underhanded like that.

   "Search us then!" called out an even younger girl behind Sunny.  "Come
on, we're not criminals.  We just want to see Grandpa."

   Denny kept his cool.  The nurses and doctor were still hanging around,
not quite in the group, but not far away either.  The doctor looked at his
watch and frowned.  Denny didn't want the situation to get back to its
former noisy condition.

   "Look, we're guys, and you all are obviously ladies.  Department policy
frowns on men doing searches of women.  I'd like to, but I don't think
that's a good idea."

   From the crowd of women came a voice that couldn't be identified: "I
just bet he'd like to search us."

   "That's not what I meant." said Denny defensively.

   Val pushed her way to the front.  She smiled sweetly at Denny.

   "Last night I got to see Grandpa when I was with Detective Simpson.  HE
didn't search me.  Not that I would have minded.  He's kind of cute."

   Denny looked down at the girl.  She made his nut sack get tight.  He
grinned, thinking that he'd be able to needle Zack about this girl thinking
he was "cute." Val mistook his grin for a salacious one and held her arms
out away from her sides.

   "Search me, then.  I don't have...  anything...  under my clothes." Her
tone of voice was dripping with the insinuation that she didn't have on
underwear.  In fact, she was braless again today, and though it wasn't
quite as obvious as it had been to Zack, it was clear to Denny.

   "I'll have to touch you some pretty private places." warned Denny, his
fingers curling unconsciously.

   "I can take it, big boy." oozed Val.

   The older woman who had first gotten into Denny's face slapped the girl
on her shoulder.

   "Val!" she said.  "You're acting like a tramp!"

   Val didn't turn her eyes away from Denny's.  "I know, but he's kind of
cute too."

   Brian snickered and Denny tore his eyes away from the lavender ones in
that gorgeous face and glared at him.  Brian grinned and then looked away.

   "I could do her...  um I mean search her...  if there's a problem..." he
offered.

   Denny looked back at Val.  He frowned.  "All right, I'll search you...
but remember, you ASKED for this." he said darkly.

   His hands went to Val's underarms, his thumbs against the sides of her
breasts.  He slid them slowly down to her hips and knelt.  He patted her
front and rear pockets and then moved his left hand between her thighs,
high up, pressing against her crotch.  Her right foot shifted to widen her
stance and she went up on tiptoes as her cheeks turned pink.  Squeezing her
thighs, Denny worked his hands down to the bare skin where her shorts
stopped.  She was wearing sandals, so he went no further.  Then he replaced
his left hand with his right and did her right leg, again pressing upwards
firmly into the juncture of her legs.  He came back up, patting her pockets
again and ended up hefting her breasts through her shirt as he pressed his
thumbs into her cleavage.  He came back to a standing stance and looked at
her blushing cheeks.  Her eyes darted everywhere except his.

   "Okay, you can go in." he said.

   "Hair, Denny." said Brian, reminding his superior of protocol.

   Denny suppressed a groan and brought his hands to Val's head, running
his fingers through her long black hair, feeling behind her ears and almost
massaging her scalp.

   "Okay...  now you can go in." he said heavily.

   Val pushed by him and grabbed Bob in a bear hug.

   Denny looked to find that the other women had taken a step backwards,
their eyes all wide and staring.

   "Anybody else want to go in?" he asked.  He looked at Martha.  That
ought to cool them down.

   She didn't quite glare at him, but stepped forward, holding her arms out
like Val had.  "I want to see my father." she said firmly.

   She had a fuller figure than Val had, being more than twice as old, but
as Denny slid his hands all over her body she still felt remarkably good
for an older woman.  She was wearing a bra, and his fingers traced along
the edges, feeling for anything tucked inside.  She blushed too, but every
time he looked at her face she was staring right back at him.  He messed
her hair up as he searched it, and muttered "Sorry.", getting a small
smile. He stood to one side as she brushed past him, almost attacking Bob.

   Next was Becca.

   "How old are you Miss?" he asked.

   "I'm eighteen." she said.

   "Okay.  Well, as long as you're eighteen." he said.

   She also had on a bra.  She wiggled like it was tickling her when he ran
his fingers along her ribs and around her breasts.  When he searched
between her legs she actually leaned forward, toward him.  She was grinning
when he came up to do her hair.  It was in a pony tail and she dipped her
head like she was looking at the floor.

   "You want me to take my scrunchy off?" she asked.

   Denny sighed and just pressed the hair against her head, flipping the
pony tail to one side and then up on top of her head to look under it.

   "Go on," he said.

   Fran went and stood in front of Brian, holding her arms out wide.

   "I'm eighteen too." she lied.

   "You are NOT eighteen!" sputtered her mother.

   Polly stepped up and pushed Fran to one side.  "She's SIXteen, young
man, and if you're going to search anybody it will be ME!"

   Brian was only too happy to get his hands on one of these women.  This
was more like it!  This was what he had hoped he might get to do
occasionally.  And this woman was lush under his hands as he pressed and
squeezed and rubbed.  At one point Polly breathed "I'll give you just ten
minutes to stop touching me like that!" She was breathing hard when it was
finished.

   "There is no way in hell I'm going to let you do that to my little
girl." she panted.  "You'll just have to take my word for it that she's not
smuggling in any guns or knives or whatever."

   Brian grinned.  "I'm sure I can take your word for it Ma'am.  I feel
like we know each other pretty well." He leaned closer to her and whispered
in her ear.  "Tell your husband he's a lucky man, Ma'am."

   He leaned back to find Polly's eyes staring into his.  "My husband is a
flaming queer, young man." she said softly.  "I haven't had a man touch me
like that in years."

   "Let's keep things professional over there." commented Denny, who was in
the process of squeezing Gidget's breasts.  Her hands came up to cup his
elbows as she closed her eyes.

   "I'm not married." she sighed.

   There were several titters.  June took her place while Polly dragged
Fran through the door.  "I never get to have ANY fun." complained Fran.

   Betty was last, and she was clearly uncomfortable.  All the other women
were in the room with Bob as she faced Denny and Brian alone.

   Denny just stood there, waiting.

   Betty flushed.  "I just threw on this dress because it was light and I
knew it would be a hot day." she said miserably.  When Denny didn't say
anything she lowered her voice to a whisper.  "I didn't put on anything
under it." She closed her eyes and balled her fists.

   Actually, Denny was about to tell her to go on in.  Both he and Brian
were sweating, and their uniform pants were a little tight in the front. 
He took a breath to give the poor woman a break when she stepped forward,
her eyes still screwed tightly shut and lifted her arms.

   "Oh, hell, go ahead.  I want to see my Daddy too."

   Denny still almost told her to go ahead, but Brian stepped behind her
and reached for her hair.  She took a deep breath when she felt his fingers
and her breasts strained at the thin dress she was wearing.  Her nipples
were prominent and obviously hard.

   Unfettered under the dress, her breasts were heavy and soft in Denny's
hands as he lifted them.  He had the insane urge to run his thumbs over
those nipples, but controlled it.  He knelt and started at her bare knees,
slowly sliding his hands upwards.  She stepped sideways with her left leg
and held the breath she'd taken.  When Denny felt her pubic hairs against
his finger he stopped with that hand, but slid his other hand up over her
hip and around to cup her bare buttock.  He resisted the urge to squeeze
that too.  She let her breath out explosively as he did her other leg,
unable to hold it any longer and her knees relaxed a little, pushing her
pussy down onto his right hand.  He jerked it out as she made a little
sound and ended up holding her thigh with one hand and her right buttock
with the other.  When he stood up they were both panting.

   "Thank you Ma'am." he said, meaning it.  Denny didn't date a lot.  While
women flirted with him when he was in uniform, he couldn't ask those women
out.  He didn't go to bars when he was off duty, and didn't actually meet
many available women during off time.  His last serious relationship had
been two years ago and he was feeling it now.  He was more than a little
amazed that he could find these older women so attractive, but they were.

   "My pleasure." panted Betty, looking at Denny instead of into the room
behind him.

   "You can go in now." he said.

   "Oh!" she jumped a little.  "Yes...  of course."

   There was enough of a hubbub in the room that Denny went in and warned
them all to keep it down.  He told Brian to stay in the doorway and he
stayed to watch the women.

   Denny had seen a lot of families together in situations like this, but
the amount of love and care displayed by all those women toward this
strange man was noteworthy.  The family resemblance between the women
wasn't hard to see, and Denny could see some resemblance between the
prisoner, as he thought of him, and the older women.  This father and
grandfather business was obviously screwy, but these women loved this man,
that much was also obvious.

   He gave them twenty minutes and then demanded they leave.  There was a
chorus of complaining feminine voices, but he was firm.

   "I broke the rules to let you in here." he said.  "Now don't give me a
hard time."

   The first one who had gone in...  the one who had flirted so shamelessly
with him...  looked over and said "You can give me a hard time if you
want."

   "Valerie Gail Johnson!" yelped Sunny, blushing furiously.  "I can NOT
believe you said that!"

   Becca laughed out loud and walked over to Denny.  She was a full head
shorter than he was.  "You probably need to search us again when we leave,
huh?  I mean we might have stolen hospital property or something... 
right?" Her voice was remarkably like Val's had been when she first
demanded to be searched.

   Denny felt the thrill of being flirted with by a good looking woman, and
grinned sheepishly.

   "I'd like nothing better, Ma'am, but I think we've all broken enough
rules for today.  Now...  you REALLY need to get out of here.  I wouldn't
want to lose my badge over this or anything." He looked pointedly at Sunny.

   Becca laughed again and smiled brilliantly.  "Oh well, we'll be back to
see him tomorrow.  Will you be on duty then too?" she asked sweetly.

   "He'll be gone tomorrow." said Denny, feeling another shot of pleasure
at the young woman's forward behavior.  "He'll either be in jail or turned
loose.  You'd have to talk to Zack...  Detective Simpson I mean, to find
out about that."

   That led to another round of outbursts and questions as Denny patiently
herded the women out of the room.  Again, Betty was last and Denny couldn't
help himself as he pushed her gently out of the room with one hand on her
back, his fingertips partially on one almost naked buttock.

   Becca turned and came back to Denny.  "Do you have a card or anything? I
mean I might see something I need to report to the police or something."

   Denny looked at Brian, who was grinning.

   "Sorry, Ma'am" said Denny sadly.  "I'm fresh out of business cards."

   Gidget grabbed her daughter by the elbow.

   "We're going home!  Leave the poor man alone.  He probably has a
girlfriend anyway."

   "Sorry, Ma'am," said Denny smoothly.  "I'm fresh out of them too."

   Denny helplessly shooed the women down the hall.  They chattered and
waved, some of them blowing kisses as they trooped by the nurse's station.
He sighed and turned to find the prisoner standing in the doorway waving.

   "I can't WAIT to hear this story...  Grandpa." he said, pushing Bob back
into the room gently.



   When Zack got to the hospital his heart jerked when he saw Bob's door
was unguarded.  He found Denny and Brian sitting in chairs, chatting with
Bob inside the room and felt the opposing emotions of joy and displeasure.

   "What's up gentlemen?" he asked walking in.

   Both patrolmen jumped to their feet.  Denny looked abashed.

   "We were just asking the prisoner a few questions." he said lamely.

   "I see." said Zack, his face straight.  "And did you get any answers?"

   "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." said Denny.

   "You might be wrong about that." said Zack.  He reached into his pocket
and pulled something out.  He handed it to Bob.  "Here's your license back,
Mr.  Winkle.  I had it verified with the State Department of Motor
Vehicles. It is a hundred percent genuine, though expired, and was in fact
issued by the great state of California on May the fifteenth,
nineteen-fifty, at which point you were verified to be twenty-three years
old."

   His statement hung in the air for a few seconds.

   "I also matched your fingerprints to those in a file at the Amalgamated
insurance company." Zack said.  "You, mister Winkle, are about to be a very
famous seventy-five year old man."

   "I'll be damned." said Denny, his jaw slack.  "You mean it's all true?"

   "Every word of it." said Zack, smiling.  "By the way, no charges have
been pressed against you." he said.  "I need to find out, however, if YOU
wish to press any charges against any employee of the company.  My
investigation has determined that you were unlawfully assaulted while
pursuing lawful business in the company headquarters."

   "I'll have to think about that." said Bob.  "I mean they didn't mean any
harm..."

   "No, but there is a hospital bill to pay.  Since you're no longer under
arrest, the city will try to get out of that.  I assume you don't have any
health insurance."

   Bob blinked.  "I suppose I don't." he said.

   "Things have changed since you went to sleep Mr.  Winkle.  I'm not a
lawyer, but I think you have an opportunity here to obtain some funds to
compensate you for your...  trouble."

   "When do I need to give you an answer?" asked Bob.

   "I can give you a couple of days at most." said Zack.  "Do you have
transportation home?"

   Bob blinked again.  "The girls were all just here a couple of hours ago,
but Denny here chased them all out."

   Zack closed his eyes.  "You let a bunch of family members visit a
prisoner?" he asked the ceiling.

   "We searched them first Sarge." blurted Brian.  Denny glared at him.

   "I see." said Zack.  "Was one of them, by chance, named Valerie
Johnson?"

   Brian hadn't seen his senior partner's glare and dug the hole he was in
deeper.  "Yes sir, I think Denny searched her.  Why?  She said you let her
in here last night."

   "How many complaints is the department going to get as a result of
these...  searches?" asked Zack.

   "Shut up Brian." said Denny immediately.  He looked at the Sergeant. 
"None, sir.  I don't think any of them will make a complaint."

   "Well, that's good at least." said Zack.

   "Actually," said Bob, interrupting, "I'm afraid you may have a flurry of
women coming forward to report suspicious behavior.  I suspect most of them
will want to make these reports to one of these two fine officers here."

   "That's all I need." groaned Zack.  "Mr.  Winkle, I'm about to go off
shift.  I can write your report later.  How about I drive you home.  I have
a few more questions I'd like to ask if you don't mind.  You are an
interesting guy and after the folks at the DMV get finished leaking to the
media about who you are, I imagine you'll be too busy to answer them
later."

   "He's really seventy-five years old and slept for fifty of it?" asked
Brian incredulously.

   "I thought he told you to shut up." said Zack, smiling.  "You should
listen to your partner more often."

   "I don't want to be famous." said Bob.

   "I don't think you have a choice about that." said Zack.  "We'll do what
we can to protect your privacy, but I won't promise you anything.  This has
Rip Van Winkle written all over it."

   "Actually," Bob said, "He was my great great grandfather."

   Zack stared at him.  "You know, if you'd have told me that last night, I
think I might have asked them to put you in a straight jacket.  Today I'm
not all that surprised.  Yes, I think I need to drive you home."

   Bob laughed.  "Are you sure you don't just want to see Val again?"

   Zack drew himself up.  "You have wounded my professional pride, sir!" he
remarked gravely.  "Do you think she'll be there?"

   Bob laughed again.

   Chapter 11

   Zack wasn't wrong.  When they pulled up to Bob's house in Circleton in
Zack's 1995 Blazer, there was a satellite van parked on the street with
people milling around outside of it.  The side of the van was emblazoned
with "KZWT ACTION NEWS - FIRST ON THE SCENE" There was a huge numeral "7"
between the phrases.

   It looked a little like a used car lot with two cars in the driveway and
another on the street in front of the van.  A man was standing at the
closed front door shouting something as they parked, blocking the driveway.
The man turned and shaded is eyes, peering at them as they got out.  His
face lit up when he saw Zack, who he knew, and the man with him, whose
identity he guessed, correctly for once.  He hurried over to them waving to
his camera crew.  They lumbered across the yard, trashing Martha's
carefully tended flower garden in the process.

   "MISTER WINKLE ...  MISTER WINKLE ...  KIP JACKSON, ACTION NEWS ... 
MISTER WINKLE HOW DOES IT FEEL TO WAKE UP FROM A FIFTY YEAR LONG NAP ONLY
TO BE BEATEN UP BY THE POLICE?" he shouted, trying to run and shout into
his microphone at the same time.  One of the camera crew tore off his
headphones with a yelp.

   Zack stepped in front of Bob and held up his hand and spoke in his most
officious voice.

   "Mister Winkle was NOT beaten up by the police and is NOT under arrest.
He is a victim, not a subject, and is being sequestered from the press
until he can make a full and complete statement.  Leave him alone Kip."

   "Come ON, Detective!" whined Kip.  "I HAVE to get this story!  I fucked
up on live feed yesterday and they'll can my ASS if I come back
empty-handed."

   "KIP!" yelled one of the technicians.  "We're on live feed now!"

   Kip's eyes opened wide and his face went blotchy red.  He threw down the
microphone, which is why half a million viewers of breaking news had to
lean forward to hear Kip Jackson, Action News, scream "MOTHERFUCKER!!  YOU
SAID WE'D BE ON FIFTEEN SECOND DELAY!"

   The cameraman, who had been trained never ever to break a live feed
without being told to, held his camera on the scene.  Kip Baldwin gave the
viewers what they wanted as he had his breakdown, falling to the ground,
kicking and screaming like a five year old.  Zack couldn't resist yelling
at the camera "BACK TO YOU JACK."

   Martha met them at the door, a sea of feminine faces behind her.  As she
let Bob and Zack in the door she explained that, after a nice lunch in
Sacramento, they came home and had just parked the three cars they'd driven
to see Bob in when the Action News van screeched to a stop at the curb. 
Kip had erupted out of the car, peppering them with questions about where
Bob Winkle was, and how did they know him, and why were they there,
interspersed with verbal abuse directed at the other men lugging equipment
out of the van, screaming at them to "HURRY THE FUCK UP!" Martha, who
occasionally watched channel seven news, waited until Kip took a breath and
said "I don't like you.  I've never liked you.  Go away!" As the women
tried to get in the house and away from Kip, he tried to force his way in
with them.  Becca foiled his plan by the simple expedient of jerking the
microphone out of his hand and throwing it out into the front yard.  While
he scrambled, cursing after it, they got inside and locked the door.

   Kip was desperate and begged for entry outside the front door,
occasionally going to peer into the windows before going back to bang and
beg some more.  That had been going on for half an hour when Bob got home.

   When she finished with her account, Martha looked at Zack, who had stood
quietly by.

   "Who's this?" she asked.  "What happened?  They said you were under
arrest!  OHHH DADDY!" She ended up bawling as her emotions let down and she
wrapped her arms around him.

   "Detective Simpson!" said Val, stepping forward.  "How delightful to see
you again." she purred.

   "Are there ANY policemen you don't flirt with?" moaned her mother.

   Introductions were made and there was a flurry of activity making places
for everyone to be able to sit down so they could ask all the innumerable
questions, most aimed at Zack.  Bob had already told them his version of
events, while they visited, but didn't know, at the time, what Zack's
investigation had uncovered.  When it finally got to the part about whether
or not Bob wanted to press charges, with the implication that the company
would probably make a monetary offer to avoid going to court, Val yipped.

   "I completely forgot!" She jumped up and ran to get her purse.  Bringing
it back she dug through it and came out with a card in her hand.  "When I
went back to pick Grandpa up and all the fire trucks and police were there
and everything, a man gave me this." She handed the card to Bob.

   "Gus Gunderson, Attorney At Law" was emblazoned across the top in red
letters.  Under that was a laundry list of things that Gus Gunderson did to
make a living.  The list included "litigation for unlawful injury".  There
was a phone number, a fax number and a cell phone number listed at the
bottom.  Under that a website was listed: geteventoday.com.  Penciled in
behind that were the words "(under construction)"

   Zack peered over Bob's shoulder.  "Haven't heard of this one before. 
Must be new in town.  It couldn't hurt to give him a call.  You didn't hear
me say that, by the way."



   Zack stayed for supper.  Martha had six pizza's delivered and Val ended
up sitting beside Zack on the couch while they ate.  Zack was one of those
people who had a knack for getting others to talk about themselves.  It was
part of what made him a good detective.  He used his skills on Val,
enjoying just sitting and watching her as she talked.  At one point she
turned to him.

   "Now that Grandpa isn't under arrest any more we could have dinner or
something ...  couldn't we?"

   Zack would have loved nothing more than to spend time with this
ravishing creature.

   "Aren't I a little old for you?" he suggested.

   "How old are you?" she asked.

   Zack was surprised at how hard it was to answer.  "Forty-two." he said.
"Old enough to be your father, probably."

   She wasn't fazed.  "I already have a father.  I don't need another one.
But I'm not dating anybody right now." She glanced at Bob, who was talking
to June, and remembered thinking of him as an "older man" for as long as
she could remember.  "I like older men." she said softly.  "At least I
think I do.  You're the first one I've ever asked out."

   "Aren't I the one who's supposed to be asking YOU out?" he grinned.

   "I accept!" she said promptly.  "I like movies and hiking and candle lit
dinners - even though I've never actually been to one - and I like the zoo
and swimming and..."

   Zack held up his hand.  "I don't think your mother would appreciate a
man like me taking her virginal young daughter out on the town."

   "Who said I'm a virgin?" asked Val, leaning her breast against his arm.

   Women who have young daughters also seem to have exceptional hearing. 
Sunny's keen ears heard the word "virgin" over on the couch and she went on
full alert.

   "What, exactly, are you being interrogated about over there?" she asked.

   Val looked at her mother.  "Zack was just telling me about a recipe he
likes.  We were debating about sautéing mushrooms.  He thinks butter is
fine.  I say you must always use extra virgin olive oil.  What do you think
Mom?" She said it with a completely straight face, in a completely normal
tone of voice, so much so that she got away with it.

   "Oh," said Sunny.  "My ears must have been playing a trick on me.  You
know I never use butter any more dear." She went back to her conversation
with Becca.

   "Remind me," said Zack softly, "that if I ever DO have to interrogate
you, that a polygraph needs to be involved."

   Val smiled and Zack's prick began to stiffen as she said "You won't need
that.  I'll tell YOU anything you want to know."

   In the end, when Zack left, he had a date with a beautiful young woman.
He shook his head as he drove off, wondering if he was crazy or not.



   Since everyone was together already, they all agreed to go over to
June's house, where Bob was currently staying, and where Rip's journal was,
to hear another page or two.  Sunny and Gidget expressed the most concern,
saying how tired they were, and what a harrowing day it had been, and how
they had to go to work the next morning.  All the working women had called
in sick to go rescue Bob.  But, when it was suggested that they could wimp
out and go home if they wanted, while the others listened to Bob read, they
caved and went with them.

   This was the part of the journal where Rip described going up into the
mountains for squirrel, with Wolf, and how he heard a voice, and saw a
little stocky man toiling up the mountain with a keg on his shoulder. 
Somehow the man knew his name, and called it out, asking Rip to help him
with his burden.  Then, alternating carrying the keg, which was heavy and
sloshed, the little man led him to a deep ravine that, when the snows were
melting, would have been running with water.

   Now, however, it was dry, and there was a game of ninepins going on,
conducted by more little squarely built men dressed in old timey clothing
from the old country, where Rip's forefathers had lived.

   All of this was described in page after page of tiny, cramped writing,
down to the number of buttons that ran down the leg of the little man
carrying the keg, and the fact that trees overhung the little amphitheater
in which the game was going on.  He described the noise of the game as
sounding like thunder, and said several times that he had a strange feeling
that something wasn't right, but was just too interested in the goings on
to abandon them.

   Bob closed the book with a thump that made three of the women jump.

   "You CAN'T stop there!" wailed Fran, who had leaned forward so much she
was almost on her hands and knees.

   "Sunny and Gidget are right." he pronounced solemnly.  "They have to go
to work and I need to talk to my daughters about what to do with this
lawyer thing."

   Moans of despair persisted, but Bob was adamant and finally they all
left except Martha, June and Betty.  Becca asked to stay the night, and her
mother nodded after looking at June, who also nodded.  It wasn't unusual
for Becca to want to spend the night at her grandmother's.  There was a
guest bedroom.  It just so happened that nobody thought about the fact that
there was only ONE guest bedroom.

   Well, not until Martha and Betty left.  THEN June remembered she only
had one guest bedroom, and she was forced to let Becca assume that Bob was
already staying in that room, rather than sleeping with his daughter.

   "You can sleep on the couch, dear." she said to her granddaughter.

   "Okay Grandma," said Becca dutifully.

   "I need a shower," said Bob.  He liked showers a lot.  All they'd had
when he went to sleep was a tub, and he liked them too, but showers were
even better.

   "Well, you know where it is," said June, tiredly.  "I have a headache.
Today was just too much for my old bones.  I'm going to take a sleeping
pill.  You two are on your own for breakfast."

   "Night Grandma," said Becca.

   "Sleep tight," said Bob.



   Bob stood under the shower head leaning against the wall.  His face was
still raw and blotchy red from the direct spray it had gotten.  The doctor
had told him how lucky he was that his eyes had been partially closed when
the spray hit.  Pepper spray wasn't supposed to blind you, but it burned,
and it burned eye tissues just like it burned skin.  It hurt if the water
hit his face directly, so he let it hit the top of his head and cascade
down over his face.  He had the water pretty cool, and it felt good.

   The shower door opened and Becca stood there jaybird naked.

   "Is there room for me?" she whispered.

   Bob groaned.  "Your grandmother is in the next room, young lady." he
said softly.

   "I know," said Becca, stepping into the shower stall.  "But she took a
sleeping pill and I know my grandmother.  She'll sleep like a log for
hours."

   Belying her teenaged sure-fire wisdom, the bathroom door opened and
June's voice drifted over the top of the shower door.

   "I washed the towels Daddy.  I just got them out of the dryer.  I'll put
them out here.  You want me to scrub your back?" she asked.

   Becca crowded between Bob and the wall away from the shower door as Bob
felt a tinge of panic.

   "Thanks sweetheart," he said standing full on to the door to try to help
hide the girl.  "But I'm bushed.  I'm almost done.  You go on to bed.  You
need your sleep."

   "I know," said June.  "I just thought I'd offer.  It looks like you
could use a good scrubbing."

   Bob looked down at his jutting prick, which was pointed directly toward
his daughter.  The wavy opacity of the glass kept her from seeing clearly
enough to tell that there were two people in the shower, but she could see
the shadowy shape of his erection.

   "Uh ...  I'll be fine." he said, not knowing what else to do.

   June lowered her voice, to something louder than a whisper, but intended
not to carry to the living room.  "You just save that beautiful thing for
me.  When Becca leaves in the morning I'm going to be horny as a goat."

   Bob sighed.  "Yes dear." he said, as Becca's fingernails bit into his
hips where she was holding on tightly.

   The door closed with a faint "Night Daddy." and Bob turned to face his
great granddaughter.  She was wet and bedraggled, but the astonishment on
her face was plain.  She looked down at his hard prick.

   "You ...  and Grandma?" she said, her voice hushed with disbelief.  "You
two ...  do it?!"

   "It's a long story," said Bob, wondering how he was going to deal with
this little problem.  He hit upon an idea.  He thought it was a brilliant
idea.  "Remember what you used to do when I was asleep?"

   Becca was no longer embarrassed by that.  Too much had changed.  That
day on the blanket had changed the way she thought about a lot of things.
She nodded.

   "Well you weren't the only one who ...  experimented."

   Becca's mouth dropped open and then snapped shut.  "Oh my GOSH" she
whispered loudly.

   Bob put a finger up to her mouth to warn her she was getting too loud.

   "While you were sleeping?" she gasped.  "Grandma ...  did it with you?
While you were sleeping?  She's your DAUGHTER!"

   "You did things with me while I was sleeping." he pointed out.

   "Well yes, I know but ...  Grandma?" It was impossible, as it is with
most young people, to visualize older people having sex, especially if it
was older family members.  Her face suddenly flexed and assumed a crafty
visage.  She wasn't a stupid girl.

   "Who else?" she demanded.  Her hand reached down and grasped Bob's prick
and she jacked it slowly.

   Bob had thought he'd have to think of a clever way to get her to ask
that question.  But he wanted things to be less secretive in his new
family. He didn't want to have to skulk around.  And since all but three of
them were guilty of the same basic thing, only those three needed to be
kept in the dark.

   "Everybody except your mothers." he said.

   Becca jerked hard on his cock.

   "Val and Fran?!" she squeaked.  "Even FRAN?!"

   "Ow" said Bob calmly.  Her hand relaxed, but didn't leave his penis. 
"And keep your voice down." He thought about it.  "On the other hand, yell
if you want.  You know about June.  Why shouldn't she know about you?"

   Becca's reaction was just like he expected.  Her hand left his prick and
both hands went to his chest.

   "No way!" she whispered loudly.  "Don't you DARE tell anybody about us."
She blinked.  "Aunt Martha and Aunt Betty too?"

   "All six of you," said Bob, smiling.

   "But not my mom," said Becca, looking faintly horrified.

   "Not yet," said Bob, grinning.

   Becca looked outraged.  "Don't you dare..." she had spoken aloud and Bob
hushed her by kissing her.  He expected her to push him away, but her
reaction was completely different.  She melted against him, pushing his
penis down between her legs and she humped it as she kissed him back with
all the fervor she had in her.  Her hands went to his back and slid all
over it.  She kissed him so hard it hurt his face and he pulled back.

   "Ow." he said again, but he smiled as she looked at him and realized
what she had done.

   "You have to do it with me." she moaned, wanting to kiss him again, but
stopping because of his face.

   "I thought we had this discussion." he said softly.

   "If you did it with my grandmother you have to do it with me." she said
firmly.  She reached down and grasped his cock, digging the tip into her
sex.  She raised one leg, trying to impale herself on him.

   "Who made that rule?" he asked, delighting in her passion.

   "I did." she said.  "You have to do it with me ...  please?"

   "You're crazy." he said.

   "I'm horny and I want to be a woman." she said back.  "I want YOU to
make me a woman."

   "You're already a woman." he said.  What she was doing to him ...  with
him ...  had gotten him going and his resolve was slipping.

   "I'll scream if you don't." she threatened.

   "Go ahead.  I thought you didn't want your grandmother to know about
us." he grinned.

   "Oh pleeease?" she whined.  She had managed to get the tip lodged in her
pussy mouth and was squirming against it.  It was too low for her to get
any further in, though.

   Bob had never done it standing up, or in a shower for that matter, but
it didn't seem like it would be that hard.  He bent his knees and Becca
beamed at him as he jutted his hips forward and stood up.

   The smile on Becca's face vanished as his aching prong slid all the way
up inside her.  Only the soap that was on his prick saved her from real
pain.  Still, she was split wide by his thick rod.

   She went up on her tip toes and let out an agonized "Awwwww" before Bob
kissed her again to shut her up again.  He pressed her against the shower
wall and she dangled there like a finger puppet with just one, long, hard
finger up inside her.  Her hands batted at his waist, but his hands, one
under each armpit kept her from moving sideways.  There was nothing she
could do to escape the cruel shaft that was stretching her so much.  The
water beat off of them, splashing the sides of their faces as Bob went up
on his tiptoes.

   Becca felt the sharp pain of being spread apart for the first time, and
then a generalized ache in her loins pushed that sharp pain away.  She felt
like she had eaten too much, except not in her stomach.  His lips on hers
felt foreign and harsh and she had a moment of panic as she tried to move
but found herself helpless.

   Then her clit, which was trying to be pushed up inside her body by the
base of his cock began to get its signals through to her brain.  There was
a small jab of sweet pleasure, and then another longer one and she raised
her legs up and spread them apart to ease the pressure.  All her weight was
jamming her pussy down onto his prick and she wrapped her legs around his
hips, hooking her ankles to ease the strain of holding them up.  The ache
lessened, and the streaks of exquisite pleasure began to come more often as
she pushed against the shower wall, flexing her abdominal muscles in the
process.  Bob's hands slid down her sides and cupped her buttocks, lifting
her just enough to ease the pressure a little more.  He pulled and pushed
on his penis, getting enough slack to move it an inch out and then back in,
in rabbit -like jerks of his own abs.

   Bob felt stronger than he ever had in his life.  The girl in his arms
seemed weightless as he fucked into her eagerly.  He couldn't breathe and
broke the kiss, panting.

   "Is this what you wanted?" he gasped, jabbing into her several more
times.

   "Didn't ...  think ...  it ...  would ...  be ...  like ...  this." she
panted as he jabbed into her.  She didn't know what to think.  There were
equal parts pain and pleasure now, and she thought that if she could just
get a little more comfortable, the pain would go away.

   Bob saw in her eyes that it wasn't the way he wanted it to be for her,
and that robbed him of his desire to make frenzied thrusts.  He reached
behind him and broke her ankles loose.  As they fell he lifted her by the
strength in his arms alone and pulled her off of him.

   "Nooo don't stop." moaned Becca.  The feeling of the pressure going away
was good, but the feeling of emptiness left behind was horrible in a way
she couldn't begin to describe.

   Bob shut off the water and, holding one finger to his lips he opened the
door and pulled her out.  She stood dripping as he grabbed one of the
towels June had left for him and hastily moved it over her body.  She
continued to make little sounds of unhappiness but stopped as he picked up
the other towel and pulled her towards the bathroom door.  Opening it
carefully, Bob looked out into the hallway and then pulled Becca through
the door.  Stark naked, they both tiptoed away from June's bedroom door,
toward the living room.  The only light was from the streetlights coming
through the windows, but it was enough Bob could navigate.

   He spread a towel on the couch and positioned Becca to sit on it.  When
she did his long, hard prick was at her face level and she automatically
leaned forward to slide it into her mouth.  The little his prick had
softened vanished instantly and he came back to full vibrating hard.  When
she pulled off he knelt between her knees and leaned forward to suck at her
nipples.  She leaned back and his head followed her as her own head hit the
back of the couch, making it look like she was looking at the ceiling.  Her
hands came to the back of his still wet head as he licked and suckled.

   He leaned back, on his knees, and pulled her hips until her wide open
pussy was at the edge of the seat.  Then he grabbed his prick to settle it
between her pussy lips again.  She raised her head, her eyes glinting in
the light.

   Slowly, this time, he pushed forward into velvety soft heat.  In this
position she was tight, but not as tight as before.  She held her breath as
he kept pushing, slowly, and let it out as he pulled back.

   "Better?" he whispered.

   She nodded and put her hands beside her hips.  When he pushed in this
time her hands pushed and she managed to push her pussy toward him.  Bob
realized that he wasn't getting all the way into her and, as he continued
to push and pull slowly, he dropped one hand to lay it on her abdomen.  His
thumb dipped, found her clit, and massaged it gently.

   Becca went rigid, and then her hips began bucking spasmodically as she
tried to push against his prick and make his thumb go where she wanted it
all at the same time.  It didn't work, but she had fun trying.  Bob could
feel her pussy begin to relax.  It was getting easier to push into her. 
The light coming through the windows spilled across her naked chest and
belly and Bob felt his nuts begin to tighten.

   He pushed her sideways, rising on his toes with her until she was lying
on the cushions, one leg up on the back of the couch, and the other foot on
the floor.  He lay on top of her and pushed hard, feeling his balls bounce
off her buttocks.

   "Mmmmm" she moaned.  Now her clitty was getting what it wanted, and that
awful emptiness was a thing of the past.

   How long he lasted Bob couldn't have said.  It felt like a long time as
he moved in and out, sometimes slowly, sometimes faster and sometimes not
at all as he pushed and stayed deep.  Her whispers in his ear began to take
on a chanting quality as she said "Oh yes" in a soft whisper over and over
again, getting a little louder until he had to kiss her to keep her quiet
again.

   She bucked under him and her pussy squeezed him so tightly that his
foreskin hurt as he pushed into her.  Her feet moved, the upper one
pounding the back of the couch and the one on the floor sliding back and
forth until it stuck in one place and she shoved her hips up so hard it
lifted Bob's body.

   Knowing she was having an orgasm, Bob surrendered to his aching balls
and groaned as his prick began belching streams of thick, rich and potent
semen into his great granddaughter's belly.  He sagged on her, pinning her
to the couch as he filled her to overflowing.  Both panted to catch their
breath and her arms went around him tightly.

   "That," she whispered, panting, "was ...  what ...  I had ...  in ... 
mind."

   He was heavy on her which she loved, but which made him uncomfortable.
He pulled out of her and sat on the floor.  Becca stayed right where she
was, lying limply.  The light from the lamps outside almost glowed as it
hit the puddle of semen that collected in her now gaping pussy mouth and
began to drip down onto the towel.  She put one hand to her crotch and
dipped a finger into the mess, pulling that back up and sucking it clean.

   "I love your taste." she sighed.  "But I think I love having your taste
down there even more."

   "We can't do this again." whispered Bob.  "You could get pregnant."

   Becca said nothing, getting another finger-ful of spunk and licking that
off.

   "Thank you." she said, her voice normal, but soft.

   "Believe me, it was my pleasure." he smiled in the dark.

   "What was it like?" she asked.  "When you were sleeping, I mean.  What
was it like to do what we just did?"

   "It wasn't like that." he said.  "I was on my back, of course.  It was
like having a dream that was very nice.  I could hear what you all said and
some part of my mind made sense of that so that the dream made sense, but I
always thought it was just a dream."

   "Did you ...  do in them what you just did inside of me?" she asked.

   "Many times." he admitted.

   "With Val?" she asked.

   "No," he said.  "Val only did what you did.  And Fran didn't even do
that much.  I get the feeling she was about to start doing more, but then I
woke up."

   "I thought we talked about everything, but I guess I was wrong." She
sounded sad.

   "Did you ever want to tell them what you did with me?"

   "Well ...  no.  I guess I thought they'd think I was a sicko or
something."

   "Do you feel like a sicko now?"

   "No." Her voice was firm.  "I feel wonderful.  I've never felt as
wonderful as I feel right now."

   "I'm very happy to hear that Becca." he said.

   "How soon before you can go again?" she asked in the dark.  "Melissa
told me a man can go in about fifteen minutes but I didn't really believe
her."

   "It differs from man to man, I imagine." he said.  "That's not something
that men talked about with each other when I was ...  before I went to
sleep.  I think some of it depends on what is happening.  Just now ... 
when you said you were happy and felt wonderful?  That made me hard again."

   "You're hard again now?" her voice rose.

   "Yes." he said.

   She sat up and scooted back to her original position, pussy on the edge
of the seat, head back against the couch, legs spread wide.  Her arms
reached out in the dark.

   "Again." she said, packing more into that one word that most people
could put in a whole book.

   He did take her again.  This time after he'd rodded her for a while she
pushed him off, down on the carpet on his back.  "I want to do it like they
did." she said, climbing up over him.  When she settled down onto him it
was with a groan as he went even deeper up inside her than he had before.
Her young breasts jiggled and danced in the light as her hips went crazy
and she gasped for air.  Bob liked it, but he couldn't cum, so lubricated
was she.  She had three orgasms, almost in a row before Bob rolled her over
and lay on top of her again.  In this position he could move his penis so
that the foreskin caressed his knob.  That led him to pumping his balls dry
inside her again as she mewled and accepted his dangerous gift.

   Eventually, Bob limped to the guest bedroom and lay on the bed
exhausted. He had no idea what Becca was going to do.  Since she had
appeared naked in the bathroom, he didn't know where her clothing was for
sure, but she knew, of course.  He was pleasantly surprised the next
morning when he woke up refreshed and full of energy.  He pulled on a pair
of shorts and walked out into the living room where his astonished eyes
took in Becca, still gloriously naked, her pubic hair matted with his
spend, lying on the couch and breathing deeply in sleep with one arm over
her eyes.  His prick gave a little lurch at the sight of her nudity and her
spread legs, but he pushed his desire down.  The last thing either of them
needed was her grandmother walking in and seeing her this way.

   He woke her up and she smiled at him.  She was completely unashamed
about her nakedness and held up her arms for a kiss.

   "You get your butt in to the shower." he said smiling.  "I'll give you a
kiss when you're presentable."

   Becca stretched, watching through her lashes as his eyes went to her
breasts.

   "I'm not presentable?" she teased.

   "You're beautiful.  I assume you've decided to tell your grandmother
that you've started having wild passionate sex with me?"

   Becca bounced up off the couch and grabbed the soiled towels.  She
leaned towards him and kissed him before he could back up.

   "Not just yet." she smiled.

   "Wise move." he said, swatting at her butt as she danced toward the
bathroom.

   Chapter 12

   When he woke June, she was true to her word.

   "Where's Becca?" she asked, yawning and stretching.

   "She's taking a shower," said Bob pulling the sheet off of her.  She was
naked under the sheet.

   "Good, we have time for you to wake me up right." she said, reaching for
him and spreading her legs.

   "What in the world did my wife think she was doing?" said Bob, shaking
his head.  "She turned you into sex machines."

   "YOU turned us into sex machines, Daddy." she corrected.  We all loved
taking care of you and when you made Martha pregnant, both Betty and I were
so jealous that we had to have you as often as we possibly could.  Old
habits die hard, they say."

   "Well that habit is going to have to wait," said Bob firmly.  "The last
thing we need is for your granddaughter to come in here to wake you up and
find me lying on top of you, grunting and groaning.

   June pouted.  "I suppose you're right.  But you're a MEAN Daddy!  I want
you to know that!"



   But Becca was in a hurry to leave after she took her shower to wash away
the evidence of the loss of her virginity.  Just to make sure she took the
towels into the shower with her, washing the spunk out of them and wringing
them as dry as she could with her hands.  She acted completely normal at
breakfast, chatting about this and that and then ran out the door as if she
had things to do.

   She did.

   She had news for her cousins ...  BIG news.

   She had not been gone for more than ten minutes before Bob was hunched
over June, ringing her bell quite nicely and giving her a newly made batch
of Daddy cum.



   The phone calls started about nine, and they happened in every house in
which a Winkle, or a former Winkle lived.  The media can dig up fascinating
information on the average citizen when they put their minds to it, and all
of Bob's immediate offspring, and grandchildren were identified and
contacted for "comment".  It would be too complicated to go into the story
of each of the males his sleeping body produced in his wife and daughters.
Suffice it to say there were seven, and that they had all moved away from
Circleton, making lives much like their sisters had, except that those
lives didn't involve Bob.  They came to visit infrequently, and most of
them had no real interest in Bob, save his 'biological' son, who considered
himself a step-son, since he was born after Bob went to sleep.  They had
all been notified that Bob had awakened, and all were interested in an
academic sort of way, but they were also busy with their own lives.  They
didn't plan to make a special trip to see him, sad as that sounds.

   But they got calls from the media, just like the women did.  Lots of
calls.

   It took a few days, but eventually it was impossible to contact a
Winkle, by virtue of the fact that all of them now had unlisted numbers. 
Even that didn't protect Martha, whose new number was weaseled out of an
employee of the phone company for the tidy sum of two thousand dollars. 
That two grand got the enterprising reporter an air horn in his ear and a
burst ear drum, but nothing else.

   As far as the Winkles were concerned, Bob's story was their business,
and no one else's.



   The feds learned about Bob when a reporter, desperate to get access to
Bob, contacted the Social Security Administration suggesting that Bob might
have received benefits illegally.  He offered the information about Bob on
condition that he be allowed to tag along when any interviews took place.
The Feds looked into Bob's situation only long enough to document that no
one had thought to collect Social Security benefits on his behalf.  It
would have technically been legal while he slept, but Federal investigators
are always looking for those cases where benefits should have stopped, and
didn't.  In this case they didn't even send anybody to interview him since
there was no claim to interview him about.  The reporter was left in the
dust.



   Almost the only news that got out was about the debacle at the
Amalgamated Insurance company's headquarters.  Employees there sold the
information shamelessly, reaping the benefit while the company's reputation
suffered.  There were about four photographs of Bob, being dragged out of
the building by Chuck, or being strapped to the gurney to be taken to the
hospital.  All of them made him look like he'd been beaten within an inch
of his life and they were dynamite.  It was verified that the man had slept
for fifty years, and that the company had paid his claim the whole time. 
Employees whose names were withheld swore that he appeared to be in his mid
twenties and looked like anybody else on the street.  The supervisor at the
DMV was interviewed, and confirmed that she had examined Bob's fifty year
old license and found it to be valid.  Everyone in California and a lot of
other places knew the name of Bob Winkle, and that he had been assaulted
inside the headquarters.  But no one knew much else.  The police
investigation was still "ongoing" and wasn't a public record yet.  The
department was leak-proof, thanks to the dedication of the people working
there.

   About the only thing the Media got right (without knowing it) was that
Bob was dubbed "The 20th Century Rip Van Winkle."

   The public was starved for information, and the media was stumped.

   Camera crews camped outside various houses for a few weeks before it got
too expensive to keep them there for no gain.  There was no gain because
Betty had a friend who had a cabin up in the mountains, and he offered her
the use of the place "for the duration".  She had another friend who owned
a plumbing and heating shop.  He showed up to "repair a leaky faucet" one
day, wearing a ball cap and sunglasses.  The news crew couldn't get to him
before he was in the house.  When he came out an hour later they were
ready. When the news crew descended on him, asking why he was there, and if
he had seen Bob, and trying to get him to report everything he saw while he
was in the house, he held up his hand and asked for a purchase order to
charge his time against.  If they were going to take his time, somebody was
going to pay for it.  The negotiations resulted in a verbal contract and
the man was paid three thousand dollars in cash, hastily retrieved by the
producer from a teller machine six blocks away.  It didn't occur to any of
the news people that this man's time seemed to be worth a heck of a lot of
money.  He deflected every question until the producer got back, saying "No
cash, no answers."

   The cameras were turned on and the interviewer began firing questions
off.

   "Mr ...  uh Richardson ...  Did you see Bob Winkle while you were in the
house?"

   "No, I didn't," said the man.

   "Was he in the house?"

   "I believe so, yes."

   "What was it like in there?"

   "I guess I'd have to say it was just a normal house.  They had a leaky
faucet and I fixed it.  Nice folks.  That's about it I guess."

   "But what is Bob Winkle like?" asked the frustrated interviewer.

   "I really couldn't say.  Like I said I never saw the guy."

   The interviewer turned to his producer.  "Why did we pay this guy
anyway?"

   The man answered for him.  "Because you're taking my time.  Time is
money.  You want to poke into people's business, you got to pay.  We done
here?"

   They tried to think up more questions, but got nothing further from the
man, who waved at the camera and said "Hi, Honey", got in the van and drove
away.  He drove somewhat erratically, with a few stops and starts and a
little screeching of tires.  The cameraman joked that he was laughing so
hard he couldn't drive.

   Actually, Bob had never driven anything as big as the van.  For it was,
in fact Bob, wearing Ted Richardson's shirt, hat and sunglasses who was
driving the van.  Martha had put makeup on his face to hide the redness
left over from the pepper spray.  He went three blocks and parked it behind
a Kwik Stop, where Betty was waiting for him.  She took him to the cabin
and he gave her the three thousand dollars to give to Ted for his time,
trouble and help.

   Meanwhile, Ted walked out of the house and into the arms of a very
unhappy news crew.

   "Who are you?" asked the interviewer.

   "I'm Ted Richardson." he said.

   "But we just talked to Ted Richardson," said the confused reporter.

   "No, you just talked to Bob Winkle.  You folks have a nice day.  I gotta
run.  I got a toilet to replace over on Elm Street."

   He calmly walked off down the street to retrieve his van.



   Once ensconced in the cabin, Bob had nothing to do.  There were some old
magazines around, so he read them.  Betty was going to bring him clothes
and books later.  The cabin had electricity, but no TV.  He remembered the
card Val had given him and pulled it out of his wallet.  Using Fran's cell
phone, which had been donated to the cause, he called one of the numbers at
the bottom of the card.

   "Gunderson, Attorney at Law," said a mellow female voice into his ear.

   "Yes, I'd like to speak to Gus Gunderson about a litigation problem,"
said Bob.

   "And what is the nature of the problem?"

   "I went into a company building to do some business and got assaulted."

   "That would be more of a police kind of thing," said the woman on the
other end.

   "My name is Bob Winkle," said Bob, to test the waters.

   There was silence long enough that Bob said "Hello?"

   Then he heard a muffled shout, as if a hand was being held over the
mouthpiece: "Gus, quit looking at porn and get your lazy ass on the phone.
That Rip Van Winkle guy is on the line!" Then, in a calmer voice she spoke
to Bob.  "He's on his way, sir, please hold."

   "Gus Gunderson." came a gruff voice into Bob's ear.

   "Mr.  Gunderson, my name is Bob Winkle and I'd like to ask you about
possible litigation against an insurance company."

   "This had better not be a joke," said Gus.  "I'm a busy man.  I'm
litigating hundreds of cases."

   "It's no joke," said Bob.  "If you're that busy then perhaps I should
contact someone else."

   "NO!" shouted Gus.  "I mean I always have time for a fam ...  I mean
worthy man like yourself.  How do I know it's really you?" he asked.

   Bob thought for a minute.  "I'm in hiding from the media right now, and
I don't want to come to your office.  How about this.  Call up Detective
Sergeant Zack Simpson at the Sacramento Police Department.  Tell him you
talked to me and that you're trying to confirm my identity.  Tell him I
said I hope he and Val have an exciting date."

   "Val?  Who's Val?" asked Gunderson.

   "That doesn't matter.  He'll tell you whether he thinks it's really me
or not.  I'll call you back in half an hour."

   Bob hung up and went outside to explore.  The cabin was in a cluster of
other structures.  Owners had banded together to buy the property so they
could share the cost of infrastructure.  Only two other cabins seemed to
have anyone in them, and Bob hadn't seen anyone yet.  He walked around and
met Sally, a woman of young, but indeterminate age who was on her porch
typing furiously on a laptop.  She waved and Bob stopped.  It turned out
that she and her husband owned the cabin and that she was an aspiring
author.

   "I'm trying to write the Great American Novel." she laughed.  "So far
I'm doing a lot of writing, but it isn't all that great.  I've wanted to do
this since I was a little girl and Jerry - he's my husband - has been
really supportive of me.  It probably won't amount to much, but I sure am
having fun writing."

   "What's it about?" asked Bob.

   "Oh, I suppose it's a romance novel." she said.  "It's supposed to be
about high drama in a wealthy family, with deep dark secrets and all that.
You wouldn't be interested in it." she said.

   "I'm borrowing a cabin over there," Bob pointed, "kind of relaxing and
getting away from things.  I don't have all that much to keep me busy.  I'd
love to read what you've got.  I never met a real author before."

   "What happened to your face?" asked the curious woman.  She put a hand
over her mouth.  "Oh, I'm so sorry.  It's none of my business.  My mouth
always runs away with itself.  Never mind.  I shouldn't have asked."

   "Don't feel bad," said Bob smiling.  "I know I look pretty rough. 
Actually, I got a close up dose of pepper spray."

   Sally's eyes narrowed.  "You're not a rapist or anything are you?  My
brother is a policeman." She closed her laptop and stood up, ready to flee.

   Bob held up a hand.  "No, no, it wasn't anything like that.  I'm
surprised there are any rapists left on the planet if that's what they came
up with for women to defend themselves with.  No, it was a misunderstanding
with a security guard.  He thought I was trying to make trouble and
squirted the stuff in my face.  You have nothing whatsoever to fear from
me."

   Sally looked at him for a few seconds and then sat back down.  She
didn't open the laptop again though.  "Oh." she said.  "I'm sorry.  A woman
can't be too careful these days."

   Bob nodded.  "I can't believe how much violence there is in America. 
When I was a little boy nobody ever even locked their house.  If you found
money lying on the street, you took it to the Police station to turn it in.
It's a different world now." he said sadly.  "Well, I've taken enough of
your time.  I won't keep you from your writing.  I have to make a phone
call anyway.  See you later." Bob waved and walked back toward his cabin.
Sally stared after him, thinking about what she'd just heard.  She frowned.
Then, under her breath she said "No ...  it couldn't be.  That would be
just too weird.  He's got to be somebody else." She opened up her laptop
and her fingers hovered over the keys.

   But she was thinking too furiously to be able to write.



   Back in the cabin Bob called Gunderson's office again.  It was
thirty-six minutes since he had hung up.  The phone was answered halfway
through the first ring.

   "HELLO!" shouted Gus' voice.

   Bob held the phone away from his ear.  "This is Bob Winkle again." he
said.

   "WHERE WERE YOU?  I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU'D CALL IN HALF AN HOUR."

   "It HAS been half an hour," said Bob.  "And you don't have to shout, I
hear you perfectly fine."

   "Okay!" said Gus.  He sounded like he'd just run half a mile.  "I was
just worried that you wouldn't call back ...  you know ...  that you'd
called someone else."

   "So you can help me?" asked Bob.

   "Yes sir!" barked Gus.  "I'm your man Mr.  Van Winkle.  I'm a shark in
bloody water.  I'm a bear on the rampage.  I'll take them for every penny
they have.  You just leave everything up to me Mr.  Van Winkle and I'll
make you a very rich man."

   "It's Winkle ...  Bob Winkle," said Bob, wondering if he had the right
man after all.  "What do I need to do?"

   "OH!" shouted Gus.  "Well ...  let's see.  We need to meet.  I need to
talk to you.  Yes.  I need to get your deposition.  I need to know
everything!  Yes.  When can we meet?"

   Bob wasn't sure this was a good idea at all.  "Well, meeting with you is
no problem.  I can get away most any time.  But I'm not sure I actually
want to take them for every penny they have."

   "Mr.  Van Winkle ...  uh Mr.  Winkle ...  Can I call you Bob?  That
would be easier.  Bob, you're a very famous man, and you have been savagely
treated.  Those people assaulted you in a most horrible fashion.  I saw the
pictures.  We can get ten million out of them easy."

   "Ten million ...  dollars?!" asked Bob incredulously.  "Isn't that a bit
...  excessive?"

   "Not in this case Bob.  No siree.  That's not excessive at all for a
famous man like yourself.  I mean they might have even made you sterile or
something.  You never know.  We need a doctors' report!  YES!  We have to
get a good doctor!" said the man excitedly.

   "You haven't done too much of this ...  have you?" said Bob.

   "What do you mean?" asked Gus, panic creeping into his voice.  "Of
course I have.  I've done hundreds of cases ...  THOUSANDS of cases ... 
Bob trust me ...  I can DO this!" said the man.

   "If we're going to work together I have to know the truth," said Bob. 
"If you lie to me even once, we're through, understand?"

   "Sure Bob ...  no problem Bob.  Give me a chance to show you what I can
do." Gus pleaded.

   There was a knock on the front door of the cabin.  Bob looked up.  He
wasn't expecting anyone who would think they had to knock.

   "Hang on Mr.  Gunderson.  Something's going on.  Somebody's at the door
and I don't know who."

   "DON'T ANSWER IT!" screamed Gus, knowing in his heart that some other
lawyer had found Bob and was about to snatch the sweetest deal he'd ever
seen in his life away from him.

   Bob looked at the phone and frowned.  This guy was nuts.  He went to the
door and opened it.  Sally Smith was standing there.

   "You're Bob Winkle ...  aren't you." she said.  It wasn't a question. 
"You're that guy they call Rip Van Winkle."

   Bob sighed.  "Come on in Sally.  Be with you in a minute."

   He put the phone back up to his ear.  Gus was still pleading with him
not to open the door, saying something about assassins.

   "GUS!" shouted Bob into the phone.  It went quiet.  "Okay, Gus, I'm
back. It's only a neighbor.  Now ...  how many of these kinds of cases have
you done before?"

   "I told you!  Lots." started Gus.

   "Gus, don't lie to me." warned Bob.  "If you lie to me I'm hanging up
and never calling again."

   "Okay, okay, don't hang up.  okay, lets see ...  okay maybe I've only
done ten or twelve, but I WON eight of them!  I'm just getting started, you
see, and I've learned a lot from my mistakes.  I mostly do divorces and
stuff like that, but I KNOW I can get you a lot of money on this Bob.  You
HAVE to let me give it a shot."

   Bob thought about it.  He felt like the truth barrier might actually
have been broken.

   "Okay, Gus, how much is this going to cost me?"

   "Well ...  um ...  the going rate is thirty percent," said Gus.

   "I'll give you fifteen Gus.  Take it or leave it," said Bob.

   "SOLD!" yelled Gus excitedly.  "I mean DEAL!  Bob, you're not going to
regret this.  I PROMISE you Bob, we'll wring them dry and hang them out on
the line.  You'll be a rich man Bob ...  TRUST ME!"

   "All right," said Bob, sighing.  "I'll call you back in a few minutes. I
need to take care of something here."

   Bob started to flip the phone closed as Gus screamed at him not to hang
up.

   "Who in the world was that?" asked Sally, looking at Bob interestedly.

   "Lawyer." he said shortly.  "I'm thinking of suing the insurance
company."

   "You probably don't even need a lawyer." she said.  "If you just
threaten to sue they'll cave and make you an offer.  You're famous."

   "Yeah, well, I'm not so familiar with the way things work these days,"
said Bob.  "How'd you figure it out?"

   "My brother is Denny Smith." she said simply.

   Bob looked confused.

   "The cop who was guarding your door when your whole family descended on
the place and threatened to have his badge?" she prompted.

   "Denny?  THAT Denny?" Bob laughed out loud.  "Man, it's a small world.
How about that!  Come on in.  Sit down.  I can't offer you anything.  We
haven't stocked the place yet.  Please don't tell anyone I'm here.  I'm
hiding out."

   "Oh, your secret's safe with me.  Denny's got it bad for one of your
daughters, or granddaughters or something like that ...  somebody named
Becca?"

   Bob felt a twinge of jealousy.  But he realized that his relationship
with Becca couldn't last much longer.  It would cause too many problems. 
She needed a good man, and Denny seemed to be one - at least from the
little conversation they'd had.  Of course he had no idea if Becca was
attracted to Denny or not, but at least he could support Denny's interests.

   "I hope he's as healthy as he looks," said Bob, grinning.  "Becca's
going to be a handful for any man."

   "Well, if I screwed things up for you he'd kill me.  He's still trying
to figure out how to get in contact with her without crossing departmental
ethics lines.

   "No problem.  I'll just tell her to go see him the next time I see her,"
said Bob.

   Sally laughed.  "Boy, oh boy would that frost his cake if she walked
into the precinct house looking for him.  Some of the guys think he's gay
because he doesn't date much."

   "Gay?" asked Bob frowning.  "Why would they think he was happy because
he wasn't dating?"

   Sally stared at him and then let out an explosive laugh.  "I forgot,
you're still in 1950 for the most part, aren't you?" She sat down.  "Today,
the word 'gay' is a noun that means a homosexual male.  Well, it still can
still be used as an adverb or adjective too, but no one uses it that way
any more."

   "You're kidding," said Bob, sitting across from her.  "How in the world
did that happen?"

   "Words change meaning ...  evolve ...  like animals do." she said.  As a
writer this was one of her favorite subjects.  "I don't know for sure, but
I think it started because gays ...  homosexual men ...  were seen as
effeminate ...  you know, tiptoeing through the tulips and being all happy
and gay?"

   Bob shook his head.  "I don't know if I'll ever catch up."

   "You want to come over to my place?  Get something to eat?  I'll try to
bring you up to date.  Besides, I have a lot of questions for you."

   "Everybody does these days." sighed Bob.

   Chapter 13

   Since Betty was gone taking Bob up into the mountains, Becca told her
cousins to meet her in Betty's kitchen.  She was sitting there waiting for
them when Val arrived.

   "What's up?" she asked.

   "We have to wait for Fran," said Becca mysteriously.

   Fran arrived ten minutes later.

   "You're not going to BELIEVE what I'm going to tell you!" Becca started
excitedly.



   Bob called Gus back from Sally's cabin.  The man was pathetically
thankful.  Bob arranged to meet with him the next day, after he was
supposed to be back at the hospital for a follow-up exam.  Then he called
Zack and told him that he had an appointment with a lawyer and would make
his decision about pressing charges or not after that.  Then he put the
phone away and talked to Sally as she made sandwiches at the kitchen
counter.  They talked until Sally lifted her head at the sound of tires on
gravel.  She went to the window and looked out.

   "There's a silver car at your cabin." she announced.

   "That's Betty, my youngest daughter." he said.  "She went to town to get
food and things like that.  I should go help her."

   "I'll come too," said Sally.  "I can't wait to meet more of your
family."

   Betty was suspicious at first and then horrified as Bob introduced the
sister of the man who had put his hands all over her naked thighs and
almost naked breasts.  She turned beet red when Sally asked if she
remembered Denny.

   Bob chuckled and said "I think she'll remember Denny for a long time."

   "OH!" yipped Sally.  "He SEARCHED you!  Oh, Betty, I'm so sorry.  You
must be embarrassed.  But don't worry about it.  I'll tell you a secret. 
He used to practice on me when he first got out of the academy.  He's got
really good hands."

   "You can say that again." muttered Betty.

   "Well, he was very enthusiastic about it when he practiced on me.  I
didn't find out until two years later that he wasn't even supposed to
search a female.  He was using it as an excuse to cop a feel!  I was so mad
at him.  You know, he told me about what happened at the hospital.  He
thinks a lot of all of you women."

   "Really?" asked Betty.  This woman was so engaging it was hard to stay
upset around her.

   "Really!  One of you, I don't know which, wasn't wearing any
undergarments, and Denny said she took it like a trooper.  He said he
hadn't seen such a brave woman in years."

   Betty flushed deeper red and turned around.

   "Oh!  It was YOU!" said Sally.  "Oh boy, I've gone and stuck my foot in
my mouth again.  I'm sorry."

   Betty waved her hand but didn't turn around.  She was embarrassed
primarily because she was remembering the feel of Denny's hands on her
thighs.  When he'd done with the search she'd been horrified to feel a drip
of liquid run down her inner thigh.  She'd gotten turned on by the whole
thing.  She began digging things out of sacks as she tried to calm down.

   "He also said she was one of the best looking mature women he'd seen in
years too," said Sally hopefully, trying to lessen Betty's embarrassment.

   "Oh, that helps a LOT." groaned Betty.  But she did feel better for some
reason.

   Then Sally began asking Betty all kinds of questions about what it was
like to have a sleeping father, and what kind of problems it caused.  She
didn't pry, but seemed genuinely interested in what life had been like for
Betty and the others who were associated with Bob.  Soon Betty was chatting
away as the two women worked together to put things on shelves and neaten
up the cabin.  Bob tried to help, but was ignored for the most part, and
sat down to start one of the books Betty had picked up on her trip.



   "You're lying!" accused Val when Becca finally stopped talking.

   Becca had told them everything, including that she knew they had "done
things with Grandpa" and that he had full sexual intercourse with their
grandmothers.  Then she announced that she was no longer a virgin, because
Grandpa had taught her how to be a woman.  She had thought that the other
girls would squeal and giggle and maybe tell jokes and even be happy for
her.

   She hadn't thought it through very well.

   All the cousins had grown up doing everything together.  They played
together, went to school together, got in trouble together, even found and
explored Rip's diary together.  True, Val had gone off to college without
the other two, but she came back home the next summer and everything was
like it had been.

   But now, it seemed like Becca had gone off and done something all by
herself.  She had broken the tradition.  And Val was upset about that.  She
got so mad that, after calling her cousin a liar, which she knew wasn't
factual - Becca had never lied to her in her life - she then yelled at her
for doing what she had just accused her of lying about.  Becca looked at
her stunned until, as she wound down, the words "what about us?" came out
of her mouth.  She was referring, of course, to herself and Fran, who sat
wide eyed through the whole thing.

   Becca blinked.  "You're mad because I didn't take you along to get
deflowered WITH me?" Becca was slow to anger, but when it got there it was
impressive.  "YOU started ...  doing things ...  with Grandpa before WE
did. Did you tell US about that?  No, you did not!  And you went off to
college and probably got your cherry popped there, but did you tell us
about it?  NO!  Who in their RIGHT MIND would invite their cousins along to
watch ...  or take TURNS or whatever when they're being made into a
WOMAN!?"

   "I'M STILL A VIRGIN YOU SLUT!" screamed Val, her face almost purple. 
Her purple face suddenly looked stricken as she realized exactly what she
had shouted.  Becca looked like she'd been kicked in the stomach by a mule.
"Ohhh Becca honey I'm sorry ...  I didn't mean it ...  you KNOW I didn't
mean it.  I'm just so jealous.  Oh Becca please forgive me.  You know I
love you."

   Becca, who had lived in Val's shadow all her life, and who, to tell the
truth, looked up to her cousin as the pinnacle of femininity, was both
crushed by Val's outburst and hurtful epithet, and strangely relieved to
see that Val wasn't perfect.  And, as girls do, they crashed together
bawling, telling each other they were sorry and pledging never to do it
again.  Fran sat quietly and watched.  All she had done was touch Bob's
penis a few times and play with it hard twice.  She couldn't figure out
what all the hoopla was all about.

   "What kind of things did you do with Grandpa?" she asked when it got
quiet.

   Both girls looked at her.  They wiped their eyes.

   "You know," said Becca.

   "No, I do NOT know," said Fran.  "I peeked under the sheet and played
with his penis a few times.  It got hard twice and it squirted once.  Is
that what you did?" Playing with herself didn't count, as far as Fran was
concerned.  She did that with herself, not Bob.

   Val said "Yes." at the same time Becca said "No." They looked at each
other.

   "So you both had sex with our great grandfather?" asked Fran.

   "NO!" said Val heatedly.  "I did the same things you did ...  I think.
You said it spurted once.  Did you taste it?"

   "Eeewwww" said Fran.  She'd heard of that, but thought it was gross and
maybe even that girls were lying when they said they did that.

   Well, neither cousin would stand for that attitude, and their confab
resulted in sharing ALL the details that they had never shared before.  It
was during that conversation that Val admitted she had been tempted to try
sitting on that long hard thing, but hadn't.  She hadn't met any boys at
college she was tempted to do that with either, and had been content to
wait.  But now that Becca HAD sat on that long hard prick, Val was suddenly
horny in a way she had never been horny before.

   "Do you think he'd do it with me?" she asked Becca.

   "I don't know.  He tried and tried to keep from doing it with me.  And
then, when he did it the first time it hurt so much I wished I'd listened
to him." Becca frowned.  "But then it stopped hurting and it was so cool I
almost couldn't stand it.  I want to do it again right now."

   "What about me?" asked Fran.

   "Aren't you a little young?" said Val.

   "I don't know a single girl my age who says she's still a virgin," said
Fran firmly.  Of course some of them may be lying, because I say the same
thing ...  I mean that I've done it and everything.  It's so confusing to
decide what to do."

   "I know what you mean," said Becca.  "Except that I'm not confused any
more.  I'll do it with Grandpa any time he lets me."

   "How 'bout with other men?" asked Fran.

   Becca frowned.  "I don't know.  If I really liked one I might.  It's too
special to just do with anybody.  It's hard to explain."

   Val looked at her watch.  "I have to go.  I have a date with Zack
tonight.  I want to look beautiful."

   "You always look beautiful," said Becca.

   "I know" said Val, taking her cousin's statement for granted.  "But I
want to look especially beautiful tonight.  He's so interesting and he
makes me feel all tingly."

   "Like playing with Grandpa made me feel tingly?" asked Fran.

   "I don't know.  Maybe.  Yes, I think maybe so.  I know I used to get so
horny playing with him that I had to go rub off."

   "ME TOO!" said Fran, happy that her experience was like that of her
older cousin.

   "Me too," said Becca.  "But not any more.  The real thing is WAY better
than doing it yourself."

   With that the meeting broke up and the girls went their separate ways.



   Betty and Sally, it turned out, were both quilters, and when THAT
discussion got going, it was obvious that it would keep going for hours. 
Not only did they discuss techniques, but they talked about and compared
various quilting shops that were scattered all over central and northern
California.  After a light supper, further talk was interrupted by the
sound of more tires on gravel.  It was Sally's husband.  She was taking
vacation to work on her book, but he was still working.  He came up to the
cabin at nights to be with her.  She excused herself to go meet him, saying
it was late enough that she'd resist the urge to bring him over to meet
them.

   "Maybe this weekend we can get together." she said.

   Betty waved goodbye and started unbuttoning her dress.

   "It's bedtime." she said through lowered lashes.

   Bob laughed.  "It looked to me like sex was the last thing on your mind
for the last three hours."

   "I was saving up." she said, baring her breasts to him.  "Are you coming
to bed old man or not?  You geezers need extra sleep, you know."

   "So all I'm going to do is sleep?" he teased.

   "Eventually," said his daughter.



   The next day Betty drove Bob to meet Gus Gunderson.  Bob didn't call
ahead, figuring, correctly, that Gus would be in the office rather than out
making cases, or whatever lawyers did.  Betty dropped him off, saying she
wanted to check out a sale at a quilting shop Sally had told her about the
evening before.

   When Bob walked into the offices, to put it euphemistically, of Gus
Gunderson, Attorney at law, he was a little disappointed.  It was basically
one room in a row of tired looking businesses making up what had been, at
one time, a strip mall.  Commerce had left this little backwater behind,
chasing the newer and flashier malls that had sprung up.  Other than Gus,
there was a donut shop, a liquor store, two empty storefronts with 'For
Lease' signs in their windows, and the Guiding Light Rescue Mission.  Even
that looked deserted from the outside.  Maybe no one needed rescuing at the
moment.

   There were two desks in Gus' office.  A woman in her thirties was
sitting at one desk staring with great concentration at a tiny television
set on one corner of her desk.  As Bob opened the door and walked in she
said to the TV set "Don't do it Vanessa!  He's a snake!" The sound of the
door opening dragged her eyes to Bob.  They widened and she looked shocked.

   "Um hello." she said uncertainly.  "Can I help you?"

   "Hi, I'm Bob Winkle."

   If her eyes had been wide before, they were saucers now.

   "Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, it's really YOU!" she said, her voice barely above
a whisper.

   "Well," said Bob smiling, "When I woke up this morning it was.  I never
know if I'm going to wake up when I go to bed.  You know how it is."

   "Gus said you were our client, but I didn't believe him.  Good things
just don't happen to us." she said helplessly.  "Oh!  Please come in.  Gus
isn't here.  He went down to get ...  lunch."

   Bob glanced at his watch.  It was nine-thirty.

   "COFFEE!" the woman blurted.  "Do you want coffee?" she asked hopefully.

   "That would be nice," said Bob.  One thing he liked about the year 2000
was that coffee making had come a long long way.  He almost always got
pretty good coffee these days.

   She bounded up out of her chair, Vanessa and the villain on TV
forgotten. Their tinny voices were audible to Bob as Vanessa found out that
"he", whoever he was, was in fact a snake.  He had gotten some woman
pregnant and Vanessa was crying because she'd begged him for a child but he
wouldn't give her one.

   The door opened behind Bob and had turned to see a thin balding man
about the same age as the un-introduced woman.  She looked over her
shoulder.

   "GUS!" she said excitedly.  "This is mister Winkle!"

   Gus, who was in the act of chewing about half a donut, waved his right
hand, which held the other half of the donut, and then waved his left hand,
which had a greasy stained bag in it that said "Dippy Doo Donuts" on it. 
He chewed frantically and Bob was afraid he was going to inhale the
half-chewed donut in his attempts to say something.

   "Bahn I'n gwad tu thee youff" said the man, spewing fragments of glaze
and mashed dough for two feet.  He pointed to a chair and then looked at
the half donut he was pointing with.  He looked around for some place to
set it down and, apparently not finding a suitable place, crammed the rest
of it into his mouth while he waved and made incomprehensible noises.  He
scurried to his desk and set the bag down, brushing flakes of glaze off his
Hawaiian shirt and tan slacks.  Pointing at the chair beside his desk with
his now empty hand, he sat and gave a convulsive and obviously painful
swallow.

   Luckily, the woman appeared with two cups of coffee, setting one in
front of Bob, and the other in front of Gus.  Gus gratefully picked his up
and took a goodly mouthful, almost spitting it back into the cup due to the
steaming heat.

   After another painful swallow that caused him to have to put his hand on
the desk like a fifteen year old kid taking his first shot of rotgut
whiskey, Gus Gunderson, Attorney at law, fell back in his desk chair and
stared at Bob.

   "I didn't know you were coming this early." he rasped, his vocal chords
still burning from the coffee.  He cleared his throat painfully.

   "I thought I'd just drop in and see if you had time to see me," said
Bob.

   "Thank you," said Gus, standing up and thrusting his hand at Bob.  Bob
took it, feeling the sticky residue of sugar transfer to his hand.  Gus sat
back down.  "I mean it.  Thanks for giving me this chance.  I know this
place doesn't look like much and all, but I know the law.  It's pretty hard
getting started if you don't go with one of the big houses."

   "How long have you been practicing?" asked Bob, more out of curiosity
than to gauge Gus' expertise.

   "Six months." came the voice of the woman.  She was sitting in her chair
again, which had been swiveled to face Gus' desk.  She was sitting on the
edge of her seat, a slight look of worry on her face.  "He had a good job,
with regular pay and all, and like an idiot I let him talk me into letting
him go to law school.  Now we're in debt up to our eyeballs.  You're the
first person to walk in that door in three weeks." she said heavily.

   "Margie, hush up now," said Gus mildly.  "Mister Winkle has problems of
his own.  He doesn't want to hear about ours."

   Oddly enough, they chatted about things in general instead of
immediately diving into the "facts of the case".  Gus had been a delivery
driver for a uniform company, making stops in various places to deliver
clean uniforms and pick up soiled ones.  In the process he heard lots
people complain about a variety of legal problems they had, and complain
that they either couldn't find a lawyer, or couldn't afford one.  When Gus
had suggested the phone book for the first problem, several people said
they tried calling lawyers cold, but were told that that office didn't
practice that kind of law, or that an initial consultation would require
four or five hundred dollars.  Most people gave up, frustrated.

   So Gus had decided to become what he called a "people's lawyer".  He
went to school while Margie supported them both, working two jobs.  When he
got his diploma and passed the bar, he set up shop after announcing
everywhere on his delivery route that he was going to be in business.  He
was sure that all those people would call him.

   But they didn't.

   Basically he and Margie weren't starving, but if business didn't pick up
soon, they wouldn't be able to afford the rent on the office, cheap as it
was.  Margie had quit her other jobs to work for her husband, since that
would hold down overhead.  She was thinking of going back out into the work
force soon if things didn't improve.

   "Well," said Bob.  "From what I understand, it shouldn't be too hard to
get some kind of settlement from the company.  I just have no idea how to
go about that.  My great granddaughter had your card from the day of the
incident, so I figured I'd see what it took to get things done through a
lawyer."

   "I can do this," said Gus earnestly.  "You leave everything to me. 
There could be a lot of money in this."

   "We'll see," said Bob.  "This company has been pretty good to me for the
last fifty years," said Bob.

   "If you'd call trying to get the policy declared non-binding when they
initially had to pay off "pretty good", then I suppose you're right," said
Gus.  He opened a file.  "And then, in 1959 they tried it again, this time
dragging one Valerie E.  Winkle, guardian of the defendant, into court."
Gus grinned.  "It seems that your fingerprints confirmed that Valerie E. 
Winkle was not, in fact, lying, as the company claimed, and that you were,
in fact, who she claimed you were.  Yeah, I'd say they've been saints about
the whole thing," said Gus.  "According to the records I got from the
California Insurance Commission - on your behalf, of course - it turns out
that what the company has been paying to you for fifty years was short by
what amounts to thirty percent because they never adjusted the payout for
inflation.  That company already owes you three hundred and thirty thousand
dollars by my count.  Did they mention that to you when you were there?"

   "Really?" asked Bob.

   "Yeah," said Gus.  "And the most interesting thing of all is that when I
called their legal department and asked for detailed records of the
payments to you - on your behalf as your lawyer, of course - I got the
runaround.  Now I may not have been in business for years and years, but I
know they have to report that to the Insurance Commission, which is a State
agency - the records are public - which means they have no reason
whatsoever to withhold them from us."

   "So what does that mean?" asked Bob.

   "They're lying about something," said Gus firmly.  "They've reported to
the commission that they paid you X amount.  I'll need to see your banking
records to track the deposits.  They didn't adjust for inflation.  So where
did that three hundred and thirty thousand dollars go?  They had to account
for it somehow.  I mean the tables are adjusted for inflation
automatically. Computers do that nowadays.  So that money went somewhere.
What I want to find out is where.  Somebody in that company got over a
quarter million dollars that belongs to you.  This company has not been as
nice to you as you think."

   "But they paid all that time," said Bob.

   "They're in the risk business.  You were an odd case, no doubt.  But
when they couldn't just dump their risk, I think somebody set things up so
that they could profit personally off of your tragic circumstances.  I
think that's why they quit trying to get the claim thrown out.  There's
somebody at that company who doesn't want all this brought out in the open.
Maybe they even set that security guard on you on purpose!" Gus shrugged.

   "All right," said Bob.  "Do whatever you think needs to be done.  Tell
me what you need from me and I'll get it for you.  Here's the number of the
phone I'm using.  I'm staying in a cabin up in the mountains where nobody
can find me."

   "I'd like to get you in front of their legal department as soon as
possible," said Gus.  "Your face looks positively horrible." he said,
unaware of how strange that sounded to a complete stranger.  "I want them
to see what the pictures will look like if they let this go to court.  Have
you filed charges with the police yet?"

   "No, I told them I was going to wait until I talked to you."

   "I'll take care of that.  It happens all the time.  I know the cops hate
it, but we'll have more leverage if there are criminal charges pending. 
There's no way in the world they'll want this to go into criminal court. 
Even if they deny any culpability in their employee's actions, he was on
duty, on the payroll and doing his job at the time of the assault.  They'll
know they're toast."

   They went over everything Bob could remember.  Gus had already gathered
news reports and talked to people named in the papers as witnesses.  He had
Bob sign a release for medical records, and some other documents confirming
they had a business relationship.  When Bob asked how much he had to pay up
front, Gus waved his hand and said "You raise your offer to me to twenty
percent of what we recover and all I want right now is one dollar." Margie
groaned, but didn't say anything.  She happened to know that was something
Gus had been wanting to do for six months.  He read about it in a John
Grisham book, and had wanted to get a one dollar retainer from somebody
ever since.

   Betty arrived a little later.  Margie promptly took her deposition. 
Then they all went out for supper ...  Bob's treat.

   Gus said he needed to do a little more research and then he'd arrange a
meeting with Amalgamated to start negotiations.

   Before he left, Bob whispered in Betty's ear.  She dug in her purse and
brought out a wrinkled one dollar bill.  Bob took it and handed it to Gus,
who beamed.

   Chapter 14

   Forty-five minutes later Betty dropped Bob off at the entrance to the
hospital and said she'd be in after she parked.  He walked up to the doors,
looking for a handle, when the door suddenly moved by itself, sliding aside
for him.  He looked at it curiously and it started to close while he was
still in the doorway.  He jumped inside and stared as the door opened
again. Shaking his head he went to the information desk, where he explained
that the doctor who had treated him had asked him to come back for a
follow-up examination.  She took his name and her fingers flickered across
her computer keyboard.

   "We don't do that here," said the woman smugly.

   "I don't understand," said Bob.

   "You had routine emergency room treatment.  Follow-ups are supposed to
be done by your own doctor." she said firmly.

   "But he told me to come back," said Bob helplessly.

   "I don't know about that," said the woman, making it obvious she doubted
the doctor had actually said that, "but Doctor Adams is a very busy man. 
You need to go see your regular doctor."

   "I don't have a regular doctor," said Bob.  "Doctor Adams is the first
doctor I've had in fifty years."

   The woman looked at him strangely.

   "Am I being punked?" she asked, beginning to get excited.  "That's IT,
isn't it?" She looked around wildly.  "Where are the cameras?  I'm being
punked aren't I?!" She began patting her hairdo.

   "Ma'am," said Bob, confused, "I certainly didn't call you a punk.  I'm
just here to see the doctor, because he told me to come back."

   When the woman realized she wasn't going to be on television, her mood
changed back to that of a dour bureaucrat.

   "I already told you that's impossible.  Do I need to call security?"

   Bob's hands were out palms toward her instantly.  "NO!" he almost
shouted.  "You do NOT need security.  I'll leave!"

   He turned about and fled as the woman picked up her phone anyway.  As he
ran toward the door he heard her say "Security?" Remembering that the door
would open for him, he didn't slow.

   Except that the door didn't exactly open for him.  He was looking over
his shoulder and, in fact, it started to open, but he was moving much too
fast.  Just as he faced front again, he slammed into the door, hitting the
edge of it with his face and sternum.  Bob bounced off and sat down hard,
his chest muscles paralyzed by the blow to his xiphoid process.  The door,
designed to be pushed open in emergencies or power failures, attempted to
swing out, but it was a foot along on its sliding track and jammed instead.
An alarm went off.  Bob, unable to breathe, looked around frantically.  Two
people outside were standing and staring at him as if he were some madman.
He saw Betty's shocked face behind them as she ran toward him.  He got in a
little piece of breath, that just taunted him, letting him know there was a
world full of oxygen out there, but he could only access the barest sniff
of it.  He wavered drunkenly as he tried to get to his knees and a hand
clamped down on his shoulder.  He looked up to see a security guard and
immediately crumpled into a fetal position, his hands covering his face.

   Bob was in a dreamland for a few seconds.  His hands had covered his
face automatically, thanks to the last incident he'd had with a security
guard.  While he couldn't see anything, he could hear Betty's frantic
screams, which set off a couple of other women who screamed in sympathy
with her, apparently.  The security guard was shouting too, attempting to
restore order, and the door alarm beeped insistently.  The babble of voices
and sounds overwhelmed Bob and his hands moved from his eyes to his ears as
his lungs were finally able to drag in a complete breath.  He concentrated
on breathing for five more breaths until he was convinced he could breathe
again without thinking about it.

   "HE'S BLEEDING YOU BASTARD!" Betty's voice broke through to his
conscious mind and he opened his eyes.  Through one of them the world
looked fuzzy and red.  He looked at his hands and saw they were bloody.  He
tried to wipe his bloody eye and hands stopped him.

   "Relax sir." came a deep male voice.  "Help is on the way."

   "I don't need help." he croaked.  "I just need to get out of here."

   "You're not going anywhere, sir," said the voice.  "You people back off.
Give this man room to breathe.  Ma'am, calm down, he'll be taken care of in
a few minutes."

   "Let me THROUGH, dammit!" screeched Betty.  "That's my father!"

   By now a crowd had gathered, mostly gawkers, trying to see what the fuss
was about.  Comments began to fly ...  things like "Did she say FATHER?"
... and "Sounds like SHE's the one who needs treatment." Then one
enterprising person said "Hey, he looks like that guy they've had on TV ...
you know, the one who slept for fifty years ...  that Rip Van Winkle guy?"
That, plus Betty's rash statement about Bob being her father broke the dam
and soon there was almost a riot as people babbled and pushed to get a
better look at Bob.  The security guard tried to push them back and then
grabbed for the radio at his waist, talking into it urgently.

   It took only four and a half more minutes and five more security guards
to get Bob out of the foyer of the hospital and into a room they could
secure.  It seemed to Bob like it was an hour.  Everyone else, including
Betty, was denied entry.  Tearfully she tried to explain, but she was
mobbed by the ...  well ...  mob.  Bob found himself facing three security
guards, while the other two stood outside the door trying to restore order.

   "My daughter's out there," said Bob, holding a hand to his bleeding
forehead.  "Would somebody get her please?"

   It took him two more minutes to convince the three men that he was
telling the truth.  Since they didn't know what else to do anyway, they
left one man with Bob and the other two went outside.  A few more minutes
passed in tense silence until Betty was brought through the door.  Her
dress was torn halfway open, three buttons missing, and her ample breasts
were almost on full display.  Her hair was a mess and she was still crying.
When she saw Bob she almost attacked him and two security guards started to
pull her off of him when he batted at their hands and said it was all
right.

   Bureaucracy being what it is, it took another half hour before things
got straightened out.  Doctor Adams appeared and began barking orders as if
he were a king, rather than one of a hundred doctors at the hospital.  His
word appeared to be law, though, and soon Bob was in a treatment room.

   "I'm SO sorry about this," said Adams, as he cleaned Bob's split
forehead.

   Bob explained what had happened and Adams growled.

   "All she had to do was call me and I'd have explained." he said.

   "I just didn't want any trouble," said Bob.

   "I'd hate to see what happened if you DID want trouble." snorted Adams.
"I'm going to put a couple of staples in this." he said, inspecting the
wound.

   "Staples?" responded Bob incredulously.  "Doc, I'm REALLY sorry I caused
so much trouble, but come ON ...  STAPLES?"

   Doctor Adams looked confused and then stepped back and chuckled.

   "Mr.  Winkle, these are medical staples.  They've replaced sutures in
certain situations.  It makes the wound heal with less scarring and they're
a snap to take out once healing is well along.  I'm not torturing you.

   Bob sighed and relaxed.  "Staples!" he muttered.  "Maybe I should have
just stayed asleep."

   Doctor Adams looked thoughtful for a few seconds.  "Look, I know this is
the wrong time to talk about this, but the reason I wanted to see you again
wasn't actually about the pepper spray.  I mean I'm interested in that too,
but the real reason is that you need to be studied."

   Bob held up his hands.  "No." he said firmly.  "I do NOT need to be
studied.  I know what happened to me is strange and all that, but I'll not
become some guinea pig for the medical establishment."

   Adams crossed his arms.  Then he unfolded them and ticked off his
fingers as he talked.  "First, you slept longer than any human known to
science.  Second, it wasn't a coma - your initial examinations showed that.
I looked them up.  Third, you suffered no ill effects to your musculature,
which EVERY bedridden patient in ALL of history has suffered.  Fourth, you
did not age, mister Winkle.  You didn't age one minute.  All your tests,
your appearance, your biology - all those things suggest you are exactly
what you appear to be, a twenty-five year old male.  But you're not, mister
Winkle.  You're a SEVENTY-five year old male in a twenty-five year old
body. Mister Winkle, this is bigger than penicillin.  This is bigger than
the polio vaccine.  Mr.  Winkle, you very well could be the eighth wonder
of the fricking WORLD!"

   He stopped for a dramatic pause, and then went on.

   "You don't have to let anybody do anything, but I wouldn't be surprised
if the fricking GOVERNMENT decides you're a matter of national fricking
SECURITY and locks you up if you don't!  PLEASE!  I'm NOT trying to
threaten you.  All I want you to do is enter into a formal agreement with
me to let me do some research.  We'll listen to your demands, and try to do
this with as little upset to your life as possible.  But you HAVE to
understand that somebody is going to look into this.  Wouldn't you rather
it be someone you already know?  Please?"

   Bob stared at the man.

   "Could the Government really lock me up?" he asked.

   "This is America," sighed the doctor.  "The Government seems to do
pretty much whatever it feels is necessary, whether people get hurt or
not."

   "That's not the Government I remember," said Bob.  "Well, except for
World War two ...  and Korea.  But that was different.  We needed to do
those things."

   "I haven't the faintest idea whether studying you will result in new
cures to old problems or not," said Adams.  "But I know that SOMEBODY will
think that you have the answer to aging, or some other problem we've been
trying to deal with, and they'll do whatever it takes to get access to you.
I mean look at the mob we just got you out of, and all THEY were, were
curiosity seekers.  Look what they did to your daughter, for pity's sake."

   "And if I sign some kind of agreement with you then the rest will leave
me alone?" asked Bob.

   Doctor Adams' face went tight.  "I won't lie to you.  I can't promise
that.  But if you enter into an agreement with me, then at least we can
fight in court to keep others away from you.  And that I CAN promise.  This
is a teaching hospital, and you, sir, are a coup - I won't lie to you about
that either.  Our lawyers will defy hell itself to keep you for themselves.

   "What would I have to do?" asked Bob.

   Adams relaxed.  After he stapled Bob's forehead, they talked for another
hour, as Adams described the kinds of examinations and tests that would be
needed.  In the end, Bob agreed.  Adams had already gotten a contract drawn
up by the hospital legal staff and it took another hour to go through that
while Betty leaned over his shoulder, asking questions and suggesting that
they wait and talk it over with the family.  By then, though, Bob wanted
something on paper.  His memories convinced him that the American courts
were his best defense against abuse, either private or Governmental.

   It didn't occur to him that they weren't the same courts he remembered.



   The first thing the hospital had to do for Bob was when he tried to
leave.  Word had spread that the modern day Rip Van Winkle was at the
hospital.  Descriptions of the incident had, as these things will, been
blown completely out of context.  Part of the crowd waiting outside for Bob
were the same four news teams that had waited for him at the incident at
Amalgamated.  They were already reporting that hospital personnel had
attacked Bob, preventing him from leaving the hospital so they could do mad
scientist experiments on him, perhaps even dissecting his living body to
see what made him tick.  About the time Bob walked out of the examination
room with Doctor Adams, the police were arriving to quell the riot at the
front of the hospital.  Hospital security and a staff lawyer were waiting
for them, having been told not to interrupt the "examination" on pain of
dismissal.  The hospital administrator came huffing up to the group as
plans were being made to try to get Bob out of the hospital through a side
entrance.

   "Helicopter!" panted the top doc of the whole place.  He was as out of
shape as all the patients he continuously told to get IN shape.  The first
thing he did, between gasps was to ask Bob if he had an attorney named
Gunderson.  When Bob nodded he looked relieved and said that Gus had been
in contact with the hospital demanding they protect Bob.  Then he
explained, pausing for breath every once in a while, that there was a life
flight coming in with an accident patient.  When it left, Bob was to be on
it.  There was a hurried consultation as Bob demanded that Betty go with
him.  Then there was a short delay as telephone numbers were exchanged. 
Doctor Adams didn't want to know where Bob was staying.

   "Somebody on the staff might leak it." he said.  "I'll call you when we
have something set up.  Maybe we can use the chopper for that too."

   Then Bob and Betty were on the roof of the hospital as the helicopter
landed and the victim was whisked to the elevator on a gurney.  The pilot,
an old Viet Nam vet, grinned as things were explained to him and yelled
"Hop in, strap in, let's go for a ride."

   It was the first time either of them had been in a helicopter, and Bob
himself had never been off the ground.  He was fascinated by the whole
experience.  The nurse thrust a helmet at him and when he put it on, showed
him how to press a button to speak.  The pilot informed him that a news
chopper was shadowing their flight.

   "I think they suspect something," said the pilot.  "So we're going to go
back to the barn like normal.  From there we'll figure out how to get you
home.  It's an honor to meet you."

   "The honor's all mine." shouted Bob.  He lowered his voice when the
pilot winced.  By the time they got to the hanger Bob had a new friend.  He
was told to wait in the plane as everybody else got out and it was pushed
into the hanger.  The news chopper was still circling above them.  Once the
helicopter was inside, though, the other one peeled off and flew back
toward the hospital.

   Half an hour later Bob had six new friends.  Betty gave her car keys to
one of them, who went and got the car, driving it off right under the noses
of the news crews that were still at the hospital waiting to get a
statement from the hospital staff.  Traffic was snarled for miles, the
police completely overwhelmed by the situation.  It wasn't under control
until after Bob and Betty got back to the cabin.



   Bob refused to let the public control his life.  When he got back to the
cabin he called Gus, who was completely incoherent for the first couple of
minutes.  He didn't know what to believe about the stories he'd heard on
the news and his repeated attempts to convince the hospital legal staff
that he really WAS Bob's attorney had only yielded their promise to "do the
best we can under the circumstances." Not wanting to give him any fodder
for a future lawsuit, they had decided only to call him back saying that
Bob was off the hospital premises and safe, for now.

   Once Gus settled down, Bob told him he wasn't about to let the public,
the Government or anybody else make all the decisions about what his life
would be like in the future.  He needed money to insulate himself, and he
asked Gus to move forward with Amalgamated as soon as possible.

   Gus rang off and then called back in two hours.  He'd had to go to
Amalgamated himself, in person, to serve them with the papers before they'd
believe he was who he claimed to be - Bob's attorney.  He described how
he'd informed them that, until the debacle at their headquarters, Bob's
life had been more or less normal, and that now he was being hounded like
an Oscar-winning starlet who was pregnant with an unknown father's baby. 
He threatened dire consequences unless they agreed to a meeting with Bob.
Their lawyers had been less than helpful, but finally agreed to a
"non-binding exploration of options" the next day.  Now Gus, instead of
being nervous, was eager to proceed.

   "I've been waiting all my life to do something like this." he said
excitedly.  "I won't let you down."



   Val almost didn't keep her date with Zack that night.  That was because
the women, like several million other people not only saw the news, but now
had more news crews camped out in their yards as they tried, once again, to
get an exclusive interview with some member of Bob's family about "the
tragedy at the hospital", whatever that meant.  Betty had been out of
contact with them for the duration of the helicopter flight and wasn't able
to call until they got back to the cabin.  By then, the home phones were
off the hook again and Betty had to call Fran's cell phone to get a hold of
anybody.  After that the word was spread by Fran, who simply got on her
mother's mountain bike and pedaled over to each house.  When news crews
asked her who she was, she said she was collecting for the newspaper.  She
almost got caught when one reporter then asked her "What newspaper does Bob
Winkle read?" She'd read things from the newspaper to Bob for years while
he slept, but for the life of her couldn't remember the name of the paper.
The reporter, from out of town though, bought it when she said "The
Circleton newspaper, of course." She walked into the house as the excited
reporter yelled "Did you get that?" to the crew.

   As such, when Zack drove up to Sunny's house, he groaned as he saw the
Channel Five van sitting on the street.  They'd know who he was, and start
asking questions.  When he had "No commented his way inside, Val stood
looking at him still dressed in shorts and a halter top.

   "What do we do now?" she asked.  Sunny stood uncertainly in the doorway
to the kitchen."

   "I could arrest you for suspicion of harboring a known subject of
interest in an ongoing investigation." he joked.  "But then you'd be world
famous in about half an hour." He grinned.  "If you're not already world
famous."

   "This is NOT funny." moaned Val.

   "I know." he said, serious now.  "You want a rain check?"

   Val had been looking forward to this date for a number of reasons.  In
the first place she was attracted to Zack.  In the second, she was an
emotional whirlwind inside.  The knowledge that Bob had slept with her
grandmother and great aunts, and that her cousins had also been sexual with
him in one way or another had resulted in a long session of introspection.
She had decided that the reason she never could seem to find a boyfriend
was because none of the men she'd met were as interesting as her great
grandfather.  Now, she realized, she HAD met a man almost as interesting.
Her partially-explored sexuality was bursting at the seams, and she
couldn't wait to find out what it was like to be out with an interesting
man she was actually attracted to.

   "No." she said.  "I do NOT want a rain check."

   "Be right back," said Zack and he walked out the front door.

   Sunny and Val peeked out the windows and saw him go over to the news
crew.  He did most of the talking and eventually the cameraman got into the
van and slid the door closed.  Zack came back to the door and let himself
in.

   "I'm taking you into protective custody." he said, his voice serious. 
"There have been threats against you."

   "There have?" gasped Sunny.

   Zack rolled his eyes.  "That's what I told them." he said patiently.

   "Oh," said Sunny.  She smiled tentatively.  "But there haven't been
threats, right?"

   "Only aimed at her virtue," said Zack.  "I'm one of the worst of those."
he grinned.

   Sunny didn't smile.  Instead she walked up to Zack and said "She's my
baby girl.  You hurt her and I'll tear your throat out."

   "Mother!" squealed Val.  "I'm a grown woman.  You're embarrassing me!"

   "Ma'am," said Zack gravely.  "I promise you I won't lay a finger on her
unless she asks me to."

   "This is a first date, young man," said Sunny, talking to a man only two
years younger than herself.  "You don't need to lay a finger on her no
matter WHAT she says."

   "I understand perfectly," said Zack, his face straight.

   "Let's go, please?" moaned Val.

   "You'll need a bag," said Zack, smiling.  "They think you're not coming
back tonight." He nodded toward the front yard.

   "When WILL you bring me back?" asked Val.

   "If that van is gone, any time you want," said Zack.

   Val exploded into action, running from the room.  Sunny advanced on Zack
again.

   "Are you SURE she needs to be gone a whole night?" she asked
suspiciously.

   "It was all I could think of off the top of my head," said Zack.  "I'll
be good, I promise."

   "Men are never good," said Sunny grumpily.  Then her eyes took on a
pleading look.  "She IS my baby." she said.  "And she doesn't have much
experience with men.  Please be good to her."

   Looking her straight in the eye - and meaning it - Zack said "I promise.
Your daughter will come back here happy with me, one way or the other."
"Thank you," said Sunny, her eyes wet.



   Zack actually had good intentions as they left and got in his car.  He
had gotten them tickets to the symphony, not really knowing what a young
woman liked to do these days.  Most of the women he dealt with that were
Val's age were hookers, or dope addicts, or on one end or another of a
knife or gun.  Quite a few were beaten with fists.  While he knew that Val
wouldn't be like those women, he didn't really know what she would want to
do.  The symphony seemed safe.

   Of course that was before she left the house in shorts and a halter top,
with a small suitcase in her hand containing who knew what.  He had second
thoughts.  He might not be a high brow kind of guy, but he knew you didn't
go to the symphony dressed like that.  Even if she didn't care, he knew how
the other patrons would act toward her, and the last thing he wanted was
for her to be embarrassed, or to draw undue attention.

   Thankfully, the deal he'd made with the news crew to leave her alone as
she left and not follow them, made their exit quick and easy.  He'd have to
come up with some juicy bit of info to give them later, but that was never
hard.

   Val turned in the bucket seat to face him.  She leaned toward him and
her cleavage screamed for his eyes to look there, but he kept them on her
face.

   "So," she said excitedly.  "I've never been in protective custody
before. Where are you taking me?"

   "This is a date, remember?" he smiled.  "I have tickets to the
symphony."

   "I LOVE the symphony!" she squealed.  Then she looked at the cleavage he
had been so careful not to look at.  "But I can't go like this." she
moaned. "Why didn't you tell me before?" she said archly.  "I'd have packed
a nice outfit."

   "I guess I had other things on my mind." he said.  As he said it he
looked her way and despite his attempt at self control, looked directly at
the soft, dark split between her breasts.  His eyes took in bumps at the
tips where the cloth of the halter top was too thin to mask her nipples.

   Val felt a thrill as she saw where he was looking.  He really was
handsome in a craggy, weather beaten sort of way.  He was a real MAN, and
being with him was exciting.  That he noticed her as a woman was just icing
on the cake.  Still, she had to play hard to get.  It was a rule.

   "I guess you did!" she said bringing her hands up to cover her breasts.
"And I thought you were a gentleman." She smiled a tiny smile.

   "Oh, Valerie, I'm sorry." he felt heat on his face.  "I'm not used to
being around a beautiful ...  I mean I didn't mean to look at ...  Oh crap
...  I'm just sorry."

   Val giggled and took her hands down.

   "Don't be silly.  I knew you'd look.  All men look.  It's nice to know
I'm attractive." she said.  She turned and faced the front, leaning back.

   "Oh, you're attractive, all right." Zack said half under his breath. 
"Why did you want to go out with an old goat like me anyway?"

   Val ticked the reasons off on her fingertips.  "I've never been out with
a detective; I've never been out with a real man; I think you're handsome;
I think you're interesting; and I think I'll have fun."

   "Well, I hope I don't let you down," said Zack.

   "You won't.  I can tell," said Val.  "Now stop someplace so I can get a
dress and some shoes.  Target will do, or any place like that."

   Zack pulled into the first mall they saw on the outskirts of Sacramento
and let himself be dragged in by the hand.  Her hand felt so small and cool
and firm in his.  He felt out of place immediately as she selected a store
and pulled him in.  Then she expertly reviewed the racks of clothing.

   "Black would be good for the symphony." she said and pulled something
from the rack.  "Ooo and it's on sale too!  Wait here." she said.

   She took the dress into the dressing room and Zack waited.  When the
door opened and she stepped out she was barefoot.  The dress had a modest
scooped neckline.  But that was the only modest thing about it.  It clung
to her like a second skin.  He could count her ribs through it, so tightly
did it hug her upper body.  She was obviously braless, those nipples poking
through the tight black cloth clearly.  The waistline was tight too, but
then the skirt flowed outward over her hips and ducked back in to form a
tight black sheath in which her legs were wrapped.  It looked like one of
those dresses that would cause a woman to have to take smaller than usual
steps.  She whirled and he saw a slit along one hip that revealed her leg
clear up to where he should have seen panties.  Zack swallowed
convulsively. With her raven black hair, the dress made her skin almost
glow.

   "Well?" she said, putting her hands on her hips.

   "It's fu..." he started to use the language he was used to around the
station house.  "I'm astonished." he corrected himself.

   Her smile made him realize that his prick was already half hard and was
frantically sending signals for the heart to pump faster.

   She ducked back into the booth and came out with her clothes folded up.
She shoved them at him.  "Hold these." she ordered.  "I need shoes." The
saleswoman looked at Zack and then Val.  Val smiled.  "We're going to the
symphony.  I'll just wear it out."

   The woman shrugged and clipped off the tag, fastening it to a ticket. 
She handed that to Zack and told him to give it to the cashier up front. 
Zack followed Val, shifting things from one hand to another.  A wisp of
blue cloth peeked out between the folded halter top and the shorts
underneath.  He lifted the halter top and saw panties.  Slapping the halter
top down to cover them he swallowed and realized there were beads of sweat
on his brow.  He turned a corner just in time to see Val bent over, facing
away from him, stepping into low heeled black shoes.  She used her finger
to lever her heels into them, making her butt seem to wag at him.  It was
so tight across her slim buttocks that Zack could see the small depression
just above where her cheeks started.

   She stood up and whirled, putting one foot forward and brushing her long
straight hair out of her eyes.

   "They'll do." she said simply.  Her hand was still holding her hair
back. "Now, for the hair." she said.  She went towards another part of the
store and when Zack caught up with her she was deep in conversation with a
sales girl.  The girl reached for something and showed an open box to Val.
Val nodded and said something, turning around.  The sales girl gathered her
hair behind her and took a silver half round piece of metal out of the box.
She laid that over the hank of Val's hair and brought a long, slim silver
shaft out of the box.  She slid that into one side of the clip, under the
hair and then through the other side.  Standing back she looked at it.

   "Wait a minute," said the girl.  "I think we can do better than that. 
Your hair is so straight and thick."

   She pulled the clip off and with deft hand movements plaited Val's hair
into a loose French braid, replacing the clip.

   Handing Val a mirror and holding another one for her to look in, the
girl said "How's that?"

   Val looked critically into the mirror, turning this way and moving the
mirror that way.  "It's beautiful." she smiled.

   "One more thing," said the sales girl.  She hurried off around a corner
and came back with a tube of lipstick.  "Chantilly Lace" she announced,
handing the tube to Val.  "Trust me." she said.

   Val opened the tube and applied some lipstick, moving her lips in ways
that astounded Zack.  She looked in the mirror again and smiled.  She
turned to look at Zack.  Somehow the lipstick made her lips look pink, but
not pink, and red, but not red, and they sparkled somehow.  Zack wanted
nothing more than to kiss those full soft lips at that instant.

   "Well?" asked Val.

   "We have to leave," said Zack, moving the clothing in his hands down to
cover his bulging cock.

   The sales girl laughed.  "Good to go sister." she said.  She waved her
hand at the lipstick.  "It's a trial sample." and handed Val the box that
her hair clip had come in.  "Have fun." she smiled.

   Zack was reaching for his wallet when they got to the checkout, but Val
put her hand on his arm.

   "I have a credit card." she said, reaching for her shorts.

   "I'll pay!" said Zack in a half strangled voice.  If she took those
clothes her panties would show and the tent in the front of his pants would
show too.  He clutched her covering clothing to his groin with one hand and
fumbled out his billfold.

   "You're so sweet," said Val.

   By the time they got to the car he was in better control of himself.  He
even remembered to let her into her side of the car.  When he got seated he
fumbled with the keys.

   "Thank you," said Val.

   "Oh no," said Zack staring at the fuel gauge.  "Thank YOU.  You're just
flat gorgeous Val." he said.  He handed her her clothes and the halter top
fell off in her lap to reveal her blue panties.

   "Oops" she said lightly.  Then she glanced sideways at him and smiled.
"This dress is a little snug.  I didn't want a panty line to show."

   "A little snug," said Zack, starting the car.  "I'm in big trouble
here."

   Val laughed.  "You are the sweetest man!" she giggled.

   They didn't have time to eat before the symphony, so they took the
scenic route, arriving twenty minutes early.  Zack felt rumpled and
wrinkled as he escorted Val into the hall.  She drew stares from all the
men and not a few women as she walked quietly beside him.  Once they were
in the semi dark Zack relaxed a little.  Then she put her hand on his arm
and talked to him.  Just that little touch fired him up again.  He made a
firm promise to himself that he'd keep her in only public places.

   He didn't know how he was going to manage that, but that was his plan.

   Chapter 15

   The symphony was wonderful, as was the late evening dinner they had at a
little Italian restaurant Zack knew about.  It was past eleven when they
finally got back to Zack's car.  Val leaned back in her seat and sighed.

   "I ate too much.  I'm just stuffed.  I bet I look fat."

   Zack glanced at her lithe form in the clinging dress.  "You're fishing
for a compliment." he said.

   Her smile was only white teeth reflected in the light from the street
light.

   "You caught me mister detective.  I can't help it.  You make me feel
beautiful."

   "You ARE beautiful." he said firmly.

   "I know, but you make me FEEL beautiful." she said.  "So, where are you
taking me now?"

   "It's probably time to take you home." he said reluctantly.  He figured
the news van was probably gone by now.

   "Oh goody!" she chirped.  "I've never been in a detective's house."

   "YOUR home, girl." he corrected.

   "But I'm in protective custody!" she pouted.  "In the movies the
detective always takes the girl in protective custody to a nice hotel, or
to his house to keep her safe."

   "Believe me Val, if I took you to my house, safe is the LAST thing you'd
be."

   "Mmmmm sounds interesting." she purred.  "I've never done THAT with a
detective either."

   "Girl, you're killing me." he said, fiddling with the keys.

   Suddenly she was up off her seat and on her knees, leaning over him. 
She fell sideways and he caught her automatically as her back hit the
steering wheel.  Those sparkling strawberry lips crushed against his as he
pulled in air reflexively and her arms went around his neck, crushing her
braless breasts to his chest.  Her kiss was warm, soft and ardent all at
the same time.  He was surprised at the insistent attempts her tongue made
to get between his lips and he opened them instinctively.

   Then he was lost in that kiss, and returned it hungrily.  He hadn't
kissed a woman like this in a long time.  His hands went to her back and
crushed her against him.  She hummed through her nose as the kiss went on
and on and she worked her lips and tongue against his.

   Finally she lessened the pressure, signaling that she wanted to break
and he let her pull back.

   "Am I killing you now?" she whispered.  "Or is it all better?"

   "I have to take you home." he whispered.

   "I can sleep on the couch." she whispered back.  "I brought my jammies."

   "Your mother..." he protested.

   "I'm a big girl." she kissed him softly.  "And you're not out with my
mother.  Besides, I can handle my mother."

   "I might do something stupid." he groaned.

   "I can handle you too." she said.

   "That's what I'm afraid of." he moaned.  His imagination had her ... 
handling him ...  quite nicely.

   "I thought that all men wanted was to jump a girl's bones," she pouted.

   Zack pushed her back against the wheel.  It didn't do much good because
her breasts were still pressing against his chest.  But it got those lush
lips far enough away from his that he could get a breath.

   "I LIKE you Val." he said.  "I think I like you a lot.  I don't want us
to do something you'll be sorry for tomorrow.  I don't think I'd like it if
you were unhappy with me."

   "Then take me home ...  YOUR home..." she said, her voice low, "or
you'll find out what it's like when I'm unhappy." She waited a split second
and added: "If it will make you feel better, nothing has to happen.  I'm
having such a good time.  I just don't want to go back to Circleton right
now."

   She got off of him then, going back to her seat and sitting primly,
pulling her dress down from where it had crept up almost to her hips. 
Knowing what someone looking in the window might have seen only made it
harder for Zack.  She sat, looking forward silently.

   Zack got the feeling that they were at a break point.  She had stated
her mind.  She looked tense, almost as if she were afraid of something. 
Rejection?  She had come on pretty strongly.  Maybe she was having second
thoughts.  Zack didn't know what to do.  He started the car and pulled out,
darting quick glances at her.  She seemed to relax a little when they
didn't head toward the edge of town.

   He tried to remember what his apartment looked like.  He hadn't planned
on bringing anybody home.  He wasn't a slob, but then he didn't pick
everything up all the time either.  He worried about that for ten blocks
and then gave up.  She still hadn't said a word, and was looking out the
side window as they sped by the night-lighted city.

   The first thing she said was when he opened her door after he parked.

   "Thank you." she said, almost formally.

   She had to remind him about her bag in the trunk.

   "My jammies." she said, turning to look at the facade of the apartment
building.

   He got the bag and ushered her up the stairs.  It was a walkup.  He
suddenly felt old beside her light youthful step as her short heels clacked
on the steps.  She took her bag from him and stood patiently as he unlocked
his door.

   "I wasn't planning on bringing anybody home." he made the excuse as he
reached in to flip on the light.  "It might be a little messy."

   She ignored the clutter as he snatched up some clothing draped on the
couch.  She looked around, dropping her bag on the couch.

   "So this is what a detective's apartment looks like." she said to the
room in general.

   She zeroed in on his collection of African art, consisting of paintings
and wood carvings.  One of his partners had been black and had introduced
him to the exquisite carvings, most of which had something to do with
fertility.  In the same little shops where he'd found those, he'd seen
paintings that were so lifelike they made the breath catch in his chest. 
They were of fierce warriors, or bare breasted maidens mostly, but there
was also one of a lion that looked almost like a photograph, so detailed
was it.  The lion's eyes nailed the viewer to the floor, and you got the
feeling that if you moved, he'd leap right at you.

   She stood and stared at everything.  Once she reached out and traced a
finger across the cheek of a long wooden mask with staring circular eyes
and inlays of mother of pearl in designs Zack now knew marked the mask as a
man's wedding mask.

   "They're beautiful." she breathed.

   "Thank you." he said.  "I like them too."

   She turned and went back to the couch, picking up her bag.  She looked
around and headed for the short hallway that led to his bedroom and the
bathroom.  "It's bedtime." she said not looking back.  "I'm going to change
into my jammies."

   Zack stood there helplessly.  He hoped for a long flannel nightgown.  If
not that at least a thick flannel top and bottom.  What did young women
wear for pajamas these days?  The last thing he remembered was something
called Baby Dolls.  Baby Dolls would be dangerous.  Just thinking about
that made him stiffen again.  He felt like he'd been stiff all night long
and his balls ached.

   This was a mistake.

   Bringing her here was a mistake.

   He'd never get to sleep with her on the couch, only twenty feet away
from his bed.

   In the other room Val was nervous.  She hadn't shown it, but she'd been
excited and nervous all night long.  The shopping trip had started it.  The
symphony had melted her as she leaned against his strong arm, smelling the
faint scent of some after shave he wore.  The meal had filled part of her.
She knew she was being silly, and that it probably wouldn't go well at all
when she went back out there.  She had dreamed and planned this night for
years, not knowing what man she would be with.  She knew her dream probably
would fall apart, but it had gone amazingly well thus far.  He was so cute
when he was trying to be good.  It made her want him even more.  His kisses
had been electric and his hands on her had made her whole body tremble. 
When she'd gotten off of him and sat back down, waiting to see what he
would do, she was wet down there.  She was afraid he'd smell her arousal.
She was even more afraid he'd take her back to her mother, a little girl
after all, being taken back home to mommy.  Her relief when he'd headed
back into town had been so strong she'd had to stifle a sob.

   She was proud of the role she'd played thus far, proud that she'd been
able to pull it off with what she hoped was flair.  She didn't want this
man to see her as a girl.  No, she wanted him to look at her like a woman.
She knew he wanted her.  She also knew he was trying not to.  She put on
the garment she'd brought for this part of the dream.  She stood up, took
in a great breath and tried to relax.  She WAS a big girl now.  She could
do this.

   She reached for the doorknob.



   Zack was picking up books from where he'd dropped them.  He read three
or four novels at the same time, unable to stay interested in only one. 
He'd picked up a beer bottle and thrown it in the trash.  He picked up a
glass and an empty Styrofoam soup container from the end table, where he'd
left them after eating last night.  He was trying to think of what he could
cover the couch with when she came down the hallway.

   It wasn't a flannel nightgown.

   It wasn't any kind of flannel.

   He gaped.

   What he saw was a thin string crossing high over each hip, connected to
a roughly triangular patch of lavender cloth that tried to cover her pussy.

   Nothing else.

   His professional mind noticed she had used the lipstick on her nipples,
and they now matched her lips.  Those nipples perched on paler areolas that
were only a shade darker than the breasts they lay against.  She had left
her hair in the braid and her neck looked impossibly long and thin as she
stepped out of the darkness of the hallway and into the light of the living
room.

   "I like to sleep cool." she said, her voice low.  "Do you like my
jammies?"

   The glass dropped to the floor with a thud from Zack's nerveless
fingers. He felt his knees going and sat on the couch heavily.

   "That's not fair." he rasped.  He could feel his heart thudding
insistently in his chest.  There was a roaring in his ears that he knew
from his job was a result of blood rushing to his brain.  It was common in
people who were experiencing overwhelming emotion, such as someone about to
commit murder in a fit of passion.  Sometimes they couldn't hear what was
being said to them at that moment because of the rushing noise in the ears.

   She stood and looked at him, her head tilted slightly, like she was
examining something on a shelf.  His hands fluttered to his lap, to cover
his complete, iron hard, ready-to-go, very insistent erection.

   Her breasts thrust from her chest and looked rock hard, like they had
been chiseled from fine granite.  They didn't move as she bent over and
picked up a throw pillow from the end of the couch Zack wasn't sitting on.
Instead of tossing the pillow to the chair across the way, she turned and
walked to it.

   It was a thong.

   That slim cord of purple went around her back, just above the split of
her buttocks and another slim cord slid down into that crack, disappearing
completely.  She didn't drop the pillow in the chair, she bent over, her
left foot taking a small step to the side.  The shape of her pussy lips,
cupped lovingly in soft purple cloth became visible.  She looked over her
shoulder at him as her braid slid off her back and dropped in front of her.

   "Should I put this here?" she asked, her voice completely innocent.

   Zack was a hard bitten detective.  He knew people and he knew
manipulation.  He used it all the time.  He hadn't manipulated this girl
... no this woman.  He hadn't had to.  He knew he was being played.  She
had obviously studied how to do these things to a man ...  had practiced.
She was rock steady, a vamp in action, a slut begging for it.

   But Zack also knew that this woman was no vamp ...  no slut.  She was
acting like one, but he knew better.  He'd spent a little time with some of
her family members, and THIS was not what that family had taught her.  His
brain responded to the seduction she was obviously trying to pull off, and
he actually regained some control he had lost as his mind whirred.  Why was
she doing this?  What did she hope to gain?  What was her angle?  She was
legal.  He knew that.  He'd run her name through the system.  She hadn't
gotten so much as a parking ticket in either Sacramento or Circleton.  She
was in college, studying interior design - he knew that from their talk at
dinner.  She was acting like an extremely high class hooker.

   But she wasn't a high class hooker.  He knew that.  It was an act.

   That gave him more control.  He still wanted her.  He'd be crazy not to
want her.  But he was no longer helpless.

   "There is fine." he said, proud that his voice was steady.  "I have an
extra pillow in my bedroom." He wanted to grin, but kept his face blank. 
"You want a sheet to cover the couch?"

   THAT got her.  He saw her tense up.  It made her lovely buttocks jump.
She stood up and turned around, her cheeks pink and a frown on her lovely
face.  Man!  She was gorgeous.

   Her facade cracked.

   "Zack Simpson," she said, her voice strong.  "I'm NOT sleeping on that
couch and you KNOW it."

   Zack felt his balls tighten and his prick leak.  He forced a tight
smile.

   "I thought we agreed you were going to sleep on the couch." he said
smoothly.  She had teased him.  Now it was his turn.

   Her face fell and she actually looked hurt.  He could see her eyes
glisten suddenly, and knew that they were about to overflow.  He realized
on the instant that she was serious about her seduction.  She was no longer
acting the role.  She was suddenly vulnerable.  That made his heart thump
again.  This girl wasn't a pro ...  an actress.  She was sending too many
conflicting signals.  He suddenly realized she WANTED to do this, but was
on the verge of being terrified.  He had to do something, but he was still
worried.

   He stood up, his knees working again.

   "Come here." he said.

   She looked startled, but took a timid step toward him.  He kept his eyes
on her face, hard as that was.  He didn't try to cover his erection, but
she was looking at his face.

   When she took only a baby step more he stepped toward her and reached up
to slide his hands along each jaw.  She tensed.

   "Why are you doing this?" he asked gently.  Feeling silly he leaned
forward to kiss her on the tip of her nose, and then on her forehead.

   Her eyes widened and her hands went to his waist.  She didn't push.  He
had reversed roles on her.  She had been in control, but suddenly wasn't
any more.  She also didn't say anything.

   Zack let his hands slide down each side of her throat to her shoulders,
and then smoothed his rough hands down to her elbows.  He moved them to her
thin waist and had to slide them between her arms and where he wanted to
touch her.  Her eyes, staring into his, still glistened, but no longer
threatened to overflow.  He slid his hands up, his thumbs feeling the ribs
he'd been able to count while she wore the dress.  They ran into the
outside swells of her breasts and he stopped, his thumbs pressing gently
there.  She took a deep breath, but still didn't say anything.

   Zack didn't either, just staring into her eyes.  He could get lost in
those eyes.  His thumbs moved on their own, making tiny back and forth
movements, stroking the sides of her breasts.  The tip of her tongue
flicked out, wetting her still shiny lips.  For a split second Zack thought
she was acting like a virgin, but he knew she wasn't.  She was too
practiced to be that.  Why she'd picked him, he didn't know, and she
wouldn't say, but her smell was making him crazy.  He leaned forward to
kiss her, this time on the lips, but was just as gentle.  She almost surged
against him, her hands sliding to his back and then up as she kissed him
back hungrily.

   Then his control fled as his body responded to hers.  They tried to eat
each other's lips, their tongues clashing and licking.  Her hands came
around to his shirt and fumbled with the buttons.  He broke the kiss,
biting her lower lip and sucking on it before letting go and leaning back.
He pushed her hands away from the second button.

   "Bedroom." he ordered.

   She jumped at the tone of his voice, but obeyed instantly, turning and
actually running to the room she'd seen when she went into the bathroom. 
He followed, shedding the shirt and his belt, kicking off his shoes in the
hallway while trying to watch her bouncing buttocks as she ran.  His pants
were undone and unzipped when he turned the corner to see her lying on the
bed, flat on her back, legs straight and arms at her sides.  Gone was the
vamp, just as suddenly as she had appeared and something jarred in his mind
again.  He pushed that away as her hands came up to arrange the pillow
under her head.  She stared at him and her hands went to lie gently on her
stomach.  His training told him it was a defensive posture, but almost
naked like she was he ignored that.  He pushed his pants down, afraid of
tripping on them if he just dropped them.  Stepping out he then reached for
his boxers and pushed them down too.  Standing up he exposed what she had
done to him.  All she did was wet her lips again.

   He stopped to remove his socks and then kneed onto the bed, expecting
her to either move over or spread her legs.  She did neither, lying almost
stiffly, though her hands moved to her sides again.  He had to straddle one
of her legs, getting one knee between hers and leaving the other outside as
he loomed over her.  She was breathing heavily now, her breasts heaving as
if she'd run some distance.  Again he saw something like fear in her eyes,
but ignored it.  She couldn't be afraid.  It didn't fit with her other
actions.

   On all fours he went for more kisses.  Her response was gratifying as
her hands came up and slid through his hair, pulling his face against her.
When he kissed across her cheek and down to her throat she moaned softly
and arched her neck to give his lips room to explore.  He kept going, down
to her shoulder and then lower to the swell of her left breast.  Now her
legs opened for him, as his lips neared that pale and pink nipple.  It was
stiff, hard, rubbery between his lips as he sucked it in and her chest
heaved upwards off the bed.  Her hands still entwined in his hair pulled
hard again as he sucked, and lightly nibbled the little nubbin.

   He paid some attention to the other breast before going between them to
start lower.  He found he was actually shaking as his lips got to her belly
button and he stopped to probe it with his tongue.  She wiggled under him
and her hands suddenly left his hair and slammed down on each side of her
body.  Her legs were spread enough now that he could crawl between them and
he did so, kissing down over her flat belly to where there should have been
hair.  It was bare and the next thing he felt under his lips was the little
slip of purple that covered where he wanted to kiss and lick and suck next.
Making himself wait, he nuzzled through the fabric with his nose, digging
it in, pressing it between her lips as his fingers found the strings on her
hips and began inching them downward agonizingly slowly.  Her moans and
other sounds came more raggedly now and her hips moved jerkily, sometimes
down, or to the side, almost as if she were trying to get away from him.

   He leaned backward and up, still pulling on her panties.  They stretched
to the breaking point on her still spread legs and her knees finally came
up and together in front of him, like she was going to deny him after all.
Her feet were an inch from his chest.  That let him pull the garment up to
her knees, though, and she pulled one leg away from the other, pulling her
foot out of the panties.  That leg dropped like a stone, spread wide, while
the other stayed in front of him, the panties just below her knee.  She
didn't pull that leg up and he let go, letting the panties hang there.  She
flopped that leg back down and raised her head, looking at her now wide
open pussy below him.  His prick jutted out, a foot above her sex.

   But he wasn't ready for that yet.  Well, he was, but again he wanted
something else first.  He wanted to see what an orgasm looked like and
sounded like with this gorgeous woman.  He ducked his head suddenly and
drove his tongue between her pussy lips, pressing with his nose where he
thought her clit might be.

   Val was in complete overload.  She had never been naked with a boy
before, much less a man.  She had bared her breasts before, and they had
been played with and sucked at, but not like this man did it.  Always
before she had been rushed ...  had to push them away ...  didn't want to
go as far and as fast as they wanted to go.  Her decision to give herself
to this man ...  to become a woman with this man ...  robbed her of her
normal reactions to what he was doing.  And what he was doing was driving
her absolutely crazy.  When his tongue left her nipples and reached her
navel and pressing inside, she felt a massive cramp in her internal muscles
under and slightly lower than where his tongue was.  She felt a gurgling
rumbling feeling in her pussy, like her stomach was growling, and felt
moisture seeping down between her ass cheeks.  It would have been
embarrassing, except that she was in so much ecstasy that she couldn't take
time to be embarrassed.  Then, when he took her panties off, she had to do
something she'd never done before.  She had to spread herself open to a
man. Part of her was impatient to be rid of the barrier to what she wanted.
Part of her was scared to death.  Then his face had gone between her legs
and another new thing burst upon her already saturated emotions like a bomb
that was all light, and no sound.

   Zack wasn't ready when her hips slammed up mashing her pussy into his
face and she let out an agonizing long groan.  She had already been soaking
wet, and now his face slid back and forth in a spurt of juice that almost
got in his eyes as it shot out of her pussy.  He sucked and swallowed her
nectar, amazed that she was having an orgasm already.  He couldn't see
anything except her shaved mons, but her body was rigid, and he could feel
as her fists rose and fell, hammering the bed beside her hips, almost
hitting his spread fingers.  He solved that problem by sliding them under
her butt, resting his weight on his elbows, and pulling her pussy against
his mouth as he found her clit and sucked hard at it.  He had a fleeting
fear that the neighbors would call the police because of her wail as she
strained up against him, and then suddenly she went totally limp.

   It was time.

   Zack lifted his dripping face and took the time to push it into the
bedclothes between her legs.  It didn't help much - she had soaked the
bedspread under her buttocks.

   Then, in one continuous movement, he crawled forward, fisted his prick
and slid it all the way into her in one long, smooth lunge.

   Zack's brain registered the sudden fleeting resistance to his entry,
that vanished so soon his brain wondered for a split second if it had
really been there.  She was so tight as he slid in, and so hot and wet that
he almost lost it on that first lunge.  He hadn't been with a woman in
several years, and had never been with a woman like this.

   Then his brain registered her anguished cry of pain as what was had
obviously been her hymen was ripped to shreds and she was fully impaled. 
He looked at her face, which was a grimace of pain.  Her hips writhed
beneath him and this time it was obviously an attempt to get away from the
thing skewering her.

   Zack pulled out instantly, and looked down.  His cock dripped onto lips
that were pink in a way that wasn't just the color of flesh.  His prick too
had a pinkish tinge.

   "You said you weren't a virgin!" he said in shock.  He started to get to
his knees and her hands gripped the flesh and hair on his chest.

   She panted back at him.  "As I recall, ...  what I said was...  'who
says I'm a virgin?' ...  I didn't actually TELL you I wasn't a virgin." she
got in a deeper breath.

   "You should have told me." he moaned.  "I did it all wrong."

   "You did exactly what I wanted you to do." she breathed, gripping his
chest so hard it hurt.  He leaned down a little and she relaxed her grip a
little.

   "I wouldn't have done this if I'd known." he accused.

   "I know." she said.  "But I'm not a virgin any more, so would you PLEASE
put it back in?  I want to do this."

   "Are you sure?" he asked.

   For answer she reached for him and aimed him back into her pussy,
pulling until the tip touched.  "Maybe just a little slower." she said.

   This time he played, sliding in and pulling out, going a little deeper
once in a while, sometimes leaving it there and sometimes pulling it out
again.  He never pulled completely out, watching her face to learn how deep
to go.  Soon her hands were on his hips, trying to pull him farther than he
wanted to go.

   "You're teasing me." she panted.

   "You want more?" he asked.

   "Yesssss" she hissed.

   He gave her what she thought she wanted and her eyes opened wide again
at the pain.  As he tried to pull back her nails gripped his hips.

   "NO!" she barked.  "Leave it there ...  let me get used to it."

   He let it soak, leaning down to kiss her and then remembered her
nipples. He sucked at them until her hips began jumping.  He pushed harder,
grinding the base of his cock against her clit and she started making
noises again.

   He started slowly, but soon it was apparent that she had adjusted to his
size, and that the pleasure was overriding the pain.  He moved faster then,
trying to pound her clit with each trip into her velvety depths.  He felt
himself running into the back of her channel and each time she yipped.  She
had not done this before, and her hips didn't work in concert with his
until he'd been feeding her passion for five or ten minutes.  He was
fascinated to watch her face, the face of a woman having her first man, and
that was what kept him from blowing his balls to pieces.

   But when her jerking got in time with his, and when her vocalizations
started sliding back up the scale on the way to a full fledged scream, and
her pussy began nipping and milking his prick as she tumbled into another
loud orgasm, he gave up.

   He sank down onto her, pinning her to the bed with his weight and
covered her mouth with his own as she screamed into it.  His hips gave four
or five rabbit-like thrusts that punished her clit, and he felt the sweet
release of semen rushing through his prick and into her belly.  He froze,
feeling each of five or six strong jets his balls offered her.  He kept the
muscles of his upper body rigid, knowing that if he relaxed he'd crush her.
Her acceptance of his gift was transmitted when her legs came up and
slammed down on his buttocks as she squeezed him deep into her.

   It was the best thing either of them had ever done with a member of the
opposite sex.

   Twenty minutes later they still hadn't said anything.  They had touched,
and kissed and kissed some more, communicating only with gestures and
touches.  Finally Zack broke the silence.

   "I've always wanted to know something, and I've never had the
opportunity to ask anybody."

   "What's that?" asked Val.

   "When, exactly, does a virgin decide to go on the pill?"

   "Beats me." she said, rolling away from him to stretch.

   "I mean when did YOU decide to go on the pill?"

   "I didn't." she said rolling over and playing with the hair on his
chest.

   "You didn't." he said.

   "That's right." she said.  She said it as if she had said she decided
not to buy a particular pair of shoes or something.

   Zack stared at her.

   "Diaphragm?"

   She stared back.  "Uh uh."

   Zack felt something between a chill and a thrill course through his
body.

   "Are you telling me we just had completely unprotected sex?"

   "Well, you could say that," she said.  "But I prefer to think of it as
completely amazing, knock your socks off, hit it out of the ballpark
lovemaking that might just put a bun in my oven."

   "Why would you do that?" he asked, quite seriously.  This girl
practically owned him at this point, and he was man enough to admit it to
himself.  But there had been no talk of commitment, or responsibility or
even a second date, for that matter.  He knew quite well that he'd try to
see her again, and would be devastated if she refused, but what she had
just let him do to her was something incredible, to his mind.

   She smiled.  "I told you I never did that with a detective."

   He rolled to face her, his face serious.

   "I mean it." he said.  "What if I made you pregnant?"

   "Well, in the first place I'd prefer to say WE made me pregnant." When
he frowned and took a breath to complain she put a finger to his lips. 
"Okay, I'll explain." His frown vanished and was replaced by a look of
intense interest.  As she talked she played again with the hair on his
chest.  He'd almost shaved that off, thinking it made him look like a bear.
He was glad now he hadn't.

   "Okay, it's like this." she started.  "Almost all of my friends - girl
friends - are not virgins.  They talk about how they lost their virginity
like it was some trial, some strange rite of passage in which nothing much
is expected and it doesn't mean anything.  They sort of got rid of
something they didn't want, if you know what I mean.  They threw away
something that was a hassle for them.  It just seemed to me that it could
be better than that.  I mean you can only do it once in your whole life,
right?  So I decided not to let that happen to me.  I decided that, when it
happened, it would be with the right guy, at the right time, under the
right circumstances and that, no matter what it was like I was going to
make it as good as possible.  I wanted to remember it for the rest of my
life as something precious and special."

   Zack smiled.  "A lot of girls used to think that way, but they planned
to have that experience with their husband, on their wedding night."

   She looked at him quite seriously.  "That was then.  Nowadays, people
don't get married for the right reasons.  And marriage doesn't mean what it
used to.  Now marriage is like a contract, or the thing to do to get a tax
break, or to be with the right person to put you on top or something."

   "You've lived in California too long," said Zack.  "But we digress.  We
were talking about you, and why you decided that I was the man to divest
you of your troublesome maidenhead."

   "No we weren't." she said.  "I was telling you how I felt about losing
my virginity.  I didn't say a word about why I picked you to do it."

   "Quite the contrary," said Zack, dropping into interrogator mode.  "You
said you'd only do it under the right circumstances, with the right man. 
Ergo, I am the right man, because, as you may remember, I just plucked your
flower."

   Val rolled on top of him and gave him a long, wet kiss.  Her breasts on
his chest felt like velvet.  He hoped she'd stay right there for years. 
But she didn't.  She rolled back and began playing with his hair again.

   "I was kind of in love with a man." she said.  "I can't tell you too
much about it because then you'd have to go arrest him and that would make
me very unhappy."

   "He abused you as a child?" asked Zack, his voice heavy.

   "No." she said firmly.  "He never touched me.  He didn't even know I was
interested in him.  At least I didn't think he knew.  As it turns out,
maybe he did.  But that's not the point.  The point is that he was kind of
the man of my dreams, you know?  But I couldn't have him.  I knew that the
whole time.  I wanted him to be the knight in shining armor who carried me
away and on whom I bestowed my precious gift.  But I knew he couldn't be
that man.  And when I was in High School and later college, every boy I
went out with got compared to him.  They didn't do so well.  So I just
waited.  I wasn't in a hurry.  If I got too horny I could rub my troubles
away.  One of my friends said I didn't know what I was missing.  She was
right.  So I didn't miss it."

   She stopped to run one fingernail around his nipple.  He squirmed as it
tickled.

   "You were about to explain why I suddenly seemed to appear to be a
knight in shining armor?" he prompted.

   "It wasn't like that at all," said Val.  "I looked at you, and for the
first time I saw a man who was AS interesting, and AS sexy, and AS
disturbing to be around as the other man was.  Then I found out that other
man had taken a lover.  He hadn't betrayed me, exactly, but he bruised my
dream.  That tipped the scales toward you."

   "But you hardly even spoke to me before we went out." he said.

   "I can't explain that." she said.  "I looked at you and I knew."

   "You knew before we went out that we were going to make love on our
first date?" he asked incredulously.

   "No, silly.  I just knew it would be you.  Remember?  With the right
guy, under the right circumstances?  Well, when you've found the right guy,
a smart girl plans ahead so that if those circumstances pop up she's
prepared."

   "Yes, that was my reference to the pill." he said.  "A smart girl would
have been prepared ahead of time, or at least demanded the man use a
condom."

   "You still don't get it." she sighed.  "This was a special time,
involving a special man and a special gift to that man.  I didn't want
anything artificial to be involved.  I didn't want to think about anything
but the emotion of the moment.  I guess you could say that this was SO
special to me that if it meant I got pregnant ...  that was part of the
experience.  And if I didn't, then fine ...  even better, but only maybe.
After all, the Making of a child is something pretty special too."

   "Most people save that for marriage too." pointed out Zack.

   "Okay, if it makes you feel any better, we'll get to know each other
better, and then when you think YOU have fallen in love, let me know and
we'll get married and have a baby."

   "You're being silly now." he chastised.  "You can't talk about marriage
on a first date and expect to be taken seriously."

   "I'm going to try to explain this one last time." she said patiently. 
"I chose you, tonight, to do something special with me that we can only do
once in our whole lives.  If that's not the kind of commitment that makes a
marriage strong, I don't know what is.  I admit I haven't had any good role
models when it comes to marriage, but I'm not stupid either.  So, if you're
good enough to be the man to have my virginity ...  you're good enough to
be the man who fathers a child on me.  It's simple really.  I had to love
you enough to let you have my flower.  That means I automatically love you
enough to let you make a baby in me ...  under these particular
circumstances, on this particular night."

   "So this was a one night stand?" he frowned.

   "You try to make it one and I'll hunt you down like the dog you are."
she said.

   "Okay, so let me get this straight.  You like me.  And you picked me to
give your virginity to and because I'm special enough to get that gift, I'm
special enough that you'll have unprotected sex at the same time.  But only
tonight." He looked hopeful.

   "Close enough for Government work." she said, shaking her head.

   "What about tomorrow night?" he asked.

   "I'd be happy to go out with you again tomorrow night." she smiled.

   "But would we have sex?" he asked.

   "I have no idea.  Maybe.  I like having sex with you." she said.

   "Would it be unprotected sex?" he asked.

   "Not if it's going to freak you out." she laughed.

   "I'm trying hard to get this." he said.  "Work with me a little longer."

   "A little longer.  I'm feeling horny again, so hurry." she smiled.

   "You'd let me have unprotected sex with you ...  if I wanted to."

   "Yes." she said.

   "And that's because you have strong feelings for me."

   "It's because I love you enough to let you get that close.  If I'm not
willing to have a baby, why would I even want to have sex?"

   "Because it's fun?" he tried.

   "But if you only do it for fun, and don't care about each other, then it
doesn't mean anything." she said.  "Look at it this way.  If I don't like a
man enough to have his baby, he's not getting between my legs.  Period. 
Ever.  I don't do it for fun.  I do it to share something special."

   Zack's eyes widened as he got it.  He was suddenly awed at the gift he
had been given.  For in fact, she had actually bestowed on him her most
cherished gift.  He had been found worthy, and it shocked him to the core.

   "I understand." he said.  "And if I love you enough to want you to
finish college, then I'll use something to keep you from getting pregnant."

   "Exactly." she said.  "Or you'll let me go on the pill or whatever.  But
it will be a decision made for a reason based on love, and not just because
that makes sex easier.  Sex should never be easy.  If it's too easy it gets
taken for granted and then doesn't mean anything."

   "I can't believe I'm talking about being in love on a first date," said
Zack.

   "There are lots of kinds of love," said Val.  "Maybe someday we'll feel
some of the others.  I hope so.  I really REALLY like you Zack."

   "Do you like me enough to transfer to a college in Sacramento?" he
asked.

   "Yes." she said.

   "Do you like me enough to keep seeing me ...  like this?"

   "Oh yes." she said.

   "Your mother is going to be really REALLY mad at me." he said.

   "My mother could have gotten you first.  You snooze, you lose.  She's
too late."

   "You know what I mean.  Your mother's worried about you.  She made me
promise to take good care of you."

   "You did take good care of me.  Except for the one little time when it
hurt a lot.  But before that and then after that you were VERY nice to me."

   Zack knew when he was beaten.  Instead of arguing about her mother, he
started kissing her again.  Within minutes he was teaching her how to be on
top.  Her braid had come mostly loose, so she took the clip out and leaned
over to let her hair slide all over his chest and face.  He, in turn,
pinched, rolled and pulled her nipples until she exploded.  She wasn't as
loud when she was on top, which was good, because he couldn't reach her
mouth with his.  As she wiggled and lurched through her orgasm she moaned.

   "Make it spurt.  I like it when it spurts."

   Zack didn't even try to tell her you didn't spurt on command.  Instead
he thought about what she was offering him again.

   That ...  made him spurt.

   Chapter 16

   The next day, when Betty dropped Bob off at Gus' office, they took Sally
along.  She and Betty were going to go what they called "quilting" while
Gus and Bob did their thing.  After the women left, Bob got in Gus' car, a
ten year old Buick.  It was about three different colors, but ran well. 
Amalgamated had a parking garage in the basement of the headquarters
building and the attendant was recalcitrant initially.  Gus had foreseen
this possibility and handed the attendant a piece of paper with an internal
company phone number on it.

   "Call that number." he said calmly.  "Tell them Mr.  Gunderson and his
client are here."

   This was a different Gus Gunderson than Bob had ever seen before.  Not
only did he have a fresh haircut, he was wearing a clean, pressed suit.  It
wasn't expensive, but it certainly wasn't a Hawaiian shirt either.  Bob had
decided to appear as he now dressed routinely.  He wore something called a
Guayabera shirt, which he liked because it had a multitude of pockets on
it, and loose tan slacks.  He wore sandals.  He'd examined what he called
"Keds" with a detailed fascination but wouldn't buy any.  He said they
looked like monster feet, with their garish colors and clear impact
absorbing heel sections, to say nothing of the ones with lights on them. 
He joked that it took a size twelve shoe to fit a size ten foot, what with
all the added things that had happened to "Keds".  So he wore sandals
instead.  The cut on his face from hitting the hospital door had healed to
a scabby line.  He still looked like he'd been beaten half to death.

   Gus' appearance wasn't all that was new.  His whole attitude seemed to
have undergone some kind of metamorphosis, from a nervous, panicky loser to
a calm, suave businessman.  Bob liked the sunglasses Gus was wearing
because they made him look mysterious.  For the first time, Bob felt a
little better about his choice of attorneys.

   An hour and fifteen minutes later, Gus led Bob out of the building into
the parking garage with his hand on his elbow.  It was needed, because Bob
could hardly walk.  Bob kept saying "But ...  but ...  but..." and Gus kept
saying "Walk Bob, act normal Bob ...  just walk ...  there you go ... 
good."

   Gus Gunderson had indeed been waiting his whole life for this case, and
he had practiced arguing it so many times that he could do it in his sleep.
He'd never known what the details would be, but he phrased his argument in
broad terms.

   "The damage you've done my client is inestimable!" he'd barked.  "My
client's life has been catastrophically ruined!" He'd bored in while the
opposing lawyers had hemmed and hawed.  "You saw the news yesterday about
what happened at the hospital ...  don't tell me you didn't.  You saw what
the media is doing to my client, and all he did was go in for a simple
checkup to see if the physical damage YOU people did to him was healing. 
Just look at him.  He's a broken man, who woke up in a strange world and
tried to do the RIGHT THING!" Gus stood up.  "And what did it get him?  A
faceful of mace, almost blind for life and wrenched shoulders that may
NEVER heal properly!"

   "It was pepper spray, not mace." mumbled one of the opposing team.

   "Well, whatever it was, it was totally unprovoked and it got my client
into the public eye in such a way that his WHOLE FAMILY is hounded by the
media daily, and has been ever since you assaulted him!"

   A small man with slicked back hair had been sitting at the end of the
table since the "conference" started.  He had not been introduced.  He
suddenly raised his hand and spoke.  The Amalgamated lawyers went silent
and looked at him as one.

   "We'll offer him a hundred thousand dollars.  He drops all charges and
signs a waiver for future interest."

   Gus smiled, a thin smile and sat back down.

   "Mr.  Henderson, I believe?" he addressed the man, who blinked at being
recognized.  Gus turned to Bob.  "This is Riley Henderson, CEO of
Amalgamated Indemnity of America."

   "CEO?" hazarded Bob.

   "Chief Executive Officer," said Gus.  "He's the boss."

   "Oh," said Bob.  "How do you do." he said automatically.

   Gus put a hand on Bob's elbow and took a deep breath.

   "Mr.  Henderson, I appreciate that you have a responsibility to your
stockholders.  I even appreciate that you took the time to attend this
meeting.  I'm sorry to find that your time was wasted, though.  I can see
that our time was wasted as well.  We'll see you in court - both criminal
AND civil.  Come on Bob, we're leaving."

   Gus stood up and Bob looked up at him.

   Henderson raised his hand again.

   "How much?" he said, his face calm.

   Gus sat back down as if the only reason he'd stood up was to stretch, or
smooth his pants.  "Well, let's see.  Amalgamated made a profit of thirteen
point four billion dollars last year.  Your stock price is up fifty cents
after dropping thirty cents the day after Bob was assaulted in your
building.  I personally think that was a result of speculators who thought
that Bob's fame would bring value to your stock.  On the other hand, when
word gets out that we have filed a hundred million dollar suit against this
fine company, those speculators might just want to dump their stock in what
stock traders call a "precipitous manner."

   Bob almost leapt out of his chair and Gus' hand on his elbow clenched
hard, keeping him in his seat.  He went on like nothing had happened.

   "Now you know, and I know that a measly hundred million is pocket change
for a company like this.  You probably have twice that much in your various
petty cash accounts.  I also personally take umbrage at your previous
offer. I thought that with you here, we were at least speaking frankly.  I
see I was wrong.

   Gus stopped talking.  Bob looked around.  His mind was still reeling.  A
hundred MILLION dollars?  What in the world was Gus thinking?  Then he
remembered Gus saying something about billions in profits.  Bob's mind went
numb as he remembered how, in High School math class, the teacher had tried
to help the students understand how much a million was.  He still
remembered her nasal twang as she said "If you had a million dollars, and
you bought a brand new Chevrolet Fleetmaster coupe every day, at eight
hundred and forty-five dollars, it would take you three and a quarter years
to spend that million dollars." The whole class had gasped.  The teacher
smiled.  "And, if you put it in the bank and drew interest on it, you could
buy a new Fleetmaster convertible every week, and never ...  NEVER run out
of money before you died."

   In Bob's mind ...  THAT was how much a million dollars was.  And Gus had
asked for a hundred times that much.

   Bob heard a voice and tried to concentrate.  Henderson was talking
again.

   "Mr.  Gunderson, I appreciate your zeal to protect the interests of your
client.  But no jury in the world is going to award you a hundred million
for a face full of pepper spray and I think you know that.  I think you're
grandstanding, mister Gunderson, and I'm going to call your bluff.  We have
the assets to drag this out in court for as long as we want to." He waited,
but Gus didn't say anything at all.  He just sat there.  Finally Henderson
went on.  "Now I realize that our first offer was, perhaps, a little
disingenuous of me.  I apologize for that.  I have certain doubts as to the
veracity of mister Winkle's status over the last fifty years in the first
place, but that's another issue.  Perhaps I let those doubts influence my
judgment.  Mister Winkle, regardless of who he really is, and what has
happened, was still involved in an unfortunate incident on our property. 
Let's just cut to the chase, what do you say?  Ten million.  Take it or
leave it," he sneered.  "You should be happy with thirty percent of ten
million ...  mister Gunderson."

   Bob's breath stuck in his chest.  It was just as if another door had
slammed him in the solar plexus.  He felt Gus' hand squeezing his elbow
again, but it didn't matter.  He couldn't have said anything anyway.  Gus
said "I'll need a few minutes with my client alone.  That's considerably
less than what I think a jury WOULD award in a case like this.  But Bob is
the injured party here."

   The other men had filed out and Gus had looked at Bob.  "I can get at
least triple that in court." he said.

   "You're insane!" gasped Bob.

   "I got you an offer of ten million dollars," said Gus calmly.  "Does
that sound insane to you?"

   "YES!" said Bob.  His mouth was suddenly dry.

   "I told you Bob, you're a famous man.  You're worth hundreds of millions
of dollars, and that's just for movie and book rights.  This thing that
happened to you here could hurt this company and they know it.  They're
short changing you because they think you're a country bumpkin.  Me too,
for that matter.  But if you want me to, I'll go all the way and we'll
crush them.

   Bob thought about it.  Then he thought a little longer.  There was a
discreet tap at the door, that Gus told him to ignore and didn't answer
himself.  Finally he looked at Gus.

   "If we take the ten million, will you still be my lawyer for other
things?"

   Gus smiled.  "You bet your sweet ass I will mister Winkle."

   Then it hit Bob that, if he said so, he would walk out of this room a
millionaire ten times over.  He felt his heart thrusting inside his chest,
and his knees went weak.  He felt faint.

   "I don't feel very good." he gasped, trying to get control of himself.

   Gus had opened the conference room door and walked out with Bob then and
there.  Bob's knees were genuinely weak, and Gus played on that.

   "He's having a relapse, so we need to go.  I'll have to get back to you
on your offer.  I need to get him to the doctor."

   By the time they got to the elevator, the offer had doubled, with the
proviso that it had to be accepted within twenty-four hours or it would be
withdrawn.  Gus just waved and grumbled that the elevator was too slow.

   Thus is was that Gus helped Bob out of the building and into the parking
garage.  Bob could almost walk normally by then, though his head was
spinning.

   "Did I just hear that man say twenty million?" asked Bob.

   "You did indeed," said Gus, steering him to the car.  "I might be able
to buy me a new car." he said.

   His reference to trying to spend millions on cars brought back the
teacher's example again and Bob started laughing, almost hysterically.

   Gus jerked him.  "Don't laugh here.  We're probably on tape.  They think
you've suffered a relapse, so act like it."

   Bob giggled under his breath, and was finally able to say "I AM
suffering some kind of relapse, and it was THEM who made me this way. 
Twenty ...  million ...  dollars!  And then he giggled some more.



   Back at the office, Margie was on pins and needles.  She loved her
husband, but she'd never actually seen him in action.  She saw him there in
the office, and he talked to people in a reasonably professional way. 
Whenever he was in court she had to watch the office, though.  And he'd
never had a conference with the kind of sharks she knew just populate that
insurance company.  She had visions of him coming back a broken man, and
her having to take two jobs again to take care of him in a nursing home
while he constantly popped some high priced drug for slobbering basket
cases.

   She was surprised, therefore, when he and Bob came into the office with
a bottle of wine.

   She looked at him.

   "It went fine." he said calmly.  "We thought we'd celebrate."

   He handed her the wine.

   "They negotiated?" she asked breathlessly.

   "Not very much," said Bob.  "They were pretty adamant about ...  what
did you call it Gus? ...  ripping me off?"

   "Yeah, they tried to slam him all over again.  I thought I was going to
have to call 911 or something," said Gus, sitting down in his chair and
leaning back.

   "But you said it went fine," said Margie.  Her hands were shaking.

   "Well, we settled for a lot less than we could have gotten in court, or
I should say we WILL settle for a lot less in..." He looked at his watch.
"about eighteen hours from now."

   "What do you mean?" begged Margie.  "Why eighteen hours?"

   "They gave us twenty four hours to give them our answer." he said.  "I
kind of want to wait until the last minute, just in case they decide to
raise the ante."

   "HOW MUCH!" screeched Margie.

   "Only twenty million," said Bob, trying to be off hand about it.  He was
still shaking too.

   "Twenty..." Margie's eyes rolled up in her head and a thirty dollar
bottle of wine crashed onto the floor as she fainted.  Both men jumped to
help her as the wine soaked into her pants and blouse.

   "I'm going to have to put this on my expense account Bob," said Gus. 
"You should have let me tell her.  I'd have known to tell her to put the
bottle down first."

   "Buy her TWO new outfits," said Bob, grinning.

   "I was talking about the wine," said Gus, laughing.



   Bob decided to wait to tell Betty about the settlement.  He wanted to be
able to tell all the women about it at the same time.  So, when she and
Sally showed up at Gus' office to pick him up, and asked how things went,
he just said "Fine.  I think it's all going to work out." Margie would have
given it away, had she been there, but once she'd regained consciousness
from her faint and settled down after almost attacking Gus with kisses and
hugs, she'd scurried off to go home and change clothes.

   Gus played along with Bob.

   "Yeah, it could have gone better, but it was just a first time meeting.
I'm pretty confident that it will turn out in our favor."

   Betty might have realized something was up by how almost fanatical Bob
was about making love to her that night in the cabin.  He was practically
insatiable, taking her three times in the space of two hours, but she was
so happy with her own feelings that she just savored them, bucking up
against her father as his prick spewed deep inside her again and again. 
Finally she pushed at him.

   "We'll never be able to get up in the morning if you keep this up." she
sighed.

   "So ...  who needs to get up in the morning?" he responded, tweaking one
of her nipples gently.

   They did sleep late, and were roused by a knock on the door.  Betty
lifted her head off her father's shoulder and looked blearily at the door.
The layout of the cabin was pretty much one room, except for the bathroom
and some storage spaces.  Then her eyes widened and she rolled frantically
out of the bed, shaking Bob and telling him in a hushed whisper to get up
and lie down on the couch.  When he did she threw a sheet over him and
pulled on a dressing gown before going to the door.

   "Who is it?" she called.

   "It's June." called her sister.

   Betty threw open the door in surprise.

   "What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

   "You've been up here alone with Daddy for almost a week," said June,
barging into the cabin.  "All by yourselves." she added with a dark look.
"I'm here so you can go home and mow your lawn."

   Betty grinned.  "My lawn doesn't need mowing." she said, closing the
door.

   "Yeah, well, you've been getting your ashes hauled up here in the
mountains for a week, and I mowed MY lawn, so I think it's time we
switched." she blurted.  Her cheeks darkened a little.

   But Betty just laughed.  "Okay, okay, I get it." She leaned in close. 
"He was an animal last night.  He might not have anything left."

   Bob had sat up when he heard June's voice and the sheet had fallen to
his lap.

   "What's he doing on the couch?" asked June, a note of disbelief in her
voice.

   "We thought you might be one of the neighbors," said Betty.  "There's a
positively delightful young woman named Sally who's been coming over here.
And you won't believe who she's related to!  Remember Denny?  That nice boy
who searched us at the hospital?"

   "You're kidding!" squealed June.  "Which one?  The tall one or the short
one?"

   "The tall one," said Betty.

   Then they were chattering like sisters always chatter when they get
together and haven't seen each other for a while.  June said that Martha
was having trouble with Sunny after Val had gone out with "that nice
detective".  Sunny had suddenly become very conservative in her views on
sexuality and was convinced that the older man had taken advantage of her
daughter.  Then the details were discussed of why Sunny was so convinced.
Bob stared as he heard the way Val walked the next day mentioned, and her
bouncy happy attitude.  The kicker was when June said "You know what it was
like when one of us had been with Daddy.  We could always tell, even if we
weren't in the house when it happened." Unlike Sunny, however, both great
aunts approved heartily of the alleged union between Zack and Val, despite
the difference in their ages.  Their past might have accounted for that,
since they had had an "older lover" all their lives.  Martha, said June,
was also happy about it, figuring it was high time that some great
grandchildren came along - Martha's, not Bob's.

   Bob just sat and listened as the social byplay of the late 20th century
was displayed for him in ways most people wouldn't have thought was odd at
all.  But listening to these older women calmly discuss the sexual
activities of their younger relatives was something that would never have
happened like that when Bob went to sleep.  That Sunny seemed to display
more conservatism about all this just jarred him more.  And the thought of
Val, beautiful, slim Val, being made love to by Zack, reminded Bob of what
it had been like to make love to Becca.

   In short, their chatter turned him on and made him stiff.

   He had to go to the bathroom, and since these two women had seen him
this way innumerable times before anyway, he stood up and walked to the
bathroom, his stiff cock like some kind of leash, leading the way.

   June and Betty looked over at him.

   June said.  "That lawn of yours needs mowing pretty badly little sister.
You need to get to it."

   Betty just laughed and began to get dressed.



   Bob thought about the possibility that Sally might wander over in their
direction that morning, but June was hot to trot and pointed out that there
was a lock on the door.  He spent two hours making her wiggle and sigh and
buck her hips up against his as she moaned through her orgasms.  She told
him how much she loved him and what they were doing over and over.  It
would be impossible for a man not to feel proud under the circumstances,
odd thought they might be to an outsider.

   Finally she lay napping, splayed naked on the bed as Bob stood over her
and gazed at her.  She was beautiful.  He almost wished that all that
spermy mess around her pubes might make another baby in her.  But he knew
it was unlikely at her age, and probably wouldn't work out for the best
anyway.  Looking at her naked form though, even after coming in her twice,
made him want to climb aboard for another trip down passion lane.  He
smiled at the thought.  It was truly a different world than he'd gone to
sleep in.

   He left her there to sleep while he got dressed and went to Sally's to
beg some breakfast.  He explained that his middle daughter had showed up
after a long drive, to relieve Betty, and that she was taking a nap.

   "What, you can't cook for yourself?" asked Sally laughing.

   "Men didn't do that when I lay down to take that nap." he said
defensively.

   "Oh yes they did," said Sally laughing.  "That's a myth.  Men have
always cooked."

   "Well, what can I say?" he grinned.  "Any man would much rather have a
beautiful woman making him breakfast than do it himself."

   "Oh, so now you're flirting with married women!" crowed Sally.  "You
know, my little brother is coming up here later today.  I might just have
to tell him there's a masher in the community.  I could have you arrested,
you know." she laughed.

   "Well, he's searched all my female relatives." noted Bob.  "I suppose
that would mean his female relatives would have to search me." He leered at
her.

   "You're horrible, Bob Winkle," said the woman, but there was a twinkle
in her eye.  "You'd better be careful about coming on to women.  You're not
a bad looking guy ...  for your age!" She giggled.  "And there are probably
a whole lot of women ...  married or not ...  who would love to hop in the
sack with a famous guy like you."

   Bob sighed and sat down.  "Well, we all have our problems in life." he
said.  "I don't know if I have it in me to take care of more than ...  oh,
I don't know ...  a couple of hundred?"

   Sally laughed again.  "You just behave yourself around me.  I love my
husband too much to cheat on him, even if you are cute ...  for a geezer."
Her laughter tinkled as she started banging around pots and pans.

   Bob watched her move.  She was a nice woman.  He'd read a little of her
book, and she knew how to write, despite her poor self opinion.  That she
struggled with it only meant that she wanted everything to come out just
so. He thought about what Gus had said the day before.

   "You know, somebody told me that there could be a lot of money in a book
about me." he said.

   Sally cracked an egg into the frying pan and nodded without looking at
him.

   "That's probably true."

   "Somebody would have to write it.  I'm not an author.  I can't even read
my own writing," said Bob.

   Sally looked over her shoulder.  "Nobody writes by hand any more, Bob.
That's what computers are for."

   "Yes, but I don't know HOW to write a story.  I mean I know a good one
when I read it, but I couldn't write anything like that."

   "You might be surprised," said Sally, reaching for another egg.

   "I bet you could write a book like that," said Bob in an offhanded tone
of voice.  "You're a pretty good author."

   Sally went stiff.  Then she turned around, the egg still in her hand.

   "Don't tease me about that Bob.  It made me feel good when you flirted
with me, but don't tease me about my writing."

   Bob looked at her.  "I wasn't teasing."

   Her mouth opened and her eyes went wide.  Then her mouth snapped shut.
Neither of them said anything and she turned back around.  When she cracked
the egg it almost exploded, splattering outside the skillet.

   "Damn!" she said, stepping back.  Her right hand was slimy with egg. 
She reached for a towel, wiped her hands methodically, and turned to face
him.

   "Are you actually asking me to write your story?" There was something
like fear in her eyes.

   "I don't know any other authors." he said.  "I've read some of your
book. You're good."

   "But I've never been published." she said.  "I can't do something like
that."

   "Every author had never been published before they got their first book
in print." pointed out Bob.  "And that will give me a chance to flirt with
you even more." He grinned.

   "I told you not to tease me Bob." she said, her voice firm.

   "Sally, just think about it, all right?" he said.

   "I have a job.  Writing a book like that would take almost a full time
commitment.  No.  You need a real author Bob, somebody who can tell your
story in a way that grips people's hearts.  You're unique, and interesting,
and sexy and ...  you're all kinds of things, and all those things need to
be communicated onto the page.  There will be a hundred famous authors
begging for the chance to write that book Bob."

   "I can pay you," said Bob.

   "You're not LISTENING to me Bob," said Sally, frustration tingeing her
voice.  You need a REAL author."

   "So, let me get this straight," said Bob.  "You're not up here writing a
book like you say you are.  You're actually just getting away from your
job, and your husband, and pretending to be an author because it's more fun
than all those other things.  Right?"

   "That's not fair!" said Sally heatedly.  "I know I can write a good book
...  but not THAT book.  Bob, listen to me, you're an important guy.  What
if I write a bunch of drivel and all the critics hate it, and nobody buys
it, and the world forgets all about you?"

   "I can think of worse things than the world forgetting all about me."
grinned Bob.  "But I wouldn't want your first book to bomb just because
it's about some guy who took a really long nap.  Maybe you're right.  A
book about me would be boring."

   Sally's eyes got huge.  "You're an IDIOT!" she shouted.  "You haven't
got a single brain cell in that thick head of yours!  You're the most
interesting man I've ever MET!  EVERYBODY in the whole WORLD wants to know
about you!  Why do you think the media is hounding you like a preacher
caught with a hooker?!" She started to splutter, making incoherent sounds
and waving the spatula in her hand like she was leading the Philadelphia
Orchestra.

   It was at that moment that Denny banged through the door and shouted
"Where's my big sister?  I'm STARVING here!"

   Sally's face turned toward him and her mouth opened and closed several
times.  Finally with an explosive "MEN!" she threw down the spatula and ran
crying for the bedroom.

   Denny looked at Bob, puzzled.  "What'd I say?  All I said was that I was
hungry.  Hi mister Winkle.  What's up?"

   Bob grinned.  "I just asked her to write a book about me.  And to make
me breakfast." he added.

   Denny's face split into a smile.  "Really?  Hey that'd be a GREAT idea.
She's a good author.  I've read most of her book and it's really good."

   "She doesn't seem to agree with you," said Bob.  "She kept telling me
she can't do that."

   Denny straightened up, almost like he was coming to the position of
attention.  He suddenly looked all cop.

   "We'll just see about that." he said, stalking toward the bedroom.  He
turned the knob and pushed the door open.

   "Sis?" he yelled.

   "Don't come in here..." came Sally's strident voice, "I'm changing
clothes!"

   "So?  I've seen you naked before," said Denny, stepping into the room
and closing the door behind him.

   There was some yelling.  What Bob could hear was mostly "Get OUT!" and
things like that, but Denny did not reappear and eventually the voices
subsided to a low rumble.  Bob got up, retrieved the spatula and flipped
the eggs, adding two more for Denny and scrambling them in with his, which
were a little overdone by now.  He saw a loaf of bread and a toaster and
dropped two slices in.  Toasters hadn't changed all that much while he
slept.  There was already a pot of coffee brewed, in one of those
delightful glass holders, and he poured two cups, topping off the one that
Sally had been drinking from when he arrived.

   He wandered over to the open laptop, where Sally had been working on her
book.  He'd taken typing in school, the only male in the class.  It had
been either that or chorus, and he couldn't carry a tune to save his life.
The layout of the computer keyboard wasn't all that odd to him.  There were
a number of keys that didn't mean anything to him, but with two fingers he
was able to skip down a couple of lines and begin typing.

   "All he wantred to do was tak a map.  Just to lier down for a bitr.  But
when he woke up the woprld had gon away and everythng waxs differnt."

   Bob sighed.  His fingers were too big and hit two keys at once.  He
couldn't figure out how to make the little flat line on the screen go
backwards.  Well, actually, he could make it go backwards with a little
arrow key, but it didn't change anything.  All his errors were there,
apparently permanently.  And some of the words didn't look right.  Spelling
had never been his strong point.  He was still poking at keys when the
bedroom door opened and Sally came out.

   "What are you doing?" she said, her voice almost snarling.

   "Trying to write." he said.  "Breakfast is ready." He bit the tip of his
tongue in concentration as each index finger stabbed at keys.

   Sally walked behind him, lifting her coffee cup for a sip.  Then she
looked over his shoulder.

   "That's awful." she said flatly.

   "I'm not an author." he said, still stabbing keys.  "How do you make
this stupid thing back up and erase things?"

   "You get up and let somebody do it who has a brain in their head and
simple coordination." she growled.

   He stopped and looked up over his shoulder at her.  His eyes lit on her
breasts, which were at eye level, and then slid up to her face.  It was
obvious that she saw where his eyes had been.

   "Flirting with me right now won't get you much." she groused.

   "But you'll do it?" he asked, hopeful.

   "To get you two off my back I'll say this." she said firmly.  "I'll give
it a whirl.  I'll start out and see how it goes.  If I don't like it, you
get yourself another author."

   "Deal," said Bob, smiling.

   "No, that's the way it's going to be," said Sally firmly.  "Now get away
from my computer before you break something."

   Once she had resigned herself to starting the project, Sally closed the
notebook and sat down with pen and paper.  Bob decided not to mention that
no one wrote with pen and paper any more.  She started firing off questions
to Bob about his life.  Initially it was biographical stuff, where he was
born, when, what his family was like, what the town was like.  She took
copious notes, asking for odd details, such as his first kiss, and the
first money he made doing anything outside the home.  Denny sat and ate at
first, and then just sat, listening, as the interview went on for three
hours.

   Finally Sally dropped the pen and rubbed her face with her hands.

   "Now, get out." she said calmly.  "Both of you." she added.  "I have
work to do."

   Denny, though he had come up to the cabin specifically to see his
sister, stood up and offered to show Bob where some good hiking trails
were. When he found out all Bob owned were sandals, he put hiking on hold.
As they walked towards Bob's cabin, he told Denny that June might have
"gotten comfortable" to take her nap, and that he should check before they
went in.

   June woke up upon Bob's entry, and then fussed when he told her there
was a visitor and that she needed to get dressed.  She wailed about her
hair being mussed, and that she needed a shower.  Bob wouldn't tell her who
it was, since he was sure she'd freak out, but he got her presentable and
then invited Denny in.  June did get pretty excited when she recognized the
man who had searched her so intimately at the hospital.  Then, when she
demanded to know why he was there, Bob had to explain about Sally.  The men
joked about how they had gotten Sally to agree to write Bob's life story.
June was aghast that Bob would have "browbeaten the poor woman" into
something she didn't feel capable of doing.  That led to June demanding to
meet Sally, but neither man wanted to disturb her after their abrupt
dismissal.

   In the end, Denny drove Bob and June down the mountain to get Bob some
hiking footwear.  In the car, as they chatted, June began to gossip a
little.

   "You know you made a big impression on my granddaughter." she said to
Denny.

   "Oh really?" he smiled.  "I can understand that.  Which one is that?"

   "Becca," said June.  "Her mother is scandalized." She smiled smugly. 
"Gidget called me on my cell phone while I was driving up here.  She was
all upset.  Apparently Becca can't stop talking about you."

   "Well, most young women don't go through that kind of experience," said
Denny diplomatically.  He remembered the girl clearly ...  had even
mentioned her specifically to his sister when he spun the tale for her
about the hospital incident.  She looked to be in her late teens or early
twenties.  He had enjoyed running his hands over her hard body.  He had
enjoyed the fantasy of taking her out too, but that was unlikely to happen.
There had been something gripping about her smile ...  her attitude in
circumstances that would have made most women either uncomfortable or
angry.

   "I know I won't forget it for a while," said June.  "And now that Val
has gone out with that detective, Becca thinks she should be able to go out
with you.  That's why her mother is scandalized."

   Denny thought about the idea of being out on the town with the auburn
haired beauty.  It looked good in his imagination.  "Why would her mother
be so against it?" he asked, taking a hairpin turn carefully.

   "She thinks you're an ...  older man," said June giggling.

   "I'm every bit of twenty-six." he said, peering ahead.

   "That's the whole thing," said June.  "Becca is only eighteen and Gidget
seems to think she should live at home like a nun until she's your age. 
She's having fits just about Becca going off to college.  She's afraid
Becca will do just what she did when she left home."

   "And what was that?" asked Denny, paying attention mostly to the road,
which switched back several times rapidly in this section.

   "She hopped in bed with every man she could find, that's what," said
June.

   "Your daughter?" asked Denny, his attention diverted from the road.

   "She was a classic round heels," said June.  "She doesn't know that I
know, but when she couldn't tell me who Becca's father was I knew it then.
She was in college when she got pregnant.  You know how those college boys
are."

   "Yes, Ma'am," said Denny.  "I went to college myself."

   June spluttered.  "I didn't mean to say ALL of them are sex fiends ...
but ...  oh anyway, Gidget is afraid the same thing will happen to Becca."
It was quiet for a while.  Then June said "But if she had a nice boyfriend
back home..."

   Denny laughed.  "Are you trying to set me up with your granddaughter? 
Me?  An old college sex fiend who hasn't had a steady girlfriend in four
years?"

   "Why ever in the world has that happened?" asked June, her busybody
nature coming to the front.  "You're a perfectly nice boy, nice looking.  I
should think the girls would be crawling all over you."

   "Well thanks," said Denny dryly.  "When you're a cop, trying to make
rank and stay alive, you sort of leave some things behind I guess."

   "You should ask Becca out," said June firmly.  "She's a delightful young
woman and cute as a bug in a rug.  I think you two would be perfect
together."

   "June," said Bob heavily.  "Leave the man alone."

   June blushed and leaned back from where she had thrust face up between
them.  "I was just trying to help."

   "I thought you said Gidget didn't want to encourage her." reminded Bob.

   "Oh pooh!" said June.  "Gidget doesn't have the sense of a field mouse.
She could have had any man she wanted, still could, for that matter.  But
after she got pregnant with Becca she just gave up.  What kind of woman
does that?  If she had her way Becca would end up an old maid!"

   Denny frowned.  "Sounds to me like she was in love with Becca's father,
and he wouldn't do the right thing.  That might explain it."

   "In love?" laughed June.  "She was too young to know what love was."

   "Oh, I see," said Denny smiling.  "And how would your husband feel about
his granddaughter dating a twenty-six year old man?"

   "Oh, I'm not married.  Never have been," said June before she thought.

   "Oh, I see.  So you managed to get knocked up as a single woman, and
then your daughter went off to college and got knocked up as a single woman
too, and now Becca wants to go to college.  Hmmm, I'm not sure it would be
safe to take her out on a date.  The women in your family seem to have a
tendency to end up ...  in the family way." He grinned into the rear view
mirror at a distinctly uncomfortable June.

   "I think you need to pay more attention to the road young man." came the
reply from the back seat.  "Are you going a little too fast?" Bob laughed.

   Chapter 17

   During the rest of the shopping trip June didn't say anything more about
Becca.  She did ask a lot of questions about Denny, thinking she was prying
subtly.  It didn't occur to her that she was talking to a trained
interrogator, and that he could see right through her.  He started
returning the favor, asking her personal questions.  It was when he found
out she had more children than Gidget and asked who their fathers were that
she told him he was being nosey and settled into an uncomfortable silence
in the back seat.

   Bob shook his head as Denny and June outfitted him with walking shoes,
complaining that they looked huge on his feet.  But when he took a few
steps he was amazed at how resilient the soles were, and how comfortable
they were to wear right out of the box.  In his day each pair of new shoes
had to be "broken in" before they were comfortable at all, or before you
could wear them without getting blisters.

   When they got back to the cabin June insisted on meeting Sally.  Bob
said he was going to fix something to eat and Denny took June to the other
cabin.  An hour later June came back by herself.  She started taking her
clothes off as soon as she closed the door.

   "Again?" asked Bob, smiling.

   "Of course." she said, unashamed.  "Talking about Becca made me horny."

   Ten minutes later Bob suckled at a stiff nipple as he gently slid his
rampant member into June's pussy and she gave a moan of relief.

   "Is this what you want Denny to do to Becca?" he asked, pushing hard and
mashing her cervix with the tip of his prick.

   "We're not here to talk about what he does with Becca." she moaned. 
"You pay attention to what you're doing with me."

   Bob paid attention, having a blast watching as June reached her pinnacle
twice in five minutes.

   "Ohhh I love doing this with you Daddy." she moaned as she relaxed after
her second orgasm.  "Do this with me forever, pleeaase?" she whined.

   "What if I knock you up again?" he asked, feeling his own orgasm
approaching.

   "Then I'll have another beautiful baby of yours." she beamed.  "But I
wouldn't count on it.  My periods are getting pretty spotty these days."

   "So, should I find myself a younger woman?" asked Bob, thrusting harder.

   "No!" she barked.  "You're mine ...  ours ...  Ohhhh Daddy, I love it so
much when I feel that up inside me." She cooed as his prick belched ropes
of hot spunk into her pussy and he sagged down onto her ample breasts.  She
stroked his back with her fingertips and kissed his cheek several times.

   When he rolled off of her she rolled up onto her side and looked at him,
putting her hand on his chest as he caught his breath.

   "You make beautiful babies, you know." she said softly.  "We shouldn't
hog you.  You should be able to make more beautiful babies with some lucky
woman."

   "Whenever one of you girls is around," Bob panted, "There wouldn't be
anything left to make any beautiful babies with."

   Her laughter tinkled.  "You know how to make an old woman feel good,
I'll say that for you."

   "You're still just a girl to me, sweetheart." he said.  "I have a
feeling you always will be."

   "Even when I'm gray and baggy?" she teased.

   "Even then." he said seriously.

   "Then I suppose we can share you with some fertile young woman." she
said.

   Becca's announcement that she wanted to go out with Denny had gone
pretty much as June had described it, though not exactly.

   "Mom, I'm eighteen," said Becca firmly.  "I'm an adult.  I can go out
with whoever I want to."

   "You may be recognized as an adult by the State of California,"
countered Gidget, "but you're still an inexperienced girl.  That man is too
old for you.  You have no idea what men are like."

   Becca, who remembered the delicious feeling of her great grandfather's
prick sliding in and out of her delighted pussy, thought she knew EXACTLY
what men were like, but she couldn't tell her mother that.  Instead she
tried to downplay the sexual aspects of the date she wanted to go on.

   "Mom, it would just be a first date.  He's a policeman, for pity's sake.
If you can't trust a policeman, who CAN you trust?"

   "He's a man." her mother said stubbornly.  "They all want the same
thing. They want to lie and make a baby in you and then leave you
defenseless to raise it."

   "I can't believe you really believe that," said Becca.  Her mother had
never talked about Becca's father, except to say that she was madly in love
with him when he made her pregnant, and that she was never sorry she'd had
Becca.  Now, in the heat of argument between two women, new information,
slim though it was, had come out.

   "Sweetheart," said Gidget.  "Relationships are hard even for adults. 
You need to take it slow and be around boys your own age.  They want the
same thing, but at least they don't lie about it.  I'm sure Denny is a nice
man, but he's a MAN, Becca, not a boy.  While they all want the same thing
from a woman, Men know how to push a girl's buttons so she can't think."

   "Is that what happened to you?" asked Becca, sure that it was.  She
remembered her lesson with Bob quite well.

   Gidget looked at the light of her life.  She didn't want to confess to
her stupidity as a girl in college, to the fact that she had been played by
her suave college professor, that he had crushed her heart so badly that
she hated all men for a long time after that.  She saw herself back then as
a weakling girl who had been cast adrift in the big, bad world.  She'd
fought tooth and nail to make her own way, embracing the women's lib
movement, sure that she didn't need a man for anything.  Still, there had
been long, lonely nights when all she could think about was what it would
be like to have one of the brutes in her bed, pressing her to the mattress,
making her feel that lovely zing she missed so much.  It came to her
suddenly that she didn't know all that much about men, and that embarrassed
her too.  She'd worked with them, socialized with them, and turned probably
a hundred down when they made the inevitable move that showed they were all
pigs who just wanted sex.  The trouble was, she wanted sex too, all those
years, just like they did, and that confused her.

   "Something like that." she answered belatedly, as she saw Becca waiting
for an answer.  "I don't know what to tell you any more.  I thought my life
was ruined, but obviously it wasn't.  You're perfect, and I have a good
life.  Part of it was that I didn't want to turn out like my mother."

   "Why?" asked Becca.  "Grandma is a wonderful woman."

   "I know.  She's so happy all the time it makes me sick," said Gidget
sourly.  "But she had three of us, and none of us know who our father is,
and that just convinced me that men only want one thing and never take
responsibility for the wreckage they create."

   "So I'm wreckage?" asked Becca just as sourly.

   "Of course not." barked Gidget.  "I couldn't imagine the world without
you in it.  It's just so confusing when you bring men into the picture."

   "You know what I think?" asked Becca.  She knew her mother hadn't gone
out with a single man all the time she was growing up.  "I think you need
to get laid."

   Gidget's reaction was satisfyingly explosive.  She was so aghast she was
speechless.  Becca put up a hand, smiling.

   "See Mom?  Women know how to push buttons too.  It's not just men.  We
all do it to each other.  The trick is knowing what to do when your buttons
are pushed."

   Gidget was thinking of something appropriately harsh to set her daughter
straight with when she had the epiphany that her little girl wasn't so
clueless after all.  The harsh words died in her throat.

   "And you think you can control it when your buttons get pushed?" she
asked.

   "Probably not." admitted Becca, thinking back to how she felt when she
seduced her great grandfather.  He had even resisted and she couldn't wait
to go forward.  "But I can at least choose what kind of man I want to be
with when all those buttons get pressed.  And I think Denny is a nice man.
I'd like to get to know him better to find out for sure, but I'm pretty
sure he's a good guy." She kept going.  "You told me once that you loved my
father.  I don't know what happened, because you won't talk about it, but
if you loved him, and you love me, then maybe what happened wasn't so
terrible after all."

   Gidget was stunned.  Becca had noticed something she had known down
inside, but never admitted.  Her life HAD been pretty good, all things
considered.  Other than all those lonely nights, she really couldn't
complain about how things had turned out.  She tried to imagine what life
would have been like if her professor HAD gotten a divorce and married her.
Now that she was older, she knew in her heart of hearts that he would have
had affairs with other coeds.  He'd had two affairs while she was pregnant
with his child.  She had just chosen the wrong man, that's all.  Her dreams
of love and happiness had overshadowed her common sense.  And there HAD
been men in her life who HADN'T hit on her.  She had seen appreciation for
her in their eyes, but they had been polite enough to mask that interest
because she didn't return it.  She was still convinced that most of them
wanted to bed her ...  but some of them hadn't acted on that urge.

   "I suppose it wasn't at that." she admitted.

   "So I can ask him out?" asked Becca eagerly.

   Gidget felt herself stiffen and relaxed intentionally.  "I'm still
worried.  He's so much older than you.  And regardless of how strong you
think you are, a man has a way of getting under your skin ...  if not your
blouse." Gidget blushed.

   Becca felt the crack in her mother's obstinacy weakening.

   "What if somebody else went with us?  Would that help you not to worry
so much?"

   "A double date?" asked Gidget, suddenly interested.  That might actually
be a good idea.

   Becca grinned.  "Mom, people don't 'double date' any more.  That's
called hanging out.  You're showing your age."

   Gidget, sensitive to her age and the fact that while men still looked at
her hungrily, it wouldn't be all that long before she was sure they'd stop,
felt a surge of recalcitrance toward her daughter.  Then she smiled.

   "Okay, hanging out then.  You can go if one of your aunts hangs out with
you."

   "MOM!" Becca was horrified.  "You want me to take Aunt Polly or Aunt
Sunny on a DATE with me?"

   Gidget smiled a satisfied little smile.  She had unwittingly hit on the
very thing that would cancel the date.

   "That's right, young lady.  One of them has to go with you.  Then and
ONLY then will I approve."

   "I'm an adult, mother," said Becca acidly.  "I don't have to HAVE your
approval."

   "Yes dear," said Gidget sweetly, "but you're my baby too, and I know you
won't do anything that would hurt your poor old mother." She was remarkably
chipper as her mood improved.  She was just sure the date would never
happen now.  "Now, I have to go do some shopping.  We'll talk about this
later."

   Gidget hummed to herself as she drove off.  She might be getting up
there, but she still had it when it came to dealing with her daughter.

   Back at the house, Becca picked up the phone.  Her mother might not have
felt nearly so chipper if she'd have seen the smile on Becca's face.



   Becca knew instinctively that her Aunt Sunny was out of the picture. 
That left Polly.  She figured that her first hurdle was getting Aunt Polly
to agree to go with her under any circumstances.  Once that was
accomplished, and she had no idea yet whether she could pull it off, then
the next step was to ensure that someone else came along to occupy Polly's
time so she'd be too busy to keep a close eye on Becca.  It was a somewhat
nebulous kind of plan, without any firm foundation.  For that matter, she
didn't even know if Denny would consent to a date.

   But, as young girls do, she proceeded with step one of what could result
in a complete train wreck, and did it with both enthusiasm and the
conviction that everything would work out perfectly.

   "Your mother said what?" asked Polly when Becca had explained.

   "She says I can go on a date with this guy, but somebody ...  either you
or Aunt Sunny has to go with me."

   "Why on earth would she say that?  Who IS this man you want to go out
with?"

   "You remember at the hospital?  When we got searched?  You remember the
tall one named Denny?" Becca tossed out offhandedly.

   Polly laughed out loud.  "You can't be serious!  Why Becca, he's got to
be in his mid twenties."

   "Yes, but he's cute, and he wasn't wearing a wedding ring or anything,
and he was polite, even though we really were a handful." pointed out
Becca.

   Polly laughed again.  "You can say THAT again.  In fact, I was SEVERAL
handfuls for that other young man." Her laughter turned into a giggle.  "I
haven't had that much fun in years!  I'd almost forgotten how exciting it
was to have a man's hands on me."

   "As I recall you were complaining pretty loudly," said Becca.

   "Of course I was.  A woman has to keep up appearances.  But never mind.
I shouldn't be talking this way around you."

   "Aunt Polly," moaned Becca.  "I'm eighteen.  I can go out and do
whatever I want.  I'm an adult now.  Why won't anybody treat me like an
adult?"

   "You're right dear.  So why don't you just go out with him anyway?  Your
mother can't do anything about it.  You don't need me along."

   "Aunt Polly, you know I love my mother.  She'd have kittens if I did
that and it would be tense in the house for the rest of the summer.  I
don't want to go off to college in the fall with her still mad at me.  Come
on.  It would be fun."

   "Oh yeah what a lot of fun, watching you two neck or something from the
back seat." snorted Polly.

   "I could find someone else to go along ...  you know ...  kind of like a
double date?"

   Polly laughed again.  "Becca, I'm thirty-nine years old.  I'm married,
though Roger wouldn't care.  Who would want to take an old woman like me
out on a date?  Besides, I wouldn't know what to do.  It would be very
uncomfortable."

   "Not if you just talked and got to know each other.  Who knows?  You
might find a new friend," said Becca.  "Don't you know somebody who's
interesting that you'd like to get to know a little better?"

   "No I don't," said Polly.  "I'm busy with my career and taking care of
Frannie to let my eyes wander to things I shouldn't think about anyway. 
You'll just have to see if Sunny will go with you.  She's not married."

   "That won't work." sighed Becca.  "She about had a conniption fit when
Val said she wanted to go out with that detective guy.  She'd never agree
to go along with it."

   "Well, sugar, that's the biz," said Polly.  "Pick a younger guy and tell
your mother to butt out.  I gotta go honey, sorry." The connection went
dead.

   Becca wasn't about to give up though.  Denny was about the same
biological age as Bob, and after what she'd experienced with Bob, she had
no interest in trying that with some fumbling teenager.

   Next she called Val.

   First she asked Val how her date with the detective had gone.  The
cousins hadn't been able to get together since then and she was burning
with curiosity.

   "I can't talk about it right now." whispered Val.  "My mother's in the
next room."

   "Oh!  It was THAT good?" squealed Becca.

   "Ohhh Becca, you have NO idea."

   "I bet I do," said Becca defensively.

   "That reminds me," said Val, still whispering.  "I'm not mad at you any
more."

   "You were mad at me?" asked Becca.

   "Yes, about Grandpa ...  what you did with him."

   "Oh," said Becca.  "Why didn't you say anything?  I thought you'd be
happy for me."

   "I was, but I was jealous too.  But not any more.  If you hadn't done
that I probably wouldn't have gone out with Zack and I'm REALLY glad I went
out with Zack."

   "Wow Val, this sounds serious." breathed Becca.

   "It IS serious," said Val.  "I can't believe it myself.  Everything just
clicked or something.  I've never had an experience anything like it."

   That reminded Becca of why she'd called.  She explained the situation to
Val and asked if maybe Zack could get her Denny's number.

   "If Aunt Polly won't go along with it why bother?" asked Val.

   "I have an idea," said Becca.  "I don't know if it will work, but I at
least want to try it.  I really want to ask Denny to take me out."

   "What if he says no?" asked Val.  "I don't want you to get hurt."

   "You asked Zack out didn't you?  Were you worried about him saying no?"

   "Yes," said Val.  "I was scared half to death."

   "Well that's you.  I'm not too worried about it.  Besides, if he says no
then he's not the kind of guy I think he is and I won't want to go out with
him any more anyway."

   "You're too much," said Val.  "Hold on a minute."

   Becca heard the line go on hold and waited.  After what seemed like a
long time she came back on.

   "I got it." she said.  "But Zack says you can't tell anybody how you got
his number.  He said he only broke department rules because he's helpless
when I ask him for anything.  Isn't that sweet?"

   "I have GOT to hear about that date," said Becca.

   Val giggled and gave Becca the number.  "It's his cell phone.  Zack says
he carries it on duty, but won't answer it if he's busy.  You can leave him
a message on it too.  Good luck."



   Denny had just parked the car and Bob was putting on his new walking
shoes when Denny's cell phone rang.  His ring tone was "Another one bites
the dust".  He flipped it open.

   "Yeah?" he said.  He looked startled as he listened.

   "How did you get this number?" he asked.  He listened and then said "No,
I'm not mad ...  just surprised, that's all.  Believe it or not we were
just talking about you." He grinned and waved at Bob and June.  "I'm up in
the mountains visiting my sister and I ran into your great grandfather. 
Your grandmother is here too."

   He listened for a few seconds, and his smile got bigger.

   "Well, we were talking about you because your Grandmother said your mom
is close to having a stroke ...  what about? ...  I think you know what
about."

   Both June and Bob were standing alertly near Denny now.  They had both
figured out who he was talking to and were amazed.

   "What?...  " Denny looked stricken.  "You're kidding me, right? ...  Oh
good grief! ...  I haven't even heard anybody use the term 'double date'
since I was in Junior High School." Denny's gaze went unfocused.  "Brian?
...  Which one is she? ...  Oh, THAT one.  I have a feeling Brian will
cooperate.  But hey, Internal Affairs would probably frown on all this ...
it needs to be outside of Sacramento ...  Sure, I think it would be fun ...
okay ...  talk to you later."

   He flipped the phone closed and scratched his head.

   "That was Becca." he said.

   June gave an explosive "Hah!  I KNEW it!  What did she say?"

   "She said that her mother forbade her to go out with me unless it was on
a double date with one of her aunts," said Denny, grinning.

   Bob laughed out loud as June looked shocked.

   "Which one?" gasped June.

   "She says she's going to get Polly to go with us.  She wants me to set
her up with Brian, my partner."

   June looked even more shocked.  "But she's MARRIED!  And she's twice his
age!"

   "I remember her," said Denny.  "She was the one who said she was married
to a gay man, right?"

   "Yes, that's right." agreed June.  "But..."

   "And, as I recall, I had to scold them both during that search about
getting a little raunchy," said Denny.

   June's eyes popped.  "You're RIGHT!" she said.  "I remember now."

   "So, what do you think?" asked Denny.

   "I can't believe you'd seriously consider having Polly along," said
June. "Becca's an adult, like I said.  Why would you want to make this into
a dog and pony show?"

   "I'm a peace officer, Ma'am," said Denny grinning.  "We try to promote
domestic tranquility.  Becca's mother couldn't really complain if we did it
that way, now could she?"

   June laughed.  "It would serve her right too!" she hooted.  "But now
that I think about it, who would chaperone Polly and your partner?" She
grinned.

   "How serious could things get if her niece was right there with her?"
asked Denny.  "My intentions, of course, are strictly honorable, and I'd be
protecting her virtue too."

   June wrinkled up her eyes and squinted at Denny.  "You, young man, are a
dangerous ...  young man.  Maybe I should ride along for the fun too."

   "Sorry Ma'am," said Denny, trying to look contrite.  "As you well know,
my car only seats four."

   "Not if I sat between whoever's in the back seat," said June, leering.

   "June, leave the man alone," said Bob.



   After a two hour hike, during which both June and Bob kept up remarkably
well, Denny retired to his sister's cabin.  June was sore and asked Bob for
a rubdown.  That, of course, turned into him rubbing her in places that
weren't sore, including the inside of her vaginal canal.  They lay
together, spent, and cuddled until both realized how hungry they were. 
They fixed supper together and then talked for hours as June described her
life while Bob slept.  It was the first time the two of them had really had
time enough to talk about things in detail, and both enjoyed it immensely.

   Then, of course, they got hot and sweaty in bed, falling asleep together
after rolling apart, but still holding hands.

   Chapter 18

   The next morning June took Bob to see Doctor Adams.  This time Bob knew
where he was going and nobody noticed them in the building at all.  Dr. 
Adams had already had some tests run on Bob's blood, and on this day he had
a long list of various scans and other tests that they went through.  Adams
accompanied June and Bob to lunch, asking detailed questions about
everything Bob could remember about the day he had gone to sleep.  When
they got back to the hospital Adams did a DNA test on Bob.  Some of the
test results were back already, but none showed anything of interest,
except that Bob appeared to be a perfectly healthy twenty-five year old
male.  Even the scarring on his leg where a dog had bitten him as a young
boy appeared to be scar tissue that was no more than ten or fifteen years
old.  The x-ray of his teeth showed two small cavities, neither of which
could possibly have been there for more than a year and, according to the
oral surgeon Adams called in to consult, probably wouldn't even have been
noticed by an exam in 1950 due to the technology available at that time.

   It was clear to everyone who examined him that Bob had just stopped
aging for fifty years.  To see if being awake again had changed whatever
that amazing phenomenon was they took all kinds of measurements, even down
to the length of the hairs on Bob's arms.

   Everyone was extremely excited.



   Becca went to see her aunt this time, instead of calling her on the
phone.  She picked a time when Fran would be there, expecting her cousin to
bolster her cause.  She took Fran outside, as if she had come only to see
her, and explained everything to her.

   Fran listened, her face neutral.  Finally Becca was done.

   "So," said Fran.  "You want to hook my mom up with that young guy who
searched her." She didn't look happy.

   "Yes, isn't it cool?" gushed Becca.

   Fran didn't think it was cool at all.  It wasn't that she was disgusted
about her mother going out with a younger man.  She couldn't really
conceive of her mother on a date of any kind.  Living in a house with a
straight mother and a gay father had exposed Fran to a large number of
things.  Seeing her father with another man didn't shock her.  Her
relationship with him was, oddly, just about like any girl's relationship
with her father.  He loved her, and set rules for her, helped her with her
homework when he could and taught her how to play baseball and ride a bike.
He was, in her opinion, just like any other man, except that he got his
emotional kicks with men instead of her mother.  Her mother, on the other
hand, had not exhibited any sort of sexual drive for as long as Becca had
known her.  The first time she'd seen her mother acting sexual in any way,
shape or form was during the search that had brought this whole thing on.

   On top of that, like Val, she was jealous of Becca's experience with
Grandpa.  That Val had been out on a date with an older man too just made
it worse.  Val hadn't told her anything about what went on, on that date,
telling her she was too young to understand.

   That was the REAL problem.  Everybody around her thought she was too
young to do ANYTHING!  Yet she was curious too.  She got horny just like
her older cousins did.  She had dreams like they did.  And, in the same odd
quirk that seemed to affect all the Winkle women, she didn't have much
interest in men her own age.

   So, at this point in time, when Becca was trying to enlist her to help
get her mother to go on a date, Fran was a very frustrated young woman.

   "What's wrong?" asked Becca.  She knew her cousin intimately, and saw
the consternation on Fran's face.

   "I'll tell you what's wrong," said Fran heavily.  "Everybody else gets
to do fun things with men except me."

   "But you're just..."

   Fran cut her off with a shout.  "DON'T YOU TELL ME I'M ONLY SIXTEEN."
She lowered her voice when Becca shot a look at the front door.  "I know
how old I am.  Did you know my grandmother had Mom when she was only
fifteen?" Becca looked confused.  "And Aunt Martha had Aunt Sunny when SHE
was fifteen.  AND ...  YOUR grandmother had YOUR mother when SHE was
fifteen too!  None of THEM were too young to have fun with men!"

   Becca was shocked.  "Yes ...  okay ...  but that was way back then. 
None of OUR mothers had us until after they were out of High School."

   "I know that too," said Fran.  "But it's still not fair!  You and Val
get to have all the fun.  When will it be MY turn?"

   Becca may have only been two years older than her cousin, but two years
...  and the experience Becca had with Bob ...  made a pretty big
difference in how she looked at things.

   "You have plenty of time to catch up." she said, reaching out to touch
Fran's arm.  "Come on, I know you want to be all grown up, but don't try to
grow up too fast.  And don't be mad at us.  We can't help it if we're older
than you."

   "I'm not mad at you," said Fran dejectedly.  "I'm just jealous.  And now
you want my mom to go out and have fun too.  It just doesn't seem fair at
all, that's all."

   "So?  Go on some dates, silly." chided Becca.  "You're a good looking
girl.  I know boys are trying to chase you."

   "Are YOU going out with a boy your age?" asked Fran acidly.  "Did Val go
out with a man her age?  Are you trying to get my MOTHER to go out with a
man her age?"

   Becca blinked.  "Oh." was all she said.

   "Yeah ...  Oh!" said Fran meaningfully.  "Okay, here's the deal.  You
help me and I'll help you."

   "What do you mean?" asked Becca hesitantly.  "Who do you want to go out
with?"

   "I want to have some fun with Grandpa ...  like you did," said Fran.

   "No way!" squeaked Becca.  "He tried not to do anything with ME.  He'd
NEVER agree to do anything with YOU."

   "But if he would ...  you'd help me?" asked Fran.

   Becca didn't see any likelihood of that happening, so it didn't seem at
all dangerous to say "okay."

   Little could she know how momentous that simple "okay" would turn out.



   Inside, Polly had no idea that she was about to be blindsided.  Her
niece's attempt to get her to chaperone while double dating had been
something so far out that it had stuck in her mind.  Polly's life with men
hadn't been quite so tumultuous as her sisters' lives had been.  She loved
Roger when she married him, and still loved him, though probably in a
different way.  She was ...  comfortable with him.  She'd had several
experiences with men before Roger, and he seemed no different from them. 
If anything, Roger had spent more time - back when they still made love -
paying attention to her needs during intercourse than the others had.

   It had been complicated.

   He had actually been trying to "go straight" by marrying her.  What she
found out later was that whenever he was fucking her, he was thinking about
a man he liked.  When he'd finally confessed everything out of shame that
he was mistreating her, he hadn't even been able to get an erection with
her after that.  She'd been mad as hell initially, but because of Frannie,
both of them thought better of breaking up.  Since then she hadn't thought
much about men.  The men Roger hung out with, of course, weren't attractive
to her because she assumed (incorrectly) they were all gay too.  She had
looked at other men occasionally, and had spent many a night with her hands
between her legs for a while as she dreamed of being with some of them. 
But she never had the courage to make an overture, partly because it would
look like she was cheating, and partly because she was sure in the back of
her mind that the man she picked would probably turn out to be gay too. 
Eventually she left "men" behind in a way, convincing herself that sex was
way overrated anyway.  Instead, she poured her energy into her career and
her daughter.

   But that young policeman, sliding his hands all over her body at the
hospital, and his attention to her as a woman had reawakened something deep
inside Polly ...  a tiny little itch that kept wanting to be touched or
scratched.

   Now Becca's suggestion to double date had dangled hope like a carrot in
front of a donkey.  It had made something in Polly want to say "YES!", if
only the part of her that was bored to tears with work and the world in
general.  The idea of going out and having some fun in the company of a man
was attractive.  A bigger part of her was afraid to take the risk.  It had
made her moody, and she was still moody when Becca showed up to see Fran.
She was baking cookies.  She always did that when she was moody.  It
cheered her up.  She was thankful that Becca hadn't come in trying to
revive the idea.  It would have been much harder to say no again, for some
strange reason.

   She was therefore unprepared when Becca and her daughter came in from
outside and plunked themselves down at the kitchen table.

   "Uh oh," said Fran suddenly.

   "What?" asked Becca.

   "She's making cookies.  That means she's in a funk."

   "You shouldn't talk about people behind their back," said Polly smiling
a little.

   "I have to," said Fran airily.  "Your back is turned to us.  What's
wrong?"

   "Nothing," said Polly.  She didn't want to bring anything up with Becca
sitting right there.

   "You yell at me when I say that," said Fran.

   Polly turned to frown at her daughter.  Raising a teenager was
frightening sometimes.

   "This is different." she said stubbornly.

   "Oh, okay," said Fran.  "Can we have a cookie?"

   "No," said Polly shortly.  "It will ruin your dinner."

   "Dinner's not for hours." moaned Fran theatrically.

   Polly ignored her, putting another tray of cookies in the oven.

   Becca wasn't so sure things were going well enough to put her plan into
action.  Still, like most young women, she was too impatient to wait.

   "I called Denny." she said into the silence.

   Polly stiffened and then tried to relax.  She pushed away at the
fluttery feeling in her stomach.  "That's nice.  So you're going to go in
spite of your mother?" she said.

   "He won't go out with me," said Becca.

   Polly felt her heart lurch with empathy and turned around.

   "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

   "He won't go out with me unless I find a date for Brian too," said
Becca, watching Polly closely.  "You remember Brian?"

   Polly felt her breath catch in her chest and put one hand there.  For
SURE she remembered Brian.  His whisper in her ear after his hands had slid
all over her body had made her nipples tingle.  She had had to manufacture
the outrage she tried to display, when what she wanted to do was tell the
man he might have missed something and should probably search her again ...
more thoroughly.

   "Yes." came out of her mouth while she was preparing to say "Who?"

   "Denny says that he and Brian are partners, and they like to do things
together, even off duty.  He said it's kind of like being brothers.  And he
said he couldn't go off and leave Brian all alone some night while he went
out and had fun with me."

   Becca darted a look at Fran, who winked and nodded slightly.

   "It's too bad you don't want to go with me.  Would it be okay if Fran
went along?  She could be Brian's date.  My mother might agree to that."

   Polly felt faint and leaned against the stove with one hand.  It was hot
and she jerked her hand away.

   "Absolutely not!" she said.  "Frannie's too young to go out with an
older man like that.  You are too, young lady."

   "Mom" moaned Fran.  "Come on, Becca would be there to take care of me.
Nothing would happen.  Didn't you say he wanted to go miniature golfing
Becca?  What could possibly happen playing miniature golf Mom?"

   "You girls are in this way over your heads," said Polly earnestly. 
"Those are older men.  They've been with lots of women.  They're adults and
they'd want to treat you like adults.  But you're NOT adults.  No.  I can't
allow this."

   "Well then," said Becca sadly, "Maybe I can get one of my friends to go
with him.  Mom won't like it, but that's just too bad.  I want to go on a
real date with a real man.  If mom kicks me out can I at least stay here
until school starts?"

   If Polly would have had the control to look at Becca closely, she would
have seen that Becca's expression just didn't quite match her sad comments.
She might also have noticed that her own little girl had a small smile on
her face, after being denied the chance to do something she apparently
wanted to do.

   But Polly wasn't looking at the girls.

   What Polly was looking at in her mind's eye was two young girls out with
two experienced men.  What that looked like in her mind's eye was two sets
of naked male buttocks bounding up and down between two sets of slim
teenaged legs.

   "No!" gasped Polly.  Then her mind caught up to the last thing Becca had
said.  Her motherly instincts kicked in on top of her own desire to do
something crazy and she blurted "I'll do it!  I'll go with you."

   Becca was out of her chair in an instant and she smothered her aunt with
hugs and kisses, thanking her profusely.  It wasn't until Polly shoved her
away laughing that Fran remembered the role she was still supposed to be
playing.

   "Damn!" she said, not too loudly.  "I never get to do ANYTHING!"

   Polly's eyes flashed as she lit into her daughter for cursing.  Fran was
so pleased with her acting that she had to put her hands in her face to
keep her mother from seeing her grin.  Polly, of course, thought she was
crying and dropped into the role of consoling mom.

   "Don't cry honey ...  you'll get your chance.  I promise.  Tell you what
...  if this date with Becca works out, and I go on any more, maybe you and
I can double date."

   Fran didn't have to act to put horror on her face as she raised it.

   "MOM!" she gasped.

   Polly looked shocked and then unaccountably she felt giddy.  She was
going on a date with a handsome man, and her very own niece was going to be
there to make sure it was only a date.  She wasn't even incensed at her
daughters obvious repulsion at the idea of going out to have fun with her
mother.

   "Never mind.  You'll have hundreds of dates soon ...  THOUSANDS of
dates!" said Polly.  She skipped and did a twirl as she swung the oven open
and grabbed a pot holder to pull out the cookies.

   "Would you girls like a cookie?" she asked gaily.



   As it became clear to the media that they weren't going to get the front
page story they were all hoping for, Bob's case faded into the background.
Negotiations with Amalgamated were done with an almost fanatical attitude
of secrecy, in which Bob was required to keep the settlement secret.  Bob
insisted that, since no one knew why he had gone to sleep, and that it
might happen again, and that no insurance company in the world would insure
him at this point in time, Amalgamated would have to leave his policy in
place.  Those negotiations were rocky until Bob agreed that the policy
would only cover him until the year 2040, at which point he would be
sixty-five ...  sort of.  When it came to the twenty million, the company
wanted to pay the settlement as an annuity, saying that any family could
easily live on twenty-thousand dollars a month.  They would, of course,
invest the remainder.  Gus pointed out that they might actually make money
on that deal, especially if Bob died for some reason.  He also pointed out
that the company had, on more than twenty occasions in the past, paid
insurance claims in cash that were even larger than the settlement, and
that the company would not suffer if they paid a lump sum.

   The most humorous part of the whole deal was when someone asked Bob what
account the money should be transferred into.  He'd expected a check, and
everybody in the room laughed when he asked about that.  Electronic
transfers were explained and Bob thought, for the first time since
awakening, about bank accounts.  He knew that his account with Valerie had
been closed before her death.  She had transferred the money in it to an
account with only her name on it because that was easier.  But Bob, when
he'd gone to sleep, had a Christmas account at a different local bank,
which was still in business.  Inquiries revealed it was still active.  It
was in both his and Martha's names and had been completely forgotten by
Valerie.  There had been $15.25 in the account when Bob went to sleep.  The
bank, as banks do, watched over the money faithfully and the account now
had $174.13 in it, fifty years later.

   Since that was the only account Bob had, and since it was easier to use
that instead of opening a new account and having to explain the situation,
Bob simply gave them that number.

   On a Thursday afternoon, in high summer, Bob had Betty take him back to
Circleton.  She had some things to do at home.  He walked to the Circleton
Savings and Loan ...  just to check and make sure he was, in fact, a
millionaire.  He didn't want a fuss, and knew the chances were there would
be, so he asked to speak to the president of the bank.  That personage, he
was told, was not available.  He was home, recuperating from an illness. 
Bob was questioned closely when he asked for whoever was in charge, but
refused to say anything except "I am a customer of the bank." He was shown
into Tiffany McFleur's office by a nervous employee, who kept glancing at
an unusually alert security guard.  Bob had had enough experiences with
security guards, and the first thing he did was hand his 1950's era
driver's license to Tiffany.  She stared at it, went pale, and sat down. 
The security guard was at the door instantly, his hand on his pistol and
Bob, ready this time, put both arms up in the air.

   Tiffany gasped and waved frantically at the guard.  "You will NOT be
needed Frank." she managed.  Frank looked worried and his glance went from
Bob, with his hands still in the air, to Tiffany, who was standing again.
When the wire had come in making the deposit that quintupled the bank's
assets, the place had gone crazy.  Her boss, Myron, had "an episode of
unusual excitement" as they were calling it, and was sent home.  Tiffany
had done her research and knew all about Bob.  "Frank, come in here and sit
down." she said firmly.  She knew Frank well enough to know that he
suspected she had just been handed some kind of threatening note.  She
thrust the license at him.  "Look at this." she ordered.

   Bob let out a soft sigh and straightened his arms even more stiffly
above his head.

   Frank edged into the room, keeping his eyes on Bob, and tried to keep
doing that while he tried to read the license.  Bob looked to see who was
watching, and sighed with relief that the blinds were drawn.

   "Shit!" said Frank as it finally sank in.  He'd been involved in getting
Myron out of the building when he had his breakdown, and had been clued in
to the events that precipitated it.

   "Can I put my hands down now?" asked Bob.

   "Yes SIR!" said Frank, jerking his hand away from his sidearm.  "I'm
REALLY sorry Sir," he said, sidling toward the door.  It was just a little
mistake, Sir." he gasped.  "I'll just go on about my business now Sir." He
fled, pulling the door closed firmly behind him.

   "Thank you," said Bob.  "Security guards and I seem to affect each other
like cats and dogs."

   "PLEASE sit down," said Tiffany weakly.  "I'm pleased to meet you." she
said helplessly.  In her memory, the biggest depositor in the Circleton
Savings and Loan had just over seven hundred thousand dollars in the bank.

   "I don't want to be a pest," he said, "but I got a settlement from an
insurance company recently and just wanted to check and make sure it got
here."

   "Oh, it got here," said Tiffany, able to breathe again.

   "Good," said Bob.  "Do you suppose I could get some checks or
something?"

   Tiffany let out an emotional explosive laugh that threatened to turn
into a full fledged boo hooing jag.  The thought of what Myron had looked
like as he was dragged babbling from the bank sobered her.

   "Mister Winkle, believe me when I tell you, you can have anything you
want." she said.

   "I'm kind of famous," said Bob, glancing at her hand and seeing a ring
indicating that she was married.  He felt bad about assuming she had meant
he could have her too if he wanted.  "I'd sort of like to avoid problems
with the public."

   "I'll take care of everything myself," said Tiffany.  "Would you like
some coffee or something while you wait?"

   "I'm fine," said Bob.  "Thanks."

   Tiffany scuttled out of the door, closing it behind her.  There was a
discreet knock and Frank stuck his head hesitantly in the door when it
opened.

   "Uh ...  I sort of forgot this." he said, handing Bob's license back.

   "No problem," said Bob, smiling.

   "Uh ...  I've got a kid at home ...  do you suppose I could get your
autograph for him?" asked Frank, blushing.

   "Sure," said Bob grinning.  He got up and went to Tiffany's desk where
he'd seen a pad of note paper.  He took a pen from an ornate holder and
signed his name with a flourish.  He handed it to Frank and said "Tell him
to take care of it.  That's the very first autograph I ever signed."

   "Wow," said Frank in awe.  "Thanks!"

   Bob only had time to look at some of the motivational posters on
Tiffany's wall before she was back with a leather checkbook cover in her
hand.

   "These will get you started." she said breathlessly.  "We have your
address and you'll get several more boxes of checks in the mail.  Feel free
to have your accountant contact me to make arrangements for business checks
or whatever you need."

   "Thank you," said Bob, smiling.

   She handed him a small rectangular card in a little paper sleeve.

   "I went ahead and opened a credit card account for you.  It's our bank
card."

   Bob pulled the card out of the sleeve and looked at it.

   "What do I do with this?" he asked.

   Tiffany swallowed as she realized they hadn't had credit cards when this
man went to sleep.  "You present it for purchase and the vendor takes it as
if it were money.  Then they charge the bank directly for the purchase, and
you pay us back later."

   "So I can only use it once?" asked Bob.

   Tiffany stared at him.

   "You said they take it from me like it was money," said Bob.

   Tiffany blushed.  "No, that's not what I meant.  There's a machine that
can read the card and it takes the information and charges it to your
account.  Then they give the card back."

   "Oh," said Bob, "So I don't want to leave this lying around."

   "Oh no!" said Tiffany, beginning to think she was talking to a seven
year old.  "You need to be very careful who you give this to.  It should
only be someone you trust."

   "I think I'll just write checks," said Bob trying to hand the card back
to Tiffany.

   Tiffany grunted in frustration.  "Look, hold on to it for a while.  Some
vendors don't like to take a check and you might need it.  Just be careful
with it and don't lose it.  If you do lose it please call us right away. 
okay?" she asked hopefully.

   Bob looked at the card doubtfully, but then slid it in his pocket. 
"Okay." he said.

   "Is there anything else?" she asked anxiously.  "I could introduce you
to Bob Pryor, he's our investment counselor."

   "I don't know too much about all this banking stuff," said Bob.

   "He could help you set up investments so you could make more money,"
said Tiffany helpfully.

   "I think I HAVE enough money," said Bob wryly.

   Tiffany was shocked.  You could NEVER ...  EVER ...  have enough money.
Everybody knew that.  The shine on her view of Bob was dimmed a little
more.

   "Well, have your money manager contact us then.  I'm sure we can work
with him to your satisfaction on CDs, IRAs, mutual funds, money markets or
anything else you might be interested in." Tiffany put on her best
completely fake smile.

   Bob nodded, noticing that the smile did not go to her eyes.

   "Sure thing." he said.  "Thanks again."

   "Thank YOU, mister Winkle," said Tiffany again.

   Bob decided to get out of the bank before anybody else fell all over
themselves to thank him for something.  He'd have to ask Martha what the
hell a money manager was.  Why would someone need to manage money?  You
either had it, or you didn't.  He knew all about paying bills at the end of
the month, but that didn't take anything special.  You had a budget and you
tried to stay within it.  He was an accountant, and knew about stocks and
bonds, but what was a money market?  Was that someplace you went to buy
money?  Why would anybody want to do that?  He had a sinking feeling that
being rich wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought it would be.

   He went back to Betty's house and browbeat her into taking him to the
DMV so he could take the test and get a new driver's license.  He was tired
of having to be taken everywhere.  He was also thinking about buying a car
of his own.  His '38 Desoto, a hand-me-down from his father when he got
married, was long gone.

   When Betty saw the line at the DMV she said she was going to walk back
home.  She had laundry to do and didn't want to wait.

   "If you flunk the test, call me and I'll come get you." She grinned, but
wasn't worried.

   Oddly enough, the only trouble he had at the DMV was from the overly
chipper lady who asked for his old driver's license.  When he presented it,
she got suspicious, then surly.  Bob didn't want to make a scene, but when
he found out she intended to keep the license - "Old licenses are forfeit
to the State upon renewal" she quoted from the law - he snatched it out of
her hand.  It was one of the few things he had from the days he remembered
best.  The no longer chipper lady got demanding and then downright
intractable when Bob refused to surrender the license.

   Finally a supervisor came over to see what the hubbub was about.  Miss
Chipper, who Bob now thought of as "The old battle axe" started quoting
rules and regulations right and left.  Her crowing blow was supposed to be
that, according to his "previously issued license" his date of birth put
him at seventy-five years old, which, of course, required a doctor's
release for him to continue driving ...  which, she pointed out ...  he did
NOT have.

   The supervisor looked at Bob and said "Hey, I know you." The supervisor,
an old broken down CHiPs officer waiting for retirement took Bob out
himself.  He basically had Bob drive around for half an hour while they
talked.  For the first time, being famous worked out for Bob.  He left with
his old license AND his new one after enduring a lecture from Miss Chipper,
who had now been renamed Miss Pouter, on how he must never ever present the
old license as identification from this point on.

   Chapter 19

   When he got back to Betty's there was a note on the refrigerator saying
she had gone over to Martha's to borrow something and would "be back soon."
He thought back to a place he had driven by on the way home.  It wasn't too
far.  He'd just walk up there and see what he could do about having his own
car.  He left Betty a note saying he'd gone on his own errand and might
have a surprise for her when he got back.

   The place he'd seen was the car lot in Circleton owned by "Rascal Rick",
whose name was proudly displayed on a sign big enough to park a bus on,
along with the emblazoned motto "Rascally Good Deals" in big red letters.
Bob chose it because they sold Chevrolet's.  In fact, he was met when he
walked in by Rascal Rick himself.  Rascal Rick looked the part.  He had a
big belly that hung out over his belt and made him look startlingly
pregnant.  His snow white handlebar moustache hung down clear past his chin
and, with the white cowboy hat on his head, framed his rose tinted glasses.
Rick used to chew tobacco, but it stained the tips of his facial hair, so
he'd given that up and chewed gum now.  He had a bulbous red nose that
suggested, based on the tiny blue lines that seemed to criss cross it, that
he knew good bourbon and rarely said no to an ounce or two ...  or ten.

   Rick was a hearty, friendly fellow, one of those back slapping, loud
talking, draw-attention-to-himself sorts of guys.  He was that way
naturally, which was good, because he didn't make diddly on cars these
days. All that crap that the Great State of California made them put on the
cars he sold made them three or four thousand more to buy than in
neighboring Nevada.  You could breathe the air in California, which was
good if you didn't have major moolah, because you were walking in all that
fresh air on account of how you couldn't afford to buy a car.  Besides,
neither movie stars or wannabe movie stars bought Chevies.

   No, in fact, if Rascally Rick made five or six hundred dollars clear on
a new Chevy, he called that a good sale.  If he got the buyer to finance it
through any of his several financial partners, it was a GREAT sale.  That
was because Rascally Rick got a kick back on each car that was financed
with them because THEY made a killing by lending money to buy a new car. 
Take, for instance, the average $35,000 loaded mini van.  With no money
down, which sounded like a great deal, but wasn't, you could hop in your
brand spanking new Rascally Rick minivan and drive away happily, knowing
you could afford your payment.  Of course nobody ever actually added it all
up.  If they had, at the end of those five years, which also sounded like a
good deal, but wasn't, they'd have found out they actually paid closer to
$43,000 for that car, which was worth, at the end of five years, about
seven or eight thousand bucks, depending on how many miles were on it.

   So the thousand dollars he got for every sucker he conned into financing
a new car was actually more than he made on the car itself.

   Rascally Rick was, in fact a rascal.  He'd most lately figured out that,
if you got a down payment of a couple grand, and then sort of forgot to
actually add that into the calculations mathematically, most people just
didn't notice.  You had a line on the finance paperwork that clearly said
"Down Payment : $3,000.00" But that three big ones wasn't actually deducted
anywhere from the price of the car.  If there were factory rebates in the
deal, that messed up the accounting even more.  Making sure that dealer
prep and transportation costs and every possible thing was listed in the
contract also helped.  And, if you got caught, you loudly cursed the
computer for letting you put things in the wrong box, moved it to where you
should have put it in the first place, and smiled your great big whiskery
Rascal Rick smile.  If it was a woman who had caught you, you called her
"little lady", regardless of her age.  If it was a man, you called him
"Stud" if he was under about forty and "Compadre" if he was over that.

   This was the lion-occupied den that Bob sauntered into that afternoon.

   "Welcome to Rascal Rick's, home of rascally good deals." boomed Rick
effusively.  "I'm Rick.  To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking here?"

   Bob, raised to be polite, stuck out his hand.  "Bob." he said.  He had
adopted an aversion to using his last name lately.

   "Well now Bob, what kind of beautiful new car can I put you in today?"

   "What have they done with the Chevy Styleline lately?" asked Bob.  "I've
always wanted a Styleline Deluxe two door convertible."

   Rick had no idea that a Chevrolet Styleline Deluxe was a model of car
produced by Chevrolet in the forties, or that there had been the whopping
(for that day) sum of 32,392 made in 1949, the year model Bob had seen
last. He didn't know that the car Bob was asking about had a selling price
brand new of $2,297.00, which is why Bob wanted one.  He had money now.  He
wanted an expensive car.  In 1949 you could buy any number of brand new
cars for less than a thousand dollars.

   But Rascal Rick was a pro.  He heard the words "two door convertible",
which to him meant Camaro, since Bob didn't quite look like the Corvette
type to Rick.  And, it being California and all, Rick had three Camaro rag
tops on his lot.  Smiling his rascally smile, he waved his hand toward the
side door and said "Stud, this is your lucky day!  I have exactly the car
you're looking for!"

   Bob had seen modern automobiles, of course.  He was aware that they
looked much different than they had back in 1950.  In fact, the sheer
quantity of different brands, styles, and colors made them all turn in to a
blur for the most part.  Once in a while one stuck out and Bob would
examine it, but for the most part, after his initial gaping, he ignored
them.

   He didn't ignore the Camaro Rick showed him, though.  He fell in love
with it instantly.  He almost salivated as Rick showed him all the
features, putting the top down and then back up and then down again.

   "Sit in it!" urged Rick.  "Try her on for size."

   Bob sat.  He put his hands on the wheel.  Rick showed him how to push a
little lever that let the steering wheel go up or down so that it was most
comfortable.  It had electric seats too, something Bob would never have
thought about.

   "If you have a suitable deposit I can let you take her for a spin."
teased Rick.

   Bob looked up at him, squinting in the sun.

   "Why don't I just buy it.  Then I can drive it all I want."

   "A man after my own heart." gushed Rick.  "Come on inside stud.  I have
a financing deal that's going to make you piss your pants with joy.  I can
put you in that sweet baby for less than five hundred a month!"

   Bob got out and walked back to the sales room with Rick.

   "Can't I just pay for it and be done with it?" asked Bob.

   "Sure can stud!" snickered Rick.  "Let me get the card on that car and
I'll see what the damage is."

   Rick sat down and dug through a box, pulling out a card.  He got out a
form and began filing in blanks on it.  With the base price and the options
that were already on the car, the price came to a little over thirty
thousand.  Rick looked at the sucker and put a "1" in front of the figure
for dealer prep.  People hardly understood that.  If they asked questions
Rick just said it was part of getting a car ready to drive in California.
Everybody knew how California screwed the owners of cars.

   He wrote the total at the bottom with a flourish and turned the form
towards Bob.

   "There's the cost on that one.  You picked a good one ...  lots of
popular options for this part of the country and with the financing deal I
can offer you I can..."

   Bob held up his hand.  He looked at Rick and then back at the paper.

   "I only wanted one car." he said.  "Not the whole lot full."

   Rick's eyes went narrow.  "Son, I'm making you a hell of a deal on that
car.  There's no need to be sarcastic.  As you can clearly see here," he
pointed to boxes on the form, "that is the base price right there, and
these are the options on the car.  Then there's the shipping and handling
from the factory.  I may be getting on in years, but my math is fine.  That
car costs exactly thirty-two thousand seven hundred eighteen dollars and
seventy-three cents.  Now that doesn't include sales tax, of course, but
you can't finance the sales tax.  I have to have the sales tax up front.

   Bob blinked.  "May I borrow your phone?" he asked.

   Rick frowned and nodded toward the phone.  Bob called Betty.  "Hi honey"
he said into the phone.  "Is it possible for a car to cost as much as
thirty thousand dollars these days?" He waited as Rick gaped.  "Really? ...
THAT much?  Who in the world would spend that much for a car? ...  okay ...
no, everything's fine.  I'm just looking at a car and it seemed to cost an
awful lot ...  okay, I'll see you later.  Bye." He handed the phone back to
Rick, who was looking at him oddly.

   "Okay," said Bob.  "I'll take it."

   "Well, that's right nice," said Rick carefully.  "Now, about the
financing..."

   "Can I just write you a check?" asked Bob, pulling out his brand new
checkbook.

   "For thirty some-odd thousand dollars?" asked Rick.  For the first time
he got the feeling he was missing something important here, and that it was
quite possible he wasn't going to be happy when he found out about it.  If
this guy was an escapee from some mental institution, there could be
trouble.  "Of course I'll have to check with the bank to make sure
everything's okay." he said smoothly.

   "Sure," said Bob.  The idea that anybody could sit down and actually
write a check for that much money had him a little numb.  He carefully
printed where he had been taught to print, and put numbers where he had
been taught to put numbers.  Then he signed his name in his usual illegible
scrawl.  It didn't occur to him that his name and address were not printed
anywhere on the check.  He looked up.  "What should I put here?" he asked,
putting his pen on the payee line.

   "Ah ...  I have a stamp," said Rick.  He accepted the check and peered
at it closely.  In her excitement, Tiffany had grabbed the usual starter
kit, which started with check number 0001.  Rick now was convinced that
something flaky was going on.  He picked up the phone, trying to remember
where that damned .25 automatic was that his wife had insisted he keep in
the store for protection.  He hadn't even seen the damn thing in months.

   "Hello, yes, this is Rick, down at Rascal Rick's.  Do you suppose I
could have a teeny little word with Tiffany?" Rick had done business with
the Circleton Savings and Loan for years.  Their kickback for financing
transactions was lower than some of the others, which was why they got less
of his business.  Still, he knew Tiffany.  She came on the line and he
explained that he needed to verify funds for a starter check.  She said he
could already have done that if he hadn't bothered her and made her stop
doing something important.  He explained it was a starter chek for over
thirty grand, and there was silence.  Then she asked him if the account
number on the check was 15668-23390 and he said it was, in fact.

   Tiffany had been raised in a Navy family, and she used every curse word
and epithet she had ever heard in informing Rascal Rick that if he caused
their client ANY discomfort in ANY way whatsoever, or overcharged him even
ONE penny, that the bank's relationship with Rascal Rick's would be
terminated faster than he could say "Rascally Rick".  Nor would funds ever
be available to him for credit again.  In fact, she threatened to buy the
mortgage on his home loan personally and foreclose if he made the man
sitting in his office unhappy.

   Rick tried his always winning style.  "Come on Tiffy, all I wanted to do
was verify funds.  You're getting all excited over nothing.  If he's got
the funds, he's got the funds, right?"

   "You lame brained swindler!" shouted Tiffany.  "That man could buy and
sell you and me and the whole bank.  You send ME the bill for whatever car
he wants and I'll pay it.  And I'm going to have the contract gone over
with a fine tooth comb Rick, so don't try any of your normal crap!  I'm not
fucking around with this Rick.  You give the man the keys and kiss his ass
goodbye.  And fill it up for him before he takes it anywhere, do you hear
me Rick?"

   Shaken by her vehemence, Rick did exactly as she told him to do.  He
walked out of his office and handed the keys and the check to Bob.  "Uh,
your bank will take care of everything.  You don't have to write the check
after all." Then he handed him a card that was good for one fillup at a gas
station down the street.  "Just give that to the guy in the window and that
will take care of your first tank of gas."

   Bob smiled and got up.  "Thanks." he said, heading for the lot, and his
new car.  Rick was so upset that he forgot to put a temporary plate on the
Camaro.  Oh well, the guy would be back sooner or later to get it. 
California's finest would be quick to convince him of that.

   Bob had driven before, of course.  But what he'd driven most recently
had been either four cylinder sedans, or six cylinder minivans.  His own
Desoto had been powered by a flathead six cylinder motor with 82
horsepower.

   His new Camaro was supercharged, and developed 253 horsepower.  It was a
four speed automatic.  It had Goodyear Eagles on it when he bought it, with
a total tread depth of eleven thirty-seconds inches.  When he pulled out of
the lot and stepped on the gas, he left a cloud of white smoke and about
four seconds-seconds of an inch of rubber in pretty wavy lines for about
half a block.  He was trembling when he finally got the car stopped.

   On the way home, he figured out how to keep the car from making those
wavy black lines on the road.  Now he could make them straight.

   Rascal Rick watched the news that night, and finally found out the
identity of the man he'd sold the Camaro to.  The man was on the news.  In
fact, he was on the news twice.  The lead story involved the interview of a
former security guard of the Amalgamated Indemnity of America company who
complained that he got fired for doing his job, while "that Rip Van Winkle
creep" got twenty million dollars for making threatening movements.  There
was a picture of Bob, the same one that was on his new driver's license,
and the "breaking news" of a settlement between "Rip Van Winkle" and
Amalgamated Indemnity of America.  The announcer took great glee in winking
and telling the audience that the deal between Amalgamated and Bob Winkle
was "secret".

   The second story was about how California's finest had, indeed, pulled
"California's newest multimillionaire" over.  The same photograph was
flashed on Rick's screen again.  They wrote him a ticket for not having a
license tag, and being unable to provide proper registration and proof of
insurance.  But mostly it was for driving a hundred and twenty in a
fifty-five zone.  The car had been seized, but later released, according to
the State Trooper who was interviewed on camera and said "He's a nice guy.
He just wasn't used to the car." Then it was back to the anchor woman who
flashed a smile and a little innuendo about the privileges of being
wealthy. Smiling the whole time, she ruined Rick's day.  He had four
Corvettes on his lot too.



   Bob had, in fact, been escorted back to Betty's house by a trooper
earlier in the evening.  He got a good natured lecture from the young
woman, in the driveway while Betty came out to see what was wrong.  Bob
told her to call her sisters and have them come over because he had
something important to tell them.

   Betty made the calls while Bob chatted with the trooper, who asked for
his autograph before she left and waved at him as she drove away.  In
Martha's case, Sunny was there when Betty called, so she naturally called
her cousins.  The younger cousins found out from their mothers that
something was up, and as it turned out, all nine of the women were together
when Bob informed them that his estate had grown considerably.  Since Bob's
former "estate" had consisted mostly of stuff up in Martha's attic, the
change affected the women rather dramatically.

   "We're millionaires?" asked Sunny weakly.

   "Your GRANDFATHER is a millionaire." corrected her mother.

   Bob held up his hands.  "Look, I don't want there to be any fussing
about this.  You all took care of me for fifty years.  Now I can return the
favor.  I don't want you to all go out and go on a spending spree, but at
the same time I don't want any of you to have to scrimp and save to get
something you need." He frowned.  "I already went out and bought a car, and
I probably shouldn't have.  I should have consulted with you all first.  I
don't know anything about cars and I probably got the wrong one.  That
lovely young State Trooper thinks so.  The woman at the bank said something
too that I didn't understand ...  something about money markets and
accountants and all that, and I don't know anything about that.  What I
know is that, if we treat this money like a limited resource, it will last
all of us for a long long time, and that's what I'd like to happen."

   "So," said Martha, "No mansions, no sports cars, no movie star
lifestyle" She looked around at everyone.  "We go on like we were, with
some improvements and maybe a little redecorating."

   June spoke.  "This would be a good chance to start a family business."
she offered.

   "I'd love to quit my job," said Gidget.  "To have my own business, I
mean ...  or a family business, like you said Mom.  If I'm going to control
inventory, I'd like it to be ours, instead of my boss's."

   Sunny, who was a bookkeeper for an industrial plant outside of town
nodded.  "I've been thinking about taking some night classes, to get my
accounting degree.  Why should we hire an accountant if one of us can do
that?"

   "I was an accountant." commented Bob.  "I can't imagine that much has
changed, but if it has maybe we could go to school together ...  you know,
help each other with our homework."

   There was talk of investments.  No one in the family owned any stocks or
bonds but Fran was in the investment club at school.  Their investments,
though only on paper, had been in the black for two years and Fran knew
that the teacher who was the club sponsor had contacts in the investment
world.

   The odd thing was that none of them, including Bob, could think of
anything that they were just dying to run out and buy.  Things were
mentioned, to be sure, but other than "a pair of shoes to go with that
dress I bought last month and haven't worn yet" and "Maybe I can fix that
running toilet now" and "It's time for tires for the Bronco" everything
somebody brought up was then tossed aside as something "I don't really need
anyway."

   Nothing was decided, except to all go out for ice cream together.  They
went to a neighboring tourist area on the Indian reservation, where no one
knew them and sat around at tables pulled together, having frozen desserts
of one kind or another and talking more about different ideas for a family
owned business.  They spent two hours in animated discussions before
deciding to head back to Circleton for a celebratory meat loaf dinner at
Martha's.

   The news vans were back when they got back home.

   Bob had taken his daughters for ice cream in his new car, with the top
down and a lot of giggling going on.  On the way back, Fran claimed the
front seat, and Val and Becca climbed in the back, having just as much fun
as their grandmothers had.  It was dark by the time they got back home and
that was probably why Bob had a chance to get away.  When he saw the van
sitting in front of Betty's house, where they had all left from, he turned
into an alley.  Like a well rehearsed maneuver, the van with the older
women in it went on to Betty's, where they got out and hurried inside. 
Sunny, driving her Bronco, drove slowly by and went to her mother's house,
where another news van was camped out.  She didn't stop, but went on to her
own house.  It was being surveilled too.  It didn't take long to figure out
that all six houses were being watched, waiting for the big break that each
eager news crew hoped to be able to capitalize on.  They arrived at
Gidget's house last, and decided to run the gauntlet there.  Once inside
they called Betty, unsure of what to do.  Martha answered the phone.

   "Just stay there," said Martha.  June and Betty and I are going to stay
here."

   "What about Grandpa?" asked Sunny.  "And the girls?"

   "They can take care of themselves.  Betty thinks he'll just take them to
the cabin, since nobody seems to know about that yet."

   "Okay," said Sunny doubtfully.

   It would have been interesting to be a fly on the wall in either of
those two houses ...  or in the cabin later, where Bob was indeed headed.

   With the women all grouped in their own generational age groups, the
talk about the family's sudden access to wealth took on a slightly
different tone.  Each generation had their own interests, and they had now
had time to contemplate that sudden access to wealth.

   The differences between the discussions that went on that night could
also be viewed as generational.  Betty, June and Martha had been thinking
about trying to live on Social Security for some time.  The worries
associated with that prospect suddenly vanished, or at least became much
less intimidating.

   For their daughters, money meant an opportunity to live free from the
strictures of having to report to a job where they made money for somebody
else.  It represented freedom from having to kowtow to the boss.  But only
if it was managed into a situation where whatever business they entered
into was a success.

   For the younger cousins, it meant access to educational opportunities
that had not been an option before this.  They didn't quite have the
foresight to envision being part and parcel of a family owned business, or
what their roles in such an endeavor might be.  But the worn out phrase
"You can be anything you really want to be in America." seemed a lot more
realistic to them now that they could go to any institute of higher
learning they wanted to.

   The most interesting aspect of all this was that the attitude, despite
their difference in age, was remarkably similar.  All of them, at one time
or another, had been in a financial crunch, or in an immediate family that
was in the midst of a financial crunch.  All of them viewed Bob's sudden
wealth as something that could do them all a lot of good, but which could
also be soaked up like rain into the desert if it wasn't protected.  For
that reason, the urge to go out and spend money like it grew on trees just
didn't surface in any of them.



   Only Becca had been to the cabin thus far, and the other two girls were
excited at the adventure they found themselves on when Bob announced that
was where he was taking them.

   Val, perhaps because she thought a LOT about her date with Zack, was the
one who pointed out that they didn't have any clothes with them for an
overnight stay.

   It was the lack of greed and avarice in the younger girls that prompted
them to do just what they'd have done before Bob had big bucks.  None of
them thought of living high on the hog at a fancy hotel.

   "Stop at that Wal-Mart!" shouted Val, pointing.

   Twenty minutes later the trunk of the Camaro was stuffed with white bags
that held clothing, toothbrushes and various other health and beauty items,
and groceries to make the girls' favorite dinners.  There was a good
natured argument about which favorite dinner would be prepared that night
when Bob reminded them that they'd probably only spend one night in the
cabin, and might not even be there for more than dinner tonight and
breakfast tomorrow.  They resolved the argument by seniority.  Bob told Val
to choose the main dish and she picked Lasagna hamburger helper.  Becca got
to choose the green beans as the vegetable and Fran insisted on making a
tossed salad.  When they actually began preparing the meal, the table ended
up loaded with those items, plus carrots, garlic bread, cottage cheese,
black olives and a two bottles of wine that Bob produced.  They had been
buy one - get one free.

   "Can I have some too?" asked Fran.

   "One glass," said Bob sternly.

   Fran promptly went through all the cupboards to find the biggest glass
she could and turned around to present it to Bob.

   "Here." she said smiling.

   "That's a little big for a little girl," said Bob, teasing.

   "I'm NOT a little girl!" said Fran, her face darkening.  "WHEN will
people stop calling me a little girl?!" she said, her voice getting louder.

   Bob held up both hands.  "Okay, okay," he said, using the new term he'd
learned from hearing all the women use it.  "I was just teasing."

   "Well don't!" said Fran.  "I'm almost a woman and I'm tired of it."

   Val rolled her eyes at Becca, who rolled hers back theatrically.  Both
put on a straight face when Fran shot dark looks at them.

   Fran drank the wine Bob poured her like it was water, mostly because she
was still mad.  It hit her empty stomach like a time bomb with an extremely
quick timer, and by the time dinner was ready she was giggling and having
to concentrate to walk straight.  Thankfully, getting some food in her
helped and soon she was just extra mellow.  Still, her inhibitions were
lowered.

   "So," she asked through a mouthful of hamburger helper, "What are we
going to do after supper?"

   "Is there a TV?" asked Becca.

   "No TV," said Bob.  The meal was delicious.  This hamburger helper stuff
was addictive.  He kept eating.

   "No TV?" whined Becca.  "Who has no TV in their house these days?"

   "Whoever owns this place," said Bob, taking another slice of garlic
bread.

   "So, what are we going to do?" she asked.

   Bob swallowed, looked at his new watch, and sighed.  "It's late.  It's
bedtime."

   Fran, who had managed somehow to get her glass re-filled with wine while
nobody was looking, and who had slurped the stuff happily, was leaning
sideways just a hair off center.  She had a really, really good buzz on
now. "Where are we all going to sleep?" she asked, leaning so far to the
left that she corrected with a jerk.

   Everybody looked around.  There was one bed, a mattress on steel springs
hung from an old iron bedstead.  It was a double size.  It had been ornate
when new, but had so many coats of paint on it that the detail had softened
to mere bumps now.  There was another bed that folded up into the wall,
also a double.  Bob got up and went over to it, pulling it down with a
thump.  Dust flew up into the air and Val wrinkled her nose.  Then there
was the couch.

   "Pick a place," said Bob, yawning.

   Val and Becca traded looks.  They were both thinking the same thing.

   Fran's eyes had gone a little glazed and she was leaning again.

   "I'll sleep with Grandpa," said Becca suddenly.

   "No you won't," said Val firmly.

   "Well then ...  you can't either!" said Becca petulantly.

   "What's going on here?" asked Bob, hearing the heat in their voices.

   "I told them what we did," said Becca, still petulant.

   "Ohhh boy," said Bob, his shoulders slumping.  "Why did you do that
Becca?" he asked.

   "We tell each other everything." she said defensively.

   "That's a habit you need to break," said Bob.  He looked at Val, who was
looking at him.

   "I was mad at you when I found out." she said.  She looked at Becca.  "I
was mad at her too."

   "I know," said Bob sadly.  "We shouldn't have done it."

   "I should have been first," said Val, sounding petulant herself.  "I'm
the oldest."

   Bob rocked back on his heels.  "You're joshing me." he said.

   "So I went out with Zack and gave HIM my virginity!" she said, sticking
her jaw out.

   Bob didn't have the faintest idea what to say.  He thought back to Val's
voice, and the things he remembered her doing in his dreams.  She'd never
gone farther than using her mouth on him.  The other two girls in the room
had done things too, but he'd gone a lot farther with Becca since then.  A
LOT farther.  He looked at Fran, to see what she was thinking, but she was
nodding, falling asleep in her chair.

   "I wanted you to do it," said Val.

   Bob sighed.  "Val, honey ...  I..."

   "It's okay really." Val interrupted him.  "I'm not mad any more ... 
really.  I had SUCH a good time with Zack.  It was really wonderful."

   "Well...  ," said Bob.  "That's good, I guess.  I didn't know."

   "I know.  I was too chicken to tell you, and things were all riled up
anyway.  I think I'm still a little jealous of Becca though.  That's why I
said she couldn't sleep with you.  But I won't sleep with you either.  I
belong to Zack now.  I think I love him."

   "After just one date?" asked Bob.  He looked at Becca, who was sitting
quietly just listening.

   "It's hard to explain," said Val.  "I don't think I've ever been in love
before.  Maybe with you ...  or what I thought you'd be like if you were
awake.  And I DO love you ...  and I DID want you to be my first.  But when
I was with him it was so amazing, and so unbelievable, and he made me feel
so special.  The way he looked at me.  He got embarrassed when I teased him
and was so cute.  It made me want to give it to him too.  And he was there
...  and you had done it with Becca..." She trailed off.

   "So you're not sorry?" asked Bob.

   "Oh no!" she said smiling.  "It was beautiful.  I'll never forget it
ever."

   "Good," said Bob smiling.

   "So now can I sleep with him?" asked Becca.

   Val took a breath to say something but Bob beat her to it.  "Maybe it
would be better if I didn't sleep with anybody." he said.  "We're all tired
and we're all here together." He nodded meaningfully at Fran, who was
leaning again, her head down on her chest.

   "She wants to sleep with you too," said Becca.  Her petulance was back.
"I told her she was too young."

   "She is too young," said Bob.

   "I know that, but she's so stubborn.  She babbled on about how all our
grandmothers had our mothers when they were fifteen and stuff like that. 
She made me agree to help her."

   "Oh really?" asked Bob.  He could just imagine the fiery Fran, eyes
flashing, demanding that her cousin help her seduce him.  It was comical
and not a little erotic too.  "Did you tell her I think you're too young
too?"

   "Yes," said Becca disgustedly.  "It didn't do any good.  And I'm NOT too
young.  I'm old enough that I'm horny all the time thinking about it. 
Can't I please sleep with you tonight?  It's the perfect chance." she said
hopefully.

   "It wouldn't be fair to Val," said Bob.

   "She said she wouldn't do it with you," said Becca stubbornly.

   "Yes, but you know how she felt.  She'd see us ...  hear us.  It would
hurt her feelings." He looked at Val.  "Wouldn't it?"

   Val frowned and nodded.  "I still want to.  But I don't want to.  It
doesn't make any sense."

   "It makes perfect sense," said Bob.  "I loved my wife more than anything
in the world.  I still felt things for other women.  I just didn't act on
them.  It wouldn't have been the right thing to do.  But I still wanted to
sometimes."

   "You never cheated on her?" asked Val.  That appealed to her sense of
romance.

   "I got drunk at a party one night and kissed another woman.  Valerie
never knew.  I felt bad for months.  Then the same woman tried to get me in
bed.  When I refused she went and told Valerie that we'd already done it.
She actually tried to break us up out of spite."

   "So what did she do?" asked Val.

   "Valerie?  She asked me about it.  I told her the truth.  She was mad at
me for a while, but she got over it.  She decided it was just a kiss.  I
didn't drink any more after that.  It was too dangerous.  I do strange
things when I drink."

   "I do too," said Val quietly.  "When Zack took me out to dinner we had
wine.  I turned into a slut when we got to his apartment."

   Bob laughed.  "That probably wasn't the wine." he said smiling.

   "I think it was.  We had wine tonight and I want to..." She bit her lip.

   "Maybe that's why I'm so horny I can hardly stand it," said Becca
suddenly.  "I want to rub my pussy right now ...  I'm actually wiggling in
my chair."

   "Well then, maybe that would solve the problem.  Let's put Frannie on
the couch and you two can have one of the beds and I'll take the other. 
Once the lights are out you two can rub to your heart's delight."

   "In the same bed?" asked Becca.  She looked at Val shocked.

   "I need to do something," said Val shrugging.

   "Me too ...  but ...  Hey!  I have an idea!"

   "What?" asked Val warily.

   Becca darted a look at Bob.  "You remember when we were practicing?  For
what I do on dates?  With my mouth ...  and your mouth ...  on each other?
The only thing better than that was what we did after that."

   Val leaned forward.  "Zack did that too!  It was ...  it was ...  Ohhh I
want to do that!"

   "Wouldn't that be cheating on Zack?" asked Becca slyly.

   Val shook her head.  "I can't get pregnant that way.  That's different.
It's not sex.  President Clinton said so." She grinned to show she was
making fun.

   Bob groaned.  "Don't tell me you're trying to get pregnant."

   Val arched her right eyebrow.  "No ...  it's complicated.  When I
explained it to Zack it took half an hour.  But the point is that I don't
feel like oral sex would be cheating on him.  Not with you, anyway.  And
I'm so wound up..."

   Bob was pretty wound up too.  It's pretty hard for a guy to have two
women he loves tell him they want him sexually and not react to it.

   "I'll take care of you two, and then you can take care of me." he
offered.  "But it will be in front of each other." he warned.

   Becca waved her hand.  "We've seen each other naked all our lives.  And
it's not the same as if we were actually DOING it in front of each other.
She's right.  It's different."

   They carried Fran to the couch, the girls getting her legs and Bob
getting her upper torso.  She mumbled, but didn't wake up.  Then the girls
started undressing, unashamed.  They both looked at Bob and he started
getting out of his clothes too.  He was erect when he dropped his pants.

   "Mmmm that looks so good." moaned Becca.

   "This might not be a good idea after all." breathed Val.

   "I'll behave.  You two behave too.  Now, on the bed.  I'm ready for
dessert ...  again." He grinned.

   It was a little awkward at first.  Bob started on Becca and Val lifted
her head to watch.  Becca moaned and lay her head down, her hand reaching
for her cousin's.  Bob reached up and twiddled her nipples as he sucked her
clit and fucked his tongue in and out of her pussy.  The leg next to Val
bounced off of Val's thigh as she opened and closed her legs, alternately
trapping Bob's head and releasing it.  Her hips began to thrust and Bob had
to move his hands under her buttocks to pull her pussy firmly against his
face.  What brought her over the edge was taking a big bite of her clit and
then flicking it repeatedly with the tip of his tongue.  She cursed softly
and then morphed into a chant of "Oh yes ...  oh yes ...  oh YES ...  OH
YES! ...  OHHHHHHHHHHHH." Her head flopped back and forth on the bed as she
came.  Bob stopped biting her and gave her a few licks, but she pushed his
head away, sobbing for breath and saying "No more."

   He lifted his head and looked at Val hungrily.  She had been lying on
her side, watching in wonder at what it looked like.  She rolled to her
back and brought her knees up, holding them with her hands as she let them
pull apart, opening herself for him.

   He was tempted to stick his prick in that lovely pussy, but he had
promised to be good.  So he feasted on her sex, almost in the identical way
he had feasted on Becca's.  And she came almost as quickly with him as she
had with Zack.  Her squirting pussy surprised him, but like Zack he sucked
and slurped as much as he could.  Still his face was thoroughly wet when
she went limp and he pulled away.  He had been leaning on the bed, standing
on the floor and he stood up, his prick wobbling.

   Becca had recovered and bounced up, pushing him down where she had been.
His knees hung off the bed, but it wasn't uncomfortable.  Her mouth swooped
down to take his prick in and he groaned as she sucked.

   Val rolled over and put her face beside Becca's.

   "Share." she pleaded.

   Becca pulled off, her hand holding the base.  She pointed it at Val and
smiled.  Val pursed her lips, giving the tip a wet kiss and then her lips
flowed over the head, pushing the foreskin back.  She sucked the knob,
rather than taking the whole thing in like Becca liked to do.  It was
amazingly different.  They both did it exactly like they had done it when
he was sleeping.  Both girls had masturbated him to completion, and had
brought him to completion with their mouths, and both girls were experts at
it ...  at least with Bob.  They both knew the signs as his body began to
get ready for that completion.  They traded off, bringing him so close that
he leaked.  Each sucked up his precum and swallowed as they gave the other
girl her turn.

   After being brought to the edge three or four times Bob moaned: "You're
killing me."

   Becca grinned at him.  "It's just because I'm so young.  You know how
you keep telling me I'm too young.  Maybe you're right."

   Val sucked hard and pulled off with a popping wet sound.

   "It's too much fun to rush."

   "My balls are starting to hurt." he groaned.

   Val's hand had begun stroking him slowly when she pulled off.  She sped
up.

   "Shall we take pity on him?" she asked Becca.

   "I suppose so." sighed Becca theatrically.

   Val sped up.

   "You got first suck.  I get first taste." she said.

   Becca made a face.  "As long as you leave some for me."

   "Here it comes," said Val knowingly.

   She leaned over, her mouth an open circle above his dick.  Just as the
first soothing shot blasted out of the end of his prick she sealed her lips
around the head.  She let go of his prick and jerked her lips off, sucking
to keep his cum in her mouth.  Becca almost made it, but his second shot
landed partly on her cheek before she could get her mouth over his cock. 
She went deep again as his third salvo rocketed out and sucked on the way
back up as number four was added to it.  She pulled off and waved at Val to
finish up while she sat back and rolled his stuff around in her mouth,
tasting it and swallowing it a little at a time.  Val sucked and swallowed
too until he was almost limp before she finally sat back smiling.

   "That was fun.  I feel lots better.  I still wish Zack was here though."

   Bob groaned again and panted to catch his breath.

   "I can't move." he moaned.

   The two girls giggled and played at arranging him on the bed, pulling at
his legs until he was bent in an "L" shape and then trying to push his
upper torso so he was straight again.  He was too heavy, though, and had to
help.  Finally he lay straight on the bed.

   "Night night," said Val sweetly.

   Becca got a washcloth and handed it to Bob, who wiped his face.  She
took it from him and started wiping his prick too, holding it and pulling
at it.  He batted her hands away as she laughed.  She leaned over to kiss
him and whispered.  "I'm still horny.  Don't be surprised if I climb in bed
with you later." She grinned a conspiratorial grin and went to turn out the
light.  Bob fell asleep listening to the two girls talk softly as they lay
in bed together.  He fell asleep smiling.

   Chapter 20

   Fran woke up in the dark and felt the strangeness of not knowing where
you are.  Her head was still fuzzy and she felt pain.  She lifted her head
and saw the interior of the cabin in the moonlight coming through the
windows.  "Oh yeah." she thought to herself.  The pain localized just above
her groin and she realized she had to pee badly.  Still woozy from the
wine, she felt dizzy when she stood up and sat back down making the frame
of the couch creak.  She finally decided to crawl to the bathroom and that
was better.  She was sweaty and didn't like that.  While she sat down on
the toilet she took off her shirt and bra and kicked off her shorts.  Then
she spread her legs and bore down as her bladder began to cooperate.



   Bob was wakened by the creaking thump of Fran plopping back down on the
couch.  He didn't know what it was, but it woke him up.  He listened and
heard a rustling as she crawled to the bathroom, and then nothing, and
finally the tell-tale splash of urine hitting water hard.  It was just one
of the girls going to the bathroom.  He closed his eyes and began to drift
back to sleep.



   Fran felt so good after her bladder emptied that she just sat there for
a while.  She tried standing up and it wasn't so bad now.  She swayed a
little, but if she used her hands on the wall she could navigate relatively
well.  She was thirsty, and not knowing any better, leaned over the sink
and drank straight from the tap.  The wine still in her stomach began to
seep into her bloodstream again almost immediately.

   She stepped out into the main room, her eyes accustomed to the dim light
that penetrated the windows.  She saw Bob lying on the bed naked.  She
giggled, and then put her finger up to her lips to quiet herself.  She
swayed and almost fell and to save herself she dropped one knee to the
floor and caught herself with her fingertips.  Then she crawled again, this
time to the edge of Bob's bed.  She held her breath and lifted her head
little by little, pretending she was an Indian, spying on the Cavalry.  As
her eyes rose high enough they saw the landscape of Bob's body, pale in the
moonlight.  There, lying on his brown bush was his penis.

   "The soldier is asleep when he's supposed to be alert and standing at
attention!" she giggled to herself.  "I can ambush him!  He hasn't got a
chance."

   She got to her knees and ever so slowly reached her hand out.  She
couldn't seem to make it stay still, and it went from side to side.  She
concentrated until her hand was right over his cock and then touched it
with one fingertip.  She jerked her hand back and covered her mouth with
both hands as she giggled.  She put her index and next fingertips on the
bedclothes at the edge of the bed and walked them toward Bob's hip, making
them go fast at a diagonal, and then very slowly toward his skin, like a
guerilla sneaking up on an enemy position.  She knew better than to crawl
her fingers up his hip, so she "jumped" her make believe attacker and her
hand landed on his prick.  Her fingers went around it and she marveled at
how warm it felt.  Bob's breathing changed and she froze.  He seemed to
sigh and didn't move any further.  She squeezed gently, sliding her hand
down toward his balls like she had when he was sleeping in Aunt Martha's
house.  He was sleeping now, and it suddenly seemed normal to be doing what
she was doing.  Her alcohol fogged mind made the transference complete as
her hand moved faster and harder, no longer worried about waking him up. 
He never woke up, right?  Or did he?  Yes, he DID wake up.  But he wasn't
waking up now.  She began to feel the tingles around her body that she had
felt when doing this before, and her other hand went to stroke her pussy
lips.  She loved to pull at them, stretching one of them as far as she
could and letting it snap back.  When she had done that a few times, she
would burrow her fingers between her stretched lips to find her bud and
squeeze it.  She couldn't pull it, because by now she was wet and slippery
and she couldn't get a grip on it.

   One hand stroked the penis, which was getting hard, just like it always
did, while the other hand pinched as she spread her legs wide while she
squatted beside the bed.  Then it was time to straighten three fingers and
rub them back and forth over her clit as the streaks of pleasure began to
suffuse her belly.  Her nipples tingled and she started breathing faster.



   Bob was having a great dream in which Becca was playing with him,
getting ready to swallow his cock.  He rose toward wakefulness and fought
it.  He didn't want to wake up and make the dream stop.  But her hand
moving on him got faster and harder and it brought him awake with the dream
lingering in his mind.  She WAS there.  She'd said she might do this.

   "Suck it." he whispered.



   Fran felt him move and heard his whisper.  She froze.

   "Suck it baby." he whispered again.

   Fran's befuddled mind knew what he meant.  She'd thought about doing
that before, but hadn't had the nerve to do it.  Now, his invitation helped
her knock down the last wall of inhibition she had.  She stood, and leaned
over the bed, his prick still in her hand.  In her mind, he knew who she
was and accepted her as a woman.

   She stuck out her tongue and touched the tip of it to the tip of his
cock.  His hips flexed and he pushed it against her lips.  She backed up
enough to lick her lips, tasting.  Nothing.  Not good ...  not bad ... 
just nothing.  She touched it with her tongue again, feeling the surface.
The foreskin was up, and her tongue pushed at it, moving it.  She moved her
hand to pull it back and her tongue felt a different surface, tight and
smooth and slick.  Her lips were right there and she tentatively nipped at
the tip with them, like she was taking the tip off an ice cream cone.  His
skin felt smooth and warm.  She liked it.  That led to taking a little more
and a little more until the knobby head was in her mouth.  It felt good to
try and squash it with her lips and cheeks, but she was careful not to
bite.

   His hips flexed again and shoved another inch in her mouth.  Now her
lips were down on the shaft, and that felt different too.  That skin moved
a little, and was bumpier.  She had to open her mouth wider because he was
thicker down there.  She played by sliding her lips up and down the long
shaft like she had seen a woman do in a porno flick one of her friends had
shown her.

   Bob sighed as Becca worked on his prick.  She was being much more gentle
than she had been in the past.  Before she was almost violent, taking as
much into her mouth as she could without choking, and moving her head fast.
Tonight she was slower, more tender.  Both ways were nice.  The fast way
made him want to cum in her mouth.  But this way made him want to wait and
cum in her pussy.  He thought about eating her pussy first, but he'd
already done that tonight, and he wanted the real deal now.  He moved his
hand to her hip.  She was still naked.  He slid his hand up to fondle a
breast.

   Becca and Fran were alike in odd ways.  Becca was short for her age, and
modestly developed.  She had shoulder length auburn hair that usually hung
loose.  Fran was tall for her age, and ahead of most of the other girls in
terms of her shape.  Her dark brown hair was also shoulder length, though
she usually had it in a pony tail.  Tonight it was loose.  They swapped
clothing all the time and it fit them both perfectly.

   The result was that, in the dark, Bob couldn't see her well enough to
see the darker hair, and her breasts were about the same size as Becca's.

   So Bob still thought it was Becca.

   And Fran still thought he knew who she was.

   When he ran his hand over her breast and felt for a nipple, Fran
shivered.  She'd never let a boy touch her naked breast before.  A couple
had copped feels through her clothing at dances, but that was it.  The feel
of his flesh on her nipples was almost astonishingly wonderful and she
leaned closer to him.  His hand went to her back and he pulled her toward
him.  She crawled up onto the bed.  Since he was lying right in the middle,
there was no room for her to lie down on either side.  Instead, she stayed
on all fours, straddling his knees, with her hands on either side of his
hips.  This was better.  His prick was at full stiffness now, and she
didn't need her hand to stand it up to lick and suck.  Whenever she let it
fall out of her mouth, though, it leaned to one side - her left - and she
had to move her upper body to recapture it.  She played, licking and
sucking for five more minutes, unhappy because she couldn't reach her pussy
because she had both hands planted on the bed.  Then his hands pulled her
face up toward his and she had to crawl up his body.  He was pulling her up
for a kiss, and that put her pussy lips right on the bottom of his prick as
her body forced it down onto his abdomen.  Her natural inclination to press
her pussy against something hard brought almost electric shocks that shot
out from her pussy and up into her belly.  They raced under her skin
somehow and into her nipples, which spiked and stuck out more than they
ever had before.

   Fran couldn't decide what to concentrate on.  She'd kissed boys too, but
not like this.  Bob's mouth was alive and moving under her lips, and she
wanted to move hers like that too.  His tongue flicked into her mouth and
then back out.  She'd heard of this, but thought it would be nasty.  It
wasn't.  But her pussy was rubbing that long hard thing down there, and
that felt amazing too.  She dragged her pussy along his prick and then
pushed it back down again.  The slightly bumpy skin on the bottom of his
cock pushed her labia aside and let her clit ride directly on the hard
surface.  She knew instantly she could cum this way, if she had enough time
to rub.  Bob's hands slid all over her back, her waist and her buttocks,
grabbing them to help her slid back and forth.

   Again, she let it all happen, just experiencing all the new feelings and
things.  And again, Bob was the one who pushed it further.  Becca had
wanted his prick in her earlier, and he knew she wanted it now.  He pushed
her to a sitting position and reached down to fist his cock.  He pushed it
at her belly, expecting her to raise up so he could get it started into her
pussy.  For some reason she didn't raise up, but scooted back.  He had to
bend his prick almost painfully to make it point toward his feet, but he
felt the tip nudge into her opening.  She gasped and he knew she was
excited.



   When Fran finally realized what he was trying to do her mind exploded.
In her dreams she had done this before.  Philosophically she wanted to feel
what it was like.  She still had, though, the natural desire to protect
herself from harm, and the nervousness about letting her cherry get picked.
Her emotions were at a peak, and her body was screaming to let that prick
up inside her.  She wanted to ...  but she didn't at the same time.  She
decided that she would "try it a little bit" to see what that was like. 
Then she'd make up her mind about more.  She shoved her pussy forward and
the tip of his prick burrowed happily between her pussy lips.  The pressure
felt good to both of them as his broad knob spread her opening apart more
than it had ever spread before.

   But the knob was still outside of her.  Her weight was on her knees,
with her shins lying flat on the bed beside his legs.  By leaning forward
with her hands on his stomach, she could control how far her hips moved.

   It felt good to push.  The more she pushed, the better if felt.  There
came a point where pushing too hard was painful, but if she backed off from
that point just a tiny bit, it was perfect.  She couldn't hold it there,
because she began to go numb, but if she backed off and then pushed, and
backed off and pushed, it was fabulous.  Basically she was fucking the tip
of his cock with just her pussy lips.

   Bob thought she was teasing him ...  playing with him ...  trying to
drive him wild.

   It was working.

   There came a point where Bob leaned up, tightening his abs and reached
for her waist.  He grabbed it as she slid forward, her hands on his lower
rib cage.  He wanted it in her and he pulled her onto it.

   Fran had excelled in gymnastics and in the process had destroyed her
hymen.  She was also more flexible than most girls her age, which is why,
when she was forced down onto her great grandfather's rampant rod, it only
hurt a lot, instead of tearing her apart.

   "Ohhh oowwwwww" she complained as she was stuffed.  Her thighs
automatically flexed and pulled her up off the invader.  But her upper legs
were too short to pull completely off of him.  The head was still inside
her.  She wanted to move her legs so she could get off, but when she tried,
she slid back down.  The tip of his cock felt like it was in her stomach
and she tried to get off again, leaning forward and putting pressure on the
tops of her feet.  She was strong enough to lift her whole body that way,
but Bob still hadn't figured out who she was, so his hands went back to her
waist and pulled her back down onto his prick.

   In her leaned forward position, when Bob impaled her again, the top of
his cock scraped along her clit.  Those electric tingles, combined with the
fact that her pussy was beginning to adjust to his girth, gave her the
first real information that there might be something more than pain.  She
tried the same maneuver again, with better results.  By the time she'd done
it two more times, there was more pleasure than pain, and the pain wasn't
bad at all.  She couldn't make it move too much though, and she just knew
that if she could get more travel along that nice hard thing, it would feel
even better.  She sat up, letting her whole weight drive her down onto his
cock and leaned to her left to unfold her right leg and put her foot flat
on the bed.  Then she leaned the other way to do the same thing.  With her
feet now beside his ribs she leaned forward again and put her hands on his
chest.  She had to move around, but she finally found a squatting position
that put her thighs in control.  She started bouncing, hearing wet sounds
as she pulled her pussy almost off of his standing prick, and then let her
pussy fall back to slam down against him, driving him deep.

   That was the feeling she had been looking for, and it was even better
than she had hoped.  She set up a smooth repetitive tempo, fucking his cock
with her pussy and making the bed springs squeak in a rhythmic tempo.



   Val's sleep was disturbed by Fran's moan of pain, but she didn't wake
up. Further noises brought her closer and closer to full consciousness,
though, and she woke to the singing of the bed springs which were loud in
the small room.  As her mind cleared and she came more fully awake, she
heard the breathing next, a regularly spaced panting, like a runner who is
breathing in a certain number of breaths per minute.  She had almost
figured out what the noises meant when she moved her hand and felt Becca's
body where she didn't expect it to be.  If Becca was with her ...  who was
making all that noise in Bob's bed?

   Then Fran gave out with her first moan.  What she was now doing had
brought her to the edge of orgasm much more quickly than she'd have thought
possible, and the feeling was beginning to build in her like hot air in a
balloon.  Her speed and breathing rate both increased as she pounded her
pussy down onto the prod that was serving her so well.  Bob, for his part,
didn't have to do anything at all but lie there and enjoy the feeling of
his prick being jacked off, for all intents and purposes, by a soft, tight
pussy.  He was within a couple of hairs of busting a nut.

   Like Fran's moan made things click in Val's mind about what was going
on, it also made things click in Bob's mind.  While she looked like Becca
in the dark, and while she felt like Becca in the dark ...  she didn't
sound anything like Becca, dark or otherwise.

   "Frannie?" Bob gasped.

   "Uhhh ...  uhhh ...  uhhh ...  uhhh..." Fran grunted as the wave inside
her began to break.

   "Frannie?" Bob gasped again.  The thought that her beautiful young pussy
was wrapped around his prick made him light headed.

   THERE it was, thought Fran in her mind.  It was here and she was having
her first orgasm as a woman.  She slammed her pussy down onto his prick,
letting her whole weight swallow as much of the hard thing that was making
her feel so wonderful into her.  Her pussy spasmed and she wiggled all over
Bob's abdomen as she shook and vibrated.  Bob knew in that instant why this
was sometimes called screwing.  The rippling in her pussy and her movements
made if feel like she was trying to screw herself down onto his prick.

   "Ohhhh Frannie" groaned Bob as he realized he was going to cum and that
there was nothing he could do about it."

   Val sat up in bed, her eyes wide open.

   "FRANNIE?" she yipped.

   Becca woke up.

   "Whatzz?" she mumbled.

   The full force of her orgasm washed over Fran and she let out an
agonized groan of appreciation that sounded like she was being tortured on
the rack.  Bob spurted at the same time, his cock sending thick jets of
spunk to the tip of his cock.  That tip was buried in Fran's cervix and as
she wiggled, the spurts either painted that little doorway, or streaked
through it into her womb.  In both cases she felt it as a glowing ball of
heat, and her mind characterized it as a candle that had been shoved deep
inside her, with the flame at the tip.

   Fran didn't get to enjoy any romantic afterglow.  That's because Val
jumped out of bed and reached for the light switch.  In the dark of night
it was blinding and everyone covered their eyes.  Becca sat up in bed and
looked around to see a very naked Fran still sitting on Bob's lap.  It was
instantly apparent what was happening.  Val, standing frozen like a naked
statue by the light switch, saw the same thing.



   In the next fifteen minutes every emotion known to man flew from wall to
wall in that cabin.  There were recriminations, joy, anger, the flush of
love, arguing, thankfulness, embarrassment, and a complete lack of
repentance on Fran's part.  She had done exactly what she wanted to do, and
it had gone, if not like her dreams, very very well in her opinion.

   To give you some clue as to just how upset everyone was, no one got
dressed.  It wasn't that they wanted to be naked around each other ... 
they were just too busy yelling at each other to think about what the rest
of us would call propriety.

   Bob got blamed until he said he thought it was Becca.  Becca got yelled
at for planning to sneak into bed with him.  Fran got yelled at by
everybody, but didn't care.  Her pussy was full of wet, warm sperm and she
loved every second of feeling it in her.  When they ganged up on her, Fran
disarmed them all by asking why it was that everybody was naked.

   "Why were YOU naked?" asked Val, avoiding the answer.

   "I had to go to the bathroom and it was hot," said Fran simply.  "Why
were you and Becca naked?"

   Bob knew he had to get things under control.  The damage was done, and
couldn't be UNdone.

   "Last night, after you fell asleep ...  they sort of did some things
too." he said.

   Fran's mouth dropped open and she whirled to face Becca.

   "You KNEW I wanted to do this!" she said accusingly.  "You PROMISED to
help me!  But as soon as I fall asleep you jump his bones?"

   Val sat up straight.

   "What's she talking about Becca?" she asked, here voice stern.  "What
did you promise to help her do?"

   Becca was suddenly the center of attention.  She looked from Fran to Val
and back again.

   "She was bugging me about wanting to get her cherry popped.  She just
HAD to do it with Grandpa.  I TOLD her he wouldn't do it, but she made me
promise to help her get him to." Becca shrugged and Bob noticed that her
breasts wobbled delightfully as a result.

   "Oh ...  so she MADE you!" snorted Val.

   Then the yelling started all over again, except this time it was just
between the girls.  Bob, knowing that it would calm down eventually, just
watched all the naked teenaged flesh around him.  He was mildly surprised
to feel his prick move in his lap, and looked down to see it was about half
hard.  He smiled and wondered if he should point out to the arguing cousins
that, while they were yelling at each other, he was thinking about how much
fun it would be to fuck one of them.  He decided they might not see the
humor in that.

   It took them another fifteen minutes to air all their grievances, but in
the end they were all buddies again.  Then Val began to deliver a lecture
to Fran about safe sex and the perils of pregnancy.

   "Did you have safe sex with ...  what's his name? ...  Zack?"

   Val looked startled.  Before she could answer Fran turned to Becca.

   "And when you told us about you and Grandpa, you didn't mention anything
about condoms.  Did you make Grandpa wear a condom when he popped your
cherry?"

   Becca just grinned.  "Nope.  I didn't even think about it.  I was so
horny that getting my pussy stuffed was all I could think about."

   Fran turned back to Val.  "You were saying?" she said, her voice heavy
with sarcasm.

   Val bristled.  "That's not fair.  If I get pregnant, at least I'm old
enough to keep the baby and raise it and provide for it.  Becca is too, for
that matter.  But you're not even out of school yet.  Don't be stupid,
Frannie."

   Fran nodded.  "Somebody should have told our grandmothers that." She
looked at Bob.  "Did they even have condoms back in those days Grandpa?"

   Bob laughed.  "Yes, but only married men would buy them back then.  You
had to get them from the Pharmacist, and he knew everybody in town.  He
knew if you were married or not too.  Teenagers for SURE couldn't just
waltz in and buy them.  Instead they tried to find some adult who would get
them for them.  It was the same way with booze."

   "Maybe that's why our grandmothers all got pregnant at fifteen."
theorized Fran.  "They weren't married, so they couldn't get condoms, so
they had sex without them and got pregnant."

   Bob's memory, after the first rush of restocking his mind with things to
think about, now supplied odd bits and pieces of information, sometimes out
of the blue.  If he tried to remember things, he could, but it was usually
something he'd already remembered that claimed his thoughts.  A sound would
trigger "new" memories and several times an odor had done that.  Fran's
talk of Bob's daughters being pregnant so young did it now.

   In his mind Bob heard first Martha, and then June and Betty telling him
that he had made babies in them.  All three told him while they were riding
his thick prick, and almost in the same way.  Martha had been ecstatic that
she had her Daddy's baby growing inside her belly.  She had talked about
names, and what he was going to look like (she was sure it was a boy, but
Sunny had popped out instead), and what being pregnant felt like.  He
remembered her telling him she was putting his hand on her belly to feel
the baby kick.  He couldn't remember that sensation, but he remembered the
words.

   June had worried incessantly that she wouldn't be a good mother ... 
that she didn't know how to be a good mother.  She worried about her ankles
swelling.  She worried about what people thought about her being pregnant
so young.  She worried about something happening to the baby, both before
and after it was born.  That changed when her baby began moving around
inside her.  Before then it had been an idea.  When it moved, it became a
little person inside her and she was too much in love with it to worry
about anything any more.  She had shared the whole experience with the
sleeping man who had impregnated her.

   Betty, being the youngest, was jealous of her sisters and every time she
made love to her father she begged him to make a baby in her.  When she
finally missed a period, she stayed home from school and refused to go
outside, afraid that something might make her have a miscarriage.  Valerie
couldn't even make her leave the house.  She had spend most of each day
with Bob for a week before she got bored and went back to school.  She
hadn't talked about being pregnant much at all.  But every time she made
love to him after that, she said "Thank you Daddy for letting me have a
baby."

   Their second children had been more routine.  They were still excited,
more so when they came back from the hospital to tell Bob he had sons now.
After that, though, talk of pregnancies waned and Bob wouldn't know until
he woke up that he had even more children.

   "What's the matter Grandpa?" asked Becca, staring at Bob's slack face.

   He couldn't very well tell them that their grandmothers wouldn't have
used condoms even if they had them.  None of his biological offspring other
than his original three daughters called him "Daddy", so it was likely that
they didn't even know.  His daughters' reluctance to talk about fathers of
children suddenly made a lot of sense.  No, if these girls were to find out
that their mothers were actually his biological daughters, it was going to
have to be from the mothers of their mothers, and not him.

   Bob smiled.  "I was just thinking how lucky I am.  I was asleep for
fifty years, and lost almost everything that meant anything to me.  Now,
here I am, with three very lovely naked women who I love with all my heart,
and I've been lucky enough to make love with two of them.  I have money,
and family ...  I don't think my life could be any better.

   "Two of them," said Fran suddenly.  "You just said 'two of them'."

   "What?" asked Bob.

   "You said you made love with TWO of the lovely naked women in the room.
That's me and Becca.  But you said a minute ago that THEY did things after
I went to sleep."

   "Oh," said Bob smiling.  "Val didn't want to have intercourse."

   Fran looked interested.  "Why not?  What did you do?"

   By now things had gone on long enough that the fact that they were all
naked just seemed natural.  Neither did talking about the things they did.
Val explained it to Fran and described what she and Becca had done.

   "Oooo I did that a little and it was fun, but then he made me stop to
kiss me.  Then things happened really fast.  I don't know if I did it
right. Teach me?!" she said to Val.

   "But Fran you're too..."

   "DO NOT SAY IT!" shouted Fran.  "I've had sex!  I'm a woman now!  Admit
it!"

   Val slumped and then grinned.  "Okay, you're a woman.  But when you turn
up with a big fat belly, don't say I didn't warn you."

   "You can't get pregnant from THAT!" said Fran firmly.

   "No, but DOING that makes you want to do what you just did, and that
WILL get your belly big and fat."

   "I'm kind of sore down there," said Fran.  "I don't think I'll want to
do that again for a while.  I mean it was really fun and I'm glad I did it,
and I love you very much Grandpa ...  but for now I think I'd just like to
learn how to give a good blow job."

   The girls made a party of it, putting the two mattresses on the floor
side by side so they could put Bob in the middle and have room to gather
around him on their hands and knees.  He propped up his head to watch as
blow job 101 was put into session.  He was amazed at how much thought Val
and Becca put into performing fellatio as they very clinically explained
what they did, and why, and how it felt, and how to tell when Bob was about
to spurt.  Fran wasn't happy about the idea of getting a mouthful, but both
Val and Becca insisted that, once she'd done it with Bob, she'd be
addicted. Both also said that that wasn't necessarily true about other men.

   Then the demonstrations and practicing started and it wasn't clinical
any more.  Fran learned fast and adopted Val's technique of concentrating
on the head while she stroked the shaft.  That was because she gagged when
she tried to take it down her throat like Becca could do.  To their credit,
when Bob was close, the older girls sat back and coached Fran while she
brought him off.  When he came, she jerked upright, her hand over her mouth
and her eyes wild as the rest of his cum shot up into the air and then onto
his chest as his prick leaned drunkenly.  Val and Becca didn't laugh.

   "Just swallow, Frannie," said Val.  "Just DO it."

   Her eyes rolling Fran looked toward the toilet, but then gave a
convulsive gulp and opened her mouth.  Her eyes went unfocused as her taste
buds reported and her mouth closed.  She swallowed again and put her hand
on her bare stomach.  Then she licked her lips and swallowed a third time.

   Finally, she smiled.

   Chapter 21

   By the time they curled up like puppies together, it was five in the
morning.  As a result they slept late, or would have except the phone rang,
waking Bob and Val up.  Becca rolled away from Bob as he got up, but didn't
wake up.

   It was Sunny letting him know where everyone was and wanting to know if
everything was all right, and why her daughter hadn't called her the night
before.

   "We got in pretty late," said Bob, "and we were all so tired we pretty
much just went right to bed."

   Sunny said she understood.  Then: "I went out this morning and gave the
news people coffee and told them you were in hiding and wouldn't be coming
back for days.  Actually I told them I didn't know when you'd be coming
back.  They didn't even try to interview me!  Anyway, they left.  I called
Mom and she said she'd do the same thing.  I think she's about ready to
call a news conference or something just to get the media off our backs."

   "I haven't been awake long," said Bob, "but I've been awake long enough
to doubt that that will work."

   "Well, you can bring them back," said Sunny.  "I imagine you're probably
tired of being around a bunch of teenaged girls."

   "I love my great granddaughters," said Bob.  "I don't think I'd ever get
tired of being around them.  Besides, they're fun to look at too."

   Val came over and took the phone from Bob.

   "Mom?  Hi Mom.  We're fine.  We're not little girls any more Mom.  You
don't have to check up on us ...  What? ...  Of course we're being nice to
him ...  Yeah, we stopped at Wal-Mart and got some things.  It's really
beautiful up here in the mountains."

   They talked on for a while and Val made it quite clear that they would
be home when they got around to it, but that they weren't in a hurry. 
Finally she hung up.

   "Why do parents worry so much?" she groused.

   Bob walked up to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her soundly,
thrusting his soft prick into the juncture of her legs.  He cupped a breast
and tweaked a nipple.  Then he finally pulled back.

   "I can't imagine." he said, smiling.

   They got dressed and made breakfast and then the girls wanted to
explore. Bob was still tired, having gotten only a couple of hours of
sleep, so they accused him of being old and told him to take a nap while
they went to see the sights.  Bob was asleep within minutes of them
leaving.

   Within an hour the girls had run into Sally.  Bob had told them about
her and the book, and within minutes of meeting her they were all sitting
around on the porch as Sally added to her store of knowledge about Bob's
life, and how it had affected his family members.



   The main reason they went back home that day was because Becca's date
with Denny was that night.  As soon as she got home she called her aunt to
make sure she'd be ready on time too.  Polly made a weak attempt to try to
renege, but Becca wasn't having any of that.  Finally Polly said she'd be
ready.

   Denny and Brian were supposed to pick Becca up first, and then go get
Polly.  As it turned out, Polly was so nervous that she got ready two hours
early and then paced up and down and moaned about how stupid this all was
until Francine chased her out of the house and told her to go be with
Becca.

   Gidget didn't help things any.  When Polly showed up, Gidget took one
look at her and snorted, saying that outfit would never do.

   "You look like a frumpy old lady." she said to her sister.

   "I AM a frumpy old lady." moaned Polly.

   "No you're not.  Come on!" Gidget took Polly's hand and dragged her
toward her bedroom.  "Now, I think I have an outfit that will be just
perfect..."

   Becca grinned as the voices faded.  She was a little worried herself. 
Now that the date was imminent, her self confidence was suffering a little.
She had chosen a man's western style shirt that she'd gotten for a costume
party the year before.  She tied the tail in a knot under her breasts,
leaving her midriff bare and put on a pair of tight short shorts.  Her
mother said she looked like a prostitute, but didn't try to make her
change. She was fiddling with the buttons on the shirt, trying to figure
out how many to leave undone.  She was going braless tonight because it
made her feel sexy.  She went to her bedroom and opened her jewelry box. 
It had her fake ID in it and she picked it up.  "What am I thinking!" she
thought.  "I'm going out with a cop and my aunt, neither of whom is likely
to let me drink anyway." She dropped the ID back in they box and turned to
dab on some perfume behind her ears.  She put a dab between her breasts
too. She looked in the mirror and pulled the shirt tight across her breasts
to see if her nipples showed through.  They didn't, and she felt vaguely
disappointed.  She checked her watch ...  fifteen minutes to go.

   The doorbell rang.

   Becca's head jerked up and she heard loud complaining voices from down
the hall in her mother's room.

   "I'll get it!" she yelled down the hallway and trotted to the door.

   It was Denny.  He stared at her.

   "You're early!" she said, smiling.  Her stomach was already doing flip
flops.

   "I guess I was excited." he said.  "I haven't been on a date in a
while."

   "Where's Brian?" she asked.

   "He's in the car," said Denny.

   "Well tell him to come on in.  Aunt Polly is here - plan B - and she's
still getting ready."

   Denny turned and waved, making hand signals.  Becca heard a car door
slam.  She realized Denny was still standing on the porch.

   "Come on in." she said, standing back.

   "You look fabulous." he said as he passed her.

   "Thank you sir." she said feeling more of those flip flops.

   Brian bounded up the steps wanting to know what was going on.  When he
was told, he simply went in and sat down on the couch.  Denny stood,
looking around.  Becca suddenly couldn't think of anything to say.  She
went to the hallway and bellowed "THEY'RE HERE!"

   A door opened and Gidget's voice called out.  "Almost done."

   Gidget showed up first, walking down the stairs like the advance guard
of a diplomat.

   "She's just touching up her lipstick." she said.  No one believed her.
"I thought, since you all are going miniature golfing tonight, that she
might look good with a retro look.  She's worried you'll think she looks
silly."

   "Even if I did, Ma'am, it would be unprofessional to mention it," said
Brian.  "Nice to see you again Ma'am."

   Gidget blushed.  "If you're dating my sister you have to call me Gidget.
It's a rule." she said, smiling.

   "Yes Ma'am, Gidget Ma'am." teased Brian.

   There was a noise behind Gidget and she turned around.

   "Come on." she urged.

   Gidget stepped out of the way as Polly came into view.  Gidget had put
her in Capri pants, that came to the middle of her calves.  They were
tight, with a wide shiny belt.  Tucked into that was a blood red silk
blouse that had a wide collar with long pointed ends.  Her hair was up on
top of her head, held together in some mysterious manner and she had long
dangly earrings on that swayed as she stepped down.  She was wearing high
heels.

   "I feel stupid." she said.

   Brian stood up.

   "Gidget?" he said.  Both Polly and Gidget looked at him.  "I know about
Becca, but you didn't tell me you had another teenaged daughter."

   Gidget giggled and Polly frowned.  "If you're going to make fun of me
then this date is already over."

   "You're gorgeous," said Brian seriously.  "If you don't go out with me
tonight I might do something rash and self destructive."

   Polly looked startled.  Her cheeks went pink.  Gidget pushed her toward
Brian.

   "Are we ready to go?" asked Denny.

   "Yes!" said Becca.  "Do I need a purse?" she asked.

   "I'm driving," said Denny.  "And us manly types are paying tonight. 
You're both gorgeous just like you are.  I don't think so."

   The miniature golf course was mixed in with a number of other
entertainment and tourist places along US 50 outside of Placerville.  It
took an hour to get there, which gave them all time to relax and talk. 
Both Denny and Brian were attentive listeners and it wasn't too hard to get
Polly started talking.  She relaxed too as Brian began coaxing information
out of her.  In the front seat Becca flirted with Denny, reaching out to
touch his thigh when she asked him a question and turning in her seat to
face him so he could see down the gap in her shirt.  She felt excited being
on a date with a grown man.

   Polly claimed not to know anything at all about golf, and her first few
strokes suggested she was telling the truth.  By the time they'd gotten to
the 10th hole, Brian had used every opportunity to end up behind Polly, his
arms around her, helping her stroke the ball, while his groin pressed into
the tight fabric of the back of her Capris.  Becca noticed that her aunt
didn't make any real effort to get away from the pressure and spent a lot
of time blushing and watching Brian as he played his own game.  At the end
of the game there were celebratory hugs and each man got a quick kiss on
the lips.

   Then they were off to find a drive in where they could get chocolate
shakes.  The smells reminded them they were hungry, and it turned into
burgers and fries and onion rings ...  and chocolate shakes.

   The girls were able to begin dragging information out of the men ... 
about their lives and their jobs ...  what it was like being a cop.  Brian
claimed to have learned more working the first week as Denny's partner than
he did in the whole police academy class he attended.  Denny said that, for
a wet-behind-the-sears rookie, Brian wasn't half bad.

   All in all there was no pressure, and no pain, and all of them had a
pretty great time.  On the way back there was a little hand holding in both
the front and back seats, and Polly sat a lot closer to Brian than on the
trip up, but other than that there was no hanky panky.  Polly's car was at
Becca's, so they ended up there, standing on the porch.  Becca set the
stage by putting her arms around Denny's neck and pulling his face down for
a kiss.

   "That was fun." she said, when the kiss was over.  "Tonight, I mean."

   "The kiss wasn't bad either," said Denny, his hands sliding up Becca's
back.

   Four feet away Polly was anxious again.  She wanted to kiss Brian, but
felt silly.  Brian pulled her up against him, but didn't try to kiss her.

   "I had a good time tonight too." he said softly.

   "Really?" asked Polly.

   "I want to see you again." he said.

   "Really?" she repeated herself.

   Then he kissed her, long and hard, sliding his right hand to the tight
pants and cupping one firm buttock.  He squeezed it and she wiggled against
him.  She was breathing hard when it was over.

   "Really." he said.

   "Okay." she said softly.

   They stared at each other for a few seconds and were suddenly kissing
again.  Like teenagers they made out in the dark of the front porch. 
Brian's hands roamed all over her back, but he restricted them to that
area. She felt good in his hands.  He hadn't been sure that dating an older
woman would be a good idea, but her attitude at the hospital had twanged a
string in him.  He was very glad he'd decided to do this now.

   Becca and Denny didn't stand and watch the other two.  They did a little
making out of their own.  Denny's hands confirmed what he'd suspected all
night long ...  that she wasn't wearing a bra.  He crushed her against him
as her tongue began flicking against his.

   Ten minutes later the men left.  Both women stood and watched them drive
away.

   "Thank you baby," said Polly.

   "What for?" asked Becca.

   "For making me do this tonight."

   "Had fun huh?"

   "I haven't had fun like that for a long time.  It's a good thing you
were here." she said to her niece.

   "Why's that?" asked Becca.

   "Because that boy would have had me naked and screaming for more if you
hadn't been here." She giggled conspiratorially.

   "So ...  we going to double date again next time?" asked Becca.

   "We'd sure better." sighed Polly.  "I haven't been this horny in as long
as I can remember.  I don't think it would be a good idea to go out with
him alone."



   Dr.  Adams called and told Bob his test results were all in and asked
him to come in.  Bob returned to the hospital and went to Dr.  Adams'
office.  Adams looked up tiredly from the piles of papers he was going
over.

   "This is as puzzling as anything I've ever seen." he sighed.

   "It's pretty puzzling to me too," said Bob.

   "You didn't age while you slept.  All the tests show normal indications
for a man in good health in his mid twenties," said the doctor.  "Your
daughters tell me they didn't feed you.  I don't think they're lying, but I
can't see any way that this happened unless you were in suspended
animation. Since there is no documented case of suspended animation in a
human being, that doesn't make any sense either.  But they couldn't have
fed you without a feeding tube and, of course, there's no evidence they
used that technology either.  You didn't eliminate, but all that suggests
is that you weren't fed.  If you'd have been out for a week or two, all
this would make perfect sense.  But you weren't." He blinked.  "It's almost
like hibernation, except that you didn't use up your fat reserves."

   The doctor stretched, yawning, and went on.

   "That drops this whole thing into the realm of genetics.  Genetic
research has made amazing strides, but the human genome still hasn't been
mapped completely, so the answer to this lies in one of several million
genes that we don't understand yet."

   "So," said Bob.  "What do we do now?"

   The doctor looked at him and frowned.

   "I'm convinced that you have a gene that reacted to the alcohol you
drank just before you fell asleep.  You said it was home brew ... 
moonshine, I believe they used to call it."

   Bob nodded.

   "You know, the legend of Rip Van Winkle?  Interesting similarity in
names ...  don't you think?..." The doctor stopped, like he was waiting for
Bob to say something.  Bob hadn't told Doctor Adams about the diary, or the
fact that the man of legend was Bob's great great grandfather.  He had
enough problems trying to have a private life as it was, and if it got out
that the man the media was calling Rip Van Winkle was, in fact, the direct
descendent of that legend ...  Well, who knew what would happen then?

   When Bob didn't say anything Dr.  Adams finally went on.  "Well, anyway,
in that legend, Mr.  Van Winkle also drank from a keg of home brew.  It was
alleged that this home brew was made by fairies or something..."

   "Little People." Bob interrupted.  "Kind of like leprechauns."

   "So you DO know the story," said Adams looking piercingly at Bob.

   "Please go on," said Bob, ducking the issue.

   Adams stared at him a little longer and then spoke.  "Yes, well anyway,
he drank home brew and slept for twenty years.  Of course no one examined
him because he was a fictional character."

   "What makes you think that?" asked Bob.

   "That he was fictional?" asked Adams, his eyebrows rising.  "Surely you
don't think that story is true."

   Bob thought about the thing that kept bugging him ...  what if he fell
asleep again?  He needed to find out why it had happened.  If there was a
trigger he could avoid, he might be able to live a normal life.  While he
had adjusted, for the most part, to the age he was now in, if it happened
again he might not be so lucky.

   "What if..." he said slowly.  "Just for the sake of argument ...  what
if that story were real ...  and I was a direct descendant of that man?  A
hypothetical situation, of course ...  but how would that affect the way
you look at my case?"

   Adams smiled a small tight smile.

   "It would convince me completely that the answer is in your genes.  That
there is a gene you have that nobody else has, except perhaps your
offspring, and it could be recessive in them, but a gene that, when
affected, puts you into what could only be called a kind of hibernation or
suspended animation.  Except that this hibernation doesn't use any
resources from your body.  It would mean your heart beat only once every
five minutes or so, if not in longer stretches.  It would mean you took a
breath only every half hour or so.  And even then, it wouldn't explain
where the energy came from to do even those functions.  You're a modern
miracle, Bob, and even the gene theory doesn't answer all the questions."
The doctor stood up.  "If that gene could be identified and used in
therapies, it would change the entire world.  It would revolutionize
medicine completely."

   Bob held up a hand.  "How exactly would that help anybody?" he asked.

   "Inoperable cancer, untreatable diseases, un-diagnosable afflictions,
massive trauma victims ...  the list would go on and on.  What we don't
have with those patients is time.  Time can cure almost any disease. 
Treatments take time that we often don't have and in many cases we don't
even have the treatment.  But, given time, science always comes up with the
answer to a given problem.  If these people could be put into suspended
animation, they would live until an answer for their condition was found.
Look at Walt Disney.  He had his body cryogenically frozen, waiting for
science to come up with a way to reanimate his body.  It's in a vault right
here in California."

   "You mean the Mickey Mouse guy?" asked Bob, amazed.

   "The same one," said the doctor.

   "So it wouldn't be used just to extend people's youth?" asked Bob.

   "If it's what I think it is, that wouldn't even work," said Adams.  You
are aging normally again.  In this situation, if you're asleep, you don't
age.  If you're awake, you do.  It wouldn't do anybody any good to stay
young while everybody else they knew aged normally.  It just wouldn't have
any application in those terms."

   "But whatever it is ...  it could save lives," said Bob.

   "Definitely," said Adams.  "Probably millions of lives eventually.

   "So, what do you want to do to me?" asked Bob.

   "That's the problem," said Adams heavily.  "Science hasn't yet
progressed to the point that we can identify the gene that's at work here.
It could happen next year, or it could take another couple of decades. 
Once the whole human genome is mapped, then we can find the one we're
looking for, because it will be the only gene like it in existence." The
doctor looked startled.  "Well I THINK it's the only one.  Who knows? 
Others could have this gene too, and we just don't know it.  History is
full of stories of people being found dead, and then buried, and then
somebody digs up the coffin and there are obvious indications that the
corpse tried to get out after it was buried."

   "So we have no idea whether I'll go back to sleep or not," said Bob.

   "We don't know what triggers the gene ...  turns it on.  Or off, for
that matter," said the doctor.

   "But you mentioned Rip Van Winkle," said Bob "And moonshine."

   "Oh, that," said the doctor looking at him closely again.  "It was just
that the two stories so closely parallel each other.  Your hypothetical
situation would strengthen the hypothesis that the home brew was the
trigger ...  if it weren't hypothetical." There was a brief pause.  "It IS
hypothetical isn't it Bob?"

   "Not nearly as hypothetical as I wish it were," said Bob softly.

   Adams' mouth dropped open and his face went ashen.  "But how?..." he
gasped.

   "There is a journal," said Bob.  "It was found in a desk given to me as
a wedding present by my great grandfather.  I didn't know about the journal
then.  He gave me a warning too."

   "What?" asked Adams.

   "He said to get an insurance policy that would provide for my family if
I were indisposed for a long time.  They had just started marketing those
policies a few years before that and he said he wished he'd have had
something like that available when he was younger.  That's all he said.  He
was very insistent about it."

   "And the journal?" asked Adams, so excited he could barely sit still.

   "If I tell you about the journal, and you tell others, it could turn my
life completely upside down in a way that I might never be able to live a
normal life.  I need you to promise me that this will stay between you and
me," said Bob.

   Adams thought.  He thought hard.  Finally he said this: "Bob, at the
point in time when the human genome is mapped fully, it will be
horrendously expensive to find the gene I believe is there.  I may need
some ammunition to get the funding to do that.  At that point, if you are
actually related to a real person who ...  slept for twenty years ...  like
you did ...  I may have to divulge that information.  It will be too
important to medicine to keep secret."

   "I have twenty million dollars," said Bob simply.  "Would it take more
than that?"

   "Quite possibly," said Adams seriously.  "But the holder of a patent on
therapy using that gene would soon be the richest man on the planet.  Trust
me on that."

   "But if I funded the research, you wouldn't have to tell anybody about
Rip?" asked Bob.

   "No," said Adams.  "I mean yes ...  I mean I would be able to sit on
that information as part of doctor/patient privilege."

   "Rip left his journal in the desk, in a secret compartment," said Bob
quietly.  "It has the whole story in it in his own handwriting.  The family
changed their name, dropping the "Van" to avoid the notoriety after he woke
up.  They didn't want anything to do with him.  He moved on, started a new
family, and wrote it all down.  It's signed with his original Dutch name."

   Adams swallowed twice before he could make his mouth work.  "Is there
any chance ...  any way in the whole world that I could get a peek at this
journal?"

   "I read from it occasionally to the women - my descendents - who live in
Circleton.  You could come over the next time we bring it out and look at
it there.  I can't let it out of my possession, of course."

   "Of course," said Adams.  "I'd give anything to see it."

   "You can see it for free," said Bob.



   Several of the women, when they learned what Adams had told Bob, were
unhappy that their relationship to Rip had been let outside the family.  It
took some doing, but Bob said they had to trust the doctor, and could, at
least for the present, because there was no application for the knowledge
they had thus far.  In short, Dr.  Adams didn't have a motive to "spill the
beans" as Bob put it.

   It had been a couple of weeks since they had gathered for a reading. 
That, and the fact that Martha, Sunny and Polly wanted to meet the doctor
to evaluate him for themselves, resulted in a date being set for another
reading.

   Two nights later the clan gathered.  They ate dinner together and waited
for Adams to arrive.  When he did he was a little overawed by the women. 
It is difficult for any man to enter the world of nine women who establish
the ambiance of a given encounter.  When he was grilled by Martha and
Sunny, he tried to help them understand that he couldn't tell anyone about
Bob and Rip without Bob's approval or he'd lose his license to practice
medicine.

   "You could get a lot of money for this story from any number of media
representatives." suggested Sunny.

   "I don't think they would pay me enough to make up for the ten or twenty
years I have left before I think about retirement," said Adams.  "Besides,
if I get my license pulled, I would not be eligible to work with Bob when
we DO get the chance to use his genes ...  YOUR genes, actually ...  to
revolutionize medicine.  Think about it." he said.  "There's the
immortality of being the doctor who eventually brings this miracle to the
world ...  or twenty thousand quick ones for appearing on Oprah.  Which
would you choose if you were me?"

   That pretty much ended the interrogation, and Adams was finally showed
the journal.  He held it reverently, glancing through it and going to the
end, where he saw the same signature that had awed the others before him.

   He handed it back to Bob, who sat down and opened it to where he had
left off.  Everyone else rustled around, finding just the right position to
be comfortable in while they listened.  Adams was sandwiched between Betty
and Becca, and looked happy.

   "I entered the clearing," Bob read, "and was amazed that, despite all
the activity I could see as these wee folk played their game of ninepins,
that the only noise I could hear was the noise of the ball hitting the
pins. That noise was explicitly tied to the pins.  I heard it only when the
pins were hit, or hit each other, but what it sounded like was thunder. 
Between peals, they didn't seem to speak, and wore looks of soberness that
made my spirit quail.  They were playing at the game, but looked as serious
as if it were important work."

   Rip's account went on to say how, when the players saw him they stopped
and stared at him, as if he shouldn't be there.  Then the man with the keg
opened it and poured it into large flagons as the bowlers approached.  He
did not offer one to Rip, though Rip saw there were more flagons filled
than there were men in the clearing.  They quaffed the drink thirstily, and
Rip told of how dry his tongue felt, and how golden the liquid was that
spilled down the cheeks and beards of the little men as they tipped their
flagons upward recklessly.

   Then they went back to their game, leaving him alone.

   As they played Rip looked at the stump where there sat three bronze
flagons, brimming with the golden nectar that had come from the keg.  He
couldn't resist, and tasted just a little from one.  He recognized
instantly that it tasted like the brews made from old family recipes that
came from the old country, where crops raised below sea level and protected
by dikes tasted different than those grown elsewhere.  And the brews made
from those crops tasted different too.

   "I sampled the brew again when I thought they didn't see," wrote Rip. 
"and yet again until that flagon had suddenly gone dry.  Still the thunder
rolled as the pins were knocked down and the little men pursued their
serious game.  I had a thirst such as I'd never had in my life, and there
were two more flagons sitting there, going to waste.  I confess that I
drank them too, and my head swam and the world began to buck and rol all
around me, as if the earth shifted, though my feet were firmly planted on
solid unmoving ground."

   Bob paused dramatically.  "It was then that a nap appealed to me, and I
lay down to take one.  My last thought was that Wolf had deserted me, and
that his back would have made a wonderful pillow, as it had so many times
before."

   Bob closed the book with a slap of pages and grinned.  "You know, I had
some of my cousin's home brew, made with special ingredients from an old
family recipe.  I drank it as I lay there in my Barca Lounger, getting
ready for a nap." He looked around seriously.  "We might, as a family, want
to pay particular attention to what kind of distilled spirits we drink from
now on."

   Oddly, that night, for the first time, no one begged for him to read
more.  They all knew what came next ...  the long sleep, and the waking
that would completely undo Rip's life.  Only Doctor Adams was immune from
the melancholy that set in.  He was invited to stay the night, so he could
examine the journal.

   When Martha got up the next morning, he was bent over the table, snoring
softly where he had fallen asleep poring over the diary.  She had the
sudden fear that he had entered the same kind of sleep Rip and Bob had,
just by touching the book.

   She sighed with relief when he snorted and jerked at her touch.

   Chapter 22

   As time went on and Bob was slowly forgotten by the world again, the
need for him to stay at the cabin waned.  Still, it had been such a
peaceful place that he had Sally make inquiries about buying either a cabin
or a lot for the family to build one on to use as a get-away place.  One of
the original cabins, larger than most, had fallen into disrepair over the
years as the owner aged and spent less and less time there.  Bob was able
to purchase it and had contractors go through it, updating the electrical
and plumbing systems and putting a new roof on it.  It was a log cabin, and
the exterior needed professional work too.

   Being frugal, Bob identified things that the family members could do,
mostly interior work, and rather than paying a contractor to do them, and
enlisted the aid of the women to do those things.  That was how Becca and
Polly ended up deciding to invite Denny and Brian to the cabin for a
working date.  Both men agreed.



   On a Saturday morning, the clan descended on the new cabin early, to get
as much done as possible before the sun was high.  While it didn't get
nearly as hot up in the mountains as it did down in Sacramento, you could
still work up quite a sweat once noon approached.  Denny and Brian showed
up around nine and stood in the doorway staring around at the women.  Four
of them were putting up sheetrock, while two more followed with strips of
cedar that they nailed to the wall in a diagonal pattern that made diamond
shapes.  Bob and the remaining two women were tearing apart a big feather
bed frame to sand the rust off of it in preparation for repainting it.  The
huge, thick mattress lay in a heap, moth-eaten and filthy.

   Sunny saw the newcomers first and called out a greeting.  Polly, who had
been helping Bob with the bed, smiled shyly and went to meet them.  Becca
was holding a piece of sheet rock to the wall while Fran drove screws with
a cordless drill, so she couldn't stop what she was doing.  She sang out
"Hi Denny" with so much joy in her voice that some of the others stopped
and looked at her.

   "What?" she said, looking around.

   "You sure sound glad to see him," said her mother.  Gidget had waited up
for her daughter, as if Becca were sixteen instead of eighteen, and had
demanded a blow by blow account of the date she had gone on with Polly and
the men.  Polly had warned her it would probably happen, so she kept her
temper and answered all her mother's questions.  Still, she had been so
bubbly and happy that Gidget was still anxious.

   "Look at him!" said Becca smiling.  "He's gorgeous!"

   Gidget muttered something under her breath that no one could understand
and pointed at the mattress.

   "We have a new cover.  The feathers need to be transferred to the new
bag.  You boys think you can handle being covered with goose feathers?"

   Denny walked over to her and stood close enough to invade her personal
space.  She leaned away from him by habit.

   "For you?" he said, his voice mellow.  "I'd stand for the tar AND the
feathers."

   Gidget blinked and then snorted.  "You're a silver tongued little man.
In case you were wondering that does NOT make a mother feel better." She
smiled a hesitant smile, though.

   "Mom," complained Becca, drawing the sound out.  "You're embarrassing
me. I'm not a little girl any more."

   "That's the problem." muttered Gidget, going back to her cedar strips.

   The men were intelligent enough to go outside to try to deal with the
feathers.  At first they tried stuffing the new mattress cover with double
handfuls of feathers, but they soon found that they were, indeed, covered
with the fluffy uncontrollable things.  It was Brian who got the idea to
stuff the whole old bag down inside the new one and then pull it out a
little at a time, allowing the feathers to spill into the new cover. 
Still, when they triumphantly brought the new mattress back into the house
they looked like they HAD been tarred and feathered, with bits of white
fluff clinging to every exposed surface.

   "Just like little boys!" muttered June, who loudly announced she had
just swept the cabin for the third time that morning and now it was being
covered in bits of white fluff.  "I swear my boys could bring half of the
outside in with them when they came in from playing."

   "We weren't playing," said Brian, his voice overfilled with injury.  "We
were working HARD!  Those feathers must weigh ...  I don't know ...  ounces
and ounces and ounces!" He grinned.

   "Just what we need in this family," joked Martha, "a comedian."

   Polly blushed and stammered.  "Aunt Martha!  We've only been on one
date!"

   "Well," drawled Martha, "I 'spect he was a lot more lively on that date
than Roger would have been." She smiled sweetly.

   "He was NOT!" squealed Polly, blushing harder.  "He didn't do a SINGLE
THING!"

   Brian covered his face with his hands and moaned.  "My reputation is
ruined!  I bragged to the whole force what a sweet kisser you were and now
I am uncovered."

   "You better NOT have!" squealed Polly, actually dancing with tension.

   Laughter, combined with Brian uncovering a grinning face finally got
through to Polly that he had been joking and her face flamed so hard she
looked suddenly sunburned.

   "OH!  You ...  you..." she shouted and turned around to face the wall.
She almost hit her fingers with the first hammer blow she tried and jumped.
There was more laughter as Brian went to her and put his arms around her to
"help" her hammer in the nail.  She wiggled against him, pushing with her
buttocks.

   "You get away from me you horrible man." she said, and then giggled.

   "I'm just trying to help." he whined.

   "I know what you're trying to do." muttered Gidget.

   Bob laughed.  "I think YOU need to go on a couple of dates too Gidget.
You sure seem to know what to expect from a man."

   Now it was Gidget whose face went red and she frowned as hard as she
could.  She pointed at Brian, whose crotch was firmly planted against
Polly's buttocks as she pushed back against him.

   "Just LOOK at them!  Why they're ...  they're ...  they're almost doing
it right here in front of EVERYBODY!"

   Polly gave an extra hard push, laughing now and knocked Brian off center
so he had to take a step back.  Polly faced her cousin grinning.

   "You're just jealous." she taunted.

   Bob held up his hands as Gidget took in an angry breath.

   "You two girls stop that.  You're acting like teenagers."

   Neither woman had had much of a father figure in their lives, and you'd
have thought that Bob barking at them would have slid right off, but both
women looked contrite and went back to their work.  Polly took time on the
way to push Brian towards the door.

   "Go outside and get those feathers off of you.  Then find something to
do instead of tormenting us." she said, but there was no anger in her
voice. Again, her smile was shy, almost girlish.

   By noon everyone was ready to take a break.  They had covered all but
about six feet of the walls with the new sheetrock and the bed frame was
outside leaning against various trees and the porch, its new coat of spray
paint glistening in the dappled sunlight coming through the trees.

   Bob broke out beers from a cooler full of ice.  He handed out pop to
those who didn't want beer.

   "Lunch!" he announced.  "I'm famished."

   Betty had made sandwiches, and had little baggies with carrot sticks and
celery sticks in them.  There was a big tray of deviled eggs and several
containers of potato salad.  She unpacked everything on a beaten up old
dining room table in the middle of the room.  Her specialty was called ants
on a log, and consisted of celery sticks, filled with peanut butter, and
topped with a line of raisons.

   "I want to go on a picnic." announced Becca.  "I'm supposed to be on a
date, you know."

   "I want to go!" chimed Fran.

   "This is a DATE!" said Becca firmly.  "Aunt Polly and Brian and Denny
and I are the only ones going on THIS picnic."

   "I never get to have ANY fun!" pouted Fran.

   "Not true," said Bob with a gleam in his eye.

   Fran looked at him, and at the tight grin his lips were trying not to
expose and blushed.  She suddenly had great interest in the pattern of the
cedar on the wall next to her.

   Bob waved his hand.  "Denny showed me a lovely hiking trail the other
day with a little waterfall and everything.  Why don't you kids take your
lunch up there and have your picnic."

   While food was being separated out and repackaged for the picnickers Bob
slipped down to Sally's and borrowed a backpack and two blankets.  He
stuffed the blankets into the bottom of the pack and took it back.  The
food was put in on top, with cans of soda and the two couples left.

   "I still don't think this is a good idea." muttered Gidget.

   Val talked around a bite of sandwich.

   "I think you ARE jealous Aunt Gidget.  Zack has a lot of nice friends at
the station house.  I bet I could get you a date with one of them."

   Gidget turned on her niece.  "And YOU, young lady ...  you aren't
setting much of an example either ...  going out with a man old enough to
be your father."

   Val didn't flinch.  She swallowed carefully and then replied.

   "I'll tell you the same thing I told him.  I HAVE a father.  Even if I
don't know much about him, I don't need another one.  Zack is just a man,
and I like him a lot.  He's fun and witty and very much a gentleman.  He
hasn't done a single thing I didn't want him to do.  If you weren't so
dried up and bitter you could be having fun like me and your daughter and
Aunt Polly!"

   "That's enough of that," said Martha firmly before Gidget could make her
angry retort.  "You apologize to your aunt, Valerie.  That was uncalled
for."

   Val held her head high.  "I'm sorry.  I think it's true, but I shouldn't
have said it."

   Gidget's face went through a series of looks that made it twist with
what almost looked like frustration.

   "Is that really what you think I am?  Dried up and bitter?" she asked.

   "I said that's enough," said Martha again.

   "I'm not." Gidget said, ignoring her aunt.  "I have feelings.  I get
lonely.  I just know how men are.  They take from you and leave you on your
own.  If I met a man I thought I could trust I'd love to have dates and ...
and ...  and ...  Oh, never mind." she said dejectedly.

   June went to her daughter and took her chin in her hand.  "You think all
men are pigs?" she asked softly, staring into Gidget's eyes.  They were
brimming with tears.  "How about your grandfather?  Do you think my father
is a pig too?"

   Gidget flinched and her eyes darted to Bob, who was standing nearby,
just looking at her.

   "That's not what I meant." she said, her voice a little whiny.  "Of
course not.  I love Grandpa."

   "So is he the only man in the world who's not a pig?" asked June.  "He's
rich now.  He could go anywhere he wanted to ...  live any kind of life he
chose."

   "But that's different." whined Gidget.  "He loves us.  I trust him.  He
would never toss a woman out like she was a dirty rag."

   "You had a bad experience with a man who took advantage of you," said
June soothingly.  "But he was just one man among millions.  And you were
young.  Daddy's not the only good man in the world.  I think Denny and
Brian are both pretty good men.  Why would they come up here and do what
they did today if all they wanted was ...  well, if all they wanted was
what you seem to think is all any man wants?"

   "Ohhhh, I don't know." whined Gidget.  "I don't know WHAT to think." She
pushed her mother back and wiped her eyes.  "Besides, I haven't been on a
date in almost twenty years.  I wouldn't even know how to behave!"

   "Maybe Polly could give you a few pointers," said June.  "She seems to
be having a pretty good time with that young man."

   Gidget barked a forced laugh.  "Right!  That's all I need, is for my
younger cousin to tell me how to handle a man."

   "Well," said Bob suddenly.  "I'm in the same pickle.  Look at me.  Here
I am, looking like I'm twenty five, an eligible widower, and I have no
earthly idea how to treat a woman on a date these days.  Don't feel so
bad."

   June turned to look at Bob and a gleam came into her eye.

   "There's your answer darling." she said to Gidget.  "You and Daddy can
go on some dates and practice on each other."

   Gidget blinked and then looked shocked and finally laughed.  "Me and my
grandpa, out on a date!" She laughed again.  "You might actually have
something there Mom.  I can't think of anybody I'd rather go out with on my
first date in twenty years than a man who hasn't had a date in over fifty!"
She began to laugh hysterically, dragging in great gasps of air as the
tension and emotion fled her body through the guffaws.  She had to sit down
on the floor as she grew too weak to stand.

   "Should I be offended?" asked Bob striking a dignified pose.

   Gidget waved at him repeatedly as she continued to laugh.

   "No..." she gasped.  "I'm sorry ...  I didn't ...  mean it ...  that
way."

   "All right then," said Bob, his voice serious.  "What say we go for a
moonlight drive tonight.  It can be our first ...  date."

   Gidget went into another paroxysm of laughter at that, waving her hands
in the air breathlessly as she lay down on the floor and rolled.  The
others just stared at her.  Finally she stopped laughing and just giggled
as she got some air into her lungs.

   "You're ...  on!" she giggled.



   The trail that led to the waterfall wasn't all that long, maybe half a
mile, and it was easy going as the path was well worn, except for a couple
of steep places.  Denny and Becca pulled ahead, as it was a little rougher
for Polly, who wasn't quite as used to walking that fast.  She turned
around to apologize to Brian.

   "I'm sorry, but that's what you get for going out with an old woman."

   Brian, who had been mesmerized by the shifting buttocks underneath
Polly's terrycloth short shorts, looked up, grinning at being caught ogling
her butt.

   "I'm enjoying the view immensely." he said.  "I'm not in a hurry."

   Polly pinked up, but felt a glow in her chest at being ogled.

   "Just because I pushed it at you doesn't mean you can stare at it." she
chided.

   "I can't decide if I like looking at it more ...  or feeling it against
me." he said candidly.  "Besides, you're perfectly safe.  I heard you
myself.  I don't do ANYTHING." He grinned.

   "You didn't really tell anybody I'm a ...  what did you say? ...  sweet
kisser?" she asked, forging ahead.

   "Just Denny.  He said the same thing about Becca.  We think it runs in
the family."

   Polly looked over her shoulder at him, through her lashes.  He was
making her feel pretty good.  She came to a steep place and began to take
longer strides, climbing.  Her foot slipped on the gravel and she started
sliding backwards.  She suddenly felt his hands on her buttocks as he
pushed, stabilizing her.  She stopped, on all fours now and looked back
over her shoulder.

   "I'm just trying to help." he whined, repeating his earlier statement.

   Polly felt a deeper flush at the feel of his hands.  When he had
squeezed her butt on that first date she had felt like a teenager again. 
She knew she should tell him to stop, but all of a sudden she just didn't
want to.

   "Well push then." she said, her voice low and filled with emotion.

   He kept his hands firmly planted on her buttocks until he slipped
himself.  By then she was able to grab a sapling and turned around to
giggle as he labored up the steep slope.  She held the small tree with both
hands behind her, making her breasts jut out.  When he got to her he pinned
her against the tree by putting his arms around her to hold it.

   "We're still not a hundred percent sure about that kissing thing." he
said, his lips inches from hers.  "We only got a couple of kisses last
time."

   "You're terrible." she breathed into his mouth.  "You must have kissed
me ten times."

   "I lost count." he said.  "Have to start over, I guess."

   He leaned forward and she met his lips with hers.  She let go of the
sapling to put her hands around his waist and kissed him back hungrily.  He
pulled on the tree, crushing his chest to her breasts.

   He pulled back and licked his lips as she stared into his eyes.

   "That's one." he said.

   They were up to four when they heard shouting up the trail, Denny
yelling to find out where they were.

   "We have to go." Polly said breathlessly.

   "I don't want to," said Brian.

   "We have to." she insisted gently.

   "I might lose count again." he threatened.

   "We can start over at the waterfall." she smiled.

   As she scrambled on up the trail yelling that they were coming.  She had
to half run as Brian kept reaching out to pat her butt, whining that he was
just trying to help.  She giggled and slapped at his hands ineffectually
and twice ran ahead and then stopped to wag her butt at him, laughing as he
leered and growled, chasing her.  She was running full tilt when she turned
a bend and ran into Denny and Becca, who were engaged in a hot kiss of
their own, their hands running all over each other's backs and buttocks.

   "Here now!" she laughed, pulling Denny's hands away from her niece. 
"Stop molesting my niece."

   Brian came around the same corner, bent over low, hands in claws
reaching out and grabbed her butt.

   "GOTCHA!" he growled.

   Polly squealed and jumped as Becca laughed.

   "Stop that!" she said in an imitation of Polly's voice.  "Stop molesting
my auntie!"

   Brian stood up and put his hands behind him, moving his loins forward
and back as he looked up into the treetops.

   "Who ...  me?" he said in a little boy voice.  "I not doin' nuthin'."

   There was laughter all around.

   They were in a clearing of sorts, except that there was a huge pine tree
in the middle of it, with thick branches low to the ground.  Becca insisted
that they put a blanket on each side of the tree, so "they could have a
little privacy" as they ate.  She was surprised when Polly didn't object.
Once the blankets were settled and the food unpacked each couple sat down
on their own blanket.

   Brian started to take a bite of his sandwich and then stopped.

   "Wait!  We can't eat yet." he said.

   "Why not?" asked Polly, sitting demurely with her legs folded and out to
one side.

   "I'm all sweaty from the climb." he said, whipping off his shirt.  He
was well muscled and in shape.  "And everybody knows you can't go swimming
after you eat.  You'll get cramps."

   Polly's eyes went wide at his smooth muscled chest.

   "But we didn't bring suits." she said.

   "Who needs a suit?" he tossed off carelessly.  "We're all grown up boys
and girls here.  Let's go skinny dipping."

   "You're insane!" Polly's voice was high and squeaked.

   On the other side of the tree Denny looked at Becca and raised an
eyebrow in question.

   She looked at him and lowered her eyes.  "I ...  think I'd like that."
she said softly.  She looked at him and saw hunger in his eyes.  A warm
bubble began building in her belly.

   "I know I'd like that." he said, just as softly.

   Becca repacked their food and they stood, facing each other, eyes glued
to the other as he removed his shirt and she unbuttoned hers.  She had on a
plain white bra that day, and plain white cotton panties under her cargo
shorts.  She watched as Denny's fingers went to his belt and undid it, and
then undid the button of his shorts.  Her fingers went to her own
fastenings and they pushed their shorts down together.  His briefs were
tented when he stood up, and Becca felt her pussy clench.  She reached
behind her and undid her bra and he watched as she let it slide down
almost, but not quite off her breasts.  She held it there with one hand,
some inner instinct making her feel shy.

   He just stood and looked, his thumbs hooked in his underwear.

   Finally she bit her lip and let the bra fall.

   "Ohhhh Becca," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper.  "You're so
beautiful."

   Her pussy spritzed again and she reached for her panties.  Again, they
pushed their last garment down at the same time, their eyes locked.  When
they stood his prick shot out from his groin, rock hard.  He didn't
apologize and watched as her eyes dropped to it and fastened on it.

   He held out his hand to her and she reached for it slowly.

   On the other side of the tree Brian was teasing Polly by unsnapping and
unzipping his shorts with agonizing slowness.  The whole time she was
telling him he was crazy, and that she wasn't about to get naked in the
middle of a forest with her niece "right over there." Brian let the closure
of his pants come open, exposing dark brown hair.  He wasn't wearing any
underwear.

   "I guess I'll just have to go all by myself." he said.  He pushed gently
on the waistband of his pants, exposing more of his groin.

   Polly's hands came up and covered her eyes.  Brian wanted to laugh as
she peeked through fingers that were not closed tightly against each other.
He liked this woman's innocence and decorum.  It turned him on something
fierce.  Her willingness to let him fondle her buttocks, and her passionate
kisses told him more than her hands covering her face - insubstantially -
did.  He pushed harder and exposed what she had done to him.

   Polly stared between her fingers at the first adult male penis she had
paid any attention to in a long time.  Roger walked around the house naked
sometimes, but she paid him no mind any more.  She tried not to think what
he did with his penis when it got hard.

   But this penis wasn't intended for another man.  This penis was hard for
...  her.

   She felt a shudder course through her body and her nipples suddenly
tingled in a way she'd almost forgotten.  He was magnificent, standing
there in the dappled sunlight.  He looked like some Greek statue.  There
was a shriek from Becca and she jumped, her hands coming down from her eyes
as she and Brian saw Becca and Denny's naked bouncing butts running toward
the pool of water that was fed by the small waterfall.  They ran splashing
and laughing into the water and Becca stopped like a statue, almost
overbalancing until Denny's hand stopped her.

   "IT'S FREEZING!" she screamed.

   "It comes from snowmelt, silly!" crowed Denny, and he let go and pushed
her.

   Becca's arms windmilled as she fell splashing.  She screamed again and
scrambled back to her feet, hugging her chest under her breasts.  Her
nipples were suddenly tight and crinkled and about half an inch long.  She
looked outraged and then grinned and leaned over to start throwing handfuls
of water at Denny, who was standing and laughing.  He danced, trying to get
out of the way and his stiff prong bobbed in the sunlight.

   "We need to cool THAT off!" squealed Becca, throwing a double handful of
water at his groin.  He covered his penis and then jumped, rushing toward
her.  They grappled and he took them both sideways, back down into the
freezing water as Becca screeched and laughed.

   Polly looked up at Brian, who stood watching and smiling.  Her pussy
clenched at the sight of that marvelous stiff prick that was hard because
of ...  her!

   "We need to cool that off too." she said, pointing at his cock.

   Suddenly she wanted to be naked too ...  to romp and play ...  to be
naughty ...  to have an excuse to keep him naked so she could drink in his
beauty.  She stood and feverishly started tearing at her clothing.  She had
a sudden attack of doubt as she dropped her bra, and felt her age.  She
knew her stomach wasn't as flat as it had been ten years ago when she was
this boy's age.  She knew her breasts didn't stand as tall and firm as
Becca's did.  She covered them with an arm, standing in only her panties
and looked at the ground, no longer sure she should do this.

   Brian appeared where she was looking, down on one knee, his hands on her
hips.  His fingers gripped the waistline of her panties and he looked up
into her face.

   "Becca's not the only beautiful woman in this clearing." he said softly,
his eyes telling her he meant that.  His fingers pulled at her panties and
he smiled.  "I'm just trying to help." he said.

   Polly felt a rush of gratitude.  She didn't believe him, but his effort
to make her feel special and beautiful made her insides melt.  She let her
arm fall slowly as she felt her panties being dragged to her knees.  She
reached out and put her hand on his head to steady herself as she lifted
one foot, exposing her most secret place.  Still, though, he looked at her
eyes.  Somehow that felt even more erotic than if he'd have looked at what
he was uncovering.

   "I feel so old." she moaned.

   He stood up and put his open palm under his erection.

   "Does it look to you like I think you're old." he asked.

   "I can't believe I'm standing here naked with a strange man." she
breathed.  "Who has an erection!" she moaned.

   "If you don't go swimming I'm going to have to kiss you again." he said.

   Polly flinched at the image of them clasping, naked, his lips against
hers.  If he did that now she'd lie down and spread her legs like a slut.
She just knew she'd beg him to take her right then and there.  She was
frozen by indecision.  She wanted that right this instant, but she knew it
was crazy.

   "Come on." he said, holding his hand out.  "Let's go cool off."

   Thankfully she took his hand.  How could it be that a strong, healthy
young man had more self control than she did?  She let herself be pulled
along, her mind warring with itself.

   The water stopped all that.  It WAS freezing.  She danced, lifting one
foot and then the other out of the water as he pulled her along, acting
like it was nothing.

   "Take a deep breath." he warned, grasping her shoulders.

   "No!" she gasped, seeing his intent to pull her sideways, like Denny had
done to Becca."

   "Yes!" he laughed as they toppled.

   Polly got a ragged breath in, but it blew right back out as the icy
water inundated her body.  They both scrambled right back up as she gasped
and spluttered.  She felt exhilarated as the warm sunlight hit her
goose-pimpled skin and looked down to see her own thick brown nipples
sticking up from her areolas like thimbles.  She shook her body like a dog
and saw her breasts wobble.  Her head turned to see Becca and Denny in a
hot embrace, standing thigh deep in the water, their arms around each other
as they kissed long and deep.  She turned to see Brian's grinning face and
lunged for him.  His arms enfolded her and his prick slapped up against her
naked and cold pussy lips as she sought his lips.  She was lost, and she
knew it, but it was the feeling of what freefall in a parachute jump must
be like as she crushed his body to hers with amazing force.

   As the kiss went on Polly realized her hips were moving, back and forth,
his prick sliding along her pussy lips as she dryfucked him.  His hands on
her back felt like fire and her tongue drove into his mouth seeking his. 
He pulled his lips from hers to move his across her cheek to her throat and
she let her head hang back, her wet hair hanging in strings as he kept
going to her shoulder and then down her left breast.  She wanted to wail as
his prick was pulled from her tightly clasping thighs, but then his mouth
sucked in the thimble-sized nipple and she whined with pleasure as he
suckled it.  He stopped and his eyes fixed on hers.

   "It's really too cold to swim." he said.  He pulled her toward the
shore.

   She went with him, helpless and eager at the same time.  She knew he
would take her to the blanket ...  would lie her down.  She knew she would
spread her legs wantonly for him.  She knew he would hulk over her and that
she would reach for the thing she needed so badly ...  wanted more than
anything else in the world right now.  She tore her eyes away from his and
pulled him, running, her bare feet pricked by gravel and pine needles until
they were to the blanket.  She dropped to her hands and knees, sweeping the
food aside and rolling.

   He was right there, on top of her as soon as she rolled to her back, his
knees not waiting, forcing her thighs open as he got into position.

   Then he stopped.

   She lay panting under him, her legs spread as she knew they would be,
her hands on his waist.  He loomed over her face and kissed her gently on
the lips.

   "Do you want this?" he asked softly.

   "Ohhhh YES!" she moaned, reaching for him.

   He felt huge in her hand, strong and hard and she pulled.  Her groan as
he slotted the head and it began to press apart her tight flesh sounded
like she was being tortured.  He kept up slow, steady pressure, impaling
her slowly until his wet pubes meshed with hers and his hips gave a little
wiggle.

   Polly felt shame at the sound she made in her throat, and the adult
woman in her ...  the aunt in her, couldn't help but roll her head to see
if Becca was watching her debauchery.  She saw Denny standing, now calf
deep in the water, leaning back, his hands on Becca's waist.  She had
climbed up on him and hung, impaled herself, legs wrapped around his
buttocks, her eyes staring into Denny's face as he bunched thick muscles in
his thighs and bounced her on his prod.

   Polly felt sweet release from shame and turned back to Brian.

   "Take me." she said hoarsely.

   "With pleasure." he grunted.

   Then he began fucking her.

   Polly had forgotten what it was like to be filled like this.  She must
have, because if she had remembered she would have found some man to do
this with long before now.  Her body screamed its satisfaction with being
made love to.  It didn't matter that it was in view of her niece.  It
didn't matter that it was in the open air.  It didn't matter that the prick
inside her was ten years or more younger than she was.  Her body craved
that thick rod ...  its movement in her tight sheath ...  the prodding of
the mouth to her womb.  She felt like a woman again for the first time in
years.  It didn't even matter that the wonderful hard thing that was making
her crazy was naked ...  that it would soon spurt dangerous sperm into her
unprotected womb.  Something in her craved that too, and she yearned for
the hot, wet bath that would come from that rutting prick.

   She encouraged him, telling him to keep going ...  to never stop.  Then,
before she was ready, her orgasm burst upon her consciousness and she
writhed under him, the feelings more intense than anything she could
remember.  Her pussy spasmed and he groaned as it tightened and loosened
around him.

   "Ohhhh Polly," he sighed as he drove in and stopped.

   She felt that warm bath and thrust her hips up to greet it.

   He started rutting again, and the warmth spread all over her pussy as
his ejaculation coated her whole length.  She pulled at his head, wanting
to kiss him as he gave her his gift.  They panted through their noses, not
wanting to break the kisses they traded to breath.  He gave a few
convulsive thrusts more as the last of his sperm entered her body, and
sagged down onto her.  She even welcomed his weight pinning her to the
blanket, and didn't care that she had to labor for breath.  But he rolled
quickly, pulling her with him to their sides, still kissing, his prick
still firmly in her pussy.  With mixed feelings of remorse and joy, she
admitted to herself that she was his ...  she'd do this again and again and
again ...  if he would.  Visions of him crooking his finger at her, and her
running into his arms naked filled her mind as she licked at his lips and
their kisses became shorter, more frequent, and then nibbles at each
other's lips and tongues.

   His head fell onto his shoulder and his eyes closed.

   "It's never been like that before." he panted.

   His statement made her bold.  "Not bad for an old woman, huh?"

   His eyes snapped open and he kissed her hungrily again.

   When he pulled back he said "This absolutely cannot be our last date."

   She smiled tiredly, feeling the overwhelming pleasure of knowing a man
wanted her at her age.

   "Oh it won't be." she sighed.  "You can just bet on that.  You're going
to do that to me again, mister nice policeman." She kissed him briefly. 
"Only longer."

   "Good." he sighed back.  "I brought my handcuffs along, just in case,
but I didn't really want to have to use them."

   They looked up to see Denny and Becca walking out of the pool, hand in
hand.  Their bodies sparkled with drops of water in the sun.  Even from
fifteen feet away Polly could see the stream of thick white that drooled
down one of Becca's inner thighs.  Polly wondered briefly if Becca was on
the pill.  She doubted it, not with Gidget as her mother.  She felt a tweak
of danger for her niece, and then wanted to laugh.  She, herself, was years
away from menopause, and had just taken what felt like a quart of hot spunk
deep inside her.  She thought briefly about the possibility that she might
be pregnant, and looked at Brian.

   "You know, I didn't plan on doing this." she said.

   "Why do you think I brought the handcuffs?" he smiled.

   "I'm not on the pill Brian." she said.  "I quit taking them when I found
out my husband was gay.  I don't DO this sort of thing any more."

   "Oh yes you do," said Brian, pushing his wilted prick against her.  It
had slipped out as they kissed.  He looked at her.  "Why did you stay
married?"

   She rolled to her back, no longer worried about being naked in public.
Her breasts slid gently apart, but not too much.

   "Oh, I don't know.  I was depressed, and there was Fran to think about.
I couldn't face trying to meet another man as a single mother I suppose.  I
certainly wouldn't have expected to meet a man like you." she said, gazing
up into the treetops.

   "Why?" he asked.  "You're beautiful, intelligent.  I know a hundred men
who would kill to be where I am right now."

   "You're so young ...  and I'm so old." she said, rolling her head to
look at him.

   He frowned a tiny frown.  "I meet all kinds of people.  Some of them
look like Hells Angels, but have hearts of gold.  Some of them look
perfectly respectable and pander their eight year old daughters for money.
I learned a long time ago not to judge a book by its cover and I'm still a
rookie." He stared at her.  "I'm interested in you for who you are, not
your age, or even how good looking you are ...  though I'm pretty happy
about that, I have to admit."

   "So running your naughty hands all over my body when you searched me
didn't have anything to do with ...  this?" she asked.

   He grinned.  "I liked your spunk.  I liked your outrage.  You were ...
you ARE ...  a decent woman.  I just got you in a situation where I could
take advantage of the fact that you haven't had a man in a long time." He
leaned over to kiss one nipple, not so hard now as it was before.  "But I
wouldn't have done that if I wasn't interested in you as a person."

   "How ...  deeply are you interested in me?" she asked, nervously.  "As a
person." she added.

   "I like you more than any woman I've been exposed to since High School."
he said, his face straight.  "I don't know if I've ever been in love or
not, but I've never felt like this about a woman."

   "You hardly know me." she objected.

   "That's what the hundred other dates we're going to go on are for." he
said.

   "Hundred?" she asked, thrilled.

   "For starters." he said.

   "I guess I'd better get an appointment with my doctor." she said.

   "Unless you want more children, that might be a good idea."

   "What about you?  Have you ever wanted children?" She was nervous to ask
that question too for some reason.

   "Constantly." he said.  "I've always wanted my own baseball team."

   Polly laughed.  "I don't think I have a baseball team left in me young
man."

   "Time marches on." he admitted.  "I suppose we'd better get started." he
grinned, leaning over to suckle at her nipple.

   There were moans of happiness coming from the other blanket now, loud
moans from Becca and huffing grunts from Denny that said all too clearly
what they were doing over there.  Polly was delighted to find that Brian
was hard again and she gladly pulled him up on top of her again, already
reaching for the orgasm she knew he would give her.  He did ride her longer
this time, and she had three glorious climaxes before he warned her.

   "Go ahead." she sighed.

   He did, grunting almost as loud as Denny, as they both spewed hot spunk
in their chosen women.  Somehow it just felt right to them all.

   Chapter 23

   They did eventually eat, still naked, sitting in the cool mountain
breeze.  And, before they left the glen they made love a third time,
finally able to take the time to pay attention to each other's special
likes and turn-ons.  It was actually Becca who called out that it was time
to be heading back.  They'd been gone hours and she was afraid that Fran or
Val would come looking for them and find them at the wrong time.  She and
Denny hadn't talked of long term relationships on their side of the tree.
She had been insatiable, wanting him in her all the time and taking him in
her mouth when he wasn't hard for her.  It was too perfect for them both,
sharing a closeness that neither of them felt could be any more real. 
Denny, in his own mind, was already thinking of how soon he could suggest
that they "wander by a jewelry store ...  you know ...  just for fun."

   Both women walked a little gingerly on the way back, sore from too much
of a good thing, but the kinks were pretty well worked out and they could
force themselves to try to walk more normally after a quarter mile.  Polly
lengthened her steps to come up even with Becca, who was following Denny.

   "Your mother is going to skin me alive if your belly swells." she said,
not trying to keep the men from hearing her.

   "How old was Aunt Betty when she had you?" asked Becca slyly.  She
already knew the answer.  Fran had pointed it out several times.

   Polly looked sideways at her niece.  "Fifteen, but apparently you
already know that."

   "Yes, I do," said Becca.

   "But you're going to college in a month or so.  You have your whole life
ahead of you." objected Polly.

   "And how old were you when you had Fran?" asked Becca, ignoring the
argument.

   "Twenty-two ...  and ready to graduate from college, I might add," said
Polly smugly.

   "And when did you meet Roger and fall in love with him?" asked Becca,
undeterred.

   "I was a sophomore ...  nineteen," said Polly.  "What does that have to
do with anything?  Are you telling me you think you're in love with this
man?" She pointed at Denny, who kept walking and did not turn around, even
though it was obvious he had heard her.

   "And why did it take you three years to have Frannie?" asked Becca. 
"Was it because you were on the pill?"

   "No," said Polly doubtfully.  "Roger and I didn't ...  I didn't know
then that he was ...  we just didn't DO that while we were going out.  In
fact the night I let him for the first time was the night I proposed to
him. I wasn't planning on that.  It just ...  happened.  In fact it
happened a lot like today." she said, looking over her shoulder at Brian.
He had fallen back a ways, as if he were giving them some privacy.

   "But you didn't get pregnant right away," said Becca.

   "No, Roger said we shouldn't ...  he didn't want to..." She went quiet
as, for the first time she processed his behavior during their engagement
with new eyes.  He had expressed his desire that they not do anything
stupid.  He had not encouraged her to go on the pill, and had not suggested
that he use rubbers.  He had suggested that they not make love until they
were actually married.  He couched it in terms of something so special that
he wanted to save it for special occasions.  She had thought he was
romantic, and only rarely did she get so horny for him that she demanded he
make love to her.  It was one of those times that she got pregnant.  She
wondered now if he had ever felt any sexual passion for her at all.  It was
just as likely that he was passing as a straight man by being engaged. 
They liked each other and liked spending time together.  Love making just
wasn't the center of their relationship.

   She looked over her shoulder again at Brian.  Even though she was sore
she wanted to be with him again, already.  And she knew that if she stopped
and put the blanket down, he'd take her again, right there on the trail. 
She knew she liked him as a person, even though she didn't know that much
about him, and she was sure they would have fun doing things other than
making love together, even if she didn't know what those things were.  In a
sense, it didn't matter what they were.  She just knew it would be fun
doing almost anything with him.  His humor made any situation fun.  His
seriousness made him seem dependable.  Her relationship with him, after two
dates, was unbelievably richer than anything she had ever had with Roger.

   She looked back at Becca, who was walking along silently.

   "So doesn't he have anything to say about this?" she asked, nodding at
Denny.

   "Hey, Corporal!" said Becca loudly.  "What are you gonna do if you knock
me up?"

   He stopped and turned.  His face was quite serious.

   "Will you marry me?" he asked.

   "What?" Becca stopped so quickly she stumbled.

   "I asked you if you would marry me.  Right now.  Today." he said.

   "I can't do that," said Becca, horrified.  "Denny I hardly know you. 
You can't ask a girl a question like that without at least talking about it
first!  That's silly!" She looked confused.

   "You asked me a pretty silly question." he said, his voice level.

   "I was joking." she said, her voice going higher.  "You haven't knocked
me up."

   "How do you know that?" he asked, still serious.

   "Because it's the wrong time of the month for anybody to knock me up,"
said Becca.

   "Famous last words," said Polly.

   "You're serious!" said Becca to Denny, not sounding too happy.

   "If you're serious enough to let me do what we just did, unprotected - I
should have asked you first and didn't ...  that's my fault - but if you're
serious enough to let me do that with you, then I HAVE to be serious about
what will happen to you, and my roll in that."

   "I was just having fun." objected Becca.

   "I take that very seriously," said Denny.  "I could be a father right
now because you didn't think seriously about the consequences of what we
just did.  I can't believe you would do that Becca."

   Becca stopped.  He was angry and she was hurt.  Her eyes filled with
tears.  "But..." She was at a loss for words.  "Please don't be mad at me."
she finally finished.

   Denny walked up to her.  He seemed to tower over her.  "If I've made you
pregnant I'm going to want to marry you.  That will be OUR child, and I'll
not want to be left out of it.  If you don't think you could be happy that
way, then we shouldn't see each other again."

   "Hey, Denny, cool down buddy," said Brian, stepping forward.

   "How can I cool down?" he asked.  "You know how I feel about children. I
want to make children with the woman I love and who loves me ...  who will
stand beside me and stay with me as those children grow up.  I want to
choose the woman who bears my sons and I want her to choose me."

   "Did you tell her that Denny?" asked Brian patiently.

   "No," said Denny.  His face screwed up and then it looked like HE might
cry.  "I think we let things get out of hand."

   Becca's mind was whirling.  She knew she liked Denny.  She knew she
liked being around him, and the way his mind worked.  He was exciting and
interesting ...  a man.  She thought about him leaving and never calling
her again and something twisted up inside her.  Like Brian, she had never
really been in love with anyone ...  didn't know what it felt like.  But
now, the idea that he might go away mad made her want to die.  The only
thing she could think of to do was what she did when her cousins were mad
at her.

   "Can we talk about this?" she asked.

   Denny looked down at her.  She couldn't decipher what was in his eyes.

   "Please?" she asked.  "I don't want you to be mad at me.  I understand
what you said, and I'm not pregnant, but that's not the point.  I don't
want to be without you.  Please don't just go off and leave me and never
come back.  I'm sorry."

   "Was it just ...  fun ...  for you today Becca?" he asked.

   "I've never done this with anyone before." she said, meaning a romantic
walk in the woods that turned into a sex fest of astonishing dimensions.

   "You were a virgin?" asked Denny incredulously.  She was too
accomplished a lover to have never had a man before.

   "No, that's not what I meant." she said.  She was frustrated now.  "Only
one other man has ever touched me.  He was more of my teacher than anything
else.  And I love him, but not in the way you're talking about.  All I know
is that I never wanted to do what we did today with any other man ...  not
like it was today.  Does that make any sense?"

   "I don't understand," said Denny mournfully.

   "Have you ever been in love with a girl?" asked Becca.

   He nodded.

   "And why aren't you with her now?"

   "It didn't work out." he said.  "But what does that..."

   "Does that mean your love wasn't real?" she asked.

   "No." he said shortly.

   "I don't know if I love you." she said.  "I'm not sure what love is,
except that I felt it for that one man.  He's not available to me and never
will be, but I love him just the same.  I feel something different for you,
just as strong ...  but different.  The point is that I don't just go out
and do this with anybody.  You're special somehow.  I don't know if that
means I love you or not, but I do know this.  If you leave here and don't
ever see me again I'll just curl up and die Denny.  I can't imagine dating
other men, or letting them do to me what you did today."

   "You're in love sweetness," said Polly reaching out to touch her.  "You
have all the signs." Part of her mind was whirling, trying to figure out
who Becca's "teacher" was.  Her niece's situation was more important
though, and she shoved those thoughts aside.

   "But how CAN I be?" moaned Becca.  "I hardly KNOW him!"

   Polly turned to Brian.  "Does this conversation sound familiar?"

   He grinned.  "Yup, you're in love Becca.  Sorry to be the bearer of bad
news.  I mean Denny's surely no catch, but I think you have it bad for
him."

   His attempt at humor didn't go over very well.  Becca shot him a
murderous look and then she looked surprised and then she looked shocked.
She turned to Denny.

   "What if they're right?" she asked, panic in her voice.  "What if I
really DO love you?"

   Denny rolled his eyes.  If this was what dating a younger woman was like
he wasn't sure it was a good idea any more.

   "You're asking ME?" he grumped.  "I don't even know how to feel about it
if you're pregnant."

   "I'M NOT PREGNANT!" shouted Becca.  "WON'T ANYBODY LISTEN TO ME?"

   "You sure better not be," said Polly under her breath.

   "AND WHAT ABOUT YOU?!" Becca turned on her aunt.  "You were doing the
SAME THING.  Are YOU on the pill Aunt Polly?  Is Val?  Is ANYBODY?"

   Before Polly could even answer she turned on Brian.  "Are YOU going to
marry HER if you knocked her up?!"

   It was a rhetorical question, but Brian thought things had gone way too
far already.

   "Yes." he said firmly.

   Becca had taken another breath to say ...  she didn't know what she was
going to say ...  but she was going to say ...  something ...  and his
answer took her breath away.  He looked dead serious.

   "Really?" she squeaked.

   "Yup," said Brian.  Polly was looking at him as if she didn't believe
what she was hearing either.  "We're gonna have a whole baseball team." he
said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to say.

   "That's NOT what I said," said Polly.  "As I recall, I told you I didn't
think I had a whole ball team left in me."

   Brian waved.  "I have faith in you." he said airily.

   Polly put her hands on her hips.  "If you think I'm going to be barefoot
and pregnant for the next nine years you got another think coming, buster!"
she said hotly.

   "Okay, okay, just two or three then," said Brian, giving up way too
easily.  "Can we start now?" He reached for his zipper.

   Polly blushed at being teased so blatantly.  "I thought you were being
serious with me back there."

   "I was." he said, pulling her to him.  He gave her a serious kiss.

   When he was done Polly pushed him away.  "I thought you said you didn't
know." she accused him.  "Where did all this come from?"

   "Watching her," said Brian, nodding toward Becca.  "She's like a young
colt, frisky and not caring about anything, just loving life and everything
in it.  You're more like a thoroughbred race horse, full of passion, with a
love to run the race.  It just occurred to me that you make me feel like a
stallion.  I like that feeling.  So, if I have to knock you up to get to
see more of you, I'm game."

   "You do NOT have to knock me up to see more of me," said Polly,
disgusted.

   "Well, it was getting too serious around here.  We're a fun bunch, us
four.  And if it stops being fun then ...  well, it won't be any fun.  So
everybody lighten up.  Becca's not pregnant, and Polly's not pregnant, and
we'll be more careful in the future and everybody will be all happy."

   He was the only one who was completely upbeat about it, but he did
lighten the mood.  As they walked the rest of the way Becca took Denny's
hand, and he squeezed hers.

   "I'm really sorry." she said.

   "Never mind." he said.  "We'll have a nice long talk about it next time
we go out.  For now, just try to act normal.  Your mother is like a
polygraph.  She'll be asking all kinds of questions and I don't want either
of us cracking under the stress."

   "So you don't hate me?" asked Becca in a little girl voice.

   "I don't do that with women I hate." he growled.  Then he leaned over,
put his shoulder in her stomach and lifted her like she was weightless.  As
she squealed and giggled and fought he carried her back to the cabin.

   Behind them Polly gave Brian a searching look.

   "You better watch what you say there, little boy." she smiled a grim
smile.  "What would you do if I accepted your erstwhile proposal?"

   "Hmmmm." he said, gripping his chin with his thumb and forefinger. 
"Knowing women, and knowing your situation, I'd have to say I'd do my best
to get you showing nice and public like before you could get loose from
Roger and get a wedding planned.  I've always had a yen to watch my
pregnant fiancé walk down the aisle toward me." He grinned.

   "That could be why you haven't had any fiancés," said Polly.  But she
smiled.

   Other than remarking on the fact that they'd been gone for a long time,
no one seemed to notice anything odd about the two couples.  Even if they
would have, it probably wouldn't have been discussed.  Fran was bubbling
over with the news when Becca was carried into the cabin.

   "Guess what!?" She waited a split second and went on.  "Aunt Gidget is
going on a DATE with Grandpa!"

   Of course Polly and Becca hadn't been there, or heard what had happened.
All Becca could think about was how grandpa had told her about how only the
girls' mothers hadn't done anything with him ...  yet.  Her recent
induction into the joys ...  and perils ...  of being a fully sexual woman
hadn't yet settled into something she could fully wrap her mind around. 
And now ...  her mother was going to go on a date with the man who had
taken her own virginity!?  Her joy at Denny's apparent willingness to
forgive her selfishness ...  her casual attitude about something that meant
so much to him ...  was suddenly assailed by a mental image of her mother's
kicking legs, and Bob's bouncing buttocks between them.  At the same time,
she was aware on a completely different level that her Aunt Polly had, just
that afternoon, found something joyous and exciting, something she deserved
...  that every woman deserved to have in her life.

   In short, she had no idea how to feel about that statement.  She sat
down suddenly, unable to keep her knees stiff enough to stand on them.

   If Polly would have had a chance to reflect on her own life and actions
this past couple of weeks, she would probably have raised an eyebrow and
said "Good move sis.  You need to get out and do things." But her recent
exploits hadn't had time to sink in, and her reaction was typical for the
woman she had been these past few years instead.

   "That's insane!" she barked.  "Why on earth would she do that?  Why on
earth would Grandpa do that?"

   It was about then that Becca more or less collapsed into her seat and
everything got kind of crazy.

   It got sorted out eventually, and when it was explained that neither Bob
nor Gidget had any recent experience with dating, and that both deserved to
update their social lives, and that both could do a sort of trial run to
see where the perils and problems lay in pursuing that path, it didn't seem
quite so outlandish any more.

   "What about Sunny?" asked Polly when everything had calmed down.

   Sunny put her hands up in the air, palms out.  "Leave me out of this. 
I'm perfectly happy with no men in my life."

   "So is Gidget," said Polly.  "So was I until I met Brian.  Now I know
what I've been missing, and I'm telling you, I'm not going to keep missing
it."

   There were ooos and ahhhs and all kinds of innuendo as cousins needled
her, asking just what had happened on that little hike they took.

   "What could happen?" she said, her face straight.  "Becca was right
there with me."

   "Yeah." sighed Denny.  "This double dating business can sure cramp a
guy's style." He grinned.

   "I'm just saying we need to find somebody for Sunny to be friends with
too," said Polly.

   Sunny snorted.  "Tell you what.  When Gidget gets done with Grandpa,
then I'll take lessons with him too.  Okay?  Now will everybody leave me
alone?" She had no intention of going on a date with her own grandfather,
no matter how young and handsome he was.  She liked him, but he was still a
stranger to her in many ways.

   She was a little like Becca in the sense that she sometimes thought of
something she wanted and just went after it, not worrying about side
effects.  She also wasn't above making promises she didn't intend to keep.
But she had no idea where that blithe promise would take her as the future
unfolded.

   ========================

   Val was bored.  She didn't mind going up to the cabin to work, but
listening to the wrangling of the women was tiring.  She wanted to tell
them all to just go find a man like Zack.  She couldn't help but look at
her grandmother and great aunts differently now that she knew they'd had
sex with Bob.  That she had practically had sex with him too didn't change
her outlook.  They were older women, and she just couldn't imagine them in
the throes of passion.  Her mother now, that was different.  Her mother was
full of passion and emotion.  She used it in her job and thrived on it.  If
there had been a man in her life he would have walked around slumped over
all the time from being bedded half to death.  Val was sure of that because
she was a lot like her mother and she thought about seeing Zack again ...
and fucking Zack again ...  ten or twelve times a day.

   She noted her mother's blatant attempt to get attention away from her by
making that silly promise that she'd go on dates with grandpa too.  Like
that would ever happen.  Then again, she'd seen Bob in action, and he might
just be able to give her mother what would calm her down a whole lot.

   But now she was tired of listening to chatter.  She wandered over to the
knapsack Denny had dumped on the floor.  It had blankets in it borrowed
from that nice Sally woman.  They should be washed before they were
returned.  Bob had had a washer and dryer delivered, and they had hooked
them up this morning.  The blankets would be a good trial run to see if
everything was working well.  No one paid any attention as she picked up
the pack and carried it to the little utility room off of the kitchen.  She
opened the lid of the washer and shook out the first blanket so she could
pack it in around the agitator.  Her nose caught a musky odor that was
tantalizingly familiar.  She was stuffing the blanket into the washer when
she realized what that smell was.

   She pulled the blanket out and spread it out again.  There, almost in
the middle!  It was darker there, like it was wet.  She felt the spot.  It
WAS wet.  It had been folded up wet and hadn't dried.  She pulled it up and
sniffed at the spot.

   Semen.

   It was unmistakable.  It was an odor she had known from her play with
grandpa for years, and she had found that Zack's smelled very similar.

   Who had been on this blanket?  Becca?  That was likely.  Val knew how
hot to trot Becca was.  But where had Aunt Polly been while Becca was
getting her pussy stuffed?  On impulse she shook out the other blanket. 
There was a wet spot in the middle of THAT one too!

   Both of them?!  Aunt Polly too?!  Now there was something to think
about. She thought back to the hospital, when Brian had searched Polly. 
Polly had been obviously affected by the search.  She had even said some
raunchy things.  But doing it on a blanket, obviously in the open?  And
right next to each other!?

   She went into the kitchen and called out into the living room for Polly
to come help her.  Polly had been holding Brian's hand and she dropped it
to come toward Val, a smile on her face.

   "What's up?" she asked.

   "I need to know what something is," said Val, leading Polly into the
utility room.  She picked up one of the blankets and put her hand under it,
her fingers pushing the wet spot into prominence.  "What do you suppose
made that wet spot right there?" she asked, keeping her face straight.

   Polly peered at it and jumped.  She blanched.

   "I don't know dear.  That was the blanket Denny and Becca sat on to eat
lunch."

   Val had a pretty good idea what they ate, but she played it straight. 
She picked up the other blanket.  "You used this one?" she asked
innocently.

   Polly nodded, worriedly.

   "That's funny, because it has a wet spot just like the other one ...  in
almost the same place." She tented that spot out too.  "See there?  It's
kind of slick and sticky and it smells like..."

   She stopped talking as Polly snatched the blanket out of her hands and
stuffed it into the washer.  Then she picked up the other blanket and did
the same thing.  Val started giggling and Polly shot her a look.

   "Where's the soap?" asked Polly.

   "Wasn't that soap that was staining the blankets?" asked Val,
snickering. "It looked kind of white and soapy to me."

   Polly closed the lid and turned on the water.  She looked at Val.

   "What do you want Valerie?" she asked.

   Val reached out to hold both her aunt's hands.  "Nothing.  Except to
tell you how happy I am for you.  You should have done this a long time
ago."

   Polly relaxed.  It felt good that somebody besides Becca knew too.

   "I don't think I'd have found the right guy a long time ago.  I'd never
have gone for a man ten years younger than me."

   Val's brow creased a little.  "Maybe.  Anyway, things turned out pretty
well according to the blanket." She grinned.  "Now if we can just get Aunt
Gidget and my mother hooked up with some men to ease their fussiness, this
whole family might be a pretty fun bunch of folks to hang out with."

   ========================

   Becca, not wanting to have a confrontation with her mother, simply
started seeing Denny alone secretly.  She drove to his little three room
bungalow, but they didn't stay there.

   Their first date alone was tense in the beginning.  There was no necking
or petting on this date and, oddly enough, that was fine with both of them.
They had something to eat and sat in the car on a bluff overlooking a
scenic view and just talked.  Becca talked about her life, growing up in a
strange family, though she left out the sexual parts.  Denny talked about
his own upbringing in a family where his single mother had too many
children and neglected them.  It had been rough.  One of his brothers was
in prison and one of his sisters had been a hooker until he'd arrested her
himself, finding her on the street.  She hadn't believed he'd do it, but he
did.  He got her into a program and she was doing much better these days.
Two of his siblings were still living at home, jobless, with no prospects.
That was part of why he was so intensive about children and there being a
loving set of parents to raise them.

   Becca, had never wanted for anything, and her family gave her so much
love and encouragement that she had never really missed having a father. 
She had Bob to talk to and even though he never talked back - at least not
until recently - that filled what little need she had for a male in her
younger life.

   As they talked, and she had a serious conversation with an adult male
for the first time in her life, she began to realize how she had treated
sex like a new toy, being obsessed with it in a way, but not respecting all
the different aspects of such a relationship.

   When they got back and she stood by her car, getting ready to go home,
Denny finally gave her a kiss.  Becca was shocked to find that that kiss
was sweet and caring and, for once, didn't make her pussy ache, or her
nipples tingle.  It was just a really nice kiss from a really nice man who
she began to suspect she was falling in love with.

   They had two more dates of a very similar nature, spending time together
and growing even closer before disaster struck.

   ========================

   Becca paced in the bathroom.  She checked her watch again.  She'd looked
at it five times already.  Usually the second hand hadn't made it around
the face since the last time she'd looked.  She'd waited a week, hoping
that she was just late, even though she'd been as regular as clockwork
since she was twelve.  This couldn't be happening to her.  Not now.  Not
since she found the man she thought she wanted to spend the rest of her
life with.  Everything he'd said about the rashness of having unprotected
sex battered the defenses in her mind as she waited for the test to be
done. They'd even abstained from sex for the last couple of dates!  This
couldn't be happening.

   The next time she checked her watch it was time.  Now, though, she
couldn't bear to look and see what she had been so impatient to have
available.  She closed her eyes.  Finally she couldn't stand it any longer.
She opened them and looked at the little strip of material that would
define her happiness for the foreseeable future.

   It was positive.

   ========================

   Becca called a meeting of the cousins.  She had to because she was going
crazy trying to figure out what to do by herself.  She couldn't talk to her
mother, and none of her aunts would be sympathetic either, with the
possible exception of Aunt Polly.  Even then she had joked and talked about
getting pregnant, and Polly would think she had done it on purpose, which
was not the case.  Becca had always been pro choice on the few occasions
she had thought about such things.  It was easy to talk about a woman's
choice when you weren't the woman involved.

   There had been enough turbulence in the family in the last few months
that her frantic summons didn't make either Fran or Val particularly
nervous.  Becca was an emotional girl in the first place, and often got
more excited about something than anyone else did.  So the two girls were
less than prepared when they arrived and before they could even get in the
house Becca came storming out.

   "I'm pregnant." she hissed in a whisper that was close to a shout.

   Both girls stared at their cousin.

   "What do I do?" Becca asked urgently.  "I don't know what to do!"

   They went for a drive.  This was NOT something they could discuss under
circumstances that an adult might show up and want to join whatever
discussion they were having.

   The first thing Val thought about was how relieved she had been when her
own period had come along a few days back.  Then she felt guilty that she
was thinking of herself instead of Becca.

   "It's Denny's ...  right?" she said, not thinking how that could be
interpreted.

   "I don't KNOW!" cried Becca.  "It could be grandpa's!"

   Fran felt a shock course through her as she remembered the warm wet
feeling of Bob's spunk inundating her pussy at the cabin.  She wasn't due
to bleed for another week.  She hadn't thought a thing about it until now.
Her mind went a little numb at the implications.

   "Oh boy." signed Val.  Then, the inevitable question, born of female
desperation: "Are you sure?"
Now, if you're a man, you're probably thinking "Sure it could be Bob's?"
If that's the case, go find a woman to talk to.  She'll explain all about

how that question, at that time, means "Are you sure you're pregnant?"

   Becca, being a woman, understood perfectly.

   "The test was positive.  My period's a week late ...  eight days now."

   "Oh boy." sighed Val again.

   "What should I do?" asked Becca miserably.  "Denny will hate me."

   Val can't be blamed, if that's the right word, for seeing this from the
perspective of what she'd do if SHE were pregnant.  In her case, there
would be no doubt as to the paternity of the baby.  She had grappled with
the possibility not all that far in the past, and her sense of relief when
her period started had been palpable.  Her mother had even noticed her
upbeat mood after she had to slide that first tampon in.

   "What are you so bubbly about?" Sunny had asked.

   "Oh ...  nothing.  I just love life I guess." Val had responded.

   Now she could think about what it might have been like if she hadn't had
to use that tampon.  Women are a little strange sometimes, from a man's
perspective.  While Val had been worried about being pregnant a week or two
ago, now that she wasn't, and one of her best friends was ...  she had
pangs of something that came perilously close to jealousy.  As she thought
about it now ...  it was almost sad that Zack HADN'T put life in her womb.

   Fran can't be blamed, again, if that's the right word, for being a
teenager who had never seriously contemplated the prospect that she might
get pregnant.  Girls her age think they're immune to a man's seed just like
boys that age think nothing can really hurt them.  Her inability to grapple
with the serious aspects of the situation caused her mind to go off on a
tangent.

   "Hey!" she said suddenly.  "If it's grandpa's, you would be having a
great great grandbaby!" She frowned and her eyes went glazed.  "Or your own
cousin four times removed?"

   "It's not funny." moaned Becca.

   "No, that wouldn't work," said Fran, trying to unravel the tangle of
relationships such a child would have.  If it was a boy it would be a son
and great great grandson to the same man, and a son for Becca, but a cousin
however many times removed from the OTHER girls.  She gave up as Becca
started crying.

   "Hey, I'm sorry," said Fran automatically.

   Her cousins then dragged poor Fran further into the world of adult women
and the decisions and challenges they have to deal with.  They didn't
exactly drag her in that direction kicking and screaming either.  She
couldn't get the feel of her great grandfather's sperm soaking her womb out
of her mind.

   The interesting thing was that, in the next two and a half hours, during
which Fran admitted she might be in the same situation and wouldn't know
for another week, while emotions raged and tears fell from all of their
eyes at one time or another, the "solution" of seeking an abortion was only
brought up once.

   "Denny would never forgive me," said Becca shortly.  "Neither would
grandpa." She put her hand on her flat abdomen.  "I don't think I could do
it anyway."

   That was that, as far as abandoning responsibility for her actions.

   A guy along on that trip would have been unbelievably frustrated at the
end of it.  He would have wanted to take the starting question "What do I
do?" seriously and come up with a plan of action.  But that's not what
happened.  They talked and cried and talked and discussed but never made
any solid decisions about just what Becca would do next.

   I'm glad I wasn't there.  It would have driven me nuts.

   Chapter 24

   Gidget sat in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection.  This
was crazy.  She was crazy to have agreed to it.  Going on a date with your
own grandfather!  Whoever heard of something like that?  The excitement of
doing something crazy and shaking up her boring life was gone.  She was
putting on makeup to go out with her own grandfather.  It was insane.

   But at the same time it was intriguing.

   Her fingers did what they did by rote, having done it thousands of times
before.  A tiny part of her mind dealt with that while the rest of it
wondered what the evening would be like.  In a surreal kind of way, she was
going out with a stranger.  She'd known him all her life, but he'd been
more of a fixture in Aunt Martha's house than a real person.  Even since
he'd waked up she had never been with him alone, or talked with him at any
length.  She liked him, based on the little bit of information she actually
had about him.  He was interesting and exotic and all that.  She loved
listening to his voice as he read from Rip's journal.

   But she knew who he was, and she couldn't get past that.

   In a sense, for Gidget, it was like suddenly going out with a famous
movie star and nobody knew about it except the two of you.  A lot of people
dream about somehow becoming a good friend to a movie star ...  the person
that star wants to be with away from the crush of fame ...  the secret best
friend who gets told all the juicy details and never ever betrays that
trust.  But when that happens for real ...  how do you act?  It was all
just too strange.

   He picked her up in the convertible and held the door for her.  That in
itself was strange.  Men hadn't done that when she was dating.  It was kind
of nice to be pampered in tiny ways.

   Though neither of them knew it, their conversation started out just like
inexperienced teenagers talk on first dates ...  sometimes on much later
dates.

   "Where do you want to go?"

   "I don't know ...  where do YOU want to go?"

   "I don't care.  What do you want to do?"

   "I don't know, what do YOU want to do?"

   "It doesn't matter to me.  I'm sure whatever we do will be fine."

   "Are you hungry?"

   "A little, but we don't have to eat now."

   "Okay ...  so what should we do?"

   "I don't know ...  what do YOU think we should do?"

   In the worst of circumstances, it can go on like that all night.  Both
people are so insecure that they're afraid to actually give an opinion, or
make a decision for fear that the other one won't like it.  In better
circumstances, a decision is made just to get them away from the curb.

   "Why don't we get something to eat?"

   "Okay, that sounds good.  I'm starving."

   "Okay, so what do you want to eat?"

   "Oh anything is fine."

   "How about Mexican?"

   "No, that gives me gas."

   "Okay, how about Chinese?"

   "No, they use too much salt."

   "Italian?"

   "I'd get sauce on my blouse/shirt."

   "Burgers?"

   "Too greasy.  They'll give you a heart attack."

   "Steak?"

   "I try to stay away from too much red meat."

   When all the possibilities have been run through and discarded for one
reason or another, someone usually says.

   "We can wait a while.  I'm not actually all that hungry."

   Thus begin many dates when both parties are nervous and hesitant for any
of a variety of reasons.  And thus began Bob's date with Gidget.  Or
Gidget's date with Bob.  It all depends on how you look at it.

   In better circumstances, driving around aimlessly in virtual silence for
a while eventually gets conversation going.  In the best of circumstances,
that conversation blossoms into an actual relationship.

   It started with Gidget sighing.

   "This is so weird."

   "Why's that?" asked Bob.

   "Because you're my grandfather."

   "Oh." He drove on for a while.  "You know, I have lots of memories, but
not very many of you.  Your voice I mean.  You and Sunny and Polly."

   She looked at him.  He was handsome with the wind blowing in his hair.
"I guess because you were sleeping we didn't pay much attention to you."

   "That's understandable." he said.

   "I always wondered why Becca liked to go over there and read to you and
tell you stories and things."

   "At the time, I didn't actually think about what I was hearing.  It's
hard to describe.  It was like a dream, but you're not really interested in
getting into the dream, and you don't want to wake up, so you just sort of
go back to sleep.  Then somebody says something or does something and
you're aware of it, but..."

   "I can't imagine what it must have been like." said Gidget, empathizing
with him for the first time in her life.

   "It wasn't bad exactly.  It wasn't anything.  I wasn't lying there aware
of everything and screaming inside to wake up.  And the funny thing is
that, when I DID wake up, I remembered almost everything everybody said to
me, or did to me.  It took a while, but now I feel like I have part of that
time back because I have memories of it."

   That led to Bob asking her to bring him up to date on HER life while he
slept.  He was a good listener and the family relationship between them
actually fostered her telling him things.  She started with her secret
dislike for her own name.  Everyone treated her like she was an
empty-headed bimbo as a girl and she blamed it on her name.  She found it
was easy to talk to him about her teenage years, when she was so frantic to
find love.  The more she talked, the more she felt a burden lift from her
shoulders.  She'd never told anyone in the family about the professor who
had misused her so badly and become Becca's absent father.  As it tumbled
out of her mouth she couldn't believe she was vomiting it all up.  His hand
came and lay on top of hers, which was on her leg.  It felt good to feel
that human touch.

   She actually slumped when that part of her story was done, feeling
drained.

   "I wish I could have been there to help you." he said.

   "I shouldn't have told you all that.  I never told anybody else about
that."

   "I feel honored you would confide in me." he said.

   "This isn't like a real date." she said suddenly.

   "Why not?" he asked.

   "I would NEVER talk about all that stuff with a man on our first date.
He'd never ask me out again."

   "Well, you don't have to worry about that with me.  I'm having a good
time.  I like you.  I'll take you out any time you want."

   Gidget smiled.  "You have to like me.  We're related."

   "Not true." he said "About the having to like you part, I mean.  I don't
have to like anybody.  I'm just lucky that all of you I've been around for
a while impress me."

   "Now THIS is sounding more like a real date." she chuckled.

   "What?"

   "You sound like you're buttering me up.  Next you'll say how beautiful I
am and how I drive you wild and then your hands will be all over me." She
giggled.  "Or you would if you weren't my grandfather."

   "You ARE beautiful." he said.  "You may be my granddaughter
biologically, but we don't really know each other that well yet.  For all
intents and purposes I'm just a twenty-five year old guy out with a babe."

   She laughed.  "A babe who's ten years older than you, bub.  I just
renewed my driver's license and the picture makes me look like a used up
old biddy."

   "I like my women a little on the mature side." said Bob airily.  "They
have more experience."

   "And when, since you woke up remembering your twenty something year old
wife, have you gotten all this experience with older women?" she asked
archly.  "Have you been leading a secret life chasing around girls my age?"
She laughed again.

   Bob wished he could tell her about the experience of sharing something
so wonderful with a woman who knows herself and what she wants.  But he
couldn't.  She was too wrapped up with their relationship anyway.  He
looked at her and appreciated her firm breasts and round hips.  She wore
her hair short, almost in what used to be called a Pageboy and the wind
flipped it around.  She preferred arched brows and highlighted her own with
eyeliner, making her look vaguely surprised most of the time.  She had
chosen a dark red lipstick that went well with her dark hair.  She looked
healthy and sexy and Bob, having come to terms with the incest he'd been
involved in for fifty-years and a few months, felt his prick stir in his
pants.

   "It doesn't take long," he said carefully, "if a man is in my situation,
for him to become aware of women in ways that, a short time ago, I wouldn't
have contemplated." He took a risk.  "In this case, while I am related to
all of you, I am also capable of seeing you as females of the species. 
What's a man supposed to do when he's surrounded by a whole passel of
beautiful women who are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to him?"

   Gidget blinked.  "Are you FLIRTING with me?" she gasped.

   "Maybe a little." he smiled.  "You're a beautiful woman, Gidget.  Your
head is not empty, nor is your blouse.  A lot of men have probably noticed
that about you."

   Gidget was stunned.  He was right in a way.  They really WERE strangers.
He was acting like other men had acted, or tried to act.  She ignored them
all.  All they wanted was what they wanted.  They didn't care about her. 
At the same time, here was a man who she wasn't afraid of ...  who she
didn't mistrust automatically ...  and who had just paid her a very nice
compliment that made her feel things she hadn't felt in years and years. 
Her usual response to that would have been to ignore him and move on out of
dangerous waters.

   But she couldn't do that with Bob.

   "Can I ask you a question?" she said.

   "Sure."

   "Why do men do that?" she asked.

   "Why do men do what?" he asked back.

   Instead of actually asking a question, Gidget made a comment.  "You just
called me sexy and beautiful and mentioned my breasts.  In my experience
that means a man wants to drag you into bed."

   "Okay." said Bob.  Based on her previous comments, both before and on
this date, he had some idea of where this was going.

   Then she asked her question.  "Why is it that men can't think about
anything but sex?  I mean you're my grandfather, for pity's sakes and you
STILL notice my sexuality."

   "I'm a man." said Bob.  "For millions of years men have been scoping out
women.  There is a biological urge to mate and it's strong.  In my day,
people tried to ignore that and pretend that it could be turned on and off
with a switch or something."

   Gidget thought immediately of a boy in High School who had used the
popular term that decade when he said "You turn me on."

   Bob went on.  "From what I can see since I woke up, the only thing
that's changed is that sex kept going on its natural course, and people
just came up with more and more complicated ways to try to deny sexual
attraction, even though it's advertised in everything and everywhere.  It's
one of the most puzzling things I've experienced since I woke up."

   He looked over at her and found her staring back at him, so he went on.

   "To answer your question, I'm a stranger in a strange land - kind of
like that book that guy wrote while I was sleeping.  It was lying on the
dresser and it's one of the first things I read after I woke up.  Except
not EVERYTHING is strange.  There are a few things that are familiar and
comfortable, but most of it is odd and jarring.  I'm stupid in a way,
because I'm behind the times fifty years.  But sex comes naturally, and
that hasn't changed.  I see a beautiful woman and something in me wants to
do what nature has intended for men to do for a million years.  The only
difference is that I'm honest about it.  I see potential sexual partners
and I don't feel bad about calling them potential sexual partners."

   Gidget's mouth dropped open.  "You mean ...  are you saying ...  do you
see ME as a potential sexual partner?"

   "Yes," he said calmly.  "But you don't have to worry about it.  It's
just the biology inside me reacting to the biology on the outside of you
... plus a dose of admiration for who you are.  I'm not going to hit you on
the head with a club and drag you off to a cave somewhere to ravish you."
He grinned.

   Gidget's mind was whirling.  In all her life, every single time she'd
had sex, it had been something of a chase and conquest situation.  She had
been told all her life that her sex was something to barter with, or that
it shouldn't be used at all until certain social prerequisites were met. 
And yet, under certain circumstances she wasn't able to control her urges.
She knew now that her professor had never loved her, even though he said it
all the time.  He had pushed her buttons and she had resisted, like she was
supposed to, until all the right buttons had been pushed.  Then she "gave
in".  As she remembered those times, so long ago, she now realized that she
had never actually WANTED to have sex with the man, but gave in because
that's what the script said she was supposed to do.  But he hadn't gone by
the script when she got pregnant.  And that had soured her on all scripts
from that point on.

   Now, this man, a man she wasn't automatically suspicious of, and who she
liked, not because of her biological relationship required it, but because
he was just a nice guy, was acting like other men.  Except that he wasn't
acting from a script.  He was just being honest about how he felt.  She
thought back to several men who she suddenly realized might have been doing
the same thing.  And she had pushed them away.  No wonder she was alone and
lonely.

   "Wow" she said.  "Practicing" for dates with other men had suddenly
taken on some meaning.

   "Are you outraged?" he asked.

   She thought about it.  Bob was more real to her as a stranger than he
was as her grandfather.  She'd never been able to view him as most children
would view a grandfather.

   "No." she said, surprised.  "I'm actually not.  All you did was tell the
truth ...  right?"

   "Yes.  But I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

   "Do you always tell the truth?" she asked, interested now.  She
unconsciously leaned toward him as she turned in the seat to face him.

   "No." he smiled.  "Sometimes the truth can cause hurt feelings."

   "So how do you decide when to tell the truth and not?" she asked.

   "I tell the truth if I don't think it will hurt anybody, and will make
things better."

   "And you lie the rest of the time?" she asked.

   "It's not that black and white.  I try not to lie at all.  Sometimes I
just don't say anything.  If the truth isn't actually necessary, and might
hurt somebody's feelings, why say it?"

   Gidget felt a longing in her that she hadn't known was there.  To find a
man who didn't play games ...  who was honest ...  who would listen to her.
She could get used to being around a man like that.  There had been times
when she had been a little jealous of Polly for having Roger to be friends
with, even though there was obviously nothing sexual going on there.  Maybe
this dating thing had possibilities after all.  Bob couldn't be the only
man like himself in the world ...  right?

   "There's a radio at the cabin ...  isn't there?" she asked.

   "Yes, Fran insisted she had to have Rock 102 or some such thing up
there." He was confused at the turn of conversation.

   "Take me up there.  I want to dance."

   "Aren't there places in town that have dancing?" he asked.

   "I'm not about to do that in public." she laughed.  "Not until I've had
some practice.  I haven't been dancing since college."

   Bob thought about it.  He knew the Charleston and a couple of other
dances, but he hadn't heard any music since he woke up to that would work
with those dances.

   "Good idea." he said.

   That also solved the eating problem for them, since they felt
comfortable opening a few cans and heating them in the microwave.  Bob told
her the story about the first time he saw a microwave in Martha's kitchen
and thought it was a toaster oven.  She laughed and they talked about other
new things he'd experienced.

   Then she went to the radio and bent over to fiddle with it, looking for
music to dance to.  Rock and roll worked for her, to a degree, but Bob had
no idea how to move to that music.  She taught him a few basic movements
and told him to concentrate on the beat of the music.  They gyrated and Bob
watched her breasts bounce inside her blouse.  She caught him looking, but
wasn't threatened and teased him.

   "You're being naughty.  You're staring at my boobs."

   Bob scratched his head.  "I would have sworn I gave you the caveman
speech.  Besides, this music makes me think of mating dances I heard about
in my college sociology class."

   "When my mother was growing up they called this Devil music." she
panted, gyrating a little more.  It was fun being watched by a man you
liked.  "They used to do a dance called the Shimmy or something like that.
I saw her doing it once when I was growing up.  It looked like this."

   She stood still and then twisted her shoulders and upper torso back and
forth violently.  Her breasts went wild, jumping back and forth.  She felt
her nipples stiffen and tingle as she watched, his mouth open.

   "Good grief" he sighed.  "It's a wonder all the women didn't get raped."

   "Girls teased a lot back then." she said, settling back into a more
relaxed movement.  "They still do."

   "You can say that again." he said.  "I saw a girl the other day in a
swim suit, I guess you'd call it.  It didn't cover as much as my wife's bra
and panties used to cover."

   "Isn't it horrible?" she asked, dropping back into her habitual
conservative persona.

   "No, actually, I loved it." said Bob grinning.  "It reminded me of the
one June was wearing the day I woke up."

   Her eyes arched.  "Your kidding!  The orange one?  She never lets
anybody see her in that."

   "I think she was so excited that she forgot she was wearing it.  I was
glad.  I was so frazzled by trying to figure out what was going on that it
was kind of nice to be distracted by all that flesh, even though I knew she
was my daughter."

   Gidget laughed.  "You don't know how odd it is to be around a man who's
honest."

   "You'd look good in something like that." he said, leering.

   "Yeah, right, with all my flab hanging out all over the place." she
grimaced.

   "I don't see all that much flab." he said.

   "It's there." she said.

   They took a break and Gidget found a station with slow music.

   "Now THAT's more like it." said Bob.  "I can waltz with the best of
them."

   He took her into the formal embrace of ballroom dancers, his left hand
holding her right one out and his right hand on the small of her back.

   "They don't dance like this any more." she said as he twirled her,
firmly in control.

   "Oh really?" he asked.  "How do they dance nowadays?"

   She pulled his left hand to her back and put her arms around him,
pulling him close.  Her breasts pushed against his chest and her cheek was
suddenly close to his.  They didn't so much dance as stand and sway to the
music, taking tiny steps.  It was immensely more intimate than what they
had been doing, and Bob felt himself react.

   "This may not be such a good way to dance." he murmured in her ear.

   His breath in her ear made her shiver.  She suddenly felt the pressure
of something pushing against her pubis.

   "Oh my." she breathed.

   "Does this make you uncomfortable?" he asked.

   Gidget didn't know quite how to answer that question.  She was relaxed
and comfortable with this man.  She didn't feel threatened at all.  And
dancing like this felt wonderful, after all those years of going without.
In fact, she was a little horny.  She hadn't felt that way in so long that
it was almost like welcoming back a long lost friend.

   "You don't have a club lying around here anywhere do you?" she asked,
hugging him a little closer.

   "No." he said, unable to keep his hands from sliding up and down on her
back.  "No cave either."

   "Then I don't feel uncomfortable." she said.

   "Good, because I want to keep doing this for a while.  This feels really
good."

   He pushed his erection against her just a little.

   Gidget felt heat suffuse her face.  Part of her insisted this was crazy
and wrong.  But something else in her admitted that this felt good.  It was
all innocent anyway.

   "You know what you are?" she said into his shoulder.  "You're a dirty
old ...  young man."

   "No I'm not." he said softly.  "A dirty old man would do this." He slid
his hands down to cup her buttocks and squeezed them gently, pulling her
against him.

   "You shouldn't be doing that." she murmured, but her arms stayed around
his neck.

   "I thought we were practicing." he said back.

   "You mean all those other men I go out with will want to do that too?"
she asked dreamily.

   "That and more." he said, his hands still on her ass.

   "More?" she asked.  She felt a tingle start somewhere behind her navel.
"But we can't do those things."

   "Why not?" he asked.  "It's just practice, right?"

   "I don't think you're being completely truthful with me right now." she
chided.

   "You're right." he said.  He kissed her throat.

   "I haven't felt like this since I can remember." she sighed, rubbing her
body against him.  Her hips betrayed her and she ground her mons against
his lump.  "I feel so ...  naughty."

   "What you feel is the same attraction I feel." he countered.  "That's
all it is.  Animal attraction.  We can stop any time you want to."

   She didn't pull away.  "You're an amazing man Bob Winkle.  Are you sure
you're not Rip himself?  I feel you ripping apart my defenses."

   "Your defenses are there for good reason." he said.  "They're to keep
you from getting hurt."

   "But you won't hurt me." she argued.

   "If this goes much further you might get hurt." he said, pushing his
erection against her.

   "Are you really ...  hard?" she asked.

   "That's not a handkerchief down there." he quipped.

   She shuddered at the mental image that popped into her brain of a hard
penis.  The only one she'd really had time to look at in any detail was the
one that got her pregnant.  She closed her eyes tightly.  She didn't want
to see that image.

   "Grandpa?" she said, her voice high and young.

   "Yes sweetie."

   "Could I ask you a favor ...  a really BIG favor ...  something you
might think was terrible?"

   "Whatever you need sweetheart." he said.

   Had he said it any differently than that, things might have gone
differently.  But to her ears that was exactly the right way to put it. 
She needed ...  really NEEDED to replace that distasteful image in her
mind. She tried to explain it to him.

   "Right now I feel good ...  safe ...  happy.  Except that when you press
against me all I can think of is ...  him ...  his ...  his penis." He
didn't say anything and she felt better.  "I don't want to think of that
... see that in my mind.  I need to see another one ...  a different one."

   "You want me to show you mine?" he asked calmly.

   "Would you?" she asked tentatively.  "Could you?"

   "If that's what you want, then yes."

   She felt the nervousness of near panic, and acted before she could
chicken out.  She dropped to her knees.  That had been the script with the
professor and she did it unconsciously.  Her hands went to his belt and the
button of his Dockers as he stood passively.  That was in the script too,
as was her pulling at his clothing to bare his prod.

   She felt a familiarity that was horrible ...  and then, he was exposed,
and she almost laughed as the script flew out the window.

   Professor Lipscomb had been forty-two years old when he seduced Gidget
Winkle.  He had not been in the best of shape, but was an important man on
campus.  He had a little pot belly and a slight overbite that made him
unattractive to most women.  Gidget, thinking of the status of being a
professor's wife, bought his line and he was elated when she fell to what
he thought of as his masculinity.  He was average in every way, with the
possible exception of his ...  masculinity.  He was circumcised and, when
erect, would have measured exactly three point seven eight inches.  His
stubby little penis didn't care how less than average it was, though, and
performed well, at least to his own satisfaction.  Since he was her first
...  only, in fact ...  she didn't know the difference.  Things were
normal, as far as she knew.  That penis also delivered sperm flawlessly,
which is what had gotten Gidget into trouble.

   Bob, however, was uncut and had none of the smooth blunted appearance
that she had seen the last time she looked at a penis.  The first thing she
thought about as it bobbed into sight was that it wouldn't fit into her
mouth, like Professor Lipscomb's had so easily.  Her delighted eyes took in
it's rough look, with it's softened tip and the little hood that looked
like a turtle neck that had been pulled up over a bald man's head.  It was
longer.  Much longer.  She didn't make measurements in her head.  She just
noticed it was much longer.  The only similarity was that it was about the
same diameter as the other one she had seen.

   She liked this one better, though that may have just been raw bias.  She
was in the peculiar position of preferring her grandfather's naked penis
over that of one that had actually made her pregnant.

   The script came back long enough to make her lean forward and kiss the
tip, without thinking.  She was immediately cognizant of the turtle neck
around the tip of this amazing thing, kissing her back.  She jerked back
and looked up at Bob with fear in her eyes.

   "I shouldn't have done that." she said.

   "I don't mind." he said.  "It felt nice."

   She relaxed and looked at it again.  Now that this image was fresh in
her mind, she wondered what it would feel like to wrap her hand around
something that would still stick out.  Her hand had completely covered the
other one.

   "Can I touch it?" she asked.

   "Well, since you already did and the world didn't end ...  please." he
said.

   The act of gripping him, and leaning forward at the same time resulted
in something she wasn't prepared for.  Her hand kept moving!  The turtle
neck thinned and popped backwards, exposing something that looked a lot
more like Professor Lipscomb's.  It was different though, because it was
narrower, more pointed.  It looked like it would slide into her with much
less stretching and pain.

   She shook her head, trying to banish the idea of this sliding into her
at all.  She concentrated on the feel of the long hard tube in her hand. 
That was completely different and she liked that too.  She slid the sheath
back over the head experimentally and smiled.  Then she slid it back again,
playing with it, watching fascinated as the skin turned from bunched up and
wrinkled, to thin and smooth.

   "That feels really good." Bob sighed.  "But if you keep doing it I may
start looking for something to make a club out of."

   She looked up an smiled.  "There's still no cave."

   "No, but there's a bed right over there." He nodded at the newly covered
feather bed.

   She felt a tremor in her belly.  "Would you really do that with me ...
if you could?" she asked.

   "Yes." was all he said.

   She looked back at the shockingly sexual thing in her hand ...  and her
pussy clenched.

   "But you can't ...  can you." It wasn't really a question.

   "That depends on you darling." he said.

   "We couldn't." she shook her head firmly.

   "If that's what you feel, then you're right." he agreed.

   Her body screamed at her.

   "It's been so long." she said.  "It would be wrong."

   "Then we won't."

   "But part of me WANTS to." she complained.

   "Then we might." he smiled.

   "You make it sound so simple." she said.

   "It is simple.  Either you want to, or you don't."

   "It's not that simple for me." she sighed.  "You're my grandfather."

   "Right here ...  right now ...  I'm just your practice date.  Just a
man." he suggested.

   She stood up, flustered.

   "It can't be that simple." she argued.  "I wouldn't be doing this with
some man I was out on a date with."

   Bob leaned over and pulled up his pants.  He buttoned the button as she
watched, her eyes wide.  Then he refastened his belt.

   "So we won't do this any more." said Bob.  It was hard, but he knew it
was the right thing to do.

   Gidget threw up her hands.  "But I WANT to!" she said exasperatedly. 
"With you anyway."

   "You know what you remind me of?" Bob asked, taking her to the bed and
sitting her down on the edge of it.  He sat beside her.  It was almost
uncomfortable because the mattress crushed beneath them and tended to tip
them toward the center of the bed because of the hard side rail of the
frame underneath.  They perched on the edge.

   "You remind me of a girl I used to know named Ruth.  We went out a few
times when I was in High School.  She was what we called back then "hot as
a pistol." She loved to kiss and pet, but if you tried to touch her skin
... you know, reach inside her clothes ...  she'd push you away.  Then she
was right back wanting more.  She always wanted more, but she wouldn't let
you DO more.  At first I thought she was just using her defenses, to keep
things from going too far.  But after a while I decided she didn't know
WHAT she wanted.  She wanted more, but was scared, and couldn't make up her
mind about what to do about it."

   Gidget nodded.  "That's really close to what I'm feeling right now."

   "For men it's a little different." He went on.  "I look at a woman and
I'm either interested in making love to her ...  or I'm not.  It's an
almost unconscious kind of decision.  For us, there's no decision to make
on how far to go.  We either want to go all the way, or not at all."

   Gidget nodded.  "I get that.  But for women it's not that way.  Like
now, for instance.  I want to touch you and kiss you and things like that.
But I'm not sure I'd want to do more, even though I'm horny as can be.  But
the thing is that if I do all those things, I know I'll want to go farther
later, even though I don't want to now." She looked startled.  "Actually,
it's not that I don't WANT to now ...  I just can't get past thinking it
would be wrong to DO that."

   "You want to be seduced." said Bob, understanding.

   Gidget started to shake her head.  Seduction was part of the script ...
wasn't it?  But Bob was obviously interested in her, except that he wasn't
trying to seduce her.  Not in any way that matched any script she'd ever
thought of.  She'd always let Lipscomb have her because he seduced her.

   "I DON'T want to be seduced." she decided out loud.  "That's what he
always did to me.  I only let things happen because HE was in charge ... 
made things happen in me I couldn't control."

   "But you don't know how to go about all this without being seduced."
suggested Bob.

   "EXACTLY!" she said excitedly.

   "And if YOU were in control, then it wouldn't feel so dangerous?" he
asked.

   "Dangerous isn't the word I'd use.  Helpless is the word I'd use."

   "Then, in that case, I place myself completely under your control." said
Bob.  "I won't do a thing or make a move unless I have your specific
permission."

   Gidget grinned.  "I want you to be naked ...  RIGHT NOW!" she barked.

   Bob stood up and in seconds dropped his pants and got out of his shirt.
He kicked off his sandals and pulled his pants off.  He stood, hands on
hips.  He was soft.

   "What happened?" she asked, staring at his shriveled appendage.

   "I thought we were done." he said.

   "You can DO that?" she asked, amazed.  "You can just make it go down?"

   "Well, no ...  not all the time.  But if you're pretty sure nothing's
going to happen it pretty well does it all by itself."

   "What if I said something IS going to happen?" she said.

   Bob looked down and used his abs to make his dick move a little. 
"You're the boss." he said.

   Gidget laughed and clapped her hands.

   "I want to be naked too." she announced.

   Bob stood there.  "I can't do anything about that." he reminded her.

   "Okay, then, I want you to make me naked ...  slowly ...  and I want you
to be hard when you get done."

   Bob grinned and pulled her up.  His fingers went to her blouse buttons
and undid them, revealing a pink bra.  He slid his fingers over the tips.

   "Naughty naughty!" she said.  "No touching unless I say you can!"

   "Yes ma'am." said Bob.  He took his time, pulling one shoulder off, and
down her arm.  He intended to do that with the other one, but it actually
just fell down all by itself.  Her eyes looked uncertain as she stood
before him in her bra and slacks.

   "Am I allowed to say things?" he asked.

   "Okay, yes." she said.

   "You have luscious breasts." he said, staring at her cleavage.  "I can't
wait to see them.  I bet you have long, stiff nipples."

   "Wrong!" she said with glee.  "My nipples just lay there, flat and
uninteresting.  The last time they stuck out was when I was feeding Becca.
Nice try buster.  And my boobs are fat, not luscious."

   "You have to turn around." said Bob.

   "Oh!" she said.  She turned and he unclipped the bra.  He pushed it
forward, off her shoulders, sliding his hands down her arms.  Then he
turned her around to face him.  Her arms were under her breasts, holding
them up and the bra cups on them.  "You touched me." she accused.

   "Sorry." he said.  "I'm kind of excited." He looked down at his prick
which was already stiff again.  "See?"

   "Already?" she said.

   "I told you you were beautiful."

   "We'll see about that.  Continue." she ordered.

   He tugged at her bra, and she lowered her arms, which had been pressing
the bottoms of the cups up against her breasts.  She tensed as the cups
slid free and her breasts were exposed.  They were heavy and needed the
support she usually gave them.  She still ran, though not nearly as often
as she needed to, and they hurt if she didn't support them.  Her areolas
were wide and deep pink, rather than brown and sat high on each breast,
almost as if they were on top of the breasts, rather than at the tips. 
When she bent over though, they formed tips where tips should be.  With her
dark hair it looked almost odd.  Her nipples were just a shade darker and
were, indeed, flat, almost invisible, just dots of darker color on her
areolas.  Her breasts swung apart a little, forced to the sides by the bulk
of flesh that made her cleavage, and that made her areolas look like two
large eyes peering up and to the sides.  They looked soft and warm and just
begged for hands to hold them.

   "May I touch them?" asked Bob.

   "You still want to?" she asked.

   "Most definitely.  That's not all I want to do with them."

   "Masher." she accused.  "Not yet.  I want to be naked." she said
imperiously.

   Bob knelt and tried to find the closure of her slacks.  Her hips were
round and firm.  He already knew what her buttocks felt like and they were
also firm and tight.  She turned, giggling to expose the rear zipper and
hook.  He undid them both to reveal matching pink panties and pushed the
slacks to the front and down.  He slid them down her hips, brushing his
hands against her panties.

   "Careful." she warned.  "That's perilously close to touching."

   He ignored her, sliding his hands all the way down her outer thighs. 
She tried to balance on one foot, lifting the other, and waved her arms in
the air.  Bob wished he was facing her.  He'd like to have seen what her
breasts were doing as she waved her arms.  He pulled one leg off her foot
as she hopped and giggled.  Then she changed feet.  He got up and went
around to the front.

   "What are you doing?" she asked.

   "I want to be in front of you for the other leg." he said.  He leered at
her chest as she raised her leg, using his hands to feel for the pants leg
and pull at it.  It caused her to hop longer and she laughed as he stared.

   "You ARE a dirty old man." she said.  "They're so wobbly." she
complained, looking down at her bouncing breasts."

   "They're gorgeous." he said.  "I can't wait to taste them."

   "And who said you GET to taste them?" she teased.

   "Why else are you getting naked?" he asked.

   "To torment you!" she giggled.

   She stood before him in just her panties.  He reached for them.  He
pulled at them slowly, tugging at different places to make them come down
without rolling up or getting too tight.  Her pubis was therefore exposed
very slowly.  He heard her gasp and looked up to see her lower lip caught
between her teeth.

   Her pubic hair was short and lay flat on her mons.  It wasn't trimmed in
any way, but it hid little, letting her white skin show through the thin
strands.  Bob licked his lips as he got the panties lower and lower,
anticipating being able to see her labia clearly.  He wasn't disappointed.
Her scent drifted into his nose and he knew she was aroused.  As he pulled
the bottom of the panty legs to her thighs he saw her split, comprised of
thick outer labia that completely hid her pussy lips.  It looked like you
could press a pencil between them and it would stay there until she spread
her legs.

   Professor Lipscomb had been a meat and potatoes sort of lover.  He got
them going, got them spread for him, and dumped his load.  If they came, so
much the better, since that might keep them coming back longer.  They
eventually figured out that he was lying to them, and wandered away.  But
there were always more young innocent things to seduce.  He had never,
therefore, engaged in cunnilingus.  There wasn't anything in it for him,
after all.

   So much for the "educated" mind.

   Bob looked at the split peach in front of his eyes and, without
permission, leaned forward to jam his face between her thighs, reaching
around to grab those firm buttocks and pull her toward him.  He stuck out
his tongue to lick up any nectar that might be there.  Before she could
react, the tip of his tongue had found her clit, hidden between those thick
folds of flesh, and flicked it twice.

   Gidget's reaction was both explosive and violent.  No one had ever done
this to her.  She knew about it, of course, but that was something foreign
that happened to other women ...  not her.  AND he had touched her without
permission.  She batted at his head, pushing him back and danced away from
him as he fell forward on his hands and knees.  About then her brain got
the message his tongue had been sending via her clit.

   "BAD!" she yelped.

   "I'm sorry." He put some whine in his voice.  He shouldn't have done
that.  "I couldn't help it.  It looked so delicious." He tried to look
meek. "I won't do it again ...  I promise."

   "I should hope NOT!" she said indignantly.  "That's nasty!"

   "It's delicious." he countered.  "You taste tangy and luscious."

   "Really?" she was in territory she'd never been in before and didn't
know what to think.

   "Really." he confirmed.  He pointed to his cock, which was so hard it
was bent a little.  "See what you do to me?"

   Gidget looked at the long hard thing and felt that feeling in her pussy
that meant she was losing control.  It didn't seem so bad right now,
though. All things considered he really was trying to do things her way. 
She realized her panties were still stretched between her thighs and bent
over to remove them, stepping gracefully out of them.  She stood in front
of this naked man, naked herself.  His prick jutted at her.  She knew what
he wanted to do with that long firm thing.  But he was over there ...  and
she was over here ...  and it just didn't seem so dangerous this way.  She
suddenly didn't know what to do.  In the past, by this time, Professor
Lipscomb was all over her and she was fighting just to try to find a
comfortable position to be ravished in.

   "Could we dance some more?" she asked.

   "Ooooo I'd love to see you do that Shimmy thing." he sighed.

   She laughed and shimmied for him, feeling her breasts wiggle and shake.
He grasped his penis, squeezing it as she did so.  She felt elated that she
had the power to make this man so horny that he'd touch himself.

   The slow music was still on and she waited for him.

   "You know ...  it will be different ...  dancing like this." he said.

   "I know.  You just behave yourself." she said.

   As they came together he quickly reached for his prick and bent it to
slide it between her thighs.  He had her in his embrace before she could
object, but then, feeling it there ...  not IN her ...  but just next TO
her, it felt good.  She relaxed and let herself be held.

   It was like a body massage, where skin was touched by skin everywhere.
It was much more erotic than she'd imagined it even could be, and she knew
she was in trouble within a minute.  His prick sawed back and forth,
pushing up against her, making her wetter than she had been.  Her breasts
felt so good against his chest that she wanted to crush him against her. 
She hadn't even felt his hands on her bare buttocks until she forced
herself to take inventory, in an attempt to calm down.

   "You seduced me after all." she sighed into his ear.

   "Who?  Me?"

   "I want to be ravished, and that means you seduced me."

   "So ...  it's all my fault?" he said, kissing her throat.

   "See?  You're kissing my neck and I didn't say you could.  That
beautiful penis is pressing against me, wanting inside me, making it
impossible to resist you.  You're seducing me!" she whined.

   "I can stop." he said.

   "Could you REALLY stop?" she asked, leaning back to look in his face.

   "If I knew it would hurt you to go further I would stop." he said
firmly.

   "What would you do then?" she asked, bumping her mons against him.

   "I'd masturbate like a chimpanzee on amphetamines." he admitted.

   "Well I can't stop now." she moaned.

   "Of course you can.  You can masturbate too." he said.

   "It's not the same." she whined.

   "No, but that's what we can do if that's what you want."

   "I want YOU." she said grumpily.  "I want something inside me ...  not
my finger."

   "You want to be seduced." he said gently.

   "I don't like you very much right now." she moaned.

   "You want me to seduce you right now?" he asked.

   "Nooooo ...  yes ...  I don't KNOW!" She humped him vigorously.

   He pushed her back from him and she whined.  He went to the bed and
flopped in the middle on his back.  He started masturbating, looking at
her.

   "I'm going to do this now unless you come and stop me." he said.

   Gidget's own hand had replaced his prick, rubbing her lips, digging at
her clit.  She shot a look of almost anger at him.  Suddenly she stalked to
the bed and climbed up on it, her arms waving as the mattress collapsed
under her feet and she swayed.  She straddled his hips, looking down at
him.

   "I can't be on top." she said pouting.

   "Why not?" he asked.

   "That's not how it's done." she said.

   "You have too many rules." he muttered.  He kept stroking.

   "OH!" she shouted in frustration.  Angrily she squatted, putting her
hands on his chest.  He held his prick up for her as she tried to look
between her hanging breasts.

   "Go ahead." he said, wanting to lift his hips.  "Ravish me."

   With a little whine of frustration she lowered her hips and he suddenly
felt heat around the tip of his cock.  She wasn't thinking about the fact
that she hadn't done this in sixteen years.  She was so frustrated that she
just let her weight down on him all at once.  His pointy long prick sliced
up into her like a hot knife into warm butter.

   What made her wilt wasn't the feel of a prick in her again.  She wasn't
ultra tight, despite the lack of ...  exercise ...  she'd had in that
region.  In fact, they were a perfect fit for each other.  What she wasn't
prepared for was that his penis went twice as far up inside her as
Lipscomb's had.  It went all the way to her cervix and, at the angle she
was at, the head lodged firmly in those lips.  There was at once an aching
pain she had never felt, and a feeling of overpowering satisfaction at
being full.  The combination caused her to fall forward onto Bob's chest
and lay limply.

   "Ohhhh baby, don't just lie there." he gasped, grabbing her butt and
pushing and pulling.  "I'm dying here.  I have to have you."

   Her frustration gone, her next feeling was that she was doing something
wrong.  The feeling in her pussy was so delicious, though, she decided to
worry about that later and pushed her worry back somewhere quiet.  Her
inhibitions went with her worry.  He undoubtedly wanted her ...  had to
have her ...  was crazy for her.  And that made her crazy for him.

   She pushed up and started moving around, almost like she was trying to
find a comfortable position.  But it wasn't that at all.  This was so new,
and everything felt so different, she wanted to experience every possible
pressure.  She found that she could move just a little bit, but it made a
huge difference in how he felt up inside her.  She could get almost to that
dull pain deep inside and then ease back.  It was that that developed into
a natural rocking motion, her hands on his chest.  His prick poked and
prodded her in ways she'd never felt in her life and she was amazed and
delighted.  The tip of his cock fucked her cervix ever so gently and she
found that pain addictive.  She let her belly sag forward and arched her
back to scrape and mash her clit.  She'd had orgasms before, sometimes even
with the professor.  Not every time, but sometimes.  She felt one looming
now and welcomed it with open arms, eager for it to wash all over her.

   "Ohhhh Grandpa." Her mind reverted to her usual name for him.  "I'm
gonna cum Grandpa." she moaned.

   "Do it baby." he urged her.  "Get that good feeling."

   She gave him the play by play as she got closer and closer until she
couldn't talk any more as the sensations flooded her senses.  She was
blind, and deaf for a few seconds as her body experienced an earthquake of
emotion.  All she could feel was that beautiful prick up in her belly and
the devastating things it was doing to her.

   She regained sight and sound to find her upper torso being held up by
virtue of Bob's hands on her full breasts.  Her arms had gone limp.  She
regained her perch, but Bob pulled at her, lifting his head to reach for a
nipple.  That nipple, both of them in fact, weren't so flat any more.  They
stood proud of her areolas enough to bump a finger sliding over them.  When
she realized what he wanted, she leaned down and he suckled.  Sweet pain
shot from her nipple to her pussy and she started rocking again.  It had
never lasted this long with Lipscomb.  The first time she'd heard the term
"Wham, bam, thank you ma'am" was when Becca was two years old.  She'd
thought of Lipscomb then.  If you looked up the term in a dictionary, his
picture should be there.

   Bob changed nipples and that breast got to take part in the sensation
fest too.  He went back and forth as she rocked gently.  She had found a
place where if she moved just a little, the tip of his prick massaged
something way up inside her that made little electric pulses go through her
belly and meet up with the electric pulses he was causing in her nipples.

   "I knew I was right." panted Bob.

   Gidget looked down to see that her nipples were almost an inch long. 
They looked completely foreign on her breasts, like they'd been glued there
when she wasn't looking.  As she continued rocking he played with those
nipples, squeezing them, rolling them in his fingers, pulling them until
she thought her head would explode.

   Her next orgasm was completely different than the first one.  That
little massaging motion deep inside her caused the sensation to creep over
her, like sunlight that was warm, and then warmer and then suddenly hot as
fire.  Her skin felt like it was going to burst into flames for a few
seconds as she held her breath, but she never stopped that tiny rocking. 
Bob was saying something, but she concentrated on the ripples of heat that
played across her body like wind in a wheat field.

   What Bob was saying was that he was about to cum.  Her dreamy gaze and
unresponsiveness didn't tell him anything, but it was out of his hands now.
Her cervix had been rubbing the tip of his prick for five minutes now and
the irritation brought his semen bubbling and rushing out to sooth that
irritation.

   Gidget's eyes were closed when she felt the little ball of heat at the
tip of his prick.  It immediately expanded into a larger ball of heat and
she felt his prick pulse inside her.  Languidly she welcomed the inner heat
that complimented the heat that was now fading from her skin until what she
was actually feeling penetrated her brain.  It screamed at her that the
last time she had felt that ...  okay, one of the last times ...  it was
making her pregnant.

   Her eyes flew open and her hair flicked as she looked down at Bob with
wide eyes.

   "You're making me pregnant!" she gasped.

   "Uuuugh" grunted Bob as another geyser of sperm lashed into her womb.

   The mix of emotions in Gidget was chaotic.  She couldn't believe she
hadn't thought about the logical conclusion to what they were doing.  It
had completely slipped her mind in the ecstasy of once again feeling the
things she was feeling.  Her former pregnancy with Becca had been a mix of
anguish and pride, of terror and anticipation, of alone-ness and the
incredibly comforting coming together that her mother and aunts had, for
some reason done.  All of them had welcomed her bulging belly into their
ranks with more love than anyone could expect or even hope for.  Their
support had turned her pregnancy from a terrible mistake into a celebration
of new life.  She'd never understood it, but it had saved her sanity, so
she didn't question it either.  She remembered the shame and pain and
rejection of the relationship that got her pregnant, but the pregnancy
itself was a thing of fairy tale dreams come true.

   Her assumption that she was suddenly pregnant again made all those
remembered emotions boil in her brain like the bubbles in boiling water for
ten long, painful seconds.  By the time her common sense told her to calm
down, and that there was little likelihood that this single infusion of
sperm had done anything other than feel warm and lovely, she was limp and
shaking.  She looked down at Bob who wore a look of concern on his face.

   "Are you all right?" he asked.

   "Do you care?" asked something ugly from down inside her, before she
could stop it from coming out of her mouth.

   "Of course I do." he said.  "What's wrong?"

   She sagged, still plugged with his penis, and leaned on his chest.

   "I don't know.  I have bad thoughts sometimes.  I think maybe I should
have had counseling or something.  It's hard for me to believe that a man
could care."

   "I love you." he said.  "You're my flesh and blood, and you're all those
things I told you you were.  I HAVE to care about you.  I couldn't keep
from caring if I tried."

   "I want to believe you." she sighed.  "It's just hard for me."

   He pulled her down to kiss her.  It was strange for her because of two
things.  First, it was the first time they'd done that.  It was a warm
sweet kiss, not demanding, but giving.  She couldn't remember the last one
of those she'd gotten.  But of even more impact was the fact that he kissed
her AFTER sex.

   Lipscomb had never done that.

   Chapter 25

   Two hours later they finally got out of bed.  The whole time after he
"got her pregnant" as she later described it to him, they talked.  She told
him more about what she had thought of and remembered while they were
making love.  It was a cathartic kind of confession for her because they
lay there naked and cuddling, but no sex was going on.  She included that
as something new and wonderful, a gift he had given her.  She told him
about how she had been sure at that instant that he was impregnating her,
and about how her mother and aunts had been so good about it when she came
crying home, sure she'd be thrown out.

   "I hope I didn't make you pregnant, then." he said at that point.

   "Could you ever hope you DID make me pregnant?" she asked amazed.

   "Of course." he said.  "You're a wonderful mother who has raised a
fabulous daughter.  More children deserve to have you as a mother."

   "I've been a horrible mother." she sighed.  "All Becca wanted to do was
date that nice young Denny and look what I did."

   "Didn't it work out all right?" he asked.

   "Yes, but I'm surprised she doesn't hate me." said Gidget.

   "You're pretty hard to hate." he commented.

   "And you're sweet." she said, kissing him.

   "And you taste tangy." he reminded her.

   "Are you trying to seduce me again?" she challenged.

   "You bet I am." he grinned.

   "Well, you can't." she said firmly.  "This is just practice.  I'm going
to find some nice rich man who can't live without me, and seduce HIM."

   "You already did that." he smiled.

   Her eyes widened.  "I guess maybe I did at that." she said.  "But it
wouldn't work.  I can't marry you, and you can't marry me."

   "I don't think marriage is the glue that is needed to hold this
relationship together." he said.  "I've been thinking about buying a big
house, one of those monstrous things with twenty-seven rooms, and inviting
all you girls to live with me."

   "You want your own harem, do you?" she asked grinning.

   "Well sure I do.  If they're anything like you, I want them all." he
said.  He didn't think it politically correct to tell her he already had
more than half of them already.

   "Why that's ...  that's ...  that's polygamy or something!" she said
leaning back from him.  "You can't do that!  It's just ...  wrong!"

   "Let me ask you this.  Would you do this with me again some day?" he
asked.  He cupped a breast and squeezed it.

   "Yes." she said immediately.  "I loved what we did today."

   "What if you got married?"

   "That would be different." she said.  "I might still want to, but I
wouldn't."

   "Good for you." he said.  "What if you don't get married?"

   "I already told you." she said.

   "What if I get married?" he asked.

   "No go." she said firmly.

   "What if I have a girlfriend, or several girlfriends?"

   "Now you're trying to trap me.  One girlfriend ...  no.  More than one
girlfriend and all's fair in love and war." she said.

   "You have the strangest rules." he laughed.

   "Wasn't it that way back in 1950?" she asked.

   "Yes, I suppose it was, but I'm not in 1950 any more.  This is a whole
new world and I've broken a lot of rules already." he said.

   "Could you make love to more than one woman and feel good about it?"
asked Gidget.  Her whole life had been steeped in the supposed virtues of
monogamy.

   "Only if it they were the right women, and it didn't hurt them." he
said.

   "Good luck." she said.  "Women just don't want to share like that.  Most
women anyway." she said.

   "Let me ask YOU a question." he said.  "What if the women I wanted to
make love to were you and ...  say Sunny, or even June?"

   She started to answer and he put his finger to her lips.

   "Before you answer that, think about it.  When you came here today, did
you intend to end up like this?"

   "Of course not." she said

   "Are you unhappy that you did?"

   "No!" she was frustrated.  "But..." she stopped.  She suddenly
understood what he was getting at.  She had done something crazy and wild
and against the rules ...  something completely unscripted and it had been
wild and wonderful and full of ecstasy.  There had been pain and fear in it
too, but they had been washed away on a sea of trust and faith that she
wouldn't be abandoned.  She was even more convinced, if anything, that this
man would never abandon her.

   "That's pretty weird to think about." she said finally.

   "So, if I told you I'd made love to Sunny, would you be mad at her, or
jealous?"

   "Did you?" she asked.

   "No, but use your imagination." he said.  He was suddenly glad he hadn't
used her mother's name.

   She was quiet for a long time.

   "You know, I think you're turning me into some kind of kinky freak." she
said finally.

   "What I'm trying to do is free you from some of those rules that have
choked you half to death." he said.

   "Okay, so no, I don't guess I'd be all jealous if I knew you were making
love with both Sunny and me, but that's Sunny, not some strange woman."

   "You want to know something?" he asked.

   She nodded.

   "If I'm lucky enough to get to experience what happened here, with you,
or Sunny, or any of the beautiful women in my life right now ...  I don't
need any strange women."

   The image of one of Bob's readings from Rip's journal popped into
Gidget's mind.  She envisioned them all sitting around in the semi dark as
Bob sat alone, reading.  Her imagination stripped all the women naked, and
made Bob's penis jut a foot into the air.  She laughed, thinking about it
and he looked at her quizzically.  She didn't tell him about it though.

   "You'd better eat a lot of oysters if you plan to keep nine women
happy." she laughed.

   "You and I both know I won't be keeping nine women happy.  I wouldn't
even try."

   "What if we all demanded it?" she asked impishly.

   "Then I'd have to set up a schedule." he said grinning.

   "That wouldn't work." she said.  "I'd want you every night myself." She
was at once shocked that she'd said it, and amazingly happy that she felt
free to say what she felt.

   "Then some of you are just going to have to find your own man." he said.

   Finally they got out of bed and dressed.  They cleaned up the cabin and
got back in the car to head back home.  As they rode along Gidget played
with the wind with her hand, making it plane up and then down as the wind
pushed against it.  She felt relaxed, and peaceful ...  sedate in a way she
hadn't felt in a long time.  Could mere sex do that?

   "Grandpa?" she said.  "Bob!  I'm going to call you Bob from now on.  I
can't call you grandpa after today."

   "Bob's fine." he said.

   "I'm glad this happened, but I don't think it's going to help me with
dates.  I don't want to be seduced ...  well by anybody besides you ... 
and most men don't want to be chased by a woman.  Besides, I wouldn't do
what we did with a man until ...  I don't know WHEN I'd do that."

   "That's probably a good plan, if the man has enough control to wait for
you to be ready." he said.

   They rode on a while.

   "Bob?"

   "Hmm?"

   "What if you did make me pregnant?"

   "You want the truth?" he asked.

   She nodded, frowning.

   "I'd be a very happy man." he said.

   She looked surprised.  "But you know we couldn't get married." she said.

   "Big house." he said.  "Lots of room." He looked at her.  "Big family
house." He drove on a little further.  "How would you feel about it?"

   "I don't know." she admitted.  "My brain tells me it would be terrible."
She turned toward him.  "But my heart tells me it would be wonderful."

   He just reached over and squeezed her hand.

   They went the rest of the way in an easy silence.  When they were almost
to the house, she spoke again.

   "Bob?"

   "Yes?"

   "I don't think one date is going to be enough."

   He was grinning like a madman as he pulled up to her house.

   ========================

   In Sacramento, at the North substation, there was a desk in a corner
that was used by detectives whenever they were up that direction on a case.
Zack liked to hang out there both because the personnel were friendly, and
because he could get more done there than at the main station, where
everything was crazy all the time.  He had mentioned this to Val, but
didn't think anything of it.  The desk was behind a partition for privacy
during interviews and there was a computer terminal that accessed the same
information he could access at his real desk down town.  He was reading
through a witness statement and thinking about calling it a day when he
heard a female voice ask for him at the booking desk.

   "I'm looking for Detective Simpson."

   The Booking sergeant's rough voice came next.  "And the nature of your
business with Detective Simpson?"

   "I want to see him." said the voice, which Zack now recognized as Val's.
He grinned.  He'd see how fast on her feet she was.  The men she'd have to
get through were trained to weed out superfluous complaints and domestic
arguments that didn't amount to enough to be worth a detective's time.

   "And what, exactly do you want to see him about?" asked Sergeant
Rollins.

   "I just want to talk to him for a minute." she said, her voice rising.
"If you tell him my name he'll want to talk to me."

   "I'm sure he will." said Rollins, sarcasm in his voice.  "Now, are you
going to tell me what you want to see him about or not?  I'm a busy man
here."

   Zack almost laughed.  Rollins hadn't booked anybody into jail in two
days.  The North substation was a quiet place.  That's why Zack hung out
there.

   "Look, don't be a jerk, just tell him I'm here.  He'll want to see me."
she said.

   "Ma'am", he heard the booking sergeant's voice rise.  "I told you
already that you have to tell me what you want to see him about!"

   "He's not going to like it if I tell you why I want to see him." she
warned.  There was something in her voice that made Zack sit up and take
notice.  He started to close out the file he was reading in preparation for
getting up.

   "You just let ME be the judge of that." said Rollins' heavy voice.  Zack
could see that four or five other personnel had drifted into position, both
in case something got ugly, and just to watch.

   "Okay," she said sweetly, but loudly.  "I haven't had hot, sweaty sex in
over a week, I'm as horny as a three antlered goat, and he's got the stick
to SCRATCH MY ITCH WITH!" she finished loudly.

   There was an instant of complete silence.

   "Now, may I please see him?" Val asked politely.

   It was pandemonium as all the personnel within earshot started laughing,
hooting and generally making fools of themselves.  Zack stood up sighing,
and as his head popped up over the partition Val waved gaily at him.

   "Hi honey." she said over the hubbub.

   "Better get going sweetie" said a patrolman to Zack in a high falsetto
voice.

   "Don't want to keep the little missus waiting any more than you already
have" whined another in an equally bad falsetto.

   Rollins looked over at Zack and grinned.  "Zack, I believe this young
woman, I repeat YOUNG woman has some business with you.  Maybe I should ask
for some ID?  Wouldn't want you to get in trouble for robbing the cradle!"
He burst into laughter as there were more hoots and hollers.  Through it
all Val stood, tall, slim and beautiful, holding her purse in front of her
with both hands, looking as unruffled as if she were alone at a bus stop.

   Val pulled up her purse and pretended to look through it.  "My fake ID
is in here somewhere" she said earnestly.  "I'm eighteen." Her clear
soprano voice went throughout the station.

   "Sure you are sweetheart." guffawed Rollins.

   "She's almost twenty." snarled Zack as he threaded his way through
laughing cops.  He walked up to Val, who leaned forward to kiss him on the
cheek, smiling.

   "You're gonna pay for this." he growled to Val.

   More laughter.

   "Oooo" she said in her little girl voice.  "I sure hope so."

   The place went wild as Zack, red faced, pulled her toward the door.  As
she went through she waved at all the laughing cops and sang out "Bye
fellas."

   As the door closed it sounded like a convention of comics was there, all
of them telling their best gags.

   "You just had to do that to me, did you?" he said as he drove her to
dinner.

   "There's a door back in the corner." said Val.

   "Yeah, it goes to the property room." said Zack, wondering where she was
going with this.

   "It has a window in it.  I saw your reflection in the window when I
asked for you.  I couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like you were
smiling." she said matter-of-factly.

   "Oh." he said glumly.

   "Oh, come on, it's not THAT bad." she said smiling.

   "Have you looked in a mirror lately?" he asked.  When she looked
confused he said "Look at me.  I'm a broken down old gumshoe who, alongside
an astonishingly gorgeous woman like you, looks like a '57 Chevy beside a
Corvette."

   Her laughter tinkled in his ears and she slapped at his thigh.

   "I happen to think '57 Chevies are sexy." she said smiling.

   "Those guys will NEVER let me forget this." he moaned.  "It will be all
over the whole department by the time we're finished with dinner."

   "Are you ashamed of me?" There was a dangerous note in her voice.

   "Oh HELL no Val, but they're going to rib me about this for months!"

   She sniffed.  "Well, then, you just remind them that they got to look,
but YOU get to touch."

   "Oh THAT will work." sighed Zack, shaking his head.

   He was in a better mood by the time they got to the restaurant.  It was
a tiny Italian place that served his favorite Lasagna.  There were only
four other customers, since it was still early.  He ordered Cokes for them
both while they waited for the food.

   "Zack?" she said.

   He looked at her.

   "I want to keep dating you."

   He smiled.  "A broken down old gumshoe like me?"

   She didn't smile.  "I want to keep dating you." she said again.

   This time he was serious.  "That makes me happier than you can even
imagine."

   "If I changed schools ...  I'm thinking of Cal State ...  would you keep
seeing me?"

   "Of course I would." he said.

   "Would you see ...  only me?" she sounded nervous.

   "Do remember me asking you if you've looked in a mirror lately?" he
tried to joke.  When she didn't smile he nodded.  "I can't even think of
another woman right now.  You're affecting my work."

   "I'm going to ask you this question and I want you to tell me the honest
truth.  Don't sugar coat it or tell me what you think I want to hear,
okay?" She definitely looked nervous now.  Her body language was talking to
him loud and clear.

   "Shoot." he said, leaning back.

   "If I got pregnant ...  if you got me pregnant ...  what would you do?"

   "Boy, do you know how to get a guy's attention." he said.  When she
frowned he held up his hand.  "Calm down, it's just an odd question in this
setting." He looked at her, his gaze level.  "Are you pregnant?"

   "I asked you first." she said, looking achingly beautiful.  Zack
remembered someone saying that being pregnant made a woman glow.  He
wondered if her beauty was from that glow.

   "Are you pregnant, Val?" he asked.

   "No." she said.  She looked down.  "Not yet."

   "Then why in the world are you asking me that question?" he asked.

   "Because when we get finished here I'm going to take you home and have
hot sweaty sex with you and I might GET pregnant." she said.

   "Val, we can do something about that." he said.

   "You don't understand." she said, looking disappointed.  "Nothing works
a hundred percent except not doing it.  I am NOT interested in dating you
and not doing it."

   "Oh." he said.  He wasn't used to a woman being quite this forthcoming.

   "Well," he went on.  "If I got you pregnant I would feel compelled to do
the right thing." he said.

   "What does that mean exactly?" she asked.

   The waiter brought them their food and Zack felt irritated at the
intrusion.  When the waiter left she was still sitting and looking at him.

   "It means I'd marry you." he said.

   "I wouldn't want you to marry me unless you wanted to marry me." she
said.

   Zack almost groaned.  "Val, you're the best thing that's ever happened
to me.  I can't stop thinking about you.  It's been what, a week since I
saw you?"

   "Eight days exactly." she said primly.

   "Well, anyway, what I'm telling you is that there is nothing I want more
in this world than for you to be my girl.  If you had my baby inside of you
I don't think I could let you out of my sight.  I'd be crazy to do anything
BUT marry you." He looked at his plate.  "But sweetheart, you don't want to
marry an old guy like me."

   "Don't you think I should be the one to decide that?" she asked archly.

   "I know your family would give you just as hard a time as those boys are
going to give me the next time I show my face at the North substation. 
Everybody and their mother is going to be pestering you with advice and
questions about why in the world you want to marry an older man."

   "If I was pregnant I'd have a pretty good excuse to marry the man who
made me that way, even if he was an older man." she argued.

   "You don't want to get married for that reason, Val.  You know that. 
You need to be with a man you love, and are comfortable with."

   "That's not what I'm saying." she objected.  "What I'm saying is that,
if I were pregnant, nobody would be able to object to my marrying you just
because you were an older man.  It's one thing to marry an older man and
have a baby.  It's another to have a baby and then marry his father, who
just happens to be an older man." She smiled.

   "You're a devious woman, Val." said Zack.  "Wouldn't it just be easier
to keep dating and not have any babies at all?"

   "So you're not interested in marrying me ...  unless I'm pregnant with
your baby.  Is that about it?" she asked.  There was no rancor in her voice
and Zack noticed that.

   "I'm not saying that at all." he said.  "A month ago there was no woman
of any kind in my life and I haven't really had time to sit down and think
about getting married ...  to you or anybody else."

   "But you just said there isn't anybody else." she pointed out.

   "Val, what do you want from me?" he asked, frustration in his voice.

   "I just want to know if there might be a time in the not terribly
distant future, when you might feel the urge to marry me, even if I'm not
pregnant." she said.

   "That's pretty vague." he said.  She frowned and he held up his hand. 
"Let's get down to brass tacks here.  What do you mean by the 'not too
distant future'?"

   She wrinkled her nose.  "Two years?"

   Zack's deductive oriented mind wondered why two years.  She'd be in
college for three more at least.  He ignored that for now.  "Would you be
willing, during these two years, to go on the pill?"

   "No." she said.

   "Can I use condoms?" he asked.

   "No."

   "And I can't ask why because you already explained it to me the last
time we were together." he said.

   "Correct." she said with a cute little nod of her beautiful head.

   "Well then, I have to marry you." he said, picking up his fork.  "Cause
in the next two years I'm probably gonna knock you up twice."

   "Not if we're careful." she countered.

   "I don't want to be ...  careful ...  do you?" he asked around a
mouthful of lasagna.

   "No." she said.

   "Then why are we having this conversation?" he asked.

   "Because..." she let it hang in the air and picked up a piece of garlic
bread.  "Because I think I'm in love with you, but I can't say that because
this is only our second date and you'll think I'm childish, and I'm
ovulating right now and Becca's pregnant and all I can think about is how
wonderful it would be to have your baby growing inside of me, but it's too
soon and I'm afraid I'll chase you away and I'd just die..."

   She had to stop to take a breath.

   "If that happened." she finished.  She stuffed the bread in her mouth,
tore a piece off viciously and looked down, her jaw working furiously.

   Zack sat and stared.  Then he put his fork down and carefully wiped his
mouth with his napkin.  Val peeked up at him for an instant and looked back
down.  She swallowed convulsively.

   "You know," he said conversationally, "I never used to believe in love
at first sight and all that stuff." He waited until she peeked up at him
again.  This time she kept her eyes on his for a few seconds.

   "Becca's pregnant?" he asked suddenly.

   "I wasn't supposed to tell you that." she said miserably.  "She's
terrified, and I'm terrified for her."

   "And for yourself," said Zack.

   Her head moved in a tiny nod.

   Zack asked himself two questions.  The first was: "Can I live with this
tumultuous, passionate, go-off-on-a-tangent, gorgeous woman?" The second
was: "Can I live WITHOUT this tumultuous, passionate, go-off-on-a-tangent,
gorgeous woman?"

   "Yes." he said.  He picked up his fork and started eating again.

   Val's head rose and she looked at him carefully.

   "Yes ...  what?" she asked.

   He had to swallow before he could answer.  "Yes, I might, in the next
two years, feel the urge to marry you, regardless of your maternal status."

   He watched as she flushed bright pink.

   "Really?" she said in a tiny voice.

   "Oh for pity's sake!" he growled.  "Val would you PLEASE marry me so we
can get on with our lives?  I'm starving here!" He sounded gruff, but his
face was soft and smooth, his eyes steady, and it was obvious he was
neither frustrated or angry.

   Val pounced on his question with a shrieked "YES!" and actually clapped
her hands.  Everyone else in the restaurant looked over to see what her
shout was about.  She blushed and looked down again, picking up her fork.

   They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Val was practically wiggling
in her seat.

   Zack looked up between bites.  "Didn't I hear something about Becca and
her ...  aunt ...  going out with Brian Spruell?"

   Val nodded, chewing.

   "He's been walking around on cloud nine with a grin on his face that
scares people," said Zack.  "I don't think Becca has anything to be scared
about ...  unless she doesn't like him."

   "Oh, she likes him.  She's just scared he won't want anything to do with
her now that she's pregnant.  She's afraid to tell him."

   Zack frowned.  "That's not fair to him.  And, like I said, he's smitten
with her, or at least somebody.  There are a several things that will get a
cop killed.  One is carelessness, and another big one is being in love.  He
needs to know the state of affairs so he can make plans and keep his head
in the game when he's on duty."

   Val's smile was brilliant.  "I'll tell her as soon as I get home."

   Zack thought about his impulsive proposal during the rest of dinner. 
When Val looked at him, it was with puppy dog eyes.  He suddenly realized
he might just have made the most important decision in a life that didn't
hold tremendous number of really good ones.  By the time dinner was over,
he was sure this decision was one of the best he'd ever made.

   They left the restaurant and before they even got out of the parking lot
Val's hand was in his lap, feeling and squeezing.

   "What are you doing?" he asked, laughing.

   "I want to play." she said.  "I can't wait."

   "I'm driving." he said.

   "You keep your eyes on the road then." she said, trying to unzip his
pants.  "They're not what I want to play with anyway."

   She tugged and got the zipper halfway down.

   "Lift your hips." she ordered, using both hands now and leaning over
across the console between the bucket seats.

   "No." he laughed.  "I told you I'm driving."

   She had just gotten her hand inside his mostly open zipper and was
feeling for a way to get through his underwear when he said "SHIT!"

   "What's wrong?" she giggled.

   "We're being pulled over ...  that's what's wrong." he growled.

   "Uh oh," said Val, sitting back up and twisting to look out the rear
window.  There were flashing lights behind them.

   Chapter 26

   Zack pulled to the right and put the car in park.  He twisted the key
viciously and sighed.  Then he tried to put the window down, but with the
key off the button did nothing.  He was reaching for the key when there was
a knock on the window.  He turned the key and the window slid down.  A
flashlight shone into the back from the passenger's side and then played
over Val as the second man in the patrol car inspected the interior of the
car for danger.

   "Good evening sir," came the deep voice of the policeman standing beside
the car.  "Oh!" said the voice in what sounded like surprise.  "It's you
Sarge."

   Zack looked up and out, shading his eyes from the light of the
flashlight that was shining into the car.

   "That you Paul?" he asked.

   "Yeah, Ricky and I have the lower east side tonight," said Paul.

   "So ...  what's up?" asked Zack.

   The voice returned to its professional deep tone.

   "License and registration please."

   Zack sighed and fumbled for his billfold.  He reached across Val, who
was sitting back, feeling bad for having distracted him.  He flipped open
the glove box and pulled out the registration.  Then he handed that and his
license out the window.

   "Sir, the reason I stopped you is because you were weaving and almost
crossed the center line.  I thought there might be some problem in the car.
Have you been drinking sir?"

   "Of course not Paul," sighed Zack.  "You know me better than that.  I
was just ...  distracted for a minute."

   "Step out of the car please sir," ordered the grim voice.

   "Come on Paul, you know I haven't been drinking.  Give me a break here."

   "Step out of the car Sir!" came the command.

   Zack snarled and pushed the door open to get out.

   "What the hell is going on officer Jackson?" he said, his voice rising.

   "Gee Sarge," came the voice, "You sure look all ...  HOT and SWEATY. 
Are you sure you're okay?  You want me to call you an ambulance or
something?  I wouldn't want you to have a heart attack or anything."

   Zack fumed as Paul's partner Ricky called over the car.  "Paul, I don't
see a goat in there anywhere."

   There was a burst of laughter as Zack got back in the car and slammed
the door much harder than he needed to.  He started the car and a hand was
thrust through the window holding his license and registration.

   "Here you are Sir," said the laughing officer.  "Oh, and you might want
to zip up so you don't get distracted again." There was maniacal laughter
as Zack took off so fast that his tires spun, screeching.

   Before Zack got a block there was a line of at least ten police cars
following him, their lights flashing and the occasional siren bleeping. 
Zack didn't stop this time, but no matter which way he turned they
followed, sometimes honking.  The only way he could get away from them was
to head out of town.

   "I'm sorry," said Val, her voice high and contrite.  She giggled.

   "I just bet you are." Zack growled.  When they left the city limits the
last squad car finally peeled off with a triple warble of its siren.  "Well
I said you'd pay, and you're paying now.  No way we can go back to my
apartment.  They'll be waiting to ambush me there too, knowing those guys."

   "We could go to our family cabin." she suggested.  "Up in the mountains.
I'd rather pay up there."

   Zack laughed.  This would make a good story to tell someday.

   If it wasn't already a legend by then.

   When they got to the cabin and got inside, Val attacked him.  She
stripped him efficiently and took him into her mouth hungrily.  Then he
pushed her off and stripped her.  They tumbled onto the feather bed,
bouncing as she crawled onto him, eager and anxious.

   "Are you like this every time you're ovulating?" gasped Zack.

   "I've never done this while I was ovulating." she panted, finding what
she wanted and putting it where she wanted it.  "Besides, you just asked me
to marry you.  A girl gets excited when that happens."

   There was a point, about ten minutes later, as the pressure increased in
his body, that Zack wondered if he might have a heart attack after all. 
His balls solved the problem by emptying themselves in the woman who would
have his children ...  starting tonight, if possible.

   =================

   The clan was together at June's house on a Saturday afternoon for
another reading of Rip's journal.  Bob had just closed the book after
reading Rip's description of waking up, and how the world had changed.  He
had peppered this reading with his own observations about how HIS world had
changed in many of the same ways, and pointing out how important it was
that his experience was MUCH better than Rip's.

   "Ohhh what happens next?" moaned Polly.  "You always stop too soon."

   "WE know what happens next!" called out Fran laughing and referring to
her cousins.  Everyone knew they had already read the journal front to
back. Still they listened just as carefully whenever Bob read from it. 
"You won't believe how close it is to what happened to Grandpa." she
teased.

   "You're being impertinent, young lady," said her grandmother.  "It isn't
nice to tease your elders."

   Fran laughed.  "Okay, okay, he moves in with his DAUGHTER!" she
squealed.

   "Oh my!" sighed Betty.  "I don't remember that part of the story I heard
when I was a little girl."

   "Well he does," said Fran.  "And he lives with her the rest of his life.
At least for the rest of her life.  It wasn't too clear."

   "Speaking of which, there's something I need to talk to you all about,"
said Bob.  He looked around and went on.  "I'm thinking that this moving
around and living in different places is a difficult way to live.  So I've
decided to buy a house."

   Only Gidget knew the details of his vision.  The rest displayed varying
attitudes about it.  His daughters objected that it was no imposition on
them to have live with them.  eOthers wanted to know where it would be, and
if it would be too far away for them to visit him.  Sunny wanted to know
why he wanted to live alone.

   He waited until they ran down.

   "Actually, I was thinking of more of a family home." He looked around.
"Something big enough that all of you ...  at least all of you who wanted
to ...  could live there too."

   That shut them up ...  for all of fifteen seconds.  Then it was a jumble
of voices, some doubtful, some excited, and some with questions.

   It went back and forth as he said that since he had the money, and since
living together would be both more efficient, and more luxurious, and would
give them a base for whatever family business they ended up pursuing, it
just made sense.

   "You all would be able to come and go as you liked, of course, and could
still have your own lives.  Your part of the house could be as private as
you want it to be.  We could hire a cook and some maids and things like
that.  It would free you up to do the things you want to do, but don't have
time for now." he argued.

   Then there was another hour of arguing about how such a house should be
laid out, and whether it should be custom built, or whether they should
move outside of Circleton, which didn't have anything remotely like what
Bob was describing available.  Little by little they came on board, as the
possibilities expanded and the problems were given solutions.

   Gidget finally stood up.  "Well I'm all for it." she said.  "I need to
remodel my house anyway, and this way I won't have to worry about it. 
Besides, if I'm going to start dating, I'd much rather have a man pick me
up someplace nicer than my poor old house."

   Sunny snorted.  "Are you really going to start going out?" she asked,
clearly unbelieving.

   "I had fun with Bob." Gidget said with dignity, though her cheeks pinked
up a little.  "And I intend to have more fun.  You should try it yourself!"
she said with a little heat.

   Sunny rolled her eyes and June spoke.

   "Sunny, dear, I haven't seen Gidget as happy and carefree as she was
after her date with Daddy in just years and years.  Don't make fun of her
for trying to find some happiness."

   "That must have been some date," said Sunny, still unconvinced.

   "I try to show a girl a good time," said Bob, smiling.  "And I learned a
few things from Gidget too.  I'm sure it will make my own future dating
experiences much more positive than if I'd have tried to just go out and
try it on my own."

   "Me too," said Gidget.  "If I'd have tried to go out on a regular date
it would have been disastrous.  He helped me understand things about men
that I didn't know.  I was afraid of men.  But Bob put me at ease and I
ended up having a wonderful time.  In fact, we're going to do it again."
She started to blush.  "Just to brush up on things." she said weakly, and
turned away, going to the kitchen.

   Sunny watched her younger cousin walk away.  Her eyes narrowed. 
Gidget's whole attitude had changed.  Sunny held some of the same opinions
about men and dating ...  or they had held them ...  and both had agreed
that men were more trouble than they were worth.  If Gidget had changed
this much after being with grandpa just once, he must be a VERY interesting
man.

   Sunny looked at Bob, who was in conversation with Martha about whether
the new house should be a condo style kind of structure, or something with
radiating wings where each wing would be a more or less separate residence
connected in the middle by a common area for family gatherings like meals,
parties and such.  She looked at his hair, and the shape of his face and
his shoulders.  She'd always thought he was a nice looking man, but he
still seemed strange and exotic to her, more so now that he had worked some
kind of magic on Gidget.  He piqued her curiosity in a way that men just
didn't.  Her divorce had been painful, and her former husband's disinterest
in both her and their daughter had been painful too.

   Yet, here was a man, a stranger for all intents and purposes, who cared
enough about women he hardly knew to offer to give them a luxurious
lifestyle and pursue whatever interests they wanted to.  And there didn't
appear to be anything in it for him other than the company of those women.

   She frowned.  She "knew" men better than that.  There HAD to be
something in it for him.  She thought about Val and her new detective
boyfriend.  Val was acting like she was in love, and that worried Sunny. 
The man seemed nice, but he was old enough to be Val's father.  After their
latest date Val had been on cloud nine, humming and dancing around the
house.  Sunny had asked her about it and learned that Val was transferring
to Cal State to be near the man.  She had gone into "mother mode" then,
warning Val about men and how they manipulated women.

   "Mom, he hasn't asked me for anything," said Val.  "In fact he keeps
trying to tell me I should find a younger man."

   "Good advice?  And from a man?" Sunny had quipped.

   "I don't want a younger man," said Val firmly.  "I want him.  And I'm
going to get him.  You just wait and see." There was a gleam in her eye
that suggested there was more to this story than Val was telling, but she
wouldn't talk about it any more, other than to say "He's a good man, Mom,
and he cares about what I think."

   Sunny wavered for a moment, watching Bob talking to Martha and then as
June joined the conversation.  Both of them obviously loved him.  You could
see it in their eyes, and in the way they touched him.  Sunny felt a pang
of loss that she had never had a father to love like that, and that the man
she had chosen to be her mate had turned out to be such a rat.  Maybe if
she'd have had a father ...  She shoved thoughts of her father out of her
head.  She tried not to think about that any more.  What seemed amazing to
her was how much her mother and aunts loved their father even though he
slept through their whole childhood.  If she'd have had a father like Bob,
she wondered, how much different might her life have been.  Being around
him, even for just one night had certainly affected Gidget.

   She got up and went to find her cousin.

   Gidget was making up a new pitcher of iced tea and humming to herself.
Sunny thought about Val humming.  What was going on around here?

   "Hi," said Sunny.

   Gidget turned around.  "Oh ...  hi." she said flatly.

   "Don't be mad at me." chided Sunny.  "What happened to 'men are all evil
and you can't trust any of them'?"

   Gidget went to the fridge and got ice to put in the pitcher.  "I was
wrong.  WE were wrong." she said.

   "How can you know that after being with grandpa for just one evening?"
asked Sunny.

   Gidget seemed to think about it, almost like she didn't want to talk
about it.

   "He explained some things to me ...  about men." she said.  "Things I
didn't understand before."

   "What kind of things." asked Sunny.

   "About why men do some of the things they do ...  and how they think
about things ...  you know, why they act like they do sometimes."

   "And you just believed him?  Just like that?" asked Sunny.

   "No!  It wasn't like that!  Sunny I said hateful things to him and he
just sat there and talked to me about it.  I accused him of things, but he
was patient and kind to me.  He didn't ACT like what I thought he would act
like.  He acted like a nice guy, a guy I liked being around.  He WAS a nice
guy.  He made me feel good inside."

   "So why do men do what they do?" asked Sunny.

   Gidget threw up her hands.  "It took me six HOURS to understand what he
was telling me.  I can't explain it in five minutes."

   "Did he admit that men want sex?" asked Sunny.

   Gidget flushed and turned away.  "Of course." she said.  She fiddled
with the tea, stirring it, even though it didn't need stirring.

   Sunny's suspicions flared.  Gidget was acting guilty.  But before she
could grill her cousin further Fran came in and asked if there was more tea
yet.  Gidget smiled at her and ignored Sunny, taking the tea out into the
living room.

   Sunny followed them into the living room.  Betty and Martha were getting
ready to leave.  Bob was staying with June this week.  Gidget poured tea
for those who wanted more.  Now Val and Becca were huddled with Bob drawing
pictures on pieces of paper.  They looked like floor plans.

   June saw her sisters to the door and closed it.

   "Mom?" Gidget said.  "I was thinking, Bob and I had such a nice talk the
other night.  I've missed so much not knowing much about him.  Couldn't he
stay at my house for a few days?  I have plenty of room, and he wouldn't be
bothering you."

   June, who had been looking forward to spending the night in bed with her
father waved her hand.

   "Oh, he's no problem.  I'm getting to know him better too darling.  But
you're right.  You girls need to catch up.  You neglected him when you were
growing up.  I'm glad to see you taking an interest now.  How about if I
send him over there tomorrow?"

   Sunny's eyes narrowed as she looked at Gidget, who looked ...  hopeful
and even happy.  Sunny looked at Bob, who was looking up from the drawings.
He was smiling, but didn't look strange in any way.  He also didn't say a
word.  They were talking about sending him here and there like he wasn't
even in the room and he didn't object in the slightest.  Curiosity ate at
Sunny.

   She wandered over beside Gidget and leaned toward her.  "You're not
telling me everything.  What else happened?"

   Gidget looked at her nervously.  "You just go out and spend some time
with him.  Then maybe you'll understand."

   She wouldn't talk about it any further.

   =================

   Polly was too preoccupied with her own situation to pay attention to the
byplay with her cousins.  Brian had called her and wanted to go out with
her again.  He had promised to behave himself this time.  The problem was
that Polly didn't want him to behave himself.  He had reawakened something
he her she hadn't realized was so important and she wanted it again.  She
knew she was being foolish, and that she hardly knew him.  What had
happened up in the mountains seemed to be the product of some kind of
magic. If so, she now believed in magic thoroughly.  Thinking about Bob's
idea of a family home had her torn.  Brian could come see her any time at
her house, at least as long as Fran was not around to see her mother drag
him to the bedroom, as she already knew she would do.  Could she still do
that if they all lived together?  And yet, the togetherness that had
increased since Bob woke up was also something she hadn't realized she had
missed.  She liked being around her cousins and her aunts like they had
been doing.  She'd think about it on the drive.  She got up to go tell Fran
that she would be going to Sacramento and would be late getting home.

   =================

   Polly sat in the car and read a book, waiting for Brian to get home from
work.  When he drove up he smiled and waved.

   "You're early." he said, getting out of his car.  He looked so handsome
in his dark blue uniform.  He looked ...  dangerous.

   "Oh, I didn't have anything else to do." she said, blushing at how her
belly felt just looking at him.

   "Well, come on in.  I need a shower and then we can go."

   He took her in and she walked around the living room, looking at family
pictures, and sports trophies and things displayed that told a little of
his life.  There was a picture of him in his uniform with a big German
Shepherd.

   "I didn't know you had a dog." she yelled down the hallway.

   He appeared with a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else on.
Polly felt her stomach flutter at seeing his broad chest.

   "I started out to be a dog handler." he said.  "On our first call we
went to a burglary in progress.  The perp shot her and killed her when we
sent her in after him.  I couldn't go through that again, so I switched to
patrol duty."

   "Oh, I'm so sorry." she said, her voice sad.

   "Hey, stuff happens." he said, his face not in tune with his words.  "Be
right out."

   She heard the shower go on and imagined him dropping the towel and
stepping into the water.  That made her think of the waterfall and she was
suddenly even hornier.  She tiptoed to the bathroom door and eased it open.
She could see his vague image through the glass as he rubbed at his chest.
Feeling wild and silly she dropped her clothes and went to the door.  She
opened it and stepped in with him.  It was a tight fit and her body slid
against his.

   "It's not skinny dipping" she said as water ruined her hairdo.  "But it
will have to do."

   He laughed and his arms encircled her.  She was pushed against the wall
and lifted a leg to hook it on his hip.  He got in her, and it felt good,
but it wasn't what either of them wanted right then.  They settled for him
being inside her as they kissed under the running water.

   "You're clean." she announced.  "I want to see your bedroom." She felt
giddy at being able to be so free with him ...  telling him what she
wanted.

   He turned the water off and they dabbed at each other with towels.  They
ran to his bedroom, still wet, but they didn't care.  Then he was on her
like a wolf and she spread her legs joyfully anticipating the feeling of
that wonderful fullness.  Then it was there and she was off to the races,
having an orgasm almost immediately.  He was rough with her this time,
pounding her into the bed and groaning at how good she felt.  He stopped
suddenly and his head drooped.

   "Did you go to the doctor?" he asked.

   "No." she whined.

   "I want to cum inside you." he moaned.

   "I want to feel it." she cried.

   Then he pounded her again until he spurted her full of his silvery semen
and they collapsed in a heap.

   Fifteen minutes later they did it again.

   After that time he licked her shoulder as he lay beside her.

   "I thought we were going out." he said.

   "Me too." she said.

   "I promised to be good." he said, his voice a little whiny.

   "You were." she breathed.

   "You still want to go out?" he asked.

   "No." she said.  "Maybe next time."

   This time she rode him on top and he played with her breasts, describing
them as succulent fruit and pretending to eat them.

   "I can't believe this." she moaned as her orgasm washed over her, sweet
and hot.  "Where have you been all my life?"

   "I had to grow up to find you." he huffed.  He grunted and she felt his
warm bath inside her again.

   She sagged down on top of him.  "You don't know how glad I am you did
find me." she sighed.

   They got up then, and got dressed and he fixed her something to eat. 
They watched TV together, sitting on his couch, holding hands.  When she
said she had to leave he pouted and begged as she laughed.  She made the
mistake of kissing him good night, and that led to feeling his hands on her
again, and feeling his hard prick pressing against her.

   They made love on the couch as he sat back and she straddled him again,
hunching forward and kissing him as he gave her yet another load of hot
spunk.

   She made him stay on the couch, naked while she got dressed.  Each time
he tried to move she barked at him to stay still.

   "Don't I get a goodnight kiss?" he whined.

   "You already DID!" she giggled.

   "I'm off Monday" he said hopefully.

   "I get off work at five." she said.  "But THIS time we're meeting
somewhere where there isn't a bed." she giggled.  "Or a waterfall or a
blanket." she added.  "Or a shower either!"

   "You drive a hard bargain." he said.  "But okay.  How about I come up
there?"

   "Meet me at the Wagon wheel on fourth street at Six." she said.

   "Just one more kiss?" He stood up.

   She fled, laughing.

   Chapter 27

   Sunny thought she was being slick and clever.  She casually mentioned to
Val that, since Bob was going to be staying at Gidget's for a day or two,
and since they were "practicing dating" it was too bad that Becca would be
in the way, or ignored by the adults.  Val did exactly as Sunny thought she
would, and invited her cousin to come over to spend the night.

   Sunny had been thinking more and more since the night before about how
Gidget was acting.  She remembered a day or two ago when, at work, one of
the interns, a girl named Molly, was running around so perky that Sunny
just wanted to strangle her.

   "What in the world are you so excited about?" Sunny had asked her.

   Molly had smiled a toothy smile.  "I met a man!" she had said.  "He's
scrumptious!"

   The more Sunny thought about it, the more she saw the same behavior and
attitude in Gidget.  It was almost like a woman acted when she had been
well and truly laid!  And THAT brought up the most troubling thoughts of
all.  Surely they weren't taking "dating practce" to its obvious and
logical conclusion!  They were related, for Pete's sake!  It was just too
strange to think about.

   But think about it she did, and her plan was to spy on them.  With Becca
out of the house, the couple would be alone.  If they were doing anything
they'd just stay there and do ...  whatever it was they were doing.

   Sunny planned to "run get some milk" or something.  She had a key to
Gidget's house - they all had keys to each other's houses - and she planned
to get to the bottom of whatever it was that was going on over there.  She
even dressed for the occasion, putting on black slacks and a dark maroon
blouse before she sailed through the living room, where Val and Becca were
watching a rental movie.

   "Be back in a while - we need milk." she called out, her keys jangling
in her hand.

   "Pick me up some birth control pills while you're out." called Val,
without looking up.  Becca's gasp was clear even across the room.

   Sunny's hand was in a claw, ready to open the door when it registered.
She screeched to a halt and whirled.

   "WHAT!?" she rasped hoarsely.

   Val looked over the back of the couch and smiled.  "Have a cow, Mom, I
was just kidding." Becca didn't seem to think it was that funny either. 
She was pounding on Val's arm with her fist.

   Sunny was in no mood for it and she scowled at her daughter.  "We're
going to have a nice long talk when I get back." she said.

   "We already had it Mom." sighed Val as she realized her joke had fallen
exceptionally flat.

   Sunny stormed out and slammed the door.  She was driving recklessly when
she realized she might draw attention to herself.  She slowed down and
decided to park several houses down the street from Gidget's house.  She
walked down the street like she knew where she was going, with a confident
stride.  Somebody had told her once that no one paid attention to people
who walked like that.  When she got to the property line she left the
sidewalk and crept stealthily through the yard, catching the attention of
Mrs.  Henderson, the neighborhood busybody, who was looking out her windows
like she did every night before she went to bed.

   Mrs.  Henderson immediately grabbed her binoculars and put them up to
her eyes.  She couldn't see the woman's face, but she looked familiar
somehow.  Still, the 'intruder', as Mrs.  Henderson thought of it, was
acting suspicious.  She watched as the woman went to several windows of her
neighbor's house and tried to peek in.  Finally the intruder went to the
kitchen window, which had a light on inside.  There she stopped, ducking up
and down and then finally up to stay, peering in the window.

   When it became obvious that the intruder intended to stay there and
peep, Mrs.  Henderson knew what to do.

   Sunny looked in the bedroom window first.  It was dark, outside and in,
and she couldn't see anything.  She tried the living room next.  She could
see the light from the kitchen coming through the doorway, so that's where
she went next.  Bob and Gidget were sitting at the kitchen table, across
from each other.  They were holding hands.  She could hear the mumble of
their voices, and see their mouths moving, but she couldn't understand what
they were saying.  They looked like any normal man and woman sitting and
talking.

   =================

   "Circleton 911, what is your emergency please?" came a mellow voice on
the phone.

   "Cassy?  Is that you?" Mrs.  Henderson knew all the members of the
police department by name.  She knew their voices too.  She called them, on
average, about three times a week."

   "Mrs.  Henderson, how NICE to hear from you again." sighed the voice. 
The sarcasm in it was lost on Mrs.  Henderson.

   "Cassy there's an intruder, one of those peeping Toms, and she's peeping
into Gidget Winkle's house next door."

   "SHE is peeping?  Wouldn't that be a peeping Tomasina?" asked Cassy.

   "Don't you sass me Cassy.  This is serious.  Who knows what that
intruder will do over there.  She may be planning on murder!"

   "Mrs.  Henderson, it's probably just another member of the press, trying
to get something about Ms Winkle's father, or grandfather or whatever he
is. I'm sure there's nothing wrong."

   "You just get a squad car over here!" said Mrs.  Henderson hotly.  "If
you don't you'll be hauling bodies out of there right and left, mark my
words!"

   "All right, I'll send somebody over," said Cassy.

   =================

   In the kitchen Gidget was staring at the man who made her feel woozy
inside.

   "I think Sunny suspects something." she said.

   "Why's that?"

   "She was grilling me in the kitchen last night, wanting to know why I
was acting goofy."

   "You were acting goofy?" he smiled.

   "When a woman has something like we had the other night, it MEANS
something to her," said Gidget sternly.

   "It meant something to me too." he assured her.

   "Well, women can tell," said Gidget.

   "Tell what?" asked Bob.

   "You can tell when a woman has had good sex," said Gidget.

   "Oh really?" asked Bob laughing.

   "Yes!" Gidget tried to pull her hands away, but he wouldn't let her. 
"She acts different.  You told me about men.  Let me tell you something
about women.  When a woman is happy ...  deep down inside happy ... 
another woman can tell."

   "And making love with me made you happy?" asked Bob.  "I thought you
resisted an awful lot."

   "Of course I did." she said.  "What we did was wrong ...  unthinkable
... I had to resist."

   "So that's not why I'm here tonight." he said.

   Gidget blushed.  "No, that's exactly why you're here.  It was wonderful
and I haven't felt that good in as long as I can remember."

   "But it was wrong and unthinkable." Bob reminded her.

   "I know THAT." she huffed.  Then she sagged.  "But that doesn't mean it
wasn't wonderful, or that I don't ever want to do it again.  I thought we
agreed on that."

   Bob knew he was in a no-win situation.  "About Sunny?" he reminded her.

   "Well, I think Sunny could see how happy I was.  She's suspicious. 
She's asking a lot of questions."

   "So tell her," said Bob.

   "I can't do THAT." yipped Gidget.  "We committed incest!"

   "We didn't commit anything.  We were two people who were attracted to
each other and let that go where we both wanted it to go.  We were
practicing, for being with others as I recall."

   "That's fine for you to say.  I even want to agree with you, but Sunny
won't see it that way.  Don't you think it's kind of strange that Val
suddenly called Becca to ask her over for the night?  On the very first
night you were going to stay with us?"

   "From what I've seen, those girls are pretty close," said Bob.

   "Well, maybe we shouldn't ...  you know ...  tonight," said Gidget.

   "Okay, let's do something else.  What would you like to do?"

   Gidget leaned forward.  "How do you DO that?!" she practically gasped.
"All I could think of all day long was what I was going to do to you
tonight ...  what I was going to get to feel again.  How do you just turn
it on and off like that?"

   "I can't turn it on and off.  I was looking forward to this too, but if
it's not a good idea then that's more important than letting my lust
control me." He smiled.  "I'm hard right now just sitting across from you."

   "Ohhh MEN!" said Gidget stridently, finally getting her hand free.

   "So, what do you want to do?" asked Bob.

   "I want you to make me scream," said Gidget standing up, a smoky look in
her eyes.

   "What about Sunny?" he asked.

   "Screw Sunny," said Gidget.  "That hardon is for ME!"

   Bob thought about teasing her about the term 'screw Sunny' but decided
not to.  He reached out his hand instead.

   There was a repeated thumping on the back door.  A muffled male voice
came through it.

   "POLICE" There was more thumping.

   Gidget looked at Bob and went pale.  She went to the door.  As she
opened it a woman's voice ...  a familiar voice ...  shouted "Let GO of
me!" The door opened and a disheveled Sunny stood there, her face smudged
with dirt, her hair in disarray.  Her elbow was in the grip of a tall man
in a police uniform.

   "Mrs.  Winkle?" he addressed Gidget.  "This woman claims to be your
sister, is that true?"

   Gidget's hand flew to her mouth and she nodded.  "Yes, she is, what's
going on?"

   Sunny scowled and jerked her arm.  The man's grip didn't slacken a bit.

   "We got a prowler call, Ma'am, and I found ...  your sister ...  um ...
peeking into that window over there." He pointed to the kitchen window in
the north wall.

   "He threw me on the GROUND!" wailed Sunny.

   The cop didn't flinch.  "She gave me a little trouble when I approached
her.  She tried to run.  I had to tackle her."

   "BEAST!" howled Sunny.

   "You can leave her here with us if that's all right," said Bob.

   The policeman peered at him.  "Are you Mr.  Winkle?  Bob Winkle?" he
asked.

   "Yes," said Bob.

   The cop shoved Sunny into the room and let her go.  He held out a hand
to Bob.  "Glad to meet you sir.  You've caused quite a stir around here."

   "Sorry," said Bob with irony in his voice.  "All I did was wake up."

   "Well, what with all the tickets we wrote all those news people and
gawkers, you've kind of helped with the budget crunch we were going
through." grinned the cop.  "Do you suppose I could maybe get your
autograph?"

   Bob chuckled as Gidget ran to get paper and pen.  Bob scrawled his name
under the inscription "Thanks for your service." and handed it to the
officer.  He read it and beamed.  He turned to Gidget.

   "So, I assume you don't want to press charges." he said.

   "If I did would you have to put her in a jail cell?" asked Gidget.

   "GIDGET!" squealed Sunny.

   "Never mind," said Gidget.  "We'll take it from here."

   "Night folks," said the cop and he backed out of the door.

   =================

   Sunny stood there, looking down at the floor.  Things just hadn't quite
gone the way she had anticipated.

   "You want to tell me what's going on?" asked Gidget, her voice low and
full of tension.

   "Nothing's going on," said Sunny, her voice surly.  "Can't a woman go
out for a nice evening walk without being molested?"

   Gidget looked at her watch.  It was nine-thirty.  "A nice evening walk."
she said.  "And you just happened to walk by my house, and instead of
coming on in, like you ALWAYS do, you peek in the windows?"

   Sunny didn't say anything.

   "She thought we were having sex," said Bob.

   Both women's heads swiveled to look at him.  Gidget's held controlled
fear.  Sunny's looked pale and panicky.  She was so surprised at being
caught, both by the cop and by Bob that she couldn't marshal her thoughts.

   Gidget turned back to her sister.  "What, you're so starved for sex that
you have to watch other people having it?" Her voice was ugly.

   Sunny's face flared red.  "You know better than that!" she said
indignantly.

   "I thought I knew you better than I apparently do too," said Gidget. 
"Go home.  Get out of my house." Her voice was flat, still ugly.

   "Now hold on a minute," said Bob.  "Getting mad and kicking at each
other isn't going to solve anything.  You two are like sisters.  Sit down
and talk."

   "I don't want to talk to her," said Gidget, turning away.  "She SPIED on
me!"

   "I had to!" barked Sunny.  "You were acting so strange and you were
acting like you were in LOVE or something and I had to make sure he wasn't
taking advantage of you!"

   "And what if I AM in love?" said Gidget, her voice rising.  "Is that any
of YOUR BUSINESS?  CAN'T I FIND A LITTLE HAPPINESS WITHOUT YOU TRYING TO
STOP ME?"

   "With HIM?!" Sunny's voice was incredulous.

   "WHY NOT WITH HIM?" shouted Gidget angrily.  She calmed down, realizing
she had admitted something she didn't want to.  It was too late now,
though. She went on the defensive.  "He's sweet and caring and he loves me.
I'm comfortable with him.  He doesn't scare me.  He doesn't force me.  He
lets me be who I WANT to be."

   "He's your grandfather, Gidget!" said Sunny sternly.

   "He's a stranger!" said Gidget just as sternly.  "We never paid any
attention to him.  We don't know him.  What color are his eyes Sunny?  Do
you know?  What's his favorite breakfast?  What colors does he like?  Does
he put his left shoe on first, or his right?  What's his MIDDLE NAME
SUNNY?"

   Sunny blinked and took a breath, but Gidget wasn't finished.

   "If he'd have walked in off the street and we didn't know who he was
we'd both be thrilled to spend time with him.  Yes, he IS my grandfather,
but he's also a wonderful, interesting man who helped me understand some
things about myself that were holding me back.  I'm not trying to marry
him, Sunny ...  I'm just finding out who I am and who he is and I'm having
the best time of my life doing it."

   "But it's wrong." whined Sunny.

   "Who says it's wrong?" asked Gidget.  "A whole bunch of people who
haven't ever done anything for us and never will.  Strangers who don't care
what our lives are like as long as we live them the same way they do.  I
thought it was wrong too.  But what happened between us was NOT a bad thing
Sunny.  I feel more like a woman today than I think I ever felt like in my
whole life!  I can think more clearly.  I'm not anxious or nervous.  I
trust a man ...  trust a MAN Sunny! ...  for the first time since I can
remember.  I know this very instant that if I say I don't want to do
anything else with him that it will be fine.  He won't take off and leave
just because I stop doing things with him.  What he is offering me isn't
tied to sex or compliments or anything.  All he wants is for me to be
happy, and that makes me want to make HIM happy, and I AM happy, and YOU
want me to feel guilty about all that."

   She took a step toward her sister.  "Well I'm NOT going to feel guilty
Sunny.  I love you, you know that, and I'd never do anything to hurt you,
but don't make me choose between being who I want to be ...  need to be ...
and living my life by your rules.  I've done that for the last twenty years
and I was miserable.  I'm tired of being miserable." She slumped.  Then she
looked nervous.  Then she went and sat down at the table.  She looked at
Bob and then at Sunny, who was staring at her.

   Sunny looked nervous too.  Bob just stood there, waiting to see what
would happen next.  The silence was, as usual, so uncomfortable that Sunny
finally filled it.

   "I've never heard you talk that way." she said.

   "I don't think I'm the same woman you knew last week," said Gidget.

   "That's for sure!" said Sunny.

   "I'm not sorry about this Sunny." insisted Gidget.

   "You have made that abundantly clear," said Sunny, relaxing.  "Can I sit
down?"

   "Of course," said Gidget.

   "Can I ask questions?" she glanced at Bob and then back to Gidget.

   Gidget waved a hand.  "As long as you're interested in a frank and open
discussion, where nobody has to win and nobody has to lose ...  go ahead."

   "How did this happen?"

   Gidget laughed.  "I wish I could tell you.  If I could bottle what
happened I'd have more money than he does." She sat for a minute.  "The
more I think about it, the more I think it was because he was truthful with
me."

   "What do you mean?" asked Sunny.

   "We were trying to dance ...  you know, like you might on a date.  We
tried rock first, but we didn't have any common experience.  So we changed
to slow dancing and I felt him ...  you know ...  pressing against me."

   Sunny shot a look at Bob.

   "All men do it Sunny!" said Gidget.  "Just because he's our grandfather
doesn't mean he stops being a man."

   Sunny turned to Bob.  "But why did you react that way towards HER?" she
asked.

   Bob didn't' mind answering.  "Because she's a beautiful and interesting
woman.  My body reacted to a beautiful woman, and my mind reacted to the
fact that she was interesting." He expanded on that, much like he had with
Gidget, explaining that men didn't always think about everything, and that
their bodies reacted automatically.

   "But you should have controlled your urges." insisted Sunny.

   Bob nodded.  "That's fine if you do it for the right reasons.  Let me
ask you a question."

   Sunny nodded.

   "Has there ever been a time, say in the last five or ten years, when you
saw a sixteen or seventeen year old boy you were attracted to?"

   The first thing that leapt into Sunny's mind was her paper boy.  He was
about that age now, and he had huge brown eyes, and a forelock that lay
just so on his forehead, and his smile was wide and open.  He made her wet.
She shook her head, though.  "No." she said.

   "Come on Sunny," said Gidget.  "We've been like sisters.  I know you
well enough to see that you're lying through your teeth.  If we're going to
have a conversation that means anything, at least tell the truth."

   "It would be wrong to lust after a boy that young," said Sunny.

   "That's the point I want to make," said Bob.  "Why is it wrong?"

   "Because he's too young," said Sunny.

   "Too young for what?" asked Bob.

   "Too young for anything!" said Sunny.  "He's just a boy."

   "When I was growing up," said Bob, "a sixteen year old ...  boy ...  got
a job, or did that for a year and joined the service.  A few of them went
to college.  A boy that age got married, had kids and made a family.  He
was a man back then ...  if he wanted to be."

   "But things have changed," said Sunny.  "The world is different.  It's
not appropriate for an older woman to be with a boy that young."

   "Things haven't changed biologically," said Bob.  "At sixteen, every
male alive is biologically ready to become a father.  He reacts to women
exactly the same way he would have fifty, or seventy, or a thousand years
ago.  And women react to him the same way too.  Your attraction to a young
man is as normal as it is possible to be.  Your attraction to ANY man is
normal.  There is something in your brain that identifies potential sexual
partners.  There is something ELSE in your brain that tells you whether or
not it is "proper" to pursue that attraction.  Can we agree on that?"

   Sunny nodded hesitantly.

   "So, who is the young man you thought about when I asked the question?"

   Sunny looked uncomfortable.  "I feel weird." she said.

   "Remember, we're just talking about a normal attraction.  You have
nothing to be ashamed of for being normal."

   "It's my paper boy," said Sunny, her eyes darting back and forth between
them.

   "Jack?" asked Gidget.  "I'm with you there, sister.  He's gorgeous!"

   Sunny looked shocked, and then puzzled.

   "Why didn't you ever say anything about that?" she asked Gidget.

   "Probably for the same reason you didn't say anything about it to me."
grinned her cousin.

   "Now," said Bob.  "Why is it so horribly wrong for you to pursue your
attraction to your paper boy?"

   "It wouldn't work out," said Sunny.  "He's too young.  We wouldn't have
anything in common.  His parents would object.  He wouldn't be interested
in me anyway." she said.  "There are a lot of reasons not to go after him."

   "Those are good reasons," said Bob.  "You are aware that there would be
problems if you pursued that relationship.  What if he was an orphan, and
was so smart that he finished High School early?  Would that make a
difference?"

   Sunny smiled.  "Yes, but he would still not have anything in common with
me.  We'd be interested in different things."

   "But you could have sex with him if you wanted to, right?"

   "Well ...  sure ...  but I wouldn't want to do that.  Not just for sex.
I want more than sex from a relationship.  That's why I divorced my
husband. He was great in bed, but that was all he was great at."

   "Okay, but in the case of your paper boy, it isn't really that he's too
young.  It's that you have nothing in common, and nothing upon which to
build a decent relationship that is wider than just sex.  Right?"

   "Well, when you put it THAT way, I suppose so," said Sunny.

   "What I'm trying to say is that decisions should be made on reasonable
facts and circumstances, rather than just on some random rule about the
ages of the participants," said Bob.

   Sunny nodded, but argued.  "But the rule is probably based on those
circumstances.  The rule is that older women and young boys won't work
BECAUSE of all those problems."

   "And yet it worked just fine for centuries," said Bob.

   "Older women and young boys?" asked Sunny.  "What makes you think that?"

   "In the American West, there were times when a woman's husband died. 
Maybe it was from illness, or fighting Indians or whatever.  The only mates
around were the sons of other settlers.  It happened all the time.  A woman
might marry a boy younger than her own children if that's what she had to
do to survive."

   "But that was just to survive!" complained Sunny.

   "It still worked," said Bob.  "They didn't pay attention to the "rules".
Instead, they made something work so their lives would be better."

   Sunny frowned.  "I never thought about it like that before." she said.

   "That's the problem.  We don't think about things enough.  We just react
to the rules," said Bob.

   "But what does this have to do with you and Gidget?" asked Sunny.

   "We are both in a situation where there are all these rules.  I'm a man
out of my time, an oddity, a great grandfather at age twenty-five.  I'm
expected to act like a great grandfather, but I have no idea how to do
that. Gidget had all these rules about what men were like, and that kept
her from finding out what men are actually like ...  or can be, at least.
Together, we decided that we were going to disregard some of the rules to
find out some things about each other and ourselves.  I told her how I felt
about her ...  despite the rules ...  and she gave up some of her rules to
find out if that would make her happier."

   "You make it sound so simple," said Sunny.

   "It is.  Really all you do is decide that you're going to look at a
rule, and decide whether it makes any sense in your situation.  It's kind
of like being on the highway in the middle of the night and there's a stop
light.  There's nobody around.  Why does it make sense that you would have
to sit there?"

   "But if the police see you run the light, you still get a ticket," said
Sunny.

   "And if the judge were operating on the wavelength I'm talking about, he
would let you go," said Bob.  There wouldn't be any real justice in
punishing you in that situation.

   "That's right," said Sunny.  "I agree with you a hundred percent ... 
but he'd probably still fine you."

   "Maybe so," said Bob.  "So you have to make a decision about whether or
not, if you break society's rules, you are willing to pay the price if you
get caught." He grinned.  "Like you got caught tonight."

   Sunny winced.  Then she jerked upright.  "Oh my gosh!  I told Becca and
Val I was just going out to get milk!  They'll think something happened to
me!"

   "Call home," said Gidget.  "Can't you stay?"

   Sunny looked at them both.  "From what I'm hearing, you two had
something planned tonight..."

   Gidget blushed.  "Actually, we did.  But this is more important.  You
don't have to agree with us, but before you leave here I at least want you
to understand how I feel ...  and why I seduced him."

   Sunny rocked back in her chair.  "You ...  seduced HIM?!"

   "Sort of." Gidget looked embarrassed.  "It's complicated."

   "Will you tell me about it?" asked Sunny.

   "Do you really want to know?"

   Sunny blushed.  "I'm curious ...  that's all."

   "Well, you need to understand that that's what got me in trouble in the
first place then.  I was just curious ...  about him."

   "Wow," said Sunny.  "I have to hear that story."

   Sunny got up and went to the phone.  Gidget looked at Bob.

   "Did I do the right thing?  Admitting it I mean?" she looked anguished.
They both knew that Sunny could rock the boat.

   "I think that your relationship with your cousin is more important than
our curiosity with each other, as you put it." he said.  "I knew what we
were doing might blow up in our faces.  I think you did too.  Now we just
have to play it out and see what happens."

   She nodded.  "I'm not sorry." she said.

   "It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself." he commented.

   "No, that's not it at all.  I'm just not going to cave in to the rule
that says what we did was wrong."

   Sunny came back and sat down.  She began peppering her sister with
questions of what had happened, and why she had felt this attraction to
Bob, and what he had done.  As they talked Bob sat quietly for the most
part.  Gidget was doing fine.  After a while, Gidget's descriptions got
more and more detailed as she got excited, remembering the feelings and
trying to describe them to Sunny.

   "And then he stuck his tongue in my belly button.  It was so strange. 
Nobody had ever done that before and it was soft and sensual and not
hurried, you know?" Sunny nodded.  Gidget stopped.  "Sunny, there's
something I never told you ...  but I told him ...  about Becca's father."

   Then she told Sunny about the professor, and what that relationship had
been like, and now she could just tell that Bob cared more about her
emotional situation than the father of her daughter ever had.

   She got to the part of the story where Bob had leaned forward and licked
her pussy.  She covered her face in embarrassment when she described it,
adding that she had pushed him away.

   Sunny reacted not, like Gidget expected, but in a completely different
way.

   "THAT's about the only thing my worthless ex husband was good for." she
blurted.

   "He was a bastard, but he sure could lick pussy." She looked surprised
that she had actually said that.

   "You LET HIM?!" gasped Gidget.  "THAT'S TERRIBLE!"

   Sunny looked stunned.  "You're describing having incest with our
grandfather ...  and you call getting my pussy licked terrible?" She looked
at Bob.  "Girl, you've got your priorities REALLY screwed up."

   "I could never let a man do that," said Gidget.  "Any man!"

   "Why in the world not?" asked Sunny.  "It's incredible!  It's the thing
I miss the most!"

   "You're KIDDING!" squealed Gidget.

   "I am NOT kidding," said Sunny, animated.  "I bet I've had more orgasms
that way than from ...  the other." she said looking uncomfortable.  "I can
NOT believe I'm talking about this in front of this man!" she said, looking
up at the ceiling.

   "I'm on your side," said Bob.  "I used to love Valerie's taste, and the
little I got from Gidget was really nice too."

   "But when I ...  when professor Lipscomb made me ...  put his penis in
my mouth..." Gidget hid her face again.  "It tasted AWFUL!" she said, her
voice muffled in her hands.

   "I don't know about that," said Bob.  "Valerie never complained.  But I
know I loved her taste, and I loved the way it made her feel when I did it
to her."

   Gidget, rather than talk about that, pushed on, describing more of the
evening and how it had come to the point where Bob had offered to just stop
and masturbate or get dressed, and how that made her feel.  She described
how she had taken control of what happened from that point on, and how
overpowering it was to be with a man who cared more about how she felt than
about how he felt.

   "That's not true, precisely." commented Bob at that point.  "I was
having a heck of a good time.  There's not just one way to get satisfaction
during sex."

   "See what I mean?" said Gidget.  "Have you ever been with a man like
that?"

   "No." admitted Sunny.  "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but it
really sounds sweet and sexy and ...  nice!"

   "That's how I felt!" said Gidget.  "And I decided I liked it, and I
wasn't going to quit just because of some stupid rule!"

   "But wasn't it weird?" asked Sunny, looking at Bob out of the side of
her eyes.

   "Yes, at first it was, but ...  I don't know how to explain it ...  I
didn't know him well enough to think of him as my grandfather or something.
He was just a man I liked ...  the first man I liked in a long time."

   "I can understand that part," said Sunny.  "That part, when you asked
about his eyes and all that ...  that part made sense." She hesitated.  "In
fact, I have to confess that there have been several times I felt like that
too.  I mean that I just liked him, but didn't know him very well."

   "He thinks you're attractive too." blurted Gidget.  She put her hand
over her mouth.  "I shouldn't have said that!"

   "You talked about me?" asked Sunny.

   "Well, let's just say your name came up," said Bob.  "I think she used
you as an example."

   "I don't know whether to feel creeped out about that or not," said
Sunny. "What kind of example?"

   Gidget waved her hands nervously.  "I told him I wanted to keep ...  to
keep practicing, sort of, and we got in a discussion of whether that meant
I wanted a kind of monogamous relationship."

   "Okay," said Sunny.

   "Well I told him I wouldn't keep doing it if he had a girlfriend, or if
I had a boyfriend ...  but then it got complicated, because if he was
dating a LOT of women and I was dating a bunch of men too, then that would
be different, you know?"

   "Yes," said Sunny impatiently.

   "Should I tell her the next part?" Gidget asked Bob.

   He held up his hand.  "We've been pretty truthful and it hasn't hurt
anybody so far."

   Sunny looked at them both intently.

   "Well, he asked about what if he had a relationship with any of the rest
of us ...  like you or my mother or something like that."

   Sunny looked startled.  She looked at Bob.  "You're attracted to more of
us than just Gidget?"

   "I'm attracted to all of you." he said.  "Don't hate me.  You're all
wonderful beautiful women.  It may change as I hang around longer and get
to know you.  But you're all amazing women and any guy would be
interested."

   "You'd have sex with me?" she asked.  "If I let you?"

   "Yes," said Bob.  He held his breath, waiting to see what her reaction
would be.  When she didn't say anything he ventured a little further.  "But
Sunny, that's just an impulse inside me.  I couldn't do that if you
objected, or if you felt guilty about it, or anything like that.  It would
have to be the right thing to do for both of us."

   "Like it was with Gidget," said Sunny.

   He nodded.  "It doesn't mean you have to be afraid of me.  I'd never
touch you against your will."

   "I have to tell you something," said Sunny suddenly.  "I probably should
have told you before, but I was ashamed.  But after this ...  I'm just
going to say it, okay?"

   Both Bob and Gidget nodded.

   "When we first got married, Don and I played a game.  I know this is
going to sound stupid and creepy, but I always wanted to know about my
father, and mother never would tell me anything about him.  She just said
he was a nice man but they couldn't get married and his life kept him from
ever seeing me.  She wasn't bitter about him at all.  I never could get her
to tell me if he was the same man who got her pregnant with my brothers or
not.  Anyway, I made up a fantasy Daddy in my head, and I wanted him to
hold me and love me and stuff.  And the first few times I played with a boy
on a date and it was horrible ...  when I got home and into bed I dreamed
about how it would have been wonderful with my Daddy."

   She stopped and looked at them, waiting for them to frown, or look
disgusted.  Of course, neither did.  She went on.

   "Anyway, when I got married I told Don about it and he pretended to be
my father sometimes.  I loved it." she said, looking down.

   "But you felt guilty," said Bob.

   "No, not really," said Sunny.  "He WASN'T my father.  It was just a
game. But he told his friends about it.  He thought ...  THEY thought I
wanted to have sex with strange men because I didn't know who my father was
or something crazy like that.  They started making jokes about how THEY
might be my father.  Don tried to get me to have sex with them while he
watched.  I wouldn't do it and he stared calling me a pervert and all kinds
of horrible things.  It was one of the main reasons I threw him out."

   "You never told me," said Gidget, her eyes wide.

   "You never told me about that professor," said Sunny.

   "So why were you so indignant about me and Bob?" asked Gidget.

   Sunny threw up her hands.  "Because everybody says it's wrong!"

   "But you wanted to do it," said Gidget.

   "I don't know WHAT I wanted to do.  It was just sexy and fun and in my
mind I made Don into somebody else who was my fantasy lover.  It isn't the
same ...  is it?  But now I wonder, because it's so close to what YOU did
with Grandpa!" She looked at Bob.  "And there's something else." she said.

   They just looked at her, waiting.

   "I read an article about this study they did where they captured the
body odors of family members.  They mixed them up with the odors of
non-family members and had each person say which scent they liked or didn't
like the most.  The way the study came out was that most of the time
brothers and sisters didn't like each other's scents, and mothers didn't
like their son's scents and daughters didn't like their father's scents. 
They said that was nature's way of preventing incest."

   "Sounds reasonable, I guess," said Bob.

   "But don't you see?" Sunny said, anguish in her voice...  "It was only
MOST of the time.  There were cases where that didn't happen ...  where
people WERE attracted to each other's scents.  And the study said that it
was estimated that fifteen to twenty percent of households DID engage in
incest."

   "I don't understand your point," said Gidget.

   "I started thinking that maybe, when I was little and my father was
there, even though I can't remember him, my brain remembers his scent and
that's why I'm attracted to the thought of having sex with him."

   "I think that's a pretty far stretch," said Bob.

   "I've felt guilty for years because it broke up my marriage," said
Sunny.

   "I think what broke up your marriage was that Don didn't care how you
felt.  He was centered on his own desires," said Bob.

   "That's for sure," said Sunny.  "But I still felt guilty because I
thought I was abnormal or something." She perked up.  "But you see, knowing
that Gidget and you did what you did actually makes me feel better somehow
...  like there really IS some kind of genetic attraction between members
of our family.

   "I thought you were disgusted with us," said Gidget.

   "I tried to be." admitted Sunny.  "But, like you said, I think that's
because I've heard all my life that incest was wrong."

   "So...  ," said Gidget, "What are you going to do now?"

   What Gidget meant was, what was Sunny going to do about her knowledge
that her sister and grandfather had had sex?  Was she going to tell anyone?
Was she going to try to stop them from doing anything further?  How would
this affect their relationship in the future?  Sunny's response was
completely unforeseen.

   "I'm going to try to find my father." she said suddenly.  "I have to
find him.  I have to see what he's like.  I have to find out if ...  if ...
if I'm really attracted to him."

   Bob felt a twinge of both trepidation and empathy for Sunny.  While he
and his first three daughters had never actually discussed the parentage of
his second three daughters, his memories of things they had said to him
were clear.  He knew that Gidget, Polly and Sunny were his offspring.  How
this would play out, he had no idea, but it could go a number of different
ways, and some of them were not positive.

   "A long time has passed." he ventured.  "You might not like what you
find." Sunny suddenly had tears in her eyes.

   "Maybe." she admitted.  "But I have to find out.  This will drive me
crazy if I don't."

   "What about us?" asked Gidget, recovering from the surprise of Sunny's
previous answer.  "What about Bob and me?"

   Sunny sighed.  "What do you want me to say?  You want me to say it's all
fine and wonderful and to go ahead and let him fuck your socks off?"

   Gidget blushed.  "It IS fine and wonderful ...  at least between us. 
And it won't last forever.  He and I will both meet other people.  Knowing
there really are sweet and caring men out there makes me want to find
another one.  I'm tired of being alone Sunny.  I didn't even realize it,
but now I know I'm lonely."

   "You think you're the only one?" asked Sunny.  "Just the thought of you
two thrashing around in bed makes me crazy to have something like that! 
Here I thought I had put men away in the little tightly closed box they
belong in and now you've poked all kinds of holes in the box."

   "You were the one who snooped," said Gidget, a tiny smile on her face.

   Sunny shot her a glare.  "After what you've been doing, don't even TRY
to make me feel guilty." She stood up.  "I need to get back to the girls."
She had no purse to pick up and she headed to the same door she had been
brought in through by the policeman.  "I suppose you two will thrash around
in bed after I leave." she said, a trace of something like defeat in her
voice."

   "Would it make you feel better if I said we wouldn't?" asked Gidget.

   Sunny looked at her, and then at Bob and then all around the kitchen. 
"To be honest, yes, it would.  I wouldn't have to lie in bed alone tonight
and think about it.  I'll already be thinking about Daddy, whoever and
wherever he is, and thinking about you two would just make it worse."

   "Okay, then, we won't thrash around in bed, as you put it." She hugged
Sunny, who hugged her back fiercely.  "You can go out the front door, you
know," said Gidget.  "That might cause less furor than being seen sneaking
around in the dark." She grinned.

   Sunny sighed.  But she went out the front door.

   Chapter 28

   Gidget turned to Bob.  "Well, that went a lot better than I would ever
have hoped it would, if I'd have thought that might happen."

   "You were right that she had suspicions," said Bob.  "You seem to have
very good instincts.  It was nice of you to agree not to make love with me
tonight."

   Gidget came and embraced him, shoving her mons against the front of his
pants.  "Who said we weren't going to make love?" she said, her voice low.
She rubbed her breasts against his chest.

   "You did.  I just heard you." he said.  His hands went to her hips
automatically.

   "I believe what I said was that we weren't going to thrash around in
bed. I've never done it on a couch before.  I didn't say anything about the
couch." She smiled and rubbed her pussy against him in little sideways
motions.

   "You're a bad woman," said Bob, leaning forward to kiss her.

   "Yes, I am." she said as the kiss finished.  "I feel like being bad and
I feel like being bad on the couch."

   Remembering Sunny's peeking, Gidget left the lights off.  There was
plenty of light coming through the thin curtains of the living room as she
undressed.  She was completely unselfconscious about it, folding her things
neatly and then sitting on the couch to lean back and open her legs.  She
scooted forward until her buttocks were on the edge of the seat.

   "Can you do it this way?" she asked, looking at his pale body as it was
exposed.

   "I think we can manage." he said.  His light colored prick jutted
strongly from his darker pubic hair.

   "I want you to let me use my mouth," said Bob.

   Gidget's legs went closed in an automatic reaction.

   "Please?" he asked.  "I know you'll like it."

   He knelt in front of her knees, which were together and put his hands on
them.  He exerted the slightest of pressure to spread them.

   "I don't know." she said.

   "Just a little?" he asked.  "If you don't like it I'll stop.  Sunny said
she loved it ...  remember?"

   Her legs relaxed and the slight pressure he put on them spread them a
few inches.  He kept it up, overcoming the little pressure she kept on her
knees until he could move forward on his knees to get between them.  Her
hands came to her stomach and fluttered restlessly.

   Instead of going straight to her pussy, though, he waded in and kissed
her first, with long, tongue-swapping passion.  She was soon pushing her
pussy up at his stomach and, when he moved downward to her breasts and
sucked her nipples, she moaned and wiggled against him.  Her hands came to
his head and played with his hair as she cooed her approval of what he was
doing.

   Then he went to her navel, and tongued it, like he had before.  He took
his time, drifting lower with little kisses and licking her abdomen.  When
he got to her flat sparse hair he moved it around with his nose.  He pushed
her thighs wide and sought her puffy big outer labia with his thumbs,
spreading them to reveal her inner lips and spread them too.  Her clit
stood tall and stiff, like a little penis with its sensitive inner head
peeking out of the sheath that normally covered it.  He flicked that with
the tip of his tongue, circling it and moving it back and forth.

   "UUHHHH" grunted Gidget explosively, as something she had never felt
sent streaks of almost painful sensations through her loins.  Her hands
went to the couch and her legs stiffened as she shoved her butt up off the
couch.  Bob was ready.  He sealed his lips over her clit and sucked hard,
wagging his head back and forth in tiny rapid movements.

   "AAAAHHHHHHHEEEEEEE" she screamed as the sensations overpowered her. 
Her hands left the couch and grabbed a double handful of his hair. 
Thinking he had done too much, Bob spit her clit out and licked it and the
lips beside it in long tongue lapping motions.  He stuck his tongue up
inside her as her butt came back down on the couch.  He leaned back to
admire her pussy in the almost dark.

   "OHhhh don't stop." she cried.  Her hips bounced upward again.  Grinning
into her pussy he found and sucked her clit again until she vibrated into
an orgasm that made her hands go from his head to the couch to her breasts
and then over her head as she stretched out, her legs now straight and
stiff.  Then her legs wrapped over his back and she sobbed, pushing at his
head.  He backed off as much as he could and looked up, his face shining in
the light with its wet coating of her juices.

   "You all right?" he asked as she made noises that sounded like she had
lost her last friend.

   "I've...  *sniff* ...  wasted...* sob, sob* ...  so much *sniff *... 
tiiiiiiiime" she sobbed.  She covered her face with her hands.  "I've ...
been so *sniff * STUPID." She relaxed a little, getting her breath and
wiping her eyes with both hands.  "I could have had *sniff * a man in my
life *sniff *all these years.  I could have had THAAAAAAAAT..." She
launched into another crying jag.

   Bob didn't know what to do.  Since he was stiff as an iron rod, he
wiggled his way upward, kissing her belly and sucking her nipples as her
arms fell limp beside her.  She calmed down just enough that, when he got
his prick next to her pussy, had felt for it with his hand and swabbed it
in her slot.  Then he lunged forward and seated himself in her as far as he
could.

   "Ohhhhhhhh" she moaned.  "I could have had this too."

   There is a term, called "fucking her to tears".  It's a good term, and
is very descriptive, but in this case, Bob fucked her tears away.  Once he
started sawing in and out of her, her passion left room for no tears at
all. If anything, her joy made her want to laugh out loud.  She didn't
though.  Instead she urged him on in terms both vigorous and slightly
salty, saying things that no one in the family would ever have imagined
coming from her lips.  She alternated between "FUCK ME ...  FUCK ME" and
"Yes, ohhh yes" and then threw in a "POUND MY PUSSY YOU BASTARD" and then
"I'm sorry (for calling him a bastard) ...  FUCKE MEEEEEEE".  Bob, for his
part, went up on his toes, with his hands on the couch beside her butt, and
then rocked his pelvis back and forth, battering her clit and reaming her
out.

   Her orgasm was obvious, and Bob was glad, because his back hurt and his
balls hurt.  He had been trying not to spew in her for several minutes, and
when her legs came back up onto his back he slumped, lunging forward to
bury himself as far in her as he could.  There he froze as the only muscles
in his body that moved sent semen and sperm through his prick and into her
womb.  He soaked her, and she loved every spurt.

   It was uncomfortable on the couch.  They couldn't really cuddle.  Both
said they were tired, so they went to bed, falling into it naked, and not
caring.

   Later that night, Gidget broke her promise to her sister.

   Twice.

   =================

   At ten the next morning, Sunny showed up at her mother's house.  Val was
still asleep from having come in late from a date with Zack.  Martha was
making potato salad for lunch later.

   "Hi, Honey, this is a nice surprise." she looked up as Sunny came into
the room.

   Sunny looked nervous and was about to speak when the phone rang.  Martha
picked it up and listened.  Her half of the conversation went something
like this: "What?  Why? ...  What do you mean you can't tell me? ...  She's
here now, she just got here ...  What's going on? ...  I can't do that ...
You don't understand ...  WHAT?! ...  YOU KNEW?! ...  Ohhhh I don't know
what to do ...  okay ...  Bye."

   The other half of the conversation was Bob, calling her while Gidget was
in the shower.  He warned her that Sunny was going to try to find out who
her father was, and, that while he couldn't tell her WHY it was so
important to Sunny to know, he knew who her father was because he
remembered Martha telling him about it while he slept.

   Sunny hung up the phone and turned around to look at Sunny.  Sunny was
so distracted thinking of something that she didn't even ask who had been
on the phone.  Martha had a pretty good idea what distracting thoughts she
was having.

   "I'll be right back dear," said Martha.  "I have to go ...  do
something."

   "I have to ask you a question," said Sunny suddenly.  "It's important."

   "I won't be a minute," said Martha.

   She hurried out of the kitchen to her bedroom, which had another phone
in it.  She called June first.  After a hurried and frantic conversation,
she called Betty.  That conversation was just as frantic.  An immediate
plan was made to meet and discuss the situation.

   Martha made herself go face her daughter.  Sunny was still sitting where
she had been, biting a fingernail.  That, if anything showed how upset she
was.  She spent hours on her fingernails every week.

   Martha sat down, but didn't say anything.

   Sunny looked up.  "Mom, I have to know who my father is."

   "Honey," started Martha, "we've had this conversation before, a long
time ago, when you were younger."

   "I remember that," said Sunny heatedly.  "You said it was the sixties,
and talked about all that free love stuff.  But I have to know Mom."

   "Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?" asked Martha.

   "I can't tell you that," said Sunny.  She looked away.  "It's something
personal.  Just believe me that it's very important to me to know."

   "What would knowing do?" asked Martha.  "Even if you knew, how could
that possibly make any difference?"

   "I want to FIND him, mother," said Sunny, her voice urgent.  "I need to
see him ...  to talk to him ...  to find out what he's like."

   "That's ridiculous, darling." tried Martha.  "It's been decades since
you were born, and it's never been a problem before.  I loved you and took
care of you and you grew up to be a strong beautiful woman with a good job.
And look at Val, she's the same way.  We've done just fine without your
father being here."

   "I need to know," said Sunny, her voice sullen.  "I'm not saying
anything about how you raised me.  You did wonderfully.  But it's different
now.  I need to see him, even if it's only to look into his eyes and ask
him why he was never there for me when I was little.  I need to know if
he's a good man or not."

   "He was ...  he is, I'm sure ...  a wonderful man.  But there are things
you wouldn't understand.  This ...  this wanting to know could cause real
problems in your life, honey."

   "Why?" came Sunny's anguished cry.  "Why could just knowing who my
father is hurt ANYTHING?"

   Martha needed time.  "Let me think about this.  I need to think about
this.  Go home ...  or go out and do something fun.  Come back tonight and
we can talk some more."

   Sunny stood up.  She was tense, but she said very calmly: "I'm going to
find out, Mother.  I'll do whatever I have to, to find out who he was.  I'm
going to find him and see him.  Even if I can't talk to him I'm going to
find out what he's like."

   "Please," begged Martha.  "Wait until tonight."

   Sunny left, walking out the door as June walked in, looking harried. 
They exchanged equally tense greetings.  Betty was only five minutes behind
June.

   =================

   "What are we going to do?" asked Betty, when Martha had described
Sunny's drive to find not only who her father was, but where he was as well
...  AND to go see him.

   "We've talked about this a hundred times," said June.  "Why don't we
just tell them and be done with it?"

   "Because Bob was asleep the last time any of them seemed int

   erested.  Now he's awake, and they've all talked to him and eaten dinner
with him and listened to him read.  He's a real person now." Martha looked
at them both.  "It could ruin him." They argued for another hour until
Martha finally remembered Bob's statement that he knew who Sunny's father
was.  It wasn't much of a jump from there to think of bringing Bob into the
conversation.  June called her daughter's house and Gidget answered.

   "Morning sweetheart," said June, like she had a thousand times before.
"Is Bob still there?" When Gidget answered in the affirmative June asked to
"borrow" him for a little project at Martha's house.  Gidget said she's
send him right over.  When Bob arrived and saw the three women sitting
around the kitchen table with coffee, he simply sat down with them.

   "So what are you going to tell them?" he asked.

   All three women stared at him.

   "That's what we're trying to determine," said Martha.  "But since it
affects you too, we thought we should hear your opinion."

   Bob had already thought about this a lot.  Of the nine women in his
life, six had been having some kind of sexual relationship with him for
years.  Of the other three, one now accepted his incestuous attentions
gladly, and one confessed to having incestuous fantasies for most of her
life ...  about him ...  except that she didn't know that.  Only Polly was
really an unknown in terms of how she might react to finding out she was a
product of incest.

   "There are some things you need to know." he said.

   Then he began telling them about ALL his memories.  The only thing he
left out was his activities with Val, Becca and Fran since he woke up.

   When he was finished all three sat slumped, their mouths open, shocked.
To be truthful they were less shocked at the details of the knowledge than
they were that this was the first they knew of it.  June had suspected
about Gidget, but only in a "that would explain her behavior" kind of way.
What got to them was that their granddaughters had carried on with their
lover right under their noses and they never knew it.

   "Those little scamps!" said Martha under her breath.

   "That's not all," said Bob.  Then he told them about his date with
Gidget, and how it somehow turned into something cathartic for her.  Then
he described how Sunny had "caught" them, and what she had said as they
talked.

   "So THAT's why she is so intent to find her father," said Martha.  She
looked at Bob.  "She wants to find ...  you ...  but she doesn't know it."
She looked around.  "It would be hilarious if it were in a movie plot but
...  this is real."

   "There seems to be something about our family that makes the men
attractive to the women in it," said Bob, shrugging.  "And of course, the
men ...  or maybe I should say man ...  is attracted to the women too." He
smiled.

   "This is so hard," said June.  "If we could just tell them all, it would
make things so much simpler."

   "All?" asked Betty.  "The grandkids too?"

   "Well ...  I wasn't thinking of them exactly," said June, looking
doubtful.  "But if they've been carrying on with him all these years,
they're part of the big picture too!" She looked at Bob.

   "I think it's going to be enough of a shock just to find out who their
grandfather is," said Bob."

   "The kids might not be able to handle it," said Martha.

   Bob hadn't told them what he and the "kids" as she called them, had done
since he woke up.  They had enough to deal with already.  Things would
probably come out in the end, but it should probably be fed to the
participants in small bites.

   "So we should tell the girls," said Betty, meaning their daughters.

   "Sunny's going to raise a ruckus if we don't," said Martha.  "I put her
off until tonight, but I'm going to have to tell her something then."

   "Why don't you get all three of them together tonight?" suggested Bob.
"Tell them all at the same time."

   "Should you be there too?" asked Betty.

   "I have no idea," said Bob.  He was pretty sure that things would be all
right with Gidget and Sunny, once the shock was dealt with.  Polly was the
wild card.  She might not be able to handle it.

   Bit by bit the women decided to get it over with.  Martha called Sunny,
who wanted to come over right then, but Martha convinced her to wait until
that evening.  June and Betty each called her daughter and asked if she
could come to Martha's that night too.

   It was arranged.  The question each woman had asked as a girl would
finally get answered.  No one knew how it would turn out, but the train had
been started.  Whether it would end up in a wreck or not ...  well, now ...
THAT was the real question.

   =================

   Sunny was early, of course, eager for some kind of information.  When
she pounded through the door she saw Bob sitting on the couch reading a
book.

   "What are you doing here?" she asked, impatient.  Her mother might not
want to talk with him there.  Was this another attempt to put her off?

   Bob looked up and smiled.  "Reading.  You didn't do all that well in
school ...  did you." He smiled to show he was kidding.

   "I have to talk to my mother." she said.  "It's about my father.  I
think she's going to tell me who he is.  But she might not if you're here."
she said.

   "Don't worry about it." Bob said.  "I'll just stay in here and you can
talk in the kitchen."

   "Okay, but if it's a problem you have to go somewhere, okay?  You know
how important this is to me."

   "I know," said Bob.  "I hope you aren't unhappy with what she tells
you."

   Polly came in the door.  Betty was right behind her.

   "What are YOU two doing here?" moaned Sunny.

   "We're here for the same reason you are, dear," said Betty.

   "Mom's going to tell you who my father is too?" Sunny asked, frowning.

   June walked in from the kitchen.  "We already know, darling." she said.
"Martha needs a little moral support."

   "You know who my father is?" asked Sunny excitedly.  "Why didn't you SAY
something?"

   June looked uncomfortable.  "Why, you never asked dear."

   Sunny started to object when Gidget strolled through the door.

   "Not you too!" moaned Sunny.  "YOU don't know who my father is!  I know
that!  You'd have told me!"

   "What are you talking about?" asked Gidget, waving to Bob.  "I'm here
for the meeting."

   "What meeting?" cried Sunny.

   "I don't know," said Gidget, staring at her sister.  "Mom just called me
and told me to be here at eight."

   "All this?!" cried Sunny.  "A whole family MEETING ...  just to tell me
who my father is?"

   "WHAT?" gasped Gidget.

   "Mom said she'd tell me who my father was tonight," said Sunny.  "Well,
she said we'd talk about it, anyway, but I'm going to find out."

   Martha came out of the kitchen.  Her arrival distracted everyone enough
that they all went quiet.

   "Well," said Martha.  "You're all here.  Come into the kitchen."

   Bob stayed where he was.  They had decided that he would be available
for them to talk to if they wanted to, but that he wouldn't be in the room
when they found out about him.

   Still, nothing short of professional ear muffs could have stopped Bob
from hearing at least some of what was said.  There was a soft murmur of
voices, mostly Martha's, for about five minutes.  Then there was an uproar
as the three younger women said things like "YOU DID WHAT?!" "GRANDMA TOLD
YOU WHAT?!" There was another minute of murmuring and then a babble of
shouts and near screams as six women came close to panic and only three of
them tried to make that panic go away.  Finally it settled down and there
was more murmuring that went on for ten or fifteen minutes longer.

   Betty came into the living room.

   "They're about to come in here and see you." she said.

   "Well, I guess that's why I'm, here."

   Betty shrugged.  "They're acting all froggy, of course.  Who wouldn't?
Gidget and Sunny are especially weirded out by all this.  Polly actually
took it pretty well.  I told her I only did it because my two big sisters
did it first." She grinned.  "I think it went pretty well, all things
considered." She looked over her shoulder.

   Martha and June came in first.  They didn't look behind them to see that
no one was following them.  They took up seats around the living room. 
None sat on the couch with Bob, though.

   Polly was the next one through the door.  She had a tremulous smile on
her face.  Gidget followed her and then Sunny was last.  All three women
stared at him, but there were different looks on their faces.

   Gidget was the first to speak.  "You should have told me." she said, her
voice completely normal.

   "I couldn't do that, under the circumstances." he said.  "It would have
been too much truth for the situation."

   She put her hands on her hips, but then nodded slowly.  She looked
around for a chair and sat down.

   Polly came and sat on the couch, but not close to him.  She seemed to
just be thinking.

   Sunny came and paced in front of him.  She started to say something
several times, but didn't.  Finally: "You knew all along."

   He just nodded.

   "I understand why you didn't say anything." she said.  "I acted like a
fool last night."

   "No, you didn't," said Bob.  "You simply said what you felt.  That's not
foolish."

   "But all the time I was talking about my father ...  he was right there
in the room." she said heatedly.

   "Yes, but remember what we said about the truth?  How it can free you
... or hurt you?  How would you have felt last night if I'd have said I was
your father?"

   "I would have freaked out," said Sunny.  "I'm not sure I would have
believed you.  I'd have thought you were trying to get me to..." She looked
over her shoulder at the older women.  She didn't go on.  Instead she sat
at in another chair.

   "What should we call you?" asked Polly.

   "So what do you think about all this?" asked Bob, ignoring her question.

   "You can't grow up in our family and not know there was something
strange about it." she said, her voice bland.  "First of all there was this
sleeping man in Aunt Martha's bedroom who never moved, never woke up and
yet, was part of the family.  At various times I thought our mothers
murdered their husbands and got rid of the bodies.  Then there was all that
stuff in the news about UFOs and such, and I thought maybe they all got
abducted and our mothers couldn't admit it.  I never believed that all
three of them got knocked up by free love at some party, like they wanted
us to believe." She tilted her head, like she was examining him for the
first time.  "But I believe them now.  There isn't any way in the world
that they'd come up with this story just to keep us from the truth.  This
is so strange it HAS to be true."

   "That's all very interesting," said Bob.  "But you didn't answer the
question.  How do you feel about it?"

   Polly leaned back.  "I think I could have done a lot worse for a
father." she said.  She looked around.  "I'm just curious about some
things." she said.

   "Like what?" asked Bob.

   "Like why Gidget is as pale as she is, and what Sunny was talking about
...  something about last night?  There's more going on than I know about.
Gidget I can understand.  She's been out on a date with her own father ...
at age thirty-nine ...  and that just HAS to be something that would make
anybody pale.  But it isn't that much different from being on a date with
your grandfather, which is what we thought you were yesterday.  Both of my
cousins have tried to keep secrets from me before and I get the feeling
it's happening again right now."

   Suddenly she stood up.  "But, I have been out on a date too, with a man
even younger, and I have decided that I like this man a lot.  So I'm not
going to worry about my weird and strange family any more.  I like my
family, I like my grandfather, who is now my father.  I'd like to talk to
him some more and I know I will, but for now I'm going to go call my
boyfriend." She smiled a wide goofy kind of smile.  "Imagine that!  Me,
this old and I have a boyfriend!" She leaned over and kissed Bob on the
cheek.  "But he's pretty normal, so I'm going to go spend some time with
him being normal, I think.  I have the rest of my life to hang around my
crazy, weird family.  I'd better go be normal while I can."

   She went to her mother and kissed her on the cheek.  Betty kissed her
back, but held onto her hand.

   "Did you honestly think I murdered your father?" she asked Polly.

   "It was one theory we girls tossed around for a few minutes." she
grinned.  "You can bet your ass we never thought about the possibility of
you all having sex with the sleeping man in Aunt Martha's house."

   Bob stood up and she gave him a hug and another kiss on the cheek. 
"Nite, Daddy." she said.  She leaned back like she was tasting the words.
"Sounds strange ...  but kind of nice too."

   "Good night sweetheart," said Bob.

   Polly left.

   "At least she's got a normal life," said Gidget, her voice flat.

   "There's no reason you can't have a life just as normal as hers," said
Bob.

   "Yes there is and you know what that reason is," said Gidget.  "I
suppose they know about that too." she said, nodding at her mother.

   "Know about what dear?" asked June.

   Gidget looked at Bob.  He shook his head.  "Some truths are left unsaid
until the right time."

   "What are you two talking about?" asked June.  "Don't tell me there are
still more secrets in this family."

   "There will always be secrets in a family," said Bob.  "That's not a bad
thing necessarily."

   Gidget, perhaps because there was already so much shock going around
that night that a little more couldn't hurt that much, simply said "Bob and
I had sex on our date."

   June's eyes went as round as saucers.  Her intake of breath was loud in
the complete silence that followed Gidget's announcement.  Gidget held up
her hand to forestall any comment from her mother.

   "I believe it was YOU who suggested we practice with each other on a
date.  And even though you didn't say anything about it in the kitchen, if
you three have been making love with him for the last thirty odd years, I
sort of doubt you stopped just because he woke up." She looked at her
mother intently.  "Especially since he says he remembers ...  everything."

   June had thought it would be difficult to tell her daughter how she was
conceived.  It HAD been difficult.  But her throat tightened up and she
flushed pink and couldn't say a word now.

   "I thought so," said Gidget.  She turned to Sunny.  "And I bet your
mother has been romping with him in bed too, Sunny, so there is no reason
in the world why you can't find out about that fantasy of yours." She
didn't even look at Martha, who was fiddling with her apron.

   Sunny looked at her mother, who looked up.  "I didn't know about your
fantasy, honey.  We didn't teach you how to take care of Daddy because we
wanted your lives to be normal.  If I'd have known ...  if you'd have told
me ...  things might have been different."

   "Sure," said Sunny.  "Little girls everywhere have no problem telling
their Mommies that they want to hop in bed with their Daddy ...  WHOEVER he
is..." She sighed.  "This is SUCH a fucked up family."

   Martha stood up.  "You think what you like." she said, her voice stern.
"We had an odd upbringing, I'll admit it.  But we loved your father, and we
loved having you because of him.  We loved him so much we never needed
other men in our lives.  Maybe we were strange.  Maybe we were perverted.
But everything we did was out of love.  Nobody says you have to do
anything. You can go find yourself a man like millions of other women find
a man, by the luck of the draw.  You fucked up the first time, but that
doesn't mean squat.  If you're too chicken to try again, then deal with it.
But don't call this family fucked up when it has been founded all these
years on love." She was almost, but not quite shouting when she finished.
Sunny's head was down.  She didn't say anything.

   Gidget stood up.  "I'm going home." she said.

   Bob had sat back down after Polly left and he stood again.

   "What do you want me to do tonight?" he asked.

   Gidget looked around the room.  "You're staying with me for a few days,
just like you stayed with them for a few days.  I'm tired, though, so don't
be too long or you'll sleep on the couch."

   Bob nodded.  "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable."

   Gidget laughed.  "Let's see.  I just found out that the man I was having
incest with wasn't my grandfather, like I thought, but was my father
instead.  He's been having sex with his daughter, who happens to be my
mother, but is also my sister, because we have the same father.  Anyway,
she's been doing that for years, even though he was asleep.  That's okay,
though, because he has probably porked her a dozen times since he woke up.
My cousin, who I've thought of as a sister all my life, has a fantasy about
having sex with her father, who is actually my father too." She looked at
Bob.  "Why ever would I be uncomfortable?"

   Bob sighed.

   Gidget, though smiled and grasped his head with both hands.  She kissed
him on the lips, a soft kiss, and let go.  "You're the same guy you were
yesterday, and I liked that guy.  I suppose I'll have to like this guy
too."

   After she left everyone just sat quietly.  Sunny showed no inclination
to say anything or leave.  The older women had had enough excitement that
just sitting and doing nothing was easy.

   Finally Sunny lifted her head.  "Considering that I had no idea who my
father was, and was prepared for him to be in prison, or married to some
other woman, or have half brothers or half sisters I knew nothing about ...
I guess the truth isn't so terrible.  At least I don't have to get to know
a complete stranger."

   Bob nodded.  "I wanted to say something to you ...  to ease your mind
... but it just wasn't the right time."

   "I know." she sighed.  "I just wish I hadn't spouted all that stuff
about wanting to have sex with my father."

   "In a way, that was the thing that brought all this about tonight," said
Bob.  "You've wanted to know all these years, and now you do.  I just hope
you're not too disappointed."

   "No, not disappointed.  I don't know what I DO feel right now, but I
know it's not disappointment.  You're not in prison, after all." She smiled
a tired smile.

   "You want to get together and talk?" asked Bob.

   Sunny arched an eyebrow.  "With your history with the women in this
family, I'm not sure that would be safe.  Polly didn't say anything.  You
haven't ...  rocked her world too, have you?"

   Bob smiled and shook his head.

   "I would like to talk ...  but for now that's all I think." she said. 
She didn't look at her mother.  "I felt pretty comfortable talking with you
and Gidget last night.  Maybe we could do that again?"

   "That's a fine idea," said Bob.

   "Okay, then, I'll drop by tomorrow night after work or something," said
Sunny getting up.

   She went to her mother and hugged her.

   "I can't believe you did that." she said, shaking her head.

   Martha shrugged.  "It seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

   Sunny went to Bob.  She didn't hug him, but just stood in front of him,
looking at his face.

   "So you're my Daddy." she said.

   "I guess so," said Bob.

   "See you tomorrow night." she said.

   Chapter 29

   Bob stayed for another half hour as his daughters talked about how they
thought things went.  It was fairly easy to agree that, since no one had
run screaming from the house, things might not blow up completely.  It
would just take time to find out if the news had changed relationships to
the point that they would suffer or die.

   Bob wasn't sure how he would be received at Gidget's, though she had
made it plain she expected him to stay there, at least that night.  When he
got there she was sitting on the couch, with the TV on.

   "What are you watching?" asked Bob.

   "I don't know." she said.  "I wasn't paying attention."

   "Want to talk?" he asked.

   "Yes." she said.

   "Can I sit beside you?" he asked.

   She looked up at him in disgust.  "Of course.  I already told you
there's not much difference between making it with your grandfather and
your father.  That's not what I've been thinking about."

   "Okay, so tell me." he said.

   "It's going to sound really stupid, but tonight is the first time I
thought of you as a father." she said.

   "As your father." he confirmed.

   "No ...  as A father." She looked at him.  "I mean I knew at some level
that you were my mother's father, but it was very academic.  You didn't get
to see her grow up.  She grew up without a father, for all intents and
purposes.  Or at least that's what I thought.  Now I understand that she
DID have a relationship with you, strange though it may have been.  She
talked to you and, as it turns out, you remember that, even though you
couldn't say anything to her at the time."

   "Okay," said Bob.

   "But don't you see?  I really had the relationship with you that I
thought SHE had.  You weren't real to me.  I never got to know you.  When
we made love that first time I really was making love with a man I didn't
know very well.  It didn't FEEL like incest, because I didn't have any real
feeling that you were my grandfather.  Now I find out you're actually my
father!  It's just so strange, but the thing is that I've gotten to know
you a little bit and somehow it's easier for me to think of you as my
father than it was to think of you as my grandfather."

   "Okay," said Bob again.

   "And that makes it seem more like incest."

   "It IS incest, Gidget." he said.

   "Yes, but before it didn't FEEL like incest." she said.

   "Do you want to stop?" he asked.

   "NO!" she almost shouted.  "That's the problem!  I love what we do.  I
had no idea how much I was missing until you came along and ...  seduced
me." She smiled to show she didn't mean it.

   "Can we talk about this in bed?" Bob asked suddenly.

   Gidget looked at him with a calculating stare.  "You want to get in my
panties, don't you?" she accused.

   "By the time we get to bed I hope there are no panties to get into." he
said.  "But we can just talk."

   "Sure." she said.  "I bet a million girls have heard that line." But she
got up and took his hand and they went to the bedroom.  With no fanfare
they stripped and climbed into the bed.  She snuggled up to him.

   "There is something else." she said.  "That I was thinking about, I
mean."

   "What's that?" he asked, kissing the upper swell of her breast.

   "Remember the first time, up at the cabin?  When you had your orgasm and
I felt you spurting in me all I could think about was that that was how he
made me pregnant."

   "I remember," said Bob.  "You said I was making you pregnant."

   "Yes.  I worried about that.  But the second time we made love, I had
already decided that I loved what we did so much that I didn't think about
it that way any more.  Actually, I didn't think about it at all, because I
had a period and I knew you hadn't made me pregnant."

   "I'm glad you didn't have to worry," said Bob.  He was kissing closer
and closer to her nipple and she was playing with his hair with two
fingers, swirling his hair around one and clipping it with the other.

   "What I found out tonight is that I should have worried." she said.

   Bob lifted his head, question in his eyes.  "What?" he asked.

   "Bob, you've sired nine children on three women.  Every one of your
daughters had her own daughter and two sons, and you fathered them all. 
While you were sleeping."

   "Well, yes." admitted Bob.

   "I wasn't really thinking about you as being ...  virile." she said. 
"But you obviously are.  If we keep doing this you're going to knock me up
but good."

   "And that would be bad." he said.

   She raised up and turned, pressing her breasts against his chest as he
put an arm under her.  She rested her head on an elbow.

   "A month ago ...  maybe even two weeks ago ...  I'd have shouted ... 
screamed how bad that would be.  But I'm the result of what you did that
was ...  bad?" She stared at him.  "I can't say it was bad that I'm alive
...  that I have Becca ...  that despite all the pain in the past, I'm glad
to be alive.  I can't say it was bad, and that just bends my mind all
around.  My brain tells me I should run screaming from here right now.  But
my heart says I don't want this to ever end."

   "So ...  there are ways to do this and not have children," said Bob.

   She stared at him a little longer.  Then she leaned down and kissed him.
When she pulled back she said "Professor Lipscomb never mentioned that."
she said.  "He wanted to make me pregnant and he said when I was pregnant
he'd divorce his wife and we'd get married."

   "We already agreed that he didn't love you," said Bob.

   "Yes, but you DID mention it.  You're willing to do whatever I want. 
You ...  love me I think."

   "Yes," said Bob simply.

   She kissed him again and rolled on top of him.  She reached for him.

   "You're soft." she said.

   "We've been talking." he said.

   "We're finished talking." she said, kissing him again.

   She scooted down and this time, when she took a man into her mouth, it
was because she wanted to.  She was thrilled to feel him begin to harden
almost instantly.  He tried to pull her hips up to his mouth, but she was
impatient, and as soon as he was hard she scrambled back up and sheathed
him in her.  Then she rocked and kissed him until she felt the sweet
release and her pussy clenched him.  When he felt and heard her passion he
pinched her nipples and pulled on them and she whined at the mingled
pleasure and pain of it.  She finished by supporting herself with her hands
on his chest, her head drooping, her short hair framing her face as she
looked down at him.

   "You didn't cum." she said.

   "No."

   "Get on top of me." she ordered.

   She lay under him and, for the first time submitted gladly to a man as
he powered into her.  She didn't try for another orgasm.  Instead she
reveled in the movement of his muscles, and the way his face looked, and at
his increased breathing.  She concentrated on how he moved his hips, and
where his legs were, and the sounds he made.  She watched him and was
thrilled that she could make him do all these little things.  His face
twisted and she intuitively knew he was about to spew.  His eyes locked on
hers.

   "Go ahead." she whispered, stroking his arms and shoulders.

   With a half sob Bob slammed into her deep and she felt the wet heat that
she now welcomed.  It was as if his love for her was flowing from his body
to hers in a tactile way.

   "No" she thought to herself as his face scrunched up and she felt
another dangerous jet.  "There is no way in the world that this is a bad
thing."

   It took Sunny three days to come to terms with how she felt about
things. She was able, at work, to think about other things, at least most
of the time.  But when she was home, every time she walked by the guest
bedroom, she thought of Bob staying there.  That led her to thinking that,
if she wanted it, he wouldn't sleep in that room at all.  By the time she
got into bed, she thought about where he was - at Gidget's - and where he
was probably sleeping there.  It wasn't difficult at all to imagine his
body, on top of her cousin ...  her sister! ...  doing to her what Sunny
had spent years fantasizing about what her father would do to her, if she
ever met him.

   And, of course, now she had met him.  She had met him long ago.  She
just didn't know it then.  Bob didn't fit the vague image she had built of
her father in those fantasies.  He was smaller in stature - her fantasy
father was tall - and he was more soft spoken - her fantasy father
thundered when he spoke.  Her fantasy father had a huge, almost club-like
prick, that was always erect and usually dripping.  She wondered now what
that meant.  She had never actually had sex in her fantasies.  It always
got close, with him looming over her, his prick dripping on her skin ... 
but it never actually happened.  Like Gidget, the only memory she had of a
man making love to her was one man, Don in her case, and that had ended
badly.  She didn't want her fantasy father to do things the way Don had
done them.  She realized now that Don had had a mean streak in him.  He
liked to spank her when he pretended to be her father, and take her from
behind roughly.  He had almost always dominated her during sex, demanding
this of her, making her do that, bending her almost double as he pounded
her.  She had always thought that was the way it was supposed to be.  Part
of what tipped her into filing for divorce was a co-worker's description of
what her husband had done for her on Valentines Day.  She had gone into
explicit detail, talking about how he pampered her, catering to her every
sexual whim that night.  Sunny had quipped "Too bad it can't be like that
more often." assuming that her co-worker had been treated to something
unique and odd.  But the woman had looked at her with a smile.  "Actually,
the only thing different was the whipped cream and strawberries.  I'd
always wanted to do that but was afraid he'd think I was silly."

   That was when Sunny found out some men treated their wives with
tenderness and concern for their desires during sex.  Even the way Don had
gone down on her had been almost violent.  She had loved that part, but it
had still been almost like wrestling.

   The reason Sunny didn't let her fantasy father actually have sex with
her was because she didn't want him to do it like Don had.  But the only
style she was familiar with was Don's.  It was a vicious circle.  She
couldn't have sex with another man, because he might be like Don.  She
couldn't imagine another way to do it because she couldn't have sex with
another man to learn another way to do it.  But Bob was nothing like Don.
He wasn't angry all the time.  He wasn't loud.  He wasn't abusive in his
language, or behavior.  He was, as she had noticed back when she first
'met' him ...  a nice guy.  Like Gidget, she had never been able to form
any coherent thoughts of him as her actual, real, genuine relative.  Now,
her brain almost cramped when she tried to overlay Bob on the image of her
fantasy father.  It just didn't work.

   For whatever reason, though, Sunny had no trouble at all imagining what
it looked like when Gidget and Bob made the beast with two backs.  She saw
the passion on Gidget's face, and she heard the smacking noises of their
kisses.  She heard their panting and the grunting noise she was sure Bob
made when he reached his release.  She saw the thrashing Gidget had
promised her they wouldn't do when she left.  She knew that promise was
only for that night, and Bob had stayed with her three more nights since
then.

   It made her horny ...  so horny that she couldn't get to sleep until she
rubbed her pussy for almost half an hour.  She could get close, but not
there.  It was actually the exhaustion caused by her frustration that put
her to sleep.  The next day she called Gidget and asked if she could come
over that night.

   =================

   Sunny had no idea what they would talk about when she knocked on the
door and then opened it to go in.  She found Gidget in the kitchen.  Val
was out with her new boyfriend.  Gidget rolled her eyes saying it looked
serious, but Val wouldn't say.  Bob was gone somewhere - Gidget didn't say
where - and they settled into their normal sisterly chatter while Sunny
helped get dinner ready.  By the time Bob came in the door with two bottles
of wine and a bottle of brandy, Sunny was relaxed enough that just the
sight of him didn't tense her up.

   Then they sat and ate dinner like normal people, talking about normal
things.  Nothing was said about Bob being their father, or his money or
anything at all except little things, like who his old and new favorite
sports teams were.  The wine flowed freely and at one point Sunny accused
Bob of trying to get her drunk.  His response was to reach for her glass
and take it away from her, refusing to give it back even when she demanded,
and then pleaded and then asked nicely.  She finally had to get up and take
it back by force as he smiled and Gidget laughed.  "You have to be careful
of what you say around this guy," said Gidget.  "He takes you pretty much
at your word most of the time, whether you mean it or not.  Political
correctness is not his forte."

   "That must be refreshing," said Sunny, thinking about the games she had
to play at work.

   After dinner they moved to the living room with the brandy.  Gidget put
a CD on low.  It was slow dancing music, something they played each evening
while they danced.  It was Gidget's way of re-creating the ambiance of that
first night they spent together, and never failed to get him stone hard for
her.

   It was suddenly awkward, the barely audible music the only sound in the
room.  "I've been having trouble getting to sleep at night." Sunny finally
said.

   "That's understandable," said Bob.  "You've received some pretty
shocking news."

   "That's not it." she said.  "I can't seem to actually THINK of you as my
father, even though I know you are."

   "So what's the problem?" asked Gidget.

   "I keep imagining him ...  and you ...  together ...  here," said Sunny.

   "Like this?" asked Gidget, a teasing smile on her face.

   Sunny threw her a dirty look.  "Of course not like this."

   Gidget must have felt some inner sense that Sunny was capable of talking
frankly.

   "You know, I took your advice." she said.

   "What about?" asked Sunny.

   "About letting him ...  use his mouth ...  down there."

   Sunny blinked.  That hadn't been in her image of them together.  Now
suddenly ...  it was.

   "Great." she said, frustrated.

   Gidget heard the frustration.  "So, have you figured out what you want
to do?"

   "About what?" asked Sunny, trying to dodge the issue.

   "You wanted to meet your father.  You have.  Now, what are you going to
do about it?" Gidget wasn't letting her off the hook.

   "I don't know what to do," said Sunny, still frustrated.

   "What do you WANT to do?" asked Gidget.

   "I don't know that either," said Sunny.

   "You used to," said Gidget.  "You said so the other night."

   "That was when I didn't know who he was," said Sunny.

   Gidget rolled her eyes.  "My advice is to go on a date with him."

   Sunny took a stiff drink of brandy.  "I don't think I should be alone
with him."

   "Why not, for goodness sake?"

   "Because I'll want to do what you do with him," said Sunny.

   "So ...  do it," said Gidget.

   "But he's yours!" said Sunny.

   Gidget laughed.  "No he's not, silly.  I'm doing the same thing with him
that my mother did, as it turned out.  Is he hers?  Does he belong to any
of the women who had his children?  hHe's just a man, Sunny.  He's a man I
love to be with, but he's just a man.  I can't imagine meeting another one
like him, but he swears it will happen some day and I'll forget all about
him."

   Sunny looked at Bob for the first time since she had started talking. 
He was sipping brandy and being quiet.

   "I'm afraid." she said.  "I'm afraid that it's wrong, but I want to do
it.  I'm afraid that you'll treat me like Don did.  I'm afraid I won't like
it.  I'm afraid I'll like it too much.  See?  I can't do this."

   "You don't have to do anything," said Bob.  "It doesn't matter what your
fantasies were, or any of that.  Just do what you think is best for you
right now."

   "I can't get to SLEEP at night.  I can't even masturbate successfully!"
She blushed.

   Gidget sat up.  "Hey!  Remember when I got my first kiss?" she asked. 
Sunny looked confused.

   Gidget leaned forward.  "It was when I was in sixth grade.  You were in
Junior High School and I was so jealous.  You had kissed that boy ...  what
was his name? ...  Dennis?"

   Sunny smiled.  "No, it was Billy Walker.  You were so jealous I let him
kiss you just to shut you up." She laughed.  "I'd forgotten all about
that."

   "Well," said Gidget, "That was the only way I could have done it ... 
with you there.  I'd have been way too nervous to do it alone.  I still
didn't kiss a guy after that until two years later.  But you were there
with me and I wasn't scared."

   Sunny blinked as Gidget's meaning sunk in.  "You're joking." she said.

   "Why not?" said Gidget.  "You don't have to do anything weird, but if
you DO want to do something you can because I'll be there.  We'll ... 
share ...  kind of."

   "That's outrageous," said Sunny dismissively.

   "Would it be outrageous for us both to dance with him?" asked Gidget.

   "No, of course not," said Sunny.

   Gidget got up and held out her hand to Bob, who put his brandy down and
stood up.  He took her into a close hug and they danced over to the CD
player, where Gidget turned the music up.

   Bob danced with her the same way he always did, with his hands on her
butt, or sliding up and down her back.

   It took two songs, but finally Sunny was there.

   "Can I cut in?" she asked.

   Gidget smiled and stepped back.  "He's ...  um ...  excited.  But that's
because of me, not you." Gidget giggled.

   Sunny almost didn't go through with it because of that, though.  Bob
pulled her into a clasp, but didn't press himself against her.

   "She does that to me on purpose." he said softly.

   "What?" asked Sunny, feeling the old habit of moving to a slow dance
coming back.

   "She rubs herself against me to get me excited." he said.  "She's
horrible."

   "Most men wouldn't call that horrible," said Sunny, leaning back to look
at his face.

   "Well, actually I like it a lot," said Bob, smiling.  "But aren't I
supposed to act like I don't?"

   Sunny couldn't help but smile.  "You really don't know how to be
politically correct, do you?"

   "I never even heard that term until I woke up." he said.  "I'm still not
sure exactly what it means."

   They talked about terms and other words that were new to Bob, swaying
slowly with the music until Gidget was there, tapping Sunny on the
shoulder.

   "You guys have gone three songs.  It's my turn again." she said.

   Sunny felt the let down of leaving him, which was her first clue that
she'd been having a nice time without even thinking about it.  She sat on
the couch and watched.  Gidget kissed him and his hands squeezed her butt.
Sunny tried to think back on where his hands had been while they danced,
but she couldn't remember.  She was sure if he'd have put his hands on her
ass she would remember that.  She watched Gidget press her hips against
his, giggling.  She was being shameless in front of her ...  sister!  Sunny
felt the amazement of knowing that the woman she had felt was a sister her
whole life was, in fact, her sister!  They had the same father, at least.
She watched her sister rubbing her loins against their father.

   Sunny felt the same frustration she had in bed alone.

   She cut in, and this time she pulled him closer, putting her head on his
shoulder.  He smelled good, and she thought of what she had read about
scents and incest.  She was suddenly aware of his hand on her lower back,
moving slightly, and wished ...  She reached behind her and moved his hand
down onto her right butt cheek.  He didn't tense, but squeezed it gently.
She felt the warmth flood her body that was there when she fantasized.  Her
fantasy father had kissed her in her fantasy and she suddenly had to find
out whether Bob's lips felt like that or not.  She moved her lips to his
cheek ...  then to the corner of his lips, but could go no further.  He
pulled back and looked in her eyes.  He saw the fear there, but the desire
too.  He did the same thing to her, brushing his lips across her cheek and
then kissing the corner of her mouth.

   Then suddenly, somehow, their lips touched.  His kiss wasn't urgent or
demanding at all.  It wasn't like Don's and it wasn't like her fantasy
father's either.  His lips were soft and warm and ...  she liked it.  He
let her kiss him back and, to her discomfort, she became the aggressor,
mashing her lips to his and moving her head.  She felt a tap on her
shoulder.

   "Go away." she mumbled into his lips.

   Gidget laughed.  She also sat back down.

   Sunny's world was hazy and she felt weightless.  She suddenly found
herself pressing hard against the bulge that was perfectly positioned to
push between her legs.  Her hands moved all over his back now and she
sighed as he moved his other hand to her butt too and he massaged her
cheeks.

   Still, it wasn't an urgent or demanding feeling.  It was just soft and
warm and nice.

   "My turn." came Gidget's voice.  It WAS demanding.

   Sunny stepped back and gasped.  Gidget had taken her shirt off.  She was
naked from the waist up.  As soon as Sunny was clear, Gidget worked to get
Bob's shirt off too.  Then they danced topless.  It was a clear challenge
to Sunny.

   She watched them for a full five minutes before she made up her mind. 
She shrugged out of her blouse and reached behind her to unsnap her bra. 
She expected to feel both foolish and wanton.  She felt neither.  All she
felt was the urge to feel his chest against her own.

   She stood up and Gidget must have been watching, because she stepped
back immediately and let Sunny take her place.

   It was fabulous.  Sunny hadn't felt this in so long she couldn't even
think about it.  Her gut told her there would be more that she hadn't felt
in years ...  much more.  She felt her pussy cramp in anticipation.

   As they turned, and as she rubbed her stiffened nipples against his
chest, she saw Gidget taking the rest of her clothes off.  Her pussy
clenched again and she felt a pang of panic, but just then Bob kissed her
and cupped her breast, thumbing her nipple gently.  Everything he did was
gentle and it was making her wild.

   "Stand still," said Gidget from behind her.

   Bob was kissing her still, and she felt Gidget's hands on her shorts,
unfastening them.  She felt oddly relieved that she wouldn't have to do
this herself ...  that she could just go on kissing Bob and her clothes
would fall off.  She felt air on her buttocks as Bob's hands slid up onto
her back and then they dipped and smoothed over what was now bare.  She
lifted a foot at a time and felt Gidget help her kick the shorts off.  Then
the "Stand Still" command was given again as Gidget worked on Bob, making
him nude too.

   They came back together and she felt it immediately.  It was hot as it
nosed into her pubic hair and poked her.  She couldn't bring herself to
touch it yet, but went up on her tiptoes in an attempt to get it to go
between her legs.  Her arms twined around his neck and she pulled him into
a savage kiss.  His hands never left her buttocks, but he bent his knees
until he got it right where she wanted it and then stood back up.  She
thought she'd faint as it pressed against her dripping pussy.

   Still, all he did was dance with her.  And kiss her, of course.

   His lack of force made her quiver with desire.

   The music went off suddenly.

   "We've danced enough," said Gidget.

   Panic came back as Bob separated from her and she could see him ...  and
he could see her ...  for the first time.  He was rampant, but it was no
club.  It looked nothing like Dan's either and she was more inclined to
compare it to the few she'd seen and touched before she got married. 
Gidget took her hand and then reached for Bob's hand, pulling them both
toward her bedroom.

   "This is silly." muttered Sunny, feeling suddenly naked as they shuffled
along.

   "You can just watch, if you like," said Gidget.  "And you can leave if
you don't want to watch, but you have to come with us first.  I want you to
see what you allowed me to discover."

   Once they were in the bedroom Gidget got her low-backed chair from her
dressing table and put it not far from the bed.  She sat Sunny on it and
lit several candles before turning off the light.

   Sunny watched as Gidget laid on the bed and beckoned Bob.  Bob stood,
looking from Sunny to Gidget, and then went to the bed.

   He did hunch over Gidget, but to Sunny's eyes it wasn't a hulking kind
of thing.  It was more like he floated, as his head drifted from place to
place on Gidget's body.  First he tasted her nipples, licking and sucking.
Then he went to her abdomen and kissed all over it until Gidget's hips
started making fucking motions.  He teased her by going down to her pubes
and licking there and then moving quickly back up to her breasts.  Gidget
moaned her frustration, holding his head to her breast first, and then
pushing it down ...  down ...  down until at last he slipped between her
legs.  He was noisy, but not violent.  He seemed to shake his head back and
forth a lot, and Sunny couldn't imagine what he was doing then, but Gidget
went wild when he did that.  It went on for what seemed like an hour until
Gidget's hands gripped the bedspread and pulled it into wrinkles as she
gasped and cried out.

   Sunny suddenly realized her finger was deep in her own pussy.  She
didn't even remember putting it there.  She was gasping too.

   Gidget went limp and Bob lifted up.  His head swiveled toward Sunny. 
She could see his face glisten in the candlelight as he looked at her.  She
couldn't move.  Bob must have sensed that, because he moved off the bed,
standing.  He was still firm and jutting.  Sunny's mind flitted to what
already would have happened by now with Don.  He had never stayed hard this
long without jamming it in her.  She recoiled as he walked toward her.

   He sank to his knees and walked on them toward her.  Her own knees were
tightly shut now, her hands on the arms of the little chair.  When he got
to her he leaned over to kiss her outer thigh and then kissed his way
upward.  She held her breath as he got to her breasts.  She expected him to
go for the nipple immediately.  That's what he'd done with Gidget.  But
with her he kissed all over the full globes, moving down into her cleavage
and licking there before moving all over.  He kissed everywhere except the
nipples until her hands moved of their own accord to his head.  He was easy
to force and she almost had an orgasm when he sucked her left nipple
gently, almost like a sleepy baby.

   He played with that for a while, his hand stroking her flank, her outer
knee pressing against his hip.  She was intimately aware of the sounds he
was making.  The only human voices heard since they had come into the
bedroom were Gidget's cries of joyous passion.  She could hear the sounds
as he sucked and licked the nipple.  He moved to the other one without her
making him and she moaned as the streaks of pleasure he had caused in the
first one were reproduced in the new one.  He stopped and she moaned again
at the loss.  He backed up and went to her still closed knees.  He grasped
a knee in each hand, and kissed the top of each knee.  As he moved his lips
to the inner knee, he applied pressure.  His message was clear.  He wanted
access to her pussy.

   At first she resisted, but several long licks up her thighs made her
passion overrule her fear and she parted them so he could crawl between
them.  He kissed and licked his way closer and closer, so slowly that she
found herself slumping to inch her pussy closer to him as she leaned back
in the chair.  The upholstery of the chair was soft, but the top of the low
backrest bit into her middle back.

   Then she felt the first tentative touch of his tongue, as if it were
testing for heat, or cold or something that he wanted to be able to jerk
his tongue away from instantly.  Her frustration was back.  She was so
close to ...  something ...  that she wiggled in the chair.

   He started at the bottom of her slit and licked upward, his tongue wide
and flat.  It was like nothing she had ever felt before.  She ached to have
his tongue penetrate her and was shocked that he was being too gentle. 
Just then he licked her again, this time forcing his tongue between her
outer labia.  Her legs swung as wide as she could make them go in the chair
as she scooted forward even more.  She almost slipped off the edge of the
chair and he jammed his hands under her butt, palms down.  She lifted her
butt automatically, pushing her pussy into his face.  When she sat back
down, it was on his hands, almost on his wrists, as they took the place of
the seat of the chair she had now slid completely off of.

   About then, he found and sucked her clit.  Once he had it firmly between
his pursed lips, he darted the tip of his tongue at it, stabbing it
repeatedly as he sucked.

   Sunny thought she might actually die from the joy of it.

   The chair creaked under her.  It was wonderful beyond words, but it
wasn't working.  She was too heavy for his hands and wrists to hold her up
comfortably.  As hard as it was to do it, she gripped the arms of the chair
and scooted back, breaking his lip lock on her bulging clitty.

   Still without words, she leaned forward and bounded out of the chair,
pulling him to the bed.  She flung herself down beside Gidget, who scooted
over to make room.  Copying her own mood, Bob flung himself between her
legs and resumed where he had left off.  Sunny's legs came up and her heels
rested on his back as she felt the orgasm she had abandoned, to move,
coming back.  It left her breathless, and before she could catch her breath
from that one another one rocketed through her body as he continued to lick
and suck.  She felt light headed and pushed at his head to break contact.
She was quite convinced he would continue to pleasure her until she lost
consciousness if she didn't make him stop.

   As soon as he was out from between her legs, Gidget was pulling him
between her own, her hand reaching for him ...  guiding him.  There was a
wet sucking sound as he lunged forward and Gidget groaned happily at being
filled with that long strange prick.

   Sunny watched as Bob did things she would never have even imagined.  He
went in deep and then made his groin do little circles until Gidget
screamed.  He did long, slow strokes, almost coming out until Gidget
reached for his ass and pulled him back in.  He teased her with his prick.
There was a point when he pounded her, and he did look like Don then, but
there was none of the filthy language Don had to use whenever he did that.
It was more like a dance of some kind, done in the prone position, and her
pussy simply ached to find out what that dance was like.

   After three orgasms for Gidget, Bob pulled out and rocked back on his
knees.  His wet prick jutted obscenely from his loins.  He looked at Sunny
and she stared back.  She reached for him with just one hand, and he kneed
his way between her legs.  She waited, her eyes closed.  She felt his mouth
on her nipple and her eyes popped open.  He was looking up at her while he
sucked.  He stopped.

   "You have to do it." he said.  "It needs to be you who does this."

   Her heart felt like it might burst and she grabbed for him, feeling his
length and warmth and the wet of her cousin on him.  She pulled almost
savagely and, like a guided missile, he was suddenly there, and then, just
as suddenly, all the way in her.

   Her groan was a carbon copy of Gidget's.

   The pain was almost welcome.  She had been so aroused that she was
jittery, almost incoherent with her need.  The pain grounded her.  But it
vanished as he pulled back out until the tip was all that was in her.  His
lips returned to her nipple and she almost screamed with frustration,
reaching for his hips.  He resised as her nails dug into the skin of his
hips, and inched back in with agonizing slowness.

   Until he was fully seated again, and this time there was no pain.

   He started those little circles and Sunny's mind gave up.

   A tiny fraction of her mind sensed that she would go mad if it didn't do
something, so that part of her mind went to a quiet place and just watched
and listened as the rest of her sought release like a starving man seeks a
single bite to eat.  She knew she was babbling.  She heard her voice
cursing.  She felt her body jerking and thrashing and wanted to laugh
because it was HER who was thrashing around in bed ...  not Gidget.  Her
second orgasm of the night -something that had never happened in her life -
wasn't exactly like the first, perhaps because it was a different stimulus
that brought it on, but she was more afraid of that than of anything else
that had happened that night, because she knew, when it came, that she
would never be able to deny Bob her body - ever again.  As it washed over
her, she felt owned in a way that she had never felt with Don.  It was like
the most horrible of thunder clouds about to ruin a sunny day.

   She heard him ask if she was on the pill, and she shook her head
violently, unable to speak.

   He was suddenly out of her and she was weightless as he disappeared,
almost like magic.  She cried out and looked to see him on top of Gidget
again, grunting as he emptied himself in her.  Gidget cooed and urged him
on with delighted little snippets of lusty talk.

   Sunny's reaction was cataclysmic.  The rain cloud of his domination of
her vanished.  His question had not been to find out she was fertile and
then gloat as he forced his semen into her.  Rather he cared enough not to
endanger her after their reckless and wild sex.  The rain cloud was
replaced with a rainbow.

   There was also a feeling of terrible emptiness.

   =================

   It was probably the combination of the wine and the exertion that caused
them to get drowsy and fall asleep together in the big bed, with Bob
between the two women, each of whom cuddled up to him as they drifted off.

   Sunny dreamed.  She was empty and sad.  Suddenly her fantasy father was
there.  This time he had a face.  It was Bob's face.  And this time her
fantasy father did more things to her, climbing on top of her and making
her dream psychedelic.  She woke, breathing hard from the dream.  Her arm
was lying on top of Bob's stomach.  As her mind drifted back to the dream,
her hand drifted down to his genitals.  His penis lay limply on his nest of
pubic hair and she toyed with it gently.  He moved in his sleep and his
prick rolled, like it was in slow motion as blood entered it due to her
manipulation.  He snorted and moved his head.  She kissed his cheek and he
turned his head toward her.  There was one candle still burning, but their
eyes were so used to the dark that it seemed light in the room.  His eyes
opened and looked into hers.

   "I need you to be hard Daddy." she whispered.  She kissed the corner of
his mouth.  He disentangled himself from Gidget and turned to face Sunny,
who wiggled into his arms.  She pulled and squeezed until he was long and
strong again, his prick poking between her legs.  She used it to tease her
clit with as they kissed.

   He mounted her again and this time she threw her legs wide in welcome.
She grabbed a pillow and put it over her face when she came, wailing into
the soft muffler.  She threw it aside and her nails dug into his butt,
holding him in as her legs wrapped around him tightly.  She made it clear
what she wanted and he gave a long, low sigh: "Ohhh baby" as she felt the
warm glow that was his sperm soaking her channel.  "Ohhh Daddy." she sighed
back.

   She slept more easily this time.  She didn't feel empty any more.

   Chapter 30

   Polly walked into the Wagon Wheel restaurant at six sharp and she
immediately saw Brian sitting in a booth.  There was a vase of flowers -
red roses - sitting on the table in front of him.  He had the menu open and
was looking it over.  She felt the rush in her belly that she always felt
when she saw him now.  She walked over and slid into the booth opposite
him. She reached for the flowers and smelled them.  People were staring at
them.

   If you looked up "Greasy Spoon" in the dictionary, there would probably
be a picture of the Wagon Wheel there.  It had been a fixture in town ever
since Polly could remember.  When she was in High School, it was THE place
to go to hang out and have fries with cream gravy.  It had fallen out of
favor with the young crowd, and into favor with migrant workers for several
years.  The menu shifted to suit them.  Then a new manager had been hired
who tried to bring in Tofu and salads and healthy food.  He was fired after
about a month.  People made it known that if they wanted healthy food,
they'd go to Apple Annie's, down the road.  They came to the Wagon Wheel to
stock up on cholesterol and taste, which was probably the result of the fat
content of the burgers, fries, onion rings and other staples of the current
menu.  The odd stranger stopped in occasionally and usually left without
actually ordering, a horrified look on his or her face.  But the locals
loved the place and kept it afloat quite nicely.  The worn table tops,
wiped countless times by countless footsore waitresses were an
indeterminate color, but nobody cared.  The food was delicious.

   There was only one table this evening that had flowers on it.  That was
why people stared.  Roses just didn't belong in the Wagon Wheel.

   Polly couldn't have cared less.

   After dinner they went to the park and walked, hand in hand, talking
about anything and everything.  There was an old merry-go-round that had
somehow escaped the park board members who were intent on making
playgrounds so safe that no one would ever want to play on one any more. 
They took turns pushing each other as they talked some more.

   It got dark and they were walking back to Brian's car when a rough
looking young man approached them.  He whipped out a knife and waved it at
them.

   "You don't need that fancy watch you're wearing." he said to Brian. 
"And the bitch don't need her purse either." He waved the knife menacingly.

   Brian stepped between Polly and the robber and held up both hands, palms
out.  "Hey, take it easy, we don't want any problem here." he said.

   "Hurry up, man, gimme your wallet too.  I'll cut you, man." the punk
warned.

   "Okay, okay, just take it easy," said Brian, sounding worried.  "You can
have it all ...  just don't hurt us, okay?"

   The punk swelled with self importance and waved with the knife.  "Hurry
UP!" he snapped.

   Brian reached behind him, like he was going to pull his wallet from his
pocket.  What appeared in his hand, though, was a .38 Chief's Special, with
a two inch barrel.

   "Oh, man!" Brian said as the punk's eyes widened.  "Don't you just hate
it when you bring a knife to a gun fight?" Then he calmly said "Halt ... 
Police."

   The punk turned to run and Brian shot him in the ass.  Polly jumped and
screamed at the report of the weapon.  The punk flew forward, hitting the
ground on his stomach and screaming that he was shot and dying.

   Brian turned to Polly.  "Stay there." he ordered.

   He went to the punk and stepped on the wrist of the hand that was still
holding the knife.  He knelt, putting his knee in the perp's back and the
screaming intensified as the man complained that it hurt his back.

   Polly, meanwhile, had dug into her purse and found her cell phone.  She
punched a nine and two ones and breathlessly spoke into the phone.  Brian
got the knife away from the perp and tossed it a few feet away.  A siren
wailed in the distance, getting closer and louder.  Then there were
headlights and flashing red and blue lights.  Brian had put his pistol away
again, and was holding up his badge.

   It didn't go as smoothly as you and I probably think it should have. 
First there was a jurisdictional issue.  Brian wasn't deputized in the
county he was in, and a Sacramento PD badge didn't carry any official
weight in Circleton.  Then there was the issue of the fact that Brian had
shot the man.  It was pretty obvious that the man was running away when he
was shot, which meant he wasn't a danger to either Brian or Polly any more,
which meant that Brian was no longer entitled to use deadly force ... 
assuming he was entitled to use any force at all.

   What saved the day, in the end, was that when the Circleton officer
picked up the knife and examined it, he made a noise in his throat.  He got
a lot more official with the robber, and a lot less official with Brian. 
They were all taken down town.

   It turned out that there had been a stabbing earlier at a bar, and the
perpetrator of that incident had gotten away.  The victim was still in
surgery, and it was touch and go as to whether he would make it.  What the
Circleton officer had seen on the knife was blood where the blade pivoted
once it was unlocked.  Brian had apparently caught what might very well be
a murder suspect.  Murder was a little beyond the daily fare of such a
small jurisdiction, and State Troopers were requested.  Once a trooper
arrived and heard all the information, he dragged a judge out of bed and
presented him with the jurisdictional problem.

   "What's wrong with you people?" snapped the judge.  "He's licensed in
the State of California.  He saw a fleeing felon who was known to be armed
and dangerous.  His arrest was obviously made based on probable cause.  You
woke me up for THIS?!"

   It was after midnight when they were finally allowed to go.  Brian had
to work the next day, but not until swing shift.  Polly had to work too. 
He took her home.  When they got there Fran was already in bed asleep when
Polly eased her door open and checked on her.  She closed the door and
pulled Brian to her bedroom.

   "Um ...  Polly ...  there's a bed in here." he said.

   "It's my bedroom, silly." she said.

   "I thought you said we weren't going anywhere with a bed on this date."

   "That was before you saved my life and fought for me." she said, taking
her shirt and bra off.  "I do not want to be the only naked person in this
room." she said, reaching for the fastener of her pants.  "You can leave
tomorrow morning in plenty of time to do whatever you have to do to get
ready for work." she said.

   The adrenaline rush was long gone, but the feeling of having escaped
danger in a close call made their lovemaking something even more precious
and special than it had been in the past.  It was slower, more measured
somehow, and Polly's orgasm allowed her enough control to whisper his name
over and over.  As he once again gushed his seed she held him tightly and
he groaned, celebrating the amazement that he had stumbled across her.

   =================

   Fran woke up and stretched, imagining her body becoming lean and thin as
it got longer and longer until she was ten feet tall from toes to
fingertips.  She relaxed.  She didn't remember her mother coming in last
night, which was strange.  Polly didn't stay out late usually.

   Fran got up and padded to her mother's bedroom just to check.  She
pushed the door open on silent hinges and took in a breath when she saw the
two naked bodies tangled up on the bed.  Both were sleeping soundly.  She
looked at her watch.  It was past time for her mother to be up and getting
ready for work.  She walked to the nightstand and looked at the alarm
clock. The switch was in the off position.  Now that she was closer she
could smell them ...  the odor of what they had obviously done last night.
Fran felt a twinge in her loins.  Ever since Bob had taken her virginity
she had felt conflicting desires.  She wanted to do that again, but Bob was
always with one of the other women, living here, or there.  If he stayed
with her grandmother she could probably manage to stay overnight and get
him alone, but who knew when that would happen again?  She had thought
about boys she knew, and about what it might be like with them.  She didn't
have a boyfriend.  She had always been too independent and thought she
would feel tied down if she agreed to be some boy's girlfriend.  She was
also a creature of habit.  Whenever she went out to eat, for instance, she
always ordered the same thing.  She knew she'd like it, so why take a
chance on something else she might not like?  Now she had a new habit,
except that she couldn't indulge in it whenever she felt like it.  And
thinking about doing it with one of the boys she knew was too much like
ordering something different in a restaurant.

   Feeling disgruntled, she poked her mother in the shoulder with a finger.

   "Huh?" Polly jerked and opened her eyes, squinting.

   "You're going to be late for work," said Fran tersely.

   The situation slammed into Polly's mind all at once ...  late for work
...  Brian next to her ...  naked...

   "SHIT!" she gasped.

   "MOTHER!" chided Fran, watching interestedly as her mother moved and
Brian's loins were exposed.

   "What are you doing here?" gasped Polly.

   "Waking you up ...  duh!" giggled Fran.  Somehow her mother's
embarrassment made her feel better.

   "We're naked!" moaned Polly.

   "I can see that," said Fran calmly.

   "You're not SUPPOSED to see that." whined Polly.

   "Too late." laughed Fran.  "Besides, I'm a big girl now."

   Brian had begun moving at the sound of voices.  He opened his eyes and
looked at Fran.

   "Uh oh." he said.

   "Morning Brian," said Fran sweetly.  "Did you have a good time last
night?"

   "Go away you horrible girl." moaned her mother.

   "Yes Mommy," said Fran mimicking a little girl.  "You can still make it
to work on time if you hurry." With a look over her shoulder she walked to
the door and left, smiling.

   =================

   At Gidget's house, things were almost as frantic.  Sunny was worried
that Val and Becca would ask all kinds of questions about why she hadn't
come home.  She was going to have to wear some of Gidget's clothing to make
it to work on time herself.  Gidget's job was more flexible, so she could
be a little late.  Bob got up with them and fixed breakfast for them while
they got ready to leave.  After perhaps a minute or two of embarrassment,
both women adjusted and chatted like the sisters they actually were as they
got ready.  Both wolfed down breakfast, kissed Bob on the lips, and left,
Gidget offering to drop Sunny off at her car.

   Bob was detailed to call Sunny's house and let the girls know everything
was all right.  He dialed Polly's number by accident, and Fran answered.

   "Hi!" she said brightly.  "I was just thinking of you."

   "Oh ...  sorry, I was supposed to call Val and let her know that ... 
never mind.  I must have dialed the wrong number.  I'm not used to trying
to remember so many phone numbers."

   "You didn't dial the wrong number.  Karma made you dial this number,"
said Fran.  "I told you I was just thinking about you.  What are you going
to do today?"

   Bob had to think.  "I have an appointment to see a builder and I thought
I'd talk to a few Realtors to see what kind of land is available," said
Bob.

   "Can I go with you?" asked Fran.  "I'm bored."

   "Sure," said Bob.  "Let me call Val and clean up breakfast dishes and
I'll pick you up."

   He pressed the flash hook and the phone immediately rang.

   He lifted his finger.  "Hello?"

   "Grandpa!" came Val's voice.  "Where's my mother?"

   "She's fine," said Bob.  "We stayed up late talking and she decided to
just stay here.  She went to work from here."

   "Oh," said Val.  "We were worried when we got up and she wasn't here."

   "Well, don't worry, everything is fine," said Bob.

   "What are you doing today?" asked Val.

   That led to an explanation that he and Fran were going places, and Bob
ended up picking up all three young women to take with him as he began to
plan for his future home.

   =================

   Just being Bob would have been enough to catch the attention of most
people.  Having three gorgeous young women with him just added to the
mystique.  He introduced them as his granddaughters as he went from place
to place, which was jarring, considering his visual appearance of age. 
They, of course, giggled and looked fabulous.  If somebody ever tells you
that having a bunch of good looking women with you doesn't get you special
attention, tell them they're crazy.  The men Bob dealt with that day fell
all over themselves to make sure that Bob Winkle was happy.  Of course some
of it might have been due to the fact that he was talking about high end
purchases, but all that nubile young flesh didn't hurt things.  d By noon
Bob had a list of properties to take a look at and an architect salivating
at the prospect of designing what Bob wanted.

   =================

   Just driving around in the Camaro with the girls got Bob a lot of
jealous stares.  The girls knew the area well enough that the six locations
Bob wanted to look at were found with little trouble.  Only two of them
already had houses on them, but they were on parcels of five and seven
acres.  Three of the other four were undeveloped land.  The last one was
low in the foothills, and was a failed Winery.  The business was about to
declare bankruptcy and the owner was trying to sell the property before
that happened, to prevent the land from being taken as an asset.  Bob had
seen a flier about the property at the Real estate agency and had asked
about it on a whim.  It was farthest from Circleton, in El Dorado county,
and on another whim Bob decided to go there first.

   The girls ooed and ahed as he drove slowly up a gravel road to the old
stone house that contained the show room and winery.  Rows and rows of
grape vines flowed by, symmetrical in overall appearance, but also
obviously plants, which weren't the same.  There was a small lake fed by
runoff from the mountains.  There was a huge old barn, painted red with
white trim that would have looked perfectly placed in Wisconsin dairy
country, and two cabin style houses, one built of logs, as well as various
other outbuildings.  There was also a tall stone house.

   Bob examined a copy of the flier he'd gotten.  There were fifty-eight
acres of land, seventeen of it planted in Pino Noir, Merlot, Zin and Sauv
Blanc grapes.  He had no idea what the different varieties meant.  There
was, apparently in the big stone house, a thousand square foot tasting
room, a barrel room and a residence in the upper story.  There was a
fermentation barn, and equipment barn and a storage building for case
goods. The capacity of the winery was currently listed at twelve thousand
cases, with a notation that there was room for expansion.

   In addition there was a special events area with a redwood stage,
pavilion, changing suites, pool and rest rooms.  A studio guest cottage was
included, whatever that was, and there were two apartments for employees
listed at 532 square feet apiece.  The asking price was seven and a half
million.

   There was a cardboard sign tacked to the entrance of the parking lot
that said "CLOSED".  A woman dressed in a checkered shirt, faded jeans and
cowboy boots was walking toward the steps that led to the wide covered
porch of the stone building.  She had on a sun-bleached baseball hat with a
long pony tail hanging down from the back.  She looked over at Bob and the
girls as they climbed out of the convertible and walked toward them.

   She walked with the motions of a strong, confident woman.

   "We're closed." she said as she approached.  All her exposed skin was
nut brown, like she spent all day in the sun.

   "I see that," said Bob.  He handed her the flier.  "I might be
interested in buying the place."

   She looked at the flier and then back at him.  Then she looked at the
girls, who were staring around at various things.

   "I'm Annie Montgomery.  I'm the manager here.  What do you know about
wine?" she asked bluntly.

   "Nothing," said Bob.

   Annie looked up at the sky.  "Not another one." she said under her
breath.

   "I beg your pardon?" asked Bob.

   "The last person that bought this operation killed it." she said.  It
was obvious she was angry about it.  "He doesn't know anything about wine
either."

   "Actually, I'm looking for a place to locate my family.  We'd like to go
into business together.  I never thought about a vineyard.  I'm more
looking for a place to build a family home."

   "There's lots of places in California to put a building," said Annie. 
She had a lot of work to do and wanted to blow this guy off, but she
clamped down on her temper and stayed.

   "It's kind of a special family," said Bob.  "Large.  I need to be able
to house fifteen or twenty people."

   Annie stared at him, and then at the three girls.

   "I'm Bob Winkle," said Bob.  He held out his hand.  "These are my
granddaughters.

   Annie worked too hard to sit around and listen to the news, or watch TV,
or read the paper.  She was a go-getter who had grown up in wine country.
She knew her business and had thought she would be happy once she had her
own operation to manage.  She knew she could produce good wine.  The
problem was that the man she had hired on for, and who had a good, if newly
built operation, had fallen ill with cancer and died.  His wife had sold
the property, and the new owner had run it into the ground.  He refused to
listen to Annie, thinking that because he liked to drink wine, he could
suddenly and magically be good at running a winery.  Now as she was pushing
twenty-seven years of age, Annie's dream was fading fast.  It didn't make
her any happier that another rookie had showed up.  And a crazy one at
that, if he expected her to believe that the tall dark haired girl was his
granddaughter when she was obviously almost the same age as he was.

   "Well, you're entitled to call them whatever you want," said Annie,
nodding to the girls.  "Now ...  if you don't know anything about wine, you
probably don't want to buy this place.  It had the potential to be a great
vineyard.  Right now, though, it would take two or three years to get the
product up to standard and repair the damage the current owner has caused
through his stupidity."

   "You don't mind calling them like you see them," said Bob, smiling.

   "I'm too busy to waste time trying to be polite," said Annie pointedly.

   "Well, like I said, I'm mostly looking for a place to build a family
retreat.  I suppose we could do something else with the land."

   Annie was shocked.  This land was perfectly suited for growing grapes.
Whenever she looked out over the vineyards and saw the rows and rows of
what should have been carefully tended grapes, she wanted to cry.  That was
one of the things the new owner had screwed up.  He was convinced that they
had too many hands, and that grapes could grow just fine without all that
daily primping and touching and clipping.  He made her let go of half her
crew, which put the grapes in serious trouble after a few months.  That and
his other cost-cutting measures had ruined three harvests and what few
grapes they gathered were either too young, or too ripe because of the
manpower shortages.  Now this joker would tear out the plants and
completely destroy something that could have been beautiful?

   "Look, mister," she said, holding her voice in check.  "I don't know who
you are, or where you came from, but if you try to buy this place just to
tear it down, I'll do everything in my power to stop you."

   Bob felt like taking a step back.  She spoke with a normal tone of
voice, but he could hear the passion underlying it.

   "Maybe we got off to a bad start." he said.  "Thanks for your time."

   They got back in the car and drove back down the lane.  The girls
chattered about what a bitch "that woman" had been until Bob reminded them
that talking about her behind her back wasn't making them look much better.

   They found all the other locations with no trouble.  Two were just
undeveloped scrub, miles and miles from anywhere.  One of the ones with a
house on it was right on the highway and just the sound of vehicles
whizzing by while they got out and looked around made them abandon it.  The
other house was on five acres, but was surrounded by developments.  That
land was four or five times the cost of the other places they had looked
at. The owner obviously meant to sell to a developer.  The last place had a
spectacular view of the mountains, but the terrain was so steep that it
would be difficult to build anything that wasn't supported by pylons, and
that made Bob nervous.  He kept thinking about the wide green valley, with
the rows of grapes.

   They got back to town around four and Bob dropped Val and Becca off at
their houses.  Fran jumped up into the front seat as he drove toward
Polly's house.

   "I found my mother in bed with that cop this morning." she said.  It was
the first time she had been alone with Bob.  She hadn't wanted to talk
about it in front of her cousins.

   Something in her voice made Bob perk up.  "How did you feel about that?"
he asked.

   "Oh, I know she deserves to have happiness and all that," said Fran. 
"But it made me think about you."

   Bob looked at her.  "You don't say."

   Fran waved a hand.  "I know you don't think I should be doing that, but
I only did it with you and I haven't done it with anybody else, and I can't
just forget about it."

   "It's still not a good idea." he said.

   "Oh, come on, I'm all fidgety inside.  I know YOU get all the sex a man
could want.  It's not fair that I don't get just a little."

   They pulled up to Polly's house and he parked.

   "Your mother will be home in a little bit," said Bob.

   "Not for an hour.  Please?" she batted her eyes at him.  "We'll just do
it a little bit ...  just enough to make me feel better.  Please?" she
dragged out the last word.

   "I must be crazy." Bob signed, shaking his head.  Fran yipped and
vaulted over the door without opening it.

   "Come on" she said impatiently.  "We have to hurry."

   Bob went inside, thinking about the best way to scratch her itch without
causing a problem.  He was going to have to start carrying a pocket full of
rubbers around if these women didn't get on the pill.  He decided that
sitting in a straight backed chair while she straddled him would be the
best way to minimize the sensation for him.  Maybe he could get her off
without getting off himself.  She thought it was a delightfully strange way
to make love and was soon hopping around stark naked, waiting for him to
get the same way.

   She was a remarkably good looking girl, for one so young, and Bob had no
trouble whatsoever getting erect.  He was already hard when he dropped his
pants and sat down on the chair.  She bounded on top of him, rubbing her
pussy against his balls and the base of his prick as she kissed him
hungrily.  Then she raised up and, already wet and well lubricated, slid
down his shaft in a slow, smooth fashion.  Her sigh of happiness was music
to his ears.  He leaned her back to give her tight sheath time to adjust
and held her under her armpits while he suckled at her tender puffy
nipples. She let her arms hang, and her head fell back as she told him how
wonderful it felt.

   The only problem was that she was young and healthy, and could do things
with her abdominal muscles that an older woman might not have been able to
do.  When she sat back up and grabbed his shoulders, she hunched forward.
The tip of his prick drove into her cervix and she groaned.  Her abs flexed
again and she found that she could perform a rapid thrusting movement that
battered the gates of her womb.  The sensation was completely different
from when she had been on top of him in bed.  There, her clit was
stimulated constantly.  Here it was hardly touched.  But the head of his
glans, with its repeated assault on her cervix, replaced that sensation
very nicely indeed.  She all but stood up, taking almost all her weight on
her squatting thighs and calves.  Then, in a movement remarkably like that
of a belly dancer, or hula girl, she flicked her hips forward and backward
rapidly, fucking herself while he didn't even move.

   By the time Bob realized what she was doing was almost exactly like
beating off, it was too late.  She slammed against him and rubbed, keeping
him deep as her orgasm made her knees go weak and she sat down, hugging him
and hunching forward with the last of her strength as his prick bulged and
a stream of newly made spunk blasted into her teenaged pussy.  She wiggled
enough that the tip of his cock peeked into her womb and flooded it with
slippery white goo.

   His flicker of remorse was washed away by her happy moans as she thanked
him and kissed him and wiggled some more.

   Yes, he was definitely going to have to stop at a gas station and spend
a roll of quarters.

   They barely made themselves presentable before Polly got home.  Bob
intercepted her in the kitchen while Fran finished getting dressed.  She
walked into the kitchen with a bag of groceries in her arms.

   "Hi Daddy." she smiled.  "It still seems so strange to call you that."

   "I sure like the sound of it better than 'grandpa'." he said.

   Fran came in, still flushed and looking excited.

   "Frannie, honey, there are more bags in the car.  Would you go get them
please?"

   Fran, happy now, bounced out of the room.  Polly turned to Bob
immediately.

   "She came into the bedroom this morning.  Brian ...  stayed over ... 
and she found us in bed together."

   "She told me about that," said Bob.

   "I don't know what to say to her," said Polly.

   "I don't think you need to say anything.  She mentioned to me that you
deserve to have happiness."

   "She said that?" asked Polly, wanting everything to be all right.

   "Yes.  She's a little jealous though," said Bob.

   "I don't know why.  She's probably got boys chasing her around all over
the place."

   "True," said Bob.  "Speaking of which, maybe it would be a good idea if
you put her on the pill."

   Polly grimaced.  "I've thought of that, but I don't think she's doing
anything yet, and I haven't wanted to broach the subject with her."

   "You have to.  If you wait then it could be too late," said Bob, hoping
it wasn't already too late.

   "You're right." sighed Polly.  "Me too, for that matter." She blushed.

   Chapter 31

   That night Gidget got a call from her mother, who playfully accused her
of hogging Bob.

   "I know why you want him at your house." grumped Gidget.  "He hasn't
even been here a whole week."

   In the end, she agreed to send Bob to June's house the next day.  That
night she was especially ardent in her lovemaking with Bob.  She thought it
was because she would have to do without him for a while.  That wasn't the
real reason she felt the way she did, though.  It had been too many years
for her to remember she got especially horny when she was ovulating.

   =================

   The next day Bob went back to the winery by himself.  He found Annie in
one of the barns, trying to get a big barrel up onto a rack.  As he helped
her move it into place she snarled about how machinery that was properly
maintained would have done the job in less than a minute.  That machinery
was down at the moment and the owner wouldn't spend any money on it since
he was selling the place.

   "If you treat all potential buyers like you treated me yesterday," Bob
said, dusting off his hands, "it probably won't sell right away."

   Annie shot him a look, but just said "Thanks." for his help.

   "Do you have time to talk?" he asked.

   "No." she said bluntly.

   "Look, I like this place." said Bob.  "I don't know anything about wine,
but you do, right?" he asked.

   She nodded, fiddling with some tubes of some kind.  "Yes."

   "Then why can't I buy the winery, and you run it, and I'll build my
house and we'll both be happy?"

   "I told you, it's not a good investment right now." she said, looking up
at him from her bent over position.  "It will be at least two years and
probably three before we get a money making crop in the bottle and ready to
sell."

   "I'm not looking for an investment." said Bob.

   Annie stood up and turned to face him, her hands on her hips.

   "You're willing to borrow seven point five mil...  just to have a place
to build your house?" she was obviously skeptical.  "And that's IF you can
find a bank that will go for it."

   "I don't need a bank." said Bob.  "I have the cash."

   Annie rocked back on her heels.  This guy was just full of surprises. 
"And you'd trust me to run the operation...  hands off?"

   "I'm willing to gamble with that." said Bob.

   "Without even knowing me?" she asked, incredulous.

   "With your attitude, you wouldn't have a job if you didn't know what you
were doing." said Bob.

   Annie smiled for the first time since Bob had met her.  She had a nice
smile.  "You call them pretty plainly too, don't you mister..."

   "Winkle." said Bob.

   "Mr.  Winkle." she repeated.  Her eyes narrowed.  "If you're playing
with me I'm gonna make it real uncomfortable for you." she warned.

   Bob leaned forward.  "Do you want to run a world class winery...  or
not?" he asked.

   Annie felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in three years.  "Yes, I
do." she said finally.

   "Then do you have time to talk?" asked Bob.

   "I guess I do at that, Mr.  Winkle." she said.

   Bob." he said.

   "Okay, Bob.  You aren't the boss yet, but let's just sit a spell and see
if maybe you have what it takes to be one." Annie led him to the porch of
the big stone house and indicated a chair.

   They talked for three hours.  Two employees came to ask her questions,
which she dealt with rapidly and then returned to listing the needs of the
business and peppering Bob with questions about what he'd be willing to
spend to get the place back on its feet.  Along the way he mentioned that
just his name might have quite a bit of marketing value to their future
product.

   "Why's that?" asked Annie.  "I've never heard of you before."

   Bob laughed.  "You have to be the only person in California who hasn't
heard of me then." He chuckled.  "It's kind of nice, actually.  But don't
worry about that.  That's years in the future anyway, according to you. 
Maybe by then people will have forgotten who I am.  So what do you think?
Can we do this together?"

   That got her back on the subject she loved most - growing good grapes
and making better wine.  It wasn't until he was driving off down the lane
that she remembered he hadn't said anything about why he was famous.  That
seemed odd.  Most famous people wouldn't shut up about how important they
were.  She had seen hundreds of them come and go from the tasting rooms of
the winery.  Most of them felt like they deserved a discount on wine, since
they would, naturally, mention it to their friends, or serve it at their
fancy parties.

   Curious now, she turned and went into the house.  She lived on the upper
floor.  The owner hadn't wanted to live on site.  That was the only good
thing about him.  She sat down at the computer in her office and Googled
"Bob Winkle"

   Five minutes later she gasped.  "Well color me brown and call me shit
faced!"

   It took another five minutes for her to remember that she hadn't gotten
the phone number of her knight in shining armor.  She cursed for another
five minutes and, sighing, went back to work.  She had some things to do to
make sure nobody else bought the winery.

   ========================

   Bob waited until he got to June's house and then called Gus Gunderson.
He got a recorded message that the phone number had changed and directing
him to a web site for more information.

   Gus' part of the insurance company settlement, fifteen percent of twenty
million dollars, had changed his whole life, making him an instant
millionaire.  Most people would have chucked everything except spending
money.  But Gus was a lawyer and he knew he could be a good one.  He loved
justice as a concept and now that he didn't have to take anything that came
his way just to pay rent, he was able to take on cases wherein he saw the
actual possibility that he could help justice get done.

   Never having had much money, and being married to Margie, who was even
more fiscally conservative, he banked his windfall and then made a few
changes that he knew he could justify.  He relocated his office to a new
building, got new furniture and hired a researcher.  He had given two
interviews to the media and they had generated more work for him in a week
than he'd had in the previous six months.  He didn't know if it was going
to last, but if it did he'd need a partner pretty soon.  He'd offered to
let Margie stay home if she wanted, but she didn't.  She was used to being
his secretary and liked being able to be with him most of the time.  He was
as busy as a one-legged man in a jump rope contest, but he liked it that
way.  He'd lost six pounds, partially because he was on the go a lot more,
but also because there was no Dippy Doo Donut shop right next door.  There
was a Starbucks, and what passed for a bakery, but you couldn't go in
either place with a ten dollar bill and come out with enough to call a cab.
He HAD money...  but he didn't spend it wastefully.

   He found out that having money meant you had lots of new best friends,
or at least people who told you you were their best friend.  Suddenly all
manner of hoity toity organizations, some based in the legal profession,
but most not, invited him to be a member.  He must have thrown out ten or
fifteen people who had the secret stock tip that would turn his three
million into a hundred and three million overnight.  He was suddenly a lot
more attractive to women too, mostly good looking high maintenance women
who came in with some trifling legal problem and tried to seduce him right
in front of his wife.  They got told he was just too busy to take their
case.

   He looked up from a brief he was preparing to see Margie signaling him
frantically.  She still wasn't used to an actual intercom.  The phone she
had looked like one of those remote controls that handled the TV, VCR, DVD
player, Stereo and probably the electric can opener too for all he knew.

   "It's Bob." she mouthed in an exaggerated and silent over-pronunciation.

   Gus looked at his phone, which was simpler than Margie's, but still lit
up like a Christmas tree from time to time.  Thankfully only one line was
lit.  He picked up the phone.

   "Bob!" he said jovially.  He listened for a second.  "Bob?  Can you hear
me Bob?" He remembered that Margie had to put a caller on hold before he
could answer.  He started to yell at her, but then thought she might hang
up on Bob in the process of transferring the call.  It had happened before.
He got up and went to her, taking the phone from her and scowling.  Margie
shrugged and stuck out her tongue at him.

   "Bob!" he said into the phone.  "How's my favorite client?" He listened
for a few minutes and then signaled for paper and pen.  He scribbled on the
paper.  Even Margie couldn't read it.  "What's the address?...  Who's the
broker?...  No problem Bob.  I've got your back...  okay...  And Bob? 
Thanks." He handed the phone back to his wife.  He looked at her.

   "Is your Real Estate license still current?" he asked.

   She blinked and nodded.  "I think so." she said.  Margie had gone to
night school while Gus was still working his former job, to get her
Realtor's license.  It had been something she liked, but actually getting
into an agency without most of your commission going to the broker was
difficult, especially in California.  The field was overstocked with eager
young people who would do anything to make a sale, including cheat, lie and
steal if that helped.  She had given it up after six months, disgusted with
the morals of the people she had to work with.  Her one sale had netted her
a whopping $350.00 after the broker took out his commission and "employment
costs" since she was a new hire.  The overall commission had been over
eight grand.

   "Bob wants to buy a vineyard." said Gus.  "He wants us to represent him
and make sure he's not doing anything stupid."

   Gus gave Margie the information and told her to go do her thing.  She'd
only been gone ten minutes before he was pulling his hair out due to the
phone and a walk-in who wanted to know if Gus could catch a wife having
adultery.  He called a temp service, who sent over a bright young college
girl.  She played the phone like it was a concert piano.  Within an hour he
had decided to hire her permanently.  Margie would just have to get used to
being the Real Estate branch of Gus Gunderson, Attorney At Law.

   ========================

   Margie knew all the steps to take to evaluate and appraise the property
in question.  It took her four hours, but she got all the information she
felt was needed.  The property was overpriced, based on the quantity of
wine it was permitted to produce, the acres of planted land and their
comparison to other vineyards in the area.  Public records didn't have
actual numbers on the profits being generated by a private business, but
there were lots of indicators, and this outfit didn't look like it was
making much money.  Two of the licenses needed had expired, and had not
been renewed since.  Technically, they shouldn't be doing any business at
all.  The last fire inspection had been passed, but was marginal with
"concern with reference to inoperable electric equipment and questionable
maintenance on electrical systems" being noted in the explanation block. 
The Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms inspection, which included comments by a
health inspector, was pristine with all blocks marked "exceeds standards".
She closed the book she was examining in the county tax office and checked
her notes.  Next would be a site visit.

   ========================

   When she got back to the office there was a marital tiff, as some people
call it.  Margie didn't much care to see a sweet young thing sitting in her
chair, hands flashing, cheery voice talking to people on the phone and
electronic messages being routed all over the place.

   When Gus explained his plan to have her more or less establish a Real
Estate law arm in the company, she felt better, and then felt panic.  She
knew Gus didn't understand much about real estate law, and she had only the
most basic of grasps.  She could do the paperwork for transactions, but
there was much more to doing real estate law than just transactions.  Gus
agreed to make some calls and see if there was a promising young real
estate attorney coming out of any of the law schools in the area.

   The next morning Margie drove up to the winery.  She met Annie, who was
ecstatic to find out she represented Bob.  They sat on the porch and
without any shame whatsoever, Annie detailed the minor sabotage she had
performed on the property.  She didn't admit that she had done the things
that had been done.  She just listed the reasons that the business wasn't
worth the money being asked.  Then Margie got the tour.

   "Most of this would be relatively easy to put right, wouldn't it?" she
asked after a time.

   "Yes, it would require some investment, but I'd estimate that it could
be repaired or brought up to speed for fifty or sixty thousand dollars."
said Annie.

   "And you'd be staying on to run the operation?" asked Margie.

   "Yes, if Bob buys it, and does what he said he'd do I'll stay.  I'd need
to rehire my full crew though." said Annie.  "I already told him that."

   They sat back down and went through the numbers again as Margie took
notes.  When it was all done the bottom line for doing everything it would
take over a two year period to get the winery producing again, came out to
a little more than two million dollars.

   Margie shook hands with Annie, packed up her notes and left.

   ========================

   It took two weeks, but Gus found middle aged woman named Tammy who was
about to graduate from the same law school he had gotten his degree from.
Her passion was real estate law.  He actually interviewed three other
prospects too, but when he talked to Tammy he felt a kindred spirit.  She
was a single mother, of African descent, and had three teenagers still at
home.  She had managed to go to school and work two jobs and her kids still
didn't get into trouble.  He had her look over Margie's prospectus on the
vineyard.  She immediately started asking questions and Gus called Margie
in to answer them.  Twenty minutes later Tammy said that it looked very
well done, and looked like a realistic offer, as long as the buyer had the
capital to make the improvements and wait out the two year dead time.

   Tammy's first job as a new employee of the office was to negotiate the
purchase of the winery.

   ========================

   Bob just happened to be in the process of stuffing Betty full of hard
prick when his cell phone went off on the night stand next to them.  He
ignored it.  Betty and what they were doing was more important than any
phone call he could think of.  The device would take a message anyway.

   When Betty lay limp, a silly smile on her face, her pussy oozing thick
white cum, Bob sat up and listened to the voice mail.  When it was done he
turned to Betty.

   "We need to have another family meeting." he said.

   ========================

   They got everyone together the next night, which was Friday.  Val, Polly
and Becca all complained that they had dates and wanted to miss the
meeting. Bob insisted they all be there and said it wouldn't take long to
decide the issue.  They came dressed to thrill, almost sparkling next to
the other women who were dressed in shorts and T shirts or whatever.  Fran
was with them.

   Fran sidled up to Bob and whispered in his ear.

   "Mom put me on the pill."

   He swatted her butt and she danced back giggling.

   Bob got right to it.  He talked about the winery and the three younger
women chimed in occasionally with comments.  One of them was about the
"surly woman" they had met.  Bob explained that had been dealt with, and
she would be surly no more.

   Tammy had gotten the asking price down to five million, using the data
that Margie had gathered, with the exception of the fact that they knew the
winery could not actually produce anything at present.  That bit of
information was held back in case the owner wanted to play hardball.  He
didn't.  He was strapped for cash and was eager to sell.  He'd take a loss
on the investment, but he could write that off, and he had plans for the
five million that he was convinced would make him a lot more.  He had a hot
tip on a group that guaranteed they would have the secret to fusion power
within eighteen months, and he was going to make a killing by investing all
five mil.

   "So," Bob said when he was finished describing the deal.  "Does this
sound like something you all could get excited about?"

   There was low key chatter as people talked to other people.  Love being
what it is, Val, Polly and Becca were all enthusiastic for two or three
minutes.  "Can I go now?" they asked almost as one.

   Martha snorted.  "You all go off and play with your little boys or
whatever.  Just remember you're going to have to live with what we decide.

   Val kissed her mother on the cheek and then kissed Bob too.  "I trust
you." she said.

   The end result was that all the women agreed to try the wine business.

   Bob called Tammy and told her to go ahead.  She made arrangements with
him to set up an escrow account.  After that she and Margie would handle
everything.

   ========================

   "I want to tell people we're getting married." said Val as she walked
along with Zack.  They had just been to a play and were enjoying the fresh
night air.  Her slim hand rested on the inside of his elbow as they walked
along.

   "You mean you haven't already?" he asked.

   Val held up her left hand, wagging her ring finger back and forth
silently.

   Zack flushed.  "Oh yeah.  I guess a ring would be appropriate, huh."

   Val elbowed him.  "I can't believe you didn't think about that." she
pouted.

   Zack stuffed his hand in his pocket and kept walking.

   "Hey, this is me.  I'm a guy.  Take me or leave me." he said.

   She elbowed him again, leaning into him with her shoulder.

   "Oh, I'm going to take you all right." she said.  "Are you trying to
weasel out on me?"

   Zack pulled his hand out of his pocket.  A small black velvet covered
box was in it.

   "No." he said calmly.  "And I didn't forget.  I just had to save up." He
waved the box in front of her eyes.  "Bet you can't guess what's in here."
he taunted.

   Val squealed and grabbed for the box.  Zack whipped his hand to the side
and stepped back from her, shifting the box from one hand to the other.  At
one point she was all over him and he simply held the box in the small of
her back with his hand over it as she struggled with him.

   "Oh please, Zack, honey, I'm sorry.  I should have known you wouldn't
forget.  Show me...  please?" Her please was punctuated by cupping his
groin and squeezing his balls gently.  He was only too aware she could
squeeze a lot harder and he immediately brought the box around and between
them.  She grabbed it and stepped back.  Her other hand went to the
cover... and stopped.  She looked at him and then at the box.

   "What's wrong?" he asked.  "Open it."

   "It's been a dream...  up until now." she said softly.  "You asked me to
marry you, but I think I didn't really believe it.  But if there's a ring
in here that's going to make it real.  I'm scared Zack."

   "You want me to put it back in my pocket?" he asked, smiling.

   "NO!" she took another step back.

   "I love you." said Zack.  "I still have no idea what you see in me, but
I don't think I can live without you."

   Val felt her whole body flush with warmth.  She opened the box.

   It had cost Zack almost two months salary.  He'd had to dip into his
savings to cover it.  But the look on her face was worth every penny.  Her
mouth opened and closed and then opened and closed again as her eyes got to
be the size of half dollars.

   She stuttered, and then stammered and then burst into tears, trying to
wipe them away with the back of her hand and get the ring out at the same
time.  She was blubbering so hard she couldn't get the ring to go on and he
had to step in and grab her hands.  He guided her hand and the ring slipped
onto her ring finger.  He'd guessed right and it slid over her knuckle and
seated perfectly on the flesh at the base of her finger.  He reached for a
handkerchief and silently thanked his mother for training him to carry one.
She wiped her nose with one hand, waving the hand with the ring on it in
front of her face the whole time.

   "It's...  b-b-b-beautiful." she wailed, tears streaming down her face.
"I...  sob love it...  hic" she bawled.

   Then she tried to tackle him.  He got her calmed down enough to get her
in the car.

   "Your house?" he asked, assuming she'd want to show off the rock.

   "Uh, uh" she said, shaking her head and holding her hand at arm's
length. "Your house."

   She admired the ring all the way home, paying him no attention at all.
She waited for him to let her out of the car, and then took his arm,
exactly like she had before he gave her the ring, and walked up to the
front door with him.

   When they were inside, she pulled him directly to the bedroom.  There,
she went wild again, tearing at his clothes and popping buttons until she
got him naked, and then slipping out of her clothes even more quickly.  She
rode him mercilessly, concentrating on using her muscles and not even
trying for her own orgasm, until he gave her the other thing she wanted to
go along with the ring - a pussy full of hot spunk.

   ========================

   Becca got out of the shower and toweled off.  She looked critically in
the mirror.  She tried to suck in her stomach, but she couldn't make the
gentle swell go away any more.  She was going to have to tell Denny...  and
the world at large soon.  She was terrified.  She was terrified that Denny
would dump her.  She was terrified that her mother would yell at her, both
because she got pregnant in the first place and because she hadn't been to
the doctor yet.  She was terrified that the only people who would still
love her were her cousins.

   She knew which adult she would tell first though.  Polly would
understand.  Polly would be upset, but she would understand.  She had been
on the same dates that had led to the wild sex that everyone would think
was responsible for the baby in her belly.  Polly had also lost control and
rutted like an animal on a blanket in the woods.  Polly would understand.

   ========================

   Polly got out of the shower and toweled off.  She looked critically in
the mirror.  She had a little pooch just below her navel since Fran was
born.  No matter how she tried she couldn't get that area to flatten back
out.  Brian loved to play with it, running his hand over it.  He hadn't
said anything about noticing it was larger.  He'd notice pretty soon. 
Everybody would.

   When she'd missed her first period she had just chalked it up to aging,
though in her heart she knew she was too young for the change to be taking
place, even precursors of the change.  She was thirty-nine, and well within
the window of her upper childbearing years.  She ran her hand over the
swell and wondered already what the baby would be like.  Fran had been the
joy of her life, and had taken her through the tough years when Roger had
come out of the closet and she'd lost her only lover.  Would she lose her
new lover over this?  She didn't think so.  She hadn't intentionally not
thought about divorce and moving, and trying to negotiate her own emotional
minefield about remarriage, much less talking about it with Brian.  He was
so young and fresh.  She could understand perfectly why he might be less
than thrilled at the idea of being tied down to a woman, child or not. 
Then again, she'd never had a relationship with a complete man...  so in a
way, she had no idea what a complete man might think or do.

   One thing was clear though.  Brian was a complete man.

   She'd have to tell him soon.  She'd have to tell Fran too, and that
would be hard.  She had been irresponsible and that would set a bad example
for Fran.  The family would give her fits too.  Her mother would probably
have a heart attack.  She knew who she'd tell first, though.  She and Becca
had a special relationship now.  Double dating had brought this all about,
and regardless of what Brian might do, she couldn't be unhappy about the
outcome.  Fran had been precious.  This baby would be precious too.

   She padded to the bedroom and picked up the phone.

   ========================

   "Hello?"

   "Becca?"

   "Aunt Polly.  I was just going to call you."

   "I need to talk to you."

   "Me too.  I need to talk to you too."

   "Go get some ice cream with me?"

   "Sure.  I just got out of the shower.  I'll get dressed."

   "How about that?  I just got out of the shower too.  I'll be there in
twenty minutes."

   Thirty minutes later, inside the local Dairy Queen, patrons were
startled by two screams.  A banana split slid off the table from between
the two women who had screamed, as they lurched up out of their seats and
tried to hug each other across the table.  A teenage boy was dispatched to
clean up the spill, and a new banana split was prepared for the younger
woman, who was crying and smiling at the same time while the older woman
patted her hand and cried right along with her.  Chapter 32

   It was complicated crying that Polly and Becca shared.  The emotions
that raced through them in little bits and pieces, from different
directions, were a little like being in a bumper car at the fair.  You got
hit from a lot of different directions at the same time.  It was partly
release of the stress of keeping something secret, part acceptance from
each other, part fear of the future and there was a little bit of happiness
thrown in too.  Neither woman was actually unhappy about the fact that any
of the potential fathers had made a baby.  Neither woman would have ever
thought of doing anything to become "un" pregnant, not counting delivering
the child.  For Polly, who had gone through this before, and knew more or
less what to expect, the thought that a man she loved had created life in
her was thrilling.  Becca, less sure about her relationship, none the less
couldn't help but be excited that her potential as a woman was being fully
realized.

   And so, eventually, the emotions of the moment abated to a more
manageable level, and the crying stopped.

   "You have to tell your mother." said Polly.  "You need prenatal care. 
We'll go get that started together."

   Becca nodded.  Her eyes still glistened, but she felt better already
just with Polly knowing and being in the same situation.

   "And you have to tell Denny.  I have to tell Brian.  We can do that
together too."

   "But..." whined Becca.

   "No buts.  You should have told him as soon as you knew.  He deserves
that.  I'm going to tell Brian as soon as I can."

   "That's easy for you." said Becca.  "He already said he'd marry you if
you got pregnant."

   "I'm already married and those were the words of a man in the throes of
lust." said Polly.  "I've already raised a girl alone, and I'm not worried
about it." She patted Becca's hand again.  "You, on the other hand, could
make a life with Denny, but it must be a life based on honesty.  I know
only too well how being dishonest can screw things up.  Besides, as I
recall, Denny said he'd marry you too if you got pregnant."

   "No, he got mad at me for not taking things seriously.  He said he'd
want to be in the baby's life, but he didn't say he'd marry me.  I think
he's going to be mad at me for not taking precautions."

   "Precautions are the responsibility of both partners." said Polly,
"Though the consequences weigh far more heavily on the woman.  In that
sense, she has more responsibility.  Even so, you have to tell him."

   "Okay." said Becca finally.  She felt better about that too.  At least
it would be over with and she'd know what was going to happen.  "First
thing tomorrow morning I'll tell Mom.  I can't go home right now and ruin
her whole night."

   "You want me to be there with you for that too?"

   "No.  I'll do it.  She'd just yell at you.  You were supposed to keep me
out of trouble, remember?" She didn't say it in an accusatory manner.  It
was just a fact.

   Polly snorted.  "Who'd have thought that a double date would lead to a
double pregnancy?" She grinned.

   ========================

   Gidget woke up feeling out of sorts.  She had been tired the night
before and, since Becca was off with Polly doing something, she had gone to
bed early.  She got up and wished she hadn't.  She must be coming down with
something.  She decided to take a shower.  That always made her feel
better. She got out of the shower and dried off, examining herself
critically in the mirror.  Of the three women her age, she ran the most,
played basketball at the YWCA one night a week and was more vain about her
body than either of her cousins.

   She looked in the mirror as she ruffled her hair.  Her hair was straight
and short and all she had to do was partially dry it and then comb it
straight down and let it dry naturally.  She turned sideways to see if her
breasts were sagging.  She had looked at her breasts thousands of times. 
Nowadays, though, they looked different to her for some reason.  They had
returned to being a source of sexual pleasure now that Bob played with them
and sucked at their tips.  She smiled, suddenly glad she had them, and that
he loved them.  Her eyes dropped lower.  Her belly was hanging out a
little. She straightened her back to correct the bad posture that caused
that little problem...  but she still had a slight bulge.

   The sensation in her stomach drove her to the toilet about the same time
her brain woke up and said "HE-LLO!" She didn't throw up, but she could see
her face reflected in the water of the commode.  It was wavery.  When the
urge to toss her cookies passed, she stood back up and looked in the mirror
again.

   When was her last period?  She tried to think.  She didn't pay much
attention to them, being lucky that they were always easy.  It was just
another thing she had to do four or five days out of the month...  nothing
special...  nothing even interesting.

   She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the box from the place
she always kept it.  She and Becca used out of the same box.  The last time
she'd had a period it had ended on the day she used the last tampon in one
box.  She had put the new box in its place, but hadn't opened it.  She
remembered that inane fact as she pulled the box down from the shelf.

   The cellophane wrapping the box glinted in the light.  It was untouched.

   For the life of her she could not remember when her last period was. 
She didn't mark them on the calendar any more.  In the past she didn't
care. She didn't plan anything around her periods.  When they came...  they
came.  She dealt with them and moved on.  After a while another one would
come along.  It had been that way for years and years and years.  She put
on a pair of panties and went out into the house, trying to find some way
to figure out when her last period was.  There was nothing.  She stood in
the living room, topless, just thinking.  When was her first date with Bob?
That had been a Friday night.  She replayed the night in her head.  She had
just renewed her driver's license earlier in the day.

   She went to her purse and dug out her billfold.  She pulled the license
out and looked at the date of issue.  Her jaw dropped.  It was three months
in the past.

   She thought about that.  She hadn't had a period the whole time she and
Bob had been...  practicing to date.  To put it another way...  she hadn't
had a period in three months!

   Feeling sick at her stomach again, she went back to the bathroom.  She
ran her hand over the swell of her abdomen.  She had known it would be
possible, but she hadn't believed it could happen to her.  The first thing
she thought of was that she was a product of the same sperm that had
impregnated her.  If she hadn't known that, she would have been unable to
face her mother and aunts.  But THEY would understand.  THEY had done
exactly the same thing.

   Ever pragmatic, Gidget didn't spend time worrying about what could not
be undone.  Her mind was already at work rationalizing what she had done.
In one sense, she was carrying on a time honored, though secret, family
tradition.  Even her cousins might be able to handle it.  Sunny would freak
and count the days until her next period, but when it came she'd relax. 
Polly hadn't seemed all that upset about being the product of incest, so
maybe she'd take it okay too.

   Now...  what to do about telling Becca...

   ========================

   Becca woke up feeling better than she had in a long time.  Talking to
Polly and setting things in motion had helped her mentally.  She might as
well get it over with.  If her mom kicked her out, she'd need all day to
find someplace else to go and get together some things to take wherever
that was.

   She got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower first.  She pushed
open the door and found her mother standing there, dressed only in panties,
staring in the mirror, her hand on her abdomen, like she had a stomach
ache. Gidget's head swiveled and she looked startled.

   "Oh." she said.  It didn't sound like surprise, exactly.  In fact, it
had a distinctly odd sound to it.

   Mother and daughter looked at each other.  As if they'd rehearsed it,
they said together: "We have to talk."

   There was that tight laughter that goes with such a situation, when
something is funny, but neither person is in the mood to appreciate the
humor in the situation.

   "Take your shower." said Gidget.  "I'll get something ready for
breakfast.  We can talk then."

   Becca enjoyed her reprieve and her shower ran over just a little.  She
brushed her teeth and combed her hair, like her mother did.  It was longer,
but when it dried it would just hang straight.

   When she got to the kitchen Gidget had put on a T shirt, but that was
all.  Becca had on gym shorts and a T shirt as well.  Two bowls of cereal
were on the table, along with bananas.  Becca looked at the banana.  The
last time she'd confessed to being pregnant, a banana was involved too. 
She suddenly thought of Denny's penis, and compared it to the banana lying
by her bowl.  She couldn't help but smile.

   "What did you want to talk about?" asked Gidget.

   "No you first." said Becca.

   "Sweetheart, after what I tell you, you might not want to talk to me for
a while.  Let's get whatever is on your mind out of the way first.  Then
we'll both get to talk."

   Becca felt her throat get tight.  There was nothing for it but to just
get it over with.

   "I'm pregnant." she said carefully.

   Becca expected any number of things to happen.  She had played and
replayed them in her mind a hundred times.  She mentally steeled herself
for anger, shame, embarrassment, a lecture, or any of various kinds of
things to happen.

   What she was NOT prepared for, was for her mother's mouth to drop open,
and then for her mother to laugh.  Becca hadn't been there when Gidget went
on her laughing jag at the suggestion that she go on a date with her
grandfather.  Becca had, not to put too fine a point on it, been out
getting pregnant...  if she wasn't already pregnant by Bob.

   But Becca HAD seen her mother do this on more than one occasion.  Gidget
had a finely tuned sense of humor and irony, and when her giggle box was
well and truly knocked over, and all those giggles spilled out, she was
helpless to stop herself.  It was like that now.  Gidget held her stomach
and laughed great wracking sobs of belly laughs, barely able to get a
breath.  Part of it was that she was experiencing a sudden release of
anxiety, and the emotion flowed out of her body with her laughter.  Part of
it was because of the irony of the whole situation.  Where Polly and Becca
had cried the night before, Gidget released the tension by laughing.

   Becca sat and waited patiently.  You had to just wait for Gidget to run
out of steam when she got like this.  Her mother got the hiccups as she
began to get control of the laughter, and they made her more or less
helpless too for a while.  The only way to get rid of them was to hold her
breath, and she couldn't do that because she was still gasping for air and
occasionally trying to laugh again.

   Finally Gidget stood up, turned sideways to her daughter, pulled her T
shirt tightly across her abdomen and let her bulge show.

   "So...  hee hee heehic...  am I." hic

   Becca stared at her mother.  She wasn't prepared for this either.  She
looked at the bulge in her mother's abdomen and realized it looked almost
exactly like her own.  She stood up and pulled her shirt tight across her
own abdomen and then went to stand in front of her mother.  They stared
down at each other's bulges, and then at their own.

   It was while they were doing that that it penetrated into Becca's head
that the only man her mother had spent any time alone with was...  Bob.

   "Mom..." she started.  "Did you know that grandpa has been having sex
with grandma and Aunt Martha and Aunt Betty?"

   Gidget sobered.  "How did you know that?" she asked.

   "He told me so." said Becca.

   "What?  When?"

   "When I made him help me learn about what it was like to have sex." said
Becca.

   Gidget's eyes went wide.  "You can't be serious.  He's your great
grandfather!"

   Becca nodded.  "And he's YOUR grandfather." She looked at her mother's
belly meaningfully.

   Gidget's brain felt like it was being squeezed for a second, and then
the pressure was gone.  She looked at her daughter, who suddenly looked
like an adult, instead of her little girl.

   "Yours is Bob's too?" she asked.

   "I don't know for sure." said Becca.  "I've been with Denny too."

   Gidget sighed.  "That was the whole idea of having Polly along!  She was
supposed to keep you from giving in to your hormones."

   "Actually, it was too late by then." said Becca.  "I gave in to them
with Grandpa."

   "That bastard." said Gidget heatedly.  "He seduced you and then he
seduced me too!"

   "I don't know about you, but he certainly didn't seduce me.  I had to
blackmail him into doing anything at all, and then it took me all kinds of
work to actually get him to...  you know." Becca looked at her mother.  "It
really wasn't his fault...  except that I liked him and I felt safe with
him."

   Gidget's manufactured anger melted away.  "It was the same with me." she
said.  "If I'd have said no, I wouldn't be pregnant."

   Mother and daughter sat down and talked for two hours, sharing things
that brought them much closer together.  At one point Gidget said that one
nice thing about this whole sordid affair was that she and Becca could go
to the doctor together.  Becca laughed.

   "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I have to.  Do you swear to act
surprised when you hear it somewhere else?"

   Gidget crossed her heart and then went through remembered motions from
her childhood as she hoped to die and stick a thousand needles in her eye
if she broke her promise.

   "Aunt Polly's pregnant too.  She told me the same thing...  that we
could go to the doctor together."

   "Please don't tell me Bob knocked her up too." moaned Gidget.

   "I don't think so." said Becca.  "I think Brian has that role locked up
pretty tight.  And she's about as far along as I am, we think, so it might
even have happened the first time we...  well, you know."

   Then Gidget wanted to know when that was, and what the circumstances
were.  She saw the irony in her daughter getting pregnant while her mother
was being talked into going on a date with her grandfather, who would
eventually get HER pregnant too.

   Becca broke her promise to her cousins once she and her mother got
going, admitting that both of them had done things while he slept, and then
later while he was awake.  She was careful to say that Val wouldn't have
intercourse with him, because she was being true to Zack, and that, as far
as she knew, the only time he'd done it with Fran was when he was ambushed
in the middle of the night at the cabin.  That led Gidget to confess that
she'd gotten Sunny laid by Bob on purpose.

   That jarred Gidget's memory and she sat back in the chair.

   "I'm not supposed to tell you this either...  at least I don't think I
am...  but the fact is that your grandmother and her sisters were having
sex with him the whole time he was asleep."

   "I told you, I know that." said Becca.

   "Did he tell you they got pregnant?"

   Becca didn't understand at first.  "Of course they got pregnant.  They
had you and Polly and Sunny and Uncle Jim and Uncle Frank and..." It
clicked.  Her eyes went wide.  "He's your...  father?" Her voice was almost
a whimper on the last word.

   Gidget just nodded.

   For lack of anything else to do, and partly from the shock of it all,
they started taking stock of just who all had had sex with Bob.

   Together, they figured out that only Val and Polly seemed to be immune
from Bob's less than aggressive charms.  The 20th Century woman in them
both bridled at a man who had what amounted to a harem.  At the same time
it wasn't a harem, he collected, really.  It was a harem that adopted him.
And, the pregnant woman in them celebrated their sisterhood, and the thing
they shared, that no other women, at least women outside the family, were
being offered.  Bob Winkle was a special man, and his women were special
too.

   Becca called Polly and pretended to cry into the phone, begging Polly to
come over and talk to her mother, who was going to throw her out.  Polly
stormed into the house ten minutes later, ready to do battle.  What she
found was two topless women, standing side by side in profile to her,
Gidget slightly in front of Becca, hands behind their backs.  Both had the
slightest of twin swells that didn't look like belly fat.  Polly wasn't
stupid.  She laughed and sat down to talk.

   "If the man said he'd marry you you'd be crazy not to do it." said
Gidget to Polly.

   "Oh, I'm too set in my ways to divorce Roger and go through all that. 
What would happen to Fran?  Would I have to pay alimony, or would he?  It's
too much trouble.  I can just keep on seeing Brian.  He doesn't seem to
mind that."

   "What about Denny?" Gidget turned to her daughter.

   "We're going to tell them on a double date tonight." said Becca.

   ========================

   For their date the men took the women to the Haggin Museum, in Stockton,
forty-five miles south of Sacramento.  They went there not only to enjoy
the art and history in the fabulous museum, but also to experience the
myriad of canals and waterways of the state's largest inland seaport.

   The women had agreed to seize whatever moment presented itself to
deliver their news.  It was, despite the women's tension, a relaxing and
enjoyable outing.  By now all four were friends, in addition to the more
passionate pursuits they practiced.

   The men couldn't have known they were setting themselves up so perfectly
that it would later seem almost spooky.  Maybe fate played a part.  Who
knows?  In the museum there was a guest exhibit.  It had arrived only
recently, and this was the first day it was on display.  It was a traveling
show of paintings, drawings and photographs of women in the blush of
pregnancy.

   One of Denny's favorites was a photograph of a woman on a swing.  She
was at the apex of the forward motion of the swing, leaning back with her
legs out straight.  The lines of her overall body and the chains that held
the swing were straight, while her swollen belly protruded in stark
contrast to those straight lines.  She was wearing a dress, and it was
twirled in the wind around her knees, and stretched tautly across her
belly.

   Part of the exhibit was a rare collection of historical styles of
maternity clothing.  There were dresses from the eighteen hundreds, with
panels over the abdomen that could be replaced with larger panels as the
pregnancy progressed.  Placards explained that dresses were expensive in
those days, and a woman couldn't afford to simply change her wardrobe when
she was with child.  The ingenuity of women to make clothing serve double
duty was fascinating.

   "You'd look good in that one." quipped Brian, pointing to a severe
looking dress with a high lacy neckline.  It was black and looked like it
weighed ten pounds with the full length voluminous skirts.

   "Funny you should say that." said Polly, seizing the moment as if it had
been planned that way all along.  "It turns out I'm pregnant."

   Her comment was made in the same tone as the previous conversation, and
even Becca almost missed it.  There was a three second delay as the
information was processed.

   "Ha, ha." said Brian finally.

   "Me too." blurted Becca.  "I'm pregnant too."

   It was the king, or possibly the queen of awkward...  dare I say... 
pregnant moments.  Standing there in the hushed and reverent atmosphere,
both men struggled to determine whether the statements were part of some
joke the women were playing on them...  or not.  The women watched their
men closely, trying to determine whether the news was being received with
positive or negative emotions.

   "Pardon me," said Denny, turning to face Becca.  "Could you repeat that
please?"

   Becca clasped her hands over her belly, which looked completely normal
in the loose Lakers jersey she had worn.

   "Polly and I are both with child.  We're going to have babies." said
Becca.

   "We're both about three months along." said Polly.  "We should have told
you sooner but...  well, to be honest...  we were both a little afraid."

   It was a classic deer-in-the-headlights moment as both men stood rooted
to the terrazzo floor, frozen like mannequins.

   Talking about pregnancy is a whole different animal than being
confronted with it in reality.  The CONCEPT that a woman has life growing
inside her, and that you are half responsible for that life is one that can
be viewed philosophically.  Being told that that life actually exists
inside the woman standing in front of you...  that you're going to be a
father...  that calls for a more pragmatic response.

   Brian moved first.  He also spoke first.

   "This is a GOOD thing...  " The first part of his comment sounded
positive.  "...  Isn't it?" The last part sounded less sure.

   "That depends on how you feel about it." said Polly.  "I feel pretty
good about it."

   "Pretty good?  PRETTY GOOD?!" Brian's voice rose to the point that other
patrons turned to look at the disturbance.  "This isn't pretty good... 
THIS IS GREAT!  I'M GONNA BE A DADDY!"

   Now everybody in the facility was taking an interest in them, including
a security guard who was hurrying toward them to quell the disturbance.

   Denny's response was more sedate, but just as effusive.  He swept a
wide-eyed and nervous Becca up in his arms and put a lip lock on her that
took her breath away.  The security guard, a fifty-two year old man who
hadn't moved faster than a snail's pace in fifteen years, approached
huffing and puffing.

   "Here, now!" he said urgently.  "You can't do that here."

   Denny ignored him.  He wasn't finished kissing Becca.

   Brian argued.

   "This woman is going to have my baby!" he said excitedly.  "My first! 
We're going to have a whole ball team!" he laughed and grabbed Polly in a
hug, lifting her off the floor and swinging her around in a circle.  Her
feet whacked the security guard's shins and she squeaked.

   Brian set her down and looked concerned.

   "I'm sorry!  Are you okay?  I didn't hurt the baby did I?"

   Denny finally let a faint Becca breathe as he pulled his lips an inch
away from hers.  She panted from the emotion of the moment.

   "You should have told me." he whispered.  "I've missed out on months of
happiness.  You will, of course, marry me." He didn't sound like a man
resigned to doing the right thing.  He sounded like a man saying something
like "You say you're starving?  I have food.  Of course you'll eat it."

   Becca, flustered beyond measure by his response, felt tears spilling
over as her pent up fear and anguish was released.  She nodded her head
frantically, unable to speak.  She got kissed again.

   The security guard didn't know what to do.  This wasn't something he'd
ever anticipated as he stood bored to tears, day after day, looking at
people, who were looking at the walls.  These people, despite being loud,
didn't seem to be endangering the art or anything.  He turned to look at
the small crowd that stood apart, but formed a group with similar intent
just by watching the events and smiling.

   "Um...  go on folks.  There's no problem here." he said.

   Polly felt an infusion of something that threatened to overwhelm her. 
Roger hadn't been this happy when she told him about Fran's impending
birth. Brian was like a kid in a candy store.

   "No, you didn't hurt the baby." she giggled.

   "What do we do now?" asked Brian anxiously.  "We have to get married!"

   "I'm already married." said Polly.  "You know that."

   "Then we have to get divorced!" said Brian.  He blinked.  "YOU have to
get divorced.  I can't marry you until you get divorced.  That would be
bigamy.  They'd put me in jail." He blinked.  "No, they'd put YOU in jail!
They'd put you and my BABY in jail!  You have to get divorced Polly!" he
said urgently.

   Polly's euphoria rose with every silly thing he said.  Nobody had ever
been so wild about her that he couldn't even talk intelligently.  Her
impulse not to rock the boat...  to stay in the life that was comfortable,
if not rewarding...  was being rattled.

   "We'll see." she said.  "So you're happy about this?" She laughed at her
own silly statement.

   The rest of the date was more or less a jump from one irrational
reaction to another.  First the men rushed them out of the museum and to an
ice cream shop to celebrate.  After all, pregnant women love ice cream,
right?  Then they stood in front of closed jewelry store fronts, gazing at
rings on display.  After that they dashed back to Sacramento, trying to
make plans all the way, talking about where they would live and when they
could get married.  Polly kept trying to defuse Brian, knowing that divorce
proceedings could be lengthy, especially if Roger didn't want to cooperate.

   But all in all it was a fairy tale evening, as they assumed impossible
things could happen easily, and they made plans as if money were no object,
or that jobs and school wouldn't interfere with the happiness they were all
feeling.

   They went back to Denny's apartment, where the men toasted with Scotch,
and denied the women anything stronger than ginger ale, which Denny kept
around to mix with the Scotch occasionally.

   Some serious necking developed, which led to clothing getting very loose
and then falling off.  Their skinny dipping session in the mountains had
made them a lot less constrained together than most couples would have been
and it wasn't much of a stretch to get them to Denny's bedroom, which had a
queen sized bed in it.  Becca and Polly lay beside each other, holding
hands, as the fathers of their babies made love to them in the culmination
of the celebratory night.

   It was three in the morning before Polly remembered to call Fran, and
Becca called her mother.

   Chapter 33

   Bob left Martha's bed, trying not to wake her up.  For whatever reason
he had been able to go for a long time with her the night before, and their
lovemaking had lasted long past her normal bedtime.  He loved looking at
all his daughters as they lay naked in bed.  He wondered if that was how
they had felt as they watched him lying naked in bed all those years.  He
hoped so.  It was a good feeling, and the trouble they'd gone to, to care
for him all those years needed to be repaid somehow.

   He drove to the architect's office and told him about the winery.  He
watched in silent amazement as the man manipulated the computer to produce
satellite images of the property.  There was a large printer in the office
and, when the man was done, they had a bird's eye view of the whole
operation.  It looked huge on the three foot by five foot print.

   "This image is three years old," said the Architect.  "When you were
there did you see any major additions or changes to what's on this print?"

   They went over each building and Bob was able to state with relative
certainty that nothing major had been changed.  Then they discussed where
to locate a new structure so that it would fit in with the existing
buildings and be separate from the primary traffic areas of the winery.

   "What's this here?" asked the man, pointing.

   "That's a stage.  I guess they have live music once in a while or
something ...  parties for wine tasting ...  that kind of thing," said Bob.

   "Look at the sweep of the land right there." the man pointed.  "It's a
natural amphitheater.  You have the makings for a bigger concert venue
here, possibly even a resort." The man made a copy of the print and started
marking squares and lines, creating a complex of buildings that would house
paying guests.  He mapped trails through the hills for hiking and trail
rides.  By the time he was done he had created a resort where people could
come to listen to music, or submerse themselves in the wine making process,
or have a family reunion or even host a small convention.  He suggested
that it could produce as much or more income than the wine itself would
provide.

   "You're talking a lot of money for a setup like that," said Bob.

   "You could do it in phases," said the man.  "You've already got the pool
and the small stage.  The complete infrastructure exists for horses and
trail rides, except for the trails themselves, and that will take minimal
cash outlay.  Once a trail is broken, the horses will pack it down.  All
you'd need initially is some kind of housing for guests.  I'd suggest a
lodge by the pool, something large enough to take forty or fifty people in
semi-private rooms, or maybe private rooms with shared sanitary facilities,
and with a central meeting room with food production capability.  Or you
could just have a catering station, where food is brought in and served. 
That gives you a venue for family reunions and conferences, church
retreats, summer camps, workshops in the arts and things like that.  You
could put that in for less than a couple of million with competitive
bidding.  Then, later, you expand the amphitheater and start booking major
acts.  There aren't that many outdoor venues for concerts, and the ones
that exist are constantly booked solid."

   The man stood back.  "Of course it's up to you.  I know that there are
organizations out there who have a hard time finding venues for their
events because of the cost.  You'd be providing something more rustic than
the glitz and glamour of the Hilton meeting rooms.  Make it wheel chair
friendly and you're a shoe-in for summer camping experiences for the
disabled and things like that.  For that matter, you'd probably be booked
through the winter too."

   "I'll talk it over with the girls," said Bob.  "For now, we just need a
place to live.  That's the highest priority."

   That took another two hours, but by the time they were finished the
architect said he could have preliminary drawings ready in two weeks.  If
those were approved the dirt work could start immediately, with
construction to begin in less than a month, assuming final blueprints were
in hand.  Bob left there with a copy of the satellite picture of the
property and drove to the winery.  He met with Annie and showed her the
photograph.  He shared the architect's vision with her.  Her initial
reaction was not positive.  She was a winemaker, and that's where she
wanted to center her attention.  It was when Bob mentioned camps for the
handicapped that she perked up.

   "I have a nephew with Cerebral Palsy" she said.  "He's in a wheel chair.
His brother and sister get to go to camp every year, but he's never been
able to go because the place they go can't handle wheel chairs." Her eyes
went unfocused for a few seconds.  "I couldn't take care of that though.  I
have my hands full with the winery."

   "I wouldn't ask you to do anything other than make wine," said Bob. 
"But if we're going to develop this place into something more than just a
world class winery, I don't want it to interfere with the winery.  Your
input will be critical to make sure that things get put where they belong,
and where they won't affect your operation.  We'd have to hire a manager
for the other operations."

   Annie was a lot more positive about the idea then, her imagination
catching fire as she thought of hosting wine tasting competitions and
things like that.  He showed her the site for the Winkle housing compound,
which was going to be made up of Spanish style stucco family units
connected to a common living room and dining area by a grid of covered
walkways with arbors and gardens.  It looked a little like a fan, with the
wide curving area behind the living quarters composed of garages.  It would
be mostly hidden from the big stone house and the amphitheater by a low
curving ridge and plantings of trees and shrubs.  A separate gated family
entrance was sketched into the plan as well.  You had to drive past the
entrance to the winery to get to that gate.



   Then they sat and made up a two year budget for operation of the winery.
Bob said that as soon as the closing took place, she would have access to
funds to execute that budget, and should make plans accordingly.  He wanted
the winery to be in full forward motion as soon as possible.

   When he finally drove away, Annie was so euphoric about the future that
she realized she was actually sexually excited.  She had to retreat to her
bedroom and masturbate just to take the edge off enough that she could
return to her work.

   ========================

   Polly approached the den with no little trepidation.  It was more or
less Roger's studio, where he created his art works.  He made a good living
selling paintings and pottery.

   When she went in he looked up and smiled.

   "What's up?" he asked.

   "I need to talk to you," said Polly.  "It's important."

   "Well, if it's important to you, it's important to me." he said smiling.

   "You know I've been dating a man." she said.

   "Yes," said Roger.  "You seem a lot happier lately.  He's pretty cute,
by the way.  You have good taste in men."

   Polly wasn't sure how to take that.  They had never discussed men
before.

   "I like this man a lot," said Polly.  "Enough that I'd like to make the
relationship a lot closer."

   "Well, since you've stayed out several nights already," said Roger,
"that would be pretty hard to do." He smiled.

   "It hasn't been easy for you has it?" asked Polly.

   "Oh, I don't know.  You've been very good about our situation.  I'm
really glad you have someone to take the place of what I couldn't give
you."

   "What about you?" asked Polly.  "Are your needs being filled?"

   "There's a man I like a lot," said Roger.  "It's awkward sometimes.  I
don't mind the situation here, but some of them are a little nervous about
it." He wasn't a stupid man.  "What's going on?" he asked.

   "I'm pregnant," said Polly.  This was what she was here to tell him, but
she wasn't at all sure about how he would react.  Admitting that she was
pregnant might blow up in her face.

   "Wow!" said Roger.  "You did this on purpose?" he asked.

   "No.  I think I'd forgotten how dating can lead to things." she said.

   "What do you want to do?" he asked.

   "He's asked me to marry him." she said, her heart in her throat.

   "I see." he said.

   "I thought that you could stay here, if you like, or we could sell the
house and you could go wherever you want to.  Fran will want to stay here,
to finish school."

   "You really think so?" he asked.  He wasn't giving his emotions away.

   "I know so," said Polly.  "You're her father.  She loves you."

   "But you don't love me any more." he said.

   "I'll always love you." she said.  "You know that.  But it's a different
kind of love now."

   "I know." he sighed.  "I'm amazed you didn't do this years ago.  You
gave me the best years of your life, Polly."

   "It could make your situation better too," said Polly.

   "You're right about that." he said.  He wiped his hands on a rag.  "So
what do we do now?"

   "I don't know ...  talk to a lawyer?"

   "I don't want to make this difficult for either of us, and especially
not Fran," said Roger.

   "My grandfather has a lawyer.  Maybe he could give us advice on how to
do this in the least painful way."

   "That's a good idea," said Roger.  We already have separate checking
accounts, and dividing the property shouldn't be that hard." His face was
calm.  "We've lived separate lives, for the most part, for years now."

   "You know I'll always be grateful to you for Fran," said Polly.

   "I know.  I love her too, and I'm glad I was able to do that for us. 
She has made both our worlds a better place."

   "Thank you Roger." she said.  "This means a lot to me."

   "Hey, it's the least I can do," said her husband.

   ========================

   "Gunderson Attorneys at Law, how may I direct your call?" came the
bright voice on the phone.

   "Hi, it's Bob Winkle again."

   "Good morning Mr.  Winkle, it's always a pleasure to talk with you."

   "Thanks.  Who would I talk to about divorce proceedings?"

   "That would be Gus.  Hold please."

   "BOB!  Great to hear from you again.  Tammy tells me the closing on the
winery is set up for next week."

   "Yes, she called me.  That's not what I need now.  I need to know about
the most painless way to get a divorce in California."

   There was a moment of silence.

   "But you're not married Bob ...  are you?" Gus was taken aback.  "You
didn't run off to Reno or someplace and get hitched while you were drunk
did you?"

   Bob laughed.  Then he described Polly's situation.

   "No problem," said Gus.  "Irreconcilable differences.  If neither one of
them contests it and an equitable property settlement is made, it will
slide through with ease."

   "What will you need to take care of it?" asked Bob.

   "I can send my paralegal out to interview them and do up the property
agreement.  Once we get all the information the court will need then I'll
file.  There will be a hearing, but neither of them needs to be there if
it's uncontested."

   "Do that for me," said Bob.  He gave Gus the address and phone numbers
of the people involved.

   ========================

   Val was in a funk.  She had had her ring for almost a week, but hadn't
had the opportunity to expose it in just the right situation.  Part of that
was because she spent almost every evening and some nights with Zack. 
During the day people were at work, and she wanted to display the ring to
everyone at the same time.  She heard a noise in the kitchen and got out of
bed.  She looked at her watch.  Her mother should have been gone to work
long ago.  It must be Bob.  He was staying with them again.

   Dressed in a night shirt and panties she went toward the kitchen, where
she heard voices.  That was odd.  Who could Bob be talking to?

   Something made her want to be quiet and she tiptoed toward the kitchen.
It was Bob's voice ...  and Zack's!  He hadn't said anything about coming
over, especially this early in the morning.  She crept closer.

   "I wanted to talk to you about something important," said Zack.

   "I thought my case was dropped," said Bob.

   "It was.  This is something different."

   "Okay," said Bob.

   "You're kind of the head of the family ...  sort of ...  right?" asked
Zack.

   "I guess so.  It's all pretty equal though."

   "But you're the closest thing Val has to a father, right?"

   "Yes, you could argue that."

   "I'd like to ask for her hand in marriage," said Zack.

   Val felt tears in her eyes and her chest hurt.

   "Wow," said Bob.  "I didn't think that was still the style these days."

   "It's not, but I'm an old fashioned guy," said Zack.

   Val backtracked to her room and got her ring out of her jewelry box. 
She put it on.  She would just let someone notice it.  Then, changing her
mind, she padded back down the hall and went into the kitchen, ignoring
both men, who fell silent as she entered.  She got a glass of orange juice
and went and plopped herself down on Zack's lap.  She held out her left
hand to Bob.

   "See what Zack got me?"

   She kissed Zack.

   "I have to get dressed, and then we have to go find my mother."

   "Yes dear." sighed Zack.

   ========================

   Bob called another family meeting that night.  It was time to clear the
air and move forward with whatever plans the family might make.  Val wanted
to bring Zack, but Bob asked her not to.  He knew of a couple of things
that were going to be discussed that Zack didn't need to be there for.

   When everyone was present he let Val go first.  Her ring caused the
expected sensation and her mother crowed that she "already knew" but kept
it a secret.

   Bob had talked to Polly, who had decided to give her news.  She had
talked to Fran about the divorce already, before it was filed, and Fran was
part of the interview with the paralegal.  She had made a few stipulations,
all of which had been agreed to readily.  She would live with each of her
parents in much the same way Bob was living with his female relatives. 
She'd maintain a room in both residences, wherever they were.  Polly had
also talked to Becca, who had talked to Gidget.  They wanted to get it over
with too.

   Polly stood up.  "Since we're talking about marriage, I'd like to
announce that Roger and I have filed for divorce.  As soon as it's final, I
play to remarry.  I don't have a ring like that yet, but I'm working on
it." She sat down.

   THAT caused a sensation as people asked for more information and she
gave it.  When it died down, she said "Oh yes, I almost forgot.  I'm
pregnant."

   If her previous announcement had caused a sensation, this one raised the
roof.

   Becca stood up and held up her hands for silence.  When she got it she
just blurted it out.  "Denny has asked me to marry him and I said yes and
I'm pregnant too." She sat back down.

   This time people were so shocked that no one said anything, except for
Fran who yelled "YAAAAYYYYY!"

   Gidget stood up.

   "To round out the evening, I am last, but not least.  I too, am
pregnant. The only difference is that I'm not getting married."

   There was a moment of stunned silence.  Then, one by one, nine sets of
eyes drifted and fixed on Bob.  He smiled weakly.

   ========================

   After the meeting Sunny came up to Bob.

   "You haven't stayed at my house yet." she said.  "With Val gone all the
time seeing her new beau, it's kind of lonely there in the evenings."

   Bob stared at her.  "After tonight ...  you still want me to come stay
with you?"

   Sunny's gaze didn't waver.  "Yes."

   When they actually got to Sunny's house it was fairly late.  She picked
up the phone and made a call, speaking into the phone as if she were
talking to a recording.

   "I won't be in today.  I have a family emergency.  It should only take
one day to resolve the situation."

   She hung up and turned to face Bob.  She took a step toward him.

   "For thirty years you lay in that bed over at my mother's house.  I grew
up in the house with you there.  You never moved ...  never made a sound.
It was like you were a piece of furniture.  I knew my mother took care of
you and loved you, and that my aunts felt the same way.  I never understood
that back then.  I thought they were crazy for not just putting you in a
home someplace.  I thought you had nothing to do with our family ... 
didn't affect us in any real way."

   She took another step closer.

   "Then you woke up."

   She took another step.

   "Since you woke up, our family has been in complete and utter turmoil.
All our lives have changed in ways that are amazing and astounding and ...
and ...  I can't even think of a word to describe how much things have
changed.  Val is getting married because you woke up.  Becca and Polly are
going to have babies because you woke up.  Gidget is pregnant ...  because
you woke up.  We have money.  We have a future running a winery. 
Everything has changed.  I can only think of one other way you could be
more of an impact on our family than you already are."

   She took the final step and pressed her body against Bob.  He waited. 
She was on a roll.

   She kissed him, and then leaned back, saying nothing.

   "Do I need to have a bigger impact on our family?" he asked.

   "As far as I'm concerned you do." she said.

   "And you have an idea about what I should do?" asked Bob.

   She nodded.

   "Do I have to guess?" he smiled.

   "You made my mother pregnant," said Sunny.  "You made Aunt June and Aunt
Betty pregnant.  You've made Gidget pregnant now.  Becca and Polly are
pregnant because of you.  Val hasn't said anything, but I've noticed she
hasn't used any ...  supplies in over a month.  I don't know if she's
thought of that or not, but in any case, Zack won't let any grass grow
under his tracks.  If she's not pregnant now, she soon will be and I lay
that at your feet too.  Only Fran is left, and she's too young."

   "What about you?" asked Bob.

   Her smile was a feral one.  "Oh yes ...  me.  I had a period two weeks
ago.  I'm ovulating right now, but I'm not pregnant.  Not yet."

   She kissed him again, this time molding her body to his and wiggling her
pussy against his groin.  She leaned back.

   "We have all night tonight and all day tomorrow to rectify that."

   Epilogue

   Denny married Becca before the house was finished, but they brought the
baby home to the new family compound.  There was still interior work being
finished up, but that wasn't much to cope with.  Denny elected to cut short
his police career in favor of joining the family business.

   ======================================

   Brian and Polly Spruell also moved into the family compound with their
new daughter.  Brian also elected to quit police work, with the exception
that he was an auxiliary deputy in El Dorado County.  He was called on
rarely, usually for search and rescue duty.

   ======================================

   Val married Zack Simpson in a ceremony that was half pomp and grandeur
and half fraternity party.  Among the wedding gifts were over two hundred
towels, packaged one per package.  The label on each package said "For use
after hot and sweaty sex." Sergeant Rollins, the Booking Sergeant at the
North Substation, either found or invented (he wouldn't say which) the gift
he gave.  It was a small jar, about the size of a baby food jar, with a
black metal lid on it and a thick waxy substance inside of it.  The label
said "GOAT HORN POLISH".

   The couple stayed in Sacramento, where Val continued college while Zack
worked on finishing up the last seven years of his career so he could
retire.  They were in close contact with the rest of the family though.  It
was anticipated that the concert venue at the estate would be finished, if
all went well, about the time Zack retired.  The opening of that venue
would cause a serious explosion in the number of people who came to the
property and a chief of security for the whole enterprise would then be
needed.  Zack had already put in his bid for that job.  Val's first son was
born ten months and two days from the date that he took her into
"protective custody" at her mother's house.

   Gidget had her second daughter on her fortieth birthday.  Bob was her
birth coach and stayed with her throughout her labor and delivery.  She
named the little girl Destiny.

   ======================================

   Sunny delivered her second daughter three months later.  The nurses gave
Bob a cake in the labor room.  It said "Welcome back Bob" and "For a Sunny
Delivery".  The cake was only half right.  It was a long labor and the baby
seemed to want to stay right where it was, even though Sunny was dilated
eight centimeters.  Fourteen hours later, when she gave her last convulsive
push and the baby lay squalling in the doctor's hands, she lay back
sweating as Bob wiped her brow.  She smiled tiredly as the baby was laid
gently on her chest, still crying and she caressed it, trying
unsuccessfully to sooth her.  She looked at Bob.  "What do you think about
naming her Stormy?"

   ======================================

   Sally finished "The Longest Nap", her memoir of Bob Winkle, AKA Bob Van
Winkle in a year.  Since Bob's family had been so closed to the press,
there was a lot of interest in it to begin with.  The marketing campaign
was brilliant.  It played on the supposition that alcohol put Rip and Bob
to sleep, and the irony of the fact that Bob was going to make wine for a
living.  She had chapters in which Dr.  Adams gave his hypothesis about
what had happened to Bob, but left out the potential value of Bob's gene
structure.  That would have caused a riot.  She compared Rip's story, as
told in his own hand, using excerpts of the journal, to Bob's experience.
It was a smash hit, catching the imagination of everyone who read it.

   ======================================

   The Rip Van Winkle Winery produced its first crop of award winning wines
almost three years to the day from the date Bob Winkle closed on the
property and gave Annie Montgomery a free hand to operate as she wished.

   The wine was marketed with the slogan "Wine worth the time".  Annie
shared a special bottle with her employer after the awards ceremony in
which Rip Van Winkle Winery was awarded best in two wines in the American
Wine Awards, one in the under $20 field and one in the over $20 field. 
When the first bottle was gone, another was opened.  Annie drank a lot more
than Bob did, which is probably why she took off her signature faded
checkered shirt to expose perky upturned breasts with nipples that turned
out to be a mouthful.  The rest of her clothes seemed to fall off of her by
magic.

   The wine is probably also why, as her hymen was pushed aside by Bob's
steel hard penis, Annie felt very little discomfort.  As she lay spread
under the now legendary man in her bed on the upper story of the stone
house, she thanked him repeatedly for letting her live her dream.  Then she
thanked him for giving her what she had missed in her quest for fame in the
world of wine as his prick dug deep and she shuddered through an orgasm
that laid to waste those she occasionally felt as she diddled herself. 
Then she thanked him for giving her a second orgasm.  He said she was most
welcome, stopped her babbling by kissing her soundly, and deposited as much
of his potent semen in her womb as he could force out of his body.

   Getting the winery to that point took a lot of work, and the women of
the Winkle clan learned that it was the kind of work they not only enjoyed,
but relished.  Martha, June and Betty were trained by Annie to participate
in and supervise the once a year pruning of the vines, which kept them busy
during that time.  Then there was pest control to deal with and the harvest
after that.  They chose to hand harvest the grapes both because they had
the casual labor available, and because Annie preferred it that way.  It
took longer, but only the most perfectly ripe grapes were picked, and at
precisely the right time.

   Gidget had a flair for the distribution portion of the business, both to
distributors and direct sales to customers on site or through the mail. 
That let her stay close to home, where she took care of her daughter and
Sunny's daughter during the days.

   Sunny, Becca and Denny developed and operated the animal portion of the
enterprise, spending long hours with trail breaking crews on the mountain
sides, establishing camping locations for overnight trail rides and getting
stock and handlers in place.  The riding operation began shortly after
Sunny delivered.  Becca preferred to keep her son with her during the day,
carrying him papoose style in a rig that could be worn on either her back
or front.  Denny spent as much time strapped in the carrier as she did. 
One of the signature programs of the Rip Van Winkle Riding Stables was the
twice a year benefit program they had for disabled children and child
cancer patients.  Denny developed a travois with bicycle wheels that could
be hauled by a horse and that would comfortably hold a person who could not
mount or sit in a saddle.  In this manner, the level of disability was no
longer a factor in making the trail ride experience available, primarily to
children.

   Polly and Brian were well suited, due to their difference in ages, to
dealing with the public.  They did this in the tasting room, and in their
role as event coordinators.  Initially only a small conference center was
built, with a meeting area and suites that housed eight people per room in
bunk beds.  They were intended to house kids, mostly, for youth camps, as a
test to see if there was a market.  The response was astonishing.  Churches
in particular wanted a place to go where they could have one or two day
retreats in a rustic setting or a setting close to nature.  Within the
first three months of putting the building into operation they had four
marriage seminars, six silent or meditation retreats, twelve corporate
planning sessions, fifteen prayer retreats and a family reunion for a
family that had meant to stay in the city, but whose rooms were overbooked.
They found the Rip Van Winkle retreat center on the web and piled in their
cars to drive out on the spot.

   It became clear to them that the operation could be expanded, but
catering was turning out to be too cumbersome and expensive.  The expanded
retreat center already on the boards would have a professional kitchen and
permanent full and part time kitchen and maid staff.

   Fran lived with her father, in Circleton during her Junior and Senior
years of High School.  She lived at the family compound when school wasn't
in session.  She had an apartment next door to her mother and step-father's
house, but it wasn't unusual for her to end up staying with Bob.  The only
ones who didn't know what was actually going on there were Denny and Brian.
When she graduated High School, Fran went to junior college to learn
accounting, and then moved to the compound permanently, forgoing further
education in favor of taking over the books for the company.  Gus provided
an accountant to supervise Fran, and do audits.  Within six months she was
wearing maternity clothing handed down from Val and Becca.  Nobody asked
any questions.

   Five years after buying the winery and establishing Rip Van Winkle
Enterprises, Bob's bank account was down to a reserve of four million
dollars as programs were developed and put into operation.

   Five years later, the company account held over forty million in fluid
assets, and the property was valued at over twenty million.  Val had taken
over the concert venue which was booked solid for the next three years at
six major concerts a year and twelve concerts that were termed "local
interest".  The retreat center was booked at an eighty percent level for
five years out.  The remaining twenty percent were reserved for special
circumstances.

   Annie Montgomery waited until after her first baby was born to accept
Bob's proposal of marriage.  She said she wanted to see "what kind of
critter he was able to produce" before she tied herself to him permanently.
In reality, she wanted to be sure he hadn't proposed out of a guilty
conscience for knocking her up.  Her relief, as her daughter was placed at
her now swollen breast was palpable as Bob asked her "NOW will you please
marry me?"

   ======================================

   In 2006, the human genome was finally mapped completely.  Bob's wealth
allowed Dr.  Adams to suspend his practice of medicine and spend all his
time looking for the gene that would revolutionize medicine.  He has a
feeling he's close.  Time will tell.

   ======================================

   Martha, June and Betty finally decided to retire.  Spending time in the
vineyard had been good for them, and all were in wonderful shape.  The
problem was that by now both Sunny and Gidget had had another baby.  Both
swore they were done.  Polly had had another, devastating Brian by telling
him she was done too.  Val had had two more and, like it was a contest,
Becca had matched her, almost to the month.  Fran was about to deliver her
second, and showed no signs of being anywhere near done.  If you threw in
Annie's baby, and she was quite clear that she wanted two more, that put
the number of children in the nursery anywhere from six, if school was in
session, to fourteen or fifteen, depending on whether Becca's latest was on
her or Denny's back, or in the nursery because they were on an overnight
trail ride and didn't want to take the baby.  And there was the potential
for three more in the near future.  Of course there was also the potential
for the three ten year olds to start working around the place too, at least
part time.

   So it was a fluid situation.  It would have been simple to hire
professional child care specialists, but the three matriarchs of the family
didn't think much of that idea.  So they hired a few people to help them,
and they quit the fields to raise children during the daytime.  They called
it "taking care of future Rip Van Winkle employees."

   ==============================

   These days, on a quiet summer's eve, down the mountain in El Dorado, you
can sometimes hear the rolling thunder coming from up above.  The townsfolk
know that it's only the tympani, practicing for the symphony concert that
will be taking place later.  But that's not what they tell visitors.

   What they tell tourists is that it's Rip Van Winkle's children, playing
ninepins up at the winery in the mountains.




   


  
prick_van_winkle_complete