## Archive-name: southern_hospitality3-4

From: an226968@anon.penet.fi

Subject: Repost: (3/9) Southern Hospitality (Crime Drama, nc, not pc)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

by Rhett Dreams (c. 1996)

Authors note: This story borrows characters from two novels by Thomas Harris: "Red Dragon" and "Silence of the Lambs". It is highly recommended that you read this particular story in order; otherwise, you miss important elements of the plot.

Warning: This fictitious story is decidedly NOT politically correct and is intended for mature readers.

Chapter Three

Clarice Starling's expectation that she'd wrap the case up inside a week proved a bit optimistic when she went to Birmingham to interview the Burns and Walters families. Congressman Walters and his wife were stunned to hear her account of what had happened to their daughter. Starling was as delicate as she could be when she explained the semen found in both her orifices, and their theory of her death.
"That's not... our girl!" said the mother, crying into her hands.
Congressman Walters face went from pale to red with anger. "It doesn't make any sense," he said between clenched teeth. "We know Debbie's not like that, and we've known Henry Burns and his family since he was little."
"All the evidence points to Burns," said Starling, reasonably, then suggested that she be allowed to talk to him privately. He led her outside and they walked in the garden while she told him of the prints found on the gun, the presence of fluids in the girl that matched Burns's blood type, shared by less than two percent of the population, and the evidence than Burns had engaged in anal sex shortly before taking his life.
Walters was still shaking his head when she finished. "I like to think of myself as a logical man, Agent Starling. If A plus B equals C, then C minus B must equal A. If what you're saying is true, then I have to conclude that her mother and I were living in this house with a complete stranger, and that we'd hopelessly misread Henry's character. I don't believe either is true."
Starling could not keep her face neutral and Walters picked up on her expression that said, "I've heard this before from other parents."
He didn't get angry, just determined. "I know my daughter, Ms. Starling. She inherited my temper, and could be quite a... bitch, at times... as can I, I know. And I'm not one of those fathers who deludes himself that his daughter is and will remain a virgin until she's married. She lost her virginity when she was sixteen, after first discussing it with Harriet---my wife. She concluded Debbie was ready, well protected, and gave her blessing. I know she has sex regularly with Henry, and I've been happy for both of them. They were learning to be adults."
"Did you know they were into, um, kinky stuff?" asked Starling.
"You see, Agent Starling, I don't believe they were. Debbie was too squeamish, always had been. A needle would cause her to feint. She had no tolerance for pain or discomfort. I just can't imagine her agreeing to anal sex, or letting herself get... choked. I know this stuff happens but it doesn't fit either Debbie or Henry. And Henry was... well, it's a crude and tasteless expression but it fits---the guy was pussy whipped. He took more shit from that girl than I ever would from anybody. He was absolutely devoted to her."
He gave her names of close friends of Debbie's and Henry's. As he walked her out to her rental car he said, "Let's be logical again, Agent Starling. If I'm right about the kids, then one of two things happened to my girl. The evidence was either manufactured by the FBI in some bizarre conspiracy to get back at me, which seems rather far-fetched, or somebody forced Debbie and Henry to have sex before they were killed. I admit that doesn't seem very plausible but please, keep an open mind to what I've said."
"I will, Congressman."
"I suspect you will, Agent Starling. Senator Martin called me last night, and told me that you were almost single-handedly responsible for rescuing her daughter from that "Buffalo Bill" psychopath. She said you were headstrong and impertinent but totally devoted to finding her girl. It's too late for Debbie but I hope you remain as devoted to finding the truth."
She shook his hand and drove off.

- o -

After two days in Birmingham, she'd talked to the Burns' family and to several friends of both Debbie and Henry. The refrain that was repeated often was, "That's not Henry... or Debbie ...or Them." Nobody believed that Henry would perform anal sex with Debbie or any other girl, and nobody believed that she'd let him. One girl, a friend of both Henry and Debbie, confessed that she'd slept with Henry before he and Debbie were a couple.
"He was a very sweet guy, Ms. Starling. Gentle and caring... and incredibly good looking. But he was really quite boring in bed, if you know what I mean. I once suggested that we play a game and pretend that he was, y'know, raping me. He refused to do it. I just can't imagine him doing... that!"
The girl giggled and added, "I never would have let him go."

- o -

On the flight back she reviewed the case folder from front to back, not as she had earlier, convinced of the circumstances that led to both deaths. This time she looked for anything that might be out of place. Any detail that might suggest some other answer. She found none.
It came to her in the middle of the night. She sat up in bed and let the thought form in her mind. The car. The Porsche didn't have enough gas to make it from it's last fill up, a credit card charge two days earlier, on their way to New Orleans, to make it there and back, up to the northwest corner of Mississippi where the body was dumped, and then over to where the car was found twenty miles west of Birmingham.
She got out of bed and retrieved the file from her briefcase and an atlas. Assuming they drove around a bit in New Orleans, which seemed likely given the dispersion of their credit card charges while they were there, it would be seven or eight hundred miles to complete the loop. She search through the file and found the report on the Porsche.
"Shit!" she said to herself. The report stated that the Porsche had a full tank of gas when it was found.
"Why would Burns stop and fill up the car with gas, paying cash presumably because he was running and wouldn't want any record of a charge, only to go a few more miles, drive off the road and kill himself?"

- o -

Starling never went back to sleep that night, and arrived at her office shortly before seven. She reviewed to case folder again until eight and called the State Police in both Alabama and Mississippi. Using her West Virginia accent, she sweet- talked them into checking all the service stations on any possible route taken by Burns. They had already done this with motels, hoping to find where the couple had stopped for the sex, but had come up empty.
She called the Alabama State police again and got herself transferred to the sergeant who had overseen the towing of the Porsche to their evidence lot, where it remained. She explained her concern and he agreed to recheck the gas level. He called back an hour later.
"It's about as full as the tank'll allow," he said. "Couldn't have traveled more than ten or fifteen miles since the last fill- up."
She thanked him and hung up, excited now.
Towards the end of the day she got a call from the Alabama Staties, who said they'd checked every station on every route to the Mississippi border and no one seen the Porsche or could identify the picture of Burns and Walters.
"I wonder if he could've driven further toward Birmingham, filled it, then gone back for some reason?" she asked.
"That's a negative," drawled the voice on the other end of the line. "We figured that was a possibility and checked all the way to the city limits. That boy didn't stop for gas."
Impatient now, she called the Mississippi Staties and got the same guy she had talked to earlier.
"We've checked all the stations up North," he said, "from Jackson up past where the body was found, and all the routes east to 'bama. Nobody saw the Porsche."
"What about south of Jackson?" asked Starling.
"We're still checkin'," he said. "I got all the County Sheriffs down there on a conference call this morning, and each agreed to check along the gulf coast roads, all the way North to Hattiesburg. But its hard to imagine why they'd take that route, given where the body ended up."
Starling thanked him and asked that he call her office, or her home number, if he uncovered anything new. She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, rubbing them, trying to come up with some explanation for the facts. Her eyes open suddenly when the strange disappearance of Beth Albert popped back into her head. The agent in New Orleans had mentioned that he'd checked gas stations and found nobody who remembered the girl or her finances fancy Mercedes.
She found his number and, as luck would have it, Gene Myers was at his desk.
"Sure, Clarice," he said. "I remember our conversation. Congratulations, by the way, for solving the Walters case."
"I'm not sure I have," she said.
He listen attentively while she told him about the unaccountably full tank of gas in the Porsche, then went over what she'd learned about the personalities of the two victims.
"Two victims?" he said, interrupting her.
She realized that she had uttered that phrase because she was beginning to doubt the easy conclusion she'd drawn from the evidence, and was now wondering if maybe Henry Burns was a victim rather than the perpetrator.
"I'm thinking, maybe--"
"Maybe this couple met the same fate as Beth Albert," finished Myers. "And this may be linked to the other disappearances."
"Uh huh," said Starling.
There was a long pause before Myers said, "I don't know... Let's assume for a moment that there is in fact a car theft ring operating someplace down here."
"Let's assume more," added Starling. "Let's assume that these women, all young and attractive, have been abducted and sold off, as sex slaves."
"What?"
Starling went over her conversation with Quinn, reviewing the gruesome facts of the abductions and slavery of girls, boys and women. Myers listened patiently.
"Okay, Clarice. But that makes my point even better. Why would they kill the girl, set up this ass-backwards charade to implicate the Burns kid, and thereby lose the opportunity to collect on both the Porsche and the girl? I've seen the picture of the girl that y'all FAXed down. She was real pretty, right? And her boyfriend, the Burns kid, looks like a young Clark Gable without the mustache. Why wouldn't they sell em' off, and the car?"
Starling's enthusiasm dampened. He was right, it didn't make sense. She thanked him and hung up.

- o -

Sheriff Trent had been on edge ever since he got the call that morning from the Staties, asking for his help checking gulf- coast gas stations for the white Porsche. The FAX that followed, pictures of the car, Burns and Walters, had his palms sweating. He put two deputies on the detail, then called Price and warned him to expect a visit. It took five minutes for him to calm his nervous partner, telling him over and over again that this was routine.
"All you have to do, Sam, is look at the pictures, say something nice 'bout the car or the girl, and say you would have remembered them stopping for gas. Offer to call up Ward and see if he saw them. Get this right, Sam, or we're all fucked!"
He shouted the last sentence and slammed down the phone. He got up, pacing his office, while he reviewed the facts in his head and calmed down. He realized the error they'd made, not thinking to siphon gas from the Porsche before dumping it and Burns. His plan was still solid, he concluded at last. Even if they never found how and where he filled the Porsche they assume that someone had lied or forgotten him stopping at a gas station. Or they'd assume that someone other than the folks they talked to had manned the pumps when Burns stopped to get gas. There was too much concrete evidence to keep this from being closed soon.
"Who the fuck is investigating this?" he muttered to himself.

- o -

Trent paid a visit to Tom at the Heinz farm, wanting to check on him before he went to the Price Garage to mollify his other two partners. Tom's condition surprised Trent. The black man was never very clean or well dressed, even in the best of times, but Trent found him looking especially worn and haggard. He smelled like he hadn't bathed in weeks, and his graying whiskers and furtive eyes worried the lawman.
Trent covered his disgust and said, with as much cheer as he could, "It'll be awhile, Tom, before we can start up again. What you need is a good woman."
He reached into his pocket and brought out a think roll of bills.
"Get yourself shaved and cleaned up, Tom, and I'll treat you to a visit to Rosie's." Trent peeled off four hundreds and gave them to Tom. "That should be enough for a special. Rosie's girls will scratch whatever itch you have."
The black's eyes widened and he took the money.
"It has been awhile, boss," he said.
"Sure has," said Trent. "And I feel bad having cheated you outta the redhead. Jesus Christ, I don't think I've ever heard such a commotion as when the boy fucked her sorry ass."
"No sir," said Tom, grinning.
"And that boy sure had a tight ass on him," continued Trent, knowing Tom's interest in fuckin' anything that moved, and guessing correctly of his interest.
"He was somethin'," agreed Tom.
Tom ran his hand over his two week-old beard, then excused himself to go shave and shower. Trent watched him go with a frown on his face. If there was a weak link in this operation is was certainly Tom. He decided that he may have to do something about him.

Back in his office after stopping by the Price Garage to check on Ward and Sam, Trent called Rosie and warned her to expect Tom.
"Shit, Sheriff, that nigger's gonna wear out by girls," complained the proprietress of the county's only brothel. Trent let her stay in operation because she kept her girls clean and safe and she didn't cheat anyone. Of course, she also allowed him an occasional freebie.
"He'll pay top dollar," said Trent. "And I'll consider it a favor."
She made a noise that Trent took as acceptance, the said, "Speaking of favors, Sheriff, we haven't seen you around for months. You got yourself a honey?"
"Jes' gettin' old, Miss Rosie. Besides, I'm saving myself fo' you."
She laughed heartily before they said their good-byes and hung up.

- o -

Starling used tweezers to hold the edge of the postcard and examine it. This latest note from Hannibal Lecter was postmarked from Oklahoma City, but she knew it meant nothing and would lead nowhere. The elegantly penned words read:

I wonder if you're on this case, my dear
The Little Rock Rapist I mean
This last little gift was not his, I fear
The timing's not right nor can be the scene

As with the previous communiques, it was signed HL. This one unnerved her, because it must have been written and mailed just after the discovery of Walters' body and before the discovery of Burns' apparent suicide. If Lecter was following this case in the press, and she was sure he was, he could only have seen the first newspaper or TV accounts which assumed she was the fifth victim of the serial killer. Once again the brilliant psychopath was showing off for her, teasing her with his prose.
She placed the card in an envelope and marked it for lab analysis, knowing that they'd find no prints and tell her that the card could be purchased at any of ten thousand stores across the country.
Her phone rang and she took the call.
"Hi Clarice, Gene Myers here."
"Hi Gene. Anything new on Beth?" she asked.
"Maybe, maybe not. But that's why I'm calling. I've been kicking myself for dumping all over your theory that maybe all these open MP cases are tied to the Walters case."
Starling smiled into the phone. She liked this guy, and his southern accent reminded her of the few pleasant times from her childhood in West Virginia.
"I needed some cold water thrown on me, Gene" she said. "My imagination was out-racing my reason."
"I'm not so sure now that I've noodled on it awhile. I've also been poring over all the other MP cases that have come in, that involve both expensive cars and young women."
"Yeah?" Starling's heart beat faster.
"The reports were filed all over the South, as you know, and I've just now got them all sorted out. They're from the local PD's in Texas, Florida and up north to Virginia, but all of the MPs can be reasonably placed along the Gulf Coast when they disappeared."
"Any luck tracing the cars?"
"'Fraid not. But I was wondering if you and Agent Quinn could come down here for a couple of days and help me sort through this case."
"I'd love to," she said. She told him that she'd check with Quinn and clear it with Crawford, and get back to him.

- o -

Starling went to the FBI building in downtown New Orleans directly from the airport. She found her way up to Gene Myers office, and peered into the half open door to find a man in his early forties sitting behind his desk, talking on the phone. Even if his name wasn't next to the office door she would have known him from the easy rhythms of his baritone voice as he spoke into the phone.
He looked up and waved her in. Starling entered and put her small suitcase and shoulder bag down on the floor, then took a seat in front of his desk, quietly opening the briefcase on her lap to retrieve her notebook. She noticed that his blue eyes followed her as she moved, looking over the top of his reading glasses.
He smiled a greeting.
"If you bring him in, what are the chances he'll tell us who he paid the cash to?" said Myers into the phone, then scribbled down notes as he listened. Starling took this time to study the agent in front of her. His face was wide and open with laughing lines around the clear blue eyes. His hair was a dark mass, a bit curly, not messy exactly but kind of haphazard. His eyebrows were thick and unruly, graying along with the hair over his temples. She noticed his tie wasn't on quite straight and that his shirt was somewhat wrinkled. He was an attractive man but rumpled, like he didn't have a wife to look after him, but she looked for and found a gold band on his finger.
"Sorry," he said after hanging up. "That was a detective in Beverly Hills. They've found what they believe is one of our MP's car, a Ferrari."
"Oh, good," said Starling.
"Welcome to N'Orleans, Clarice," he said rising from his seat and walking around his desk and extending his hand. Starling rose and shook his hand, noticing that Myers was a bear of a man, well over six feet and quite stocky. The hand that held hers was a huge mitt, holding her much smaller hand gently, as if he was afraid of crushing her. As she looked up into his warm, smiling face, she suppressed the instantly warm feeling in her gut for this man.
"Slow down, Clarice," she said to herself, "he's married."
'"You're much more attractive than that picture they ran of you in People Magazine two years ago," he said with a sparkle in his eyes. She remembered the college graduation picture they had run along with the story of her solving the Buffalo Bill case and recovering Senator Martin's daughter.
"Come, I want to show you something," he said and led her out of the office and unlocked the door of a window-less conference room a couple of doors down the hall. One wall was covered with a huge map of the South, from the east coast states to the western borders of Texas, Oklahoma and Kansas. The map was covered with a plastic sheet and on the sheet lines and stars marked various routes in myriad colors.
It was obvious even before Myers started his description of what he'd done and what each line represented, that there was a convergence area for all the lines along the gulf coast, from New Orleans through Biloxi, Mobile, and Pensacola. She sat and listened as Myers stood in front of the map and told each story in turn, succinctly. Each colored line represented a different case, starting with a star that represented the MPs point of departure. A smaller star represented a known or suspected stop for gas or food. The lines continued on logical routes to their believed destinations. Small arrows every hundred miles indicated direction.
"This next one, the Keating case, is especially interesting" he was saying, pointing to the orange star in Atlanta and the solid line that led southwest down Interstate 85 to Montgomery and from there to Mobile. "She was on her way to Lake Charles, Louisiana, alone, driving a big BMW. The ones that go for seventy-five grand. She stopped for the night at a Holiday Inn here," his finger stabbed the orange star half- way between Montgomery and Mobile.
"She had a reservation in New Orleans for the next night, but never showed." He traced the now-dashed orange line along the gulf coast of Mississippi and into Louisiana. Most all the lines followed this route, some going east and some west, and became dashed for the stretch between New Orleans and Mobile.
"That's were we focus," he said, stabbing his meaty finger at Biloxi, Mississippi. They talked about the case for another two hours and about what they'd do when Agent Quinn joined them the next morning.
"I should go check in," she said when they wound down, a little before six. She had thoroughly enjoyed the discussion and was thrilled to be working with this man.
"Nonsense," he drawled, looking at his watch, and then slapping his forehead. "Oh, Lord... Follow me, Clarice," he said and hurried out of the conference room in the direction of his office.
By the time she had gathered her note pad and pen and caught up with him, he was on the phone.
"Yeah, hon... sorry," he was saying into the phone, "one more for dinner... yeah, that sounds great... uh huh... thanks, hon."
"You're coming to my house for dinner," he announced after hanging up. "We have a guest room with it's own bath. You'll be saying the Bureau some money."
"I can't impose on your wife like that," said Starling.
"You wont be imposing, and it's not my wife. She passed away eighteen months ago. My daughter, Nora, is home from college and has made a big pot of gumbo. She'll be delighted to meet you."
"Oh," she said. "Sure, I guess so... that would be great." She felt the return of the stirrings in her body as they picked up her bags and went down the elevator to the parking garage. She really liked this man. She had also been without a man for eight months, her last lover being Dr. Noble Pilcher, a Ph.D. entomologist at the Smithsonian Institute. He was funny, smart and good looking in a nerdy kind of way. She enjoyed the sex with him, but she also knew that she didn't love him and never would. He understood this, after a while, and they parted after agreeing to remain good friends. When she looked at Myers' broad handsome face she felt light-headed, and this had never been the case with hew other men she had taken to bed.
They took his car, a five-year old Ford Explorer. He had to move a stack of papers and magazines before she could sit down. He tossed them in the back. The car had the same cluttered, rumpled look as the man. They drove for fifteen minutes and he pointed out things as he went, pieces of N'Orleans history, famous houses and buildings and restaurants. He pulled into the driveway of an old Victorian-era house, and she instantly loved the southern feel of the house's wide wrap-around porch.
He took her bags and led the way inside, showing her to a large first floor guest bedroom, dropping her bags on the antique four-poster bed.
"C'mom," he said. "My bet is we'll find Nora in the kitchen."
Nora Myers was a tall, lanky girl in her late teens, with long brown hair and her father's clear blue eyes. She greeted Clarice warmly, offering her a taste of the spicy gumbo she was stirring. Nora and Clarice chatted while Gene went outside to set the table on the brick patio in back, the table shaded by a large tree. Nora talked about her first year at college up North, were she was studying oceanography. Then she quizzed Clarice about life as a woman agent for the FBI, and about the Buffalo Bill case.
The girl checked the rice and when she turned she saw Clarice staring out the window at her father, her expression showing admiration.
"What do you think of the old guy?" said Nora, moving next to the older girl and watching her father sort out silverware is his meaty paws and place them on the nicely folded cloth napkins.
"He makes my knees weak," said Clarice, without thinking, then blushed as she realized what she'd said to Gene's daughter.
"He's a hunk," agreed Nora. "But kind of dense about women. Don't expect him to make the first move, Clarice. He tries so hard to be chivalrous that you'd think he was uninterested."
She looked directly into Starling's attractive face and added, "He ain't."

- o -

After a delicious dinner, Nora excused herself and went inside. She'd explained to Clarice that her summer job started early and she'd read a bit before calling it a night. Clarice could tell, however, that she was just trying to get out of the way. Gene refilled Clarice's wine glass and told her to relax while he cleared the dishes. She sat back and enjoyed the warm summer evening, feeling the effects of the wine and the candlelight and the star-filled sky.
She noticed an upstairs light go on, then another, and could make out the shadowy form of Nora as she moved from the bedroom to the bath, preparing for bed. She could see Gene's large form in the kitchen window, working at the sink. As she watched him and sipped her wine she felt a tingling in her sex, and wondered if she should sleep with him while she was here. As soon as she voiced that thought in her mind she was sure of one thing, that she wanted to make love to him, tonight, and feel those hands on her body.
When he returned to the patio she rose and handed him his glass of wine. He clinked his against hers and said, "To solving this case."
They each took a swallow, their eyes on one another.
"No shop talk," said Clarice as she lowered her glass. Feeling bold from the wine and the feelings she had for this man, she moved up inside his arms and looked up into his eyes. Her hand held his necktie and slowly pulled until his head lowered and their lips met for a soft kiss.
"You're kinda growin' on me, Myers," she said, her lips not even an inch from his.
"Oh?" he said, barely a whisper.
She kissed him again, harder this time.
"I feel like a shameless hussy," she said when they broke. She could feel his heart beating quickly beneath her hand on his massive chest. "But your daughter told me I'd have to be direct."
She kissed him a third time, wetly, and their tongues danced together through a lengthy kiss that had them both breathing hard when they broke.
"Will you make love to me tonight?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, his voice hoarse.
"I'm gonna go take a shower," she said. She gave him a quick kiss, squeezed his hand and walked toward the house, noticing the curtains move in the upstairs bedroom.
She showered after unpacking her nightgown and toiletry kit. After washing her hair and soaping and rinsing off her body, she used her safety razor to touch up her legs and underarms. Then she spread her slender legs apart and brought the razor down to the silky brown hair partially covering her sex. It was her particular vanity to keep herself trimmed to a neat, small patch just over the lips of her sex.
Dried off and wrapped in a towel, Clarice returned to the bedroom. She searched through the bedside table, hoping to find condoms. Clarice she was not on the pill, for health reasons, and had not thought to pack any with her. She didn't find any, but did find two small glass bowls with short candles in the middle. She found matches and lit the candles, placing one on either side of the bed. The she pulled off the bedspread and folded it up, then pulled the blanket down to the bottom of the bed.
She turned off the overhead light, leaving the room illuminated only by the candles. Discarding the towel, she reached for her nightgown, wishing she'd packed something lacy and sexy instead of this worn looking gown, a nightshirt really. Deciding to remain nude, she brought the gown back to her bag and put it away. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her apple-sized breasts were firm and high on her chest, her stomach flat from her rigorous exercise routine, her legs well-muscled and shapely.
"Not bad, Starling," she said. She watched herself in the mirror as she brushed her hair, her free hand tracing up her belly and over her breasts. Her nipples lengthened under her fingers and she could feel her sex wet itself in anticipation of Gene's arrival.

- o -

Gene knocked softly on the door five minutes later. He dressed in a robe after showering upstairs and he could feel his heart beating faster than normal in his chest. He heard her voice say enter, and opened the door. It took his eyes a few moments to become accustom to the dim light, but when he saw Clarice sitting naked on the edge of the bed, his heart raced even faster and his mouth felt suddenly dry.
She stood as he approached, watching his face as his glance traveled over her body, from her firm breasts, the nipples stiff and long, down to her sparsely covered sex. She walked into his arms and kissed him, wetly, and felt his massive hands circle her body and hold on to her ass. Then he was lifting her, pulling her off the ground and into his chest, their tongues dancing together as the kiss lengthened.
It seemed to go on for an eternity, but they finally broke, and he returned her to her feet, his hands moving to her waist, holding her away from him, his eyes on her breasts.
"You're lovely," he whispered, his voice deep and passionate.
Clarice grabbed his wrists and brought his hands up to her breasts, pressing them into the firm flesh, wanting his large hands there, and in her sex, on her ass. She looked up into his face as his hands kneaded her gently, and she could feel her erect nipples press into his palms. Reaching down she undid his robe, pulling the sides apart and pushing it off his broad shoulders. His hands left her breasts for the moment it took to shed the robe, then he pulled her too him, turning her easily with his strong hands, pressing her back to his body. His mouth lowered to kiss her neck and his hands kneaded her firm mounds, before one slid down her body and cupped her sex.
"Ohhh," she moaned, feeling a thick digit enter her sex and his cock pressed against her back. She moved her legs farther apart.
"It's been a while," he whispered into her ear while his finger rubbed over her clit.
"For me too," she said. "Too long," she whispered. "Do me like this, Gene. Make me cum using your hands... your fingers."
He pulled on her nipples and dug a second finger into her tight snatch, playing her body like an instrument. She was quite different that his late wife, hard and angular where his wife had been soft and round. His hands caressed and probed, his thick fingers flashing back and forth in her tight sex until she came, crying out loudly, squirming against him as the waves of her orgasm rocked her body.
He picked her up when she was finished and laid her down the bed, then sat down next to her, one hand resting on her thigh. His eyes feasted over her body, watching her breasts rise and fall with her quick breathing, to the neatly trimmed hair below and the wet, open lips of her sex.
Clarice opened her eyes and smiled when she saw his eyes on her sex and felt his hand caressing her thigh. She turned her head and found his cock, a thick pole standing stiff, the heart-shaped head glistening in the dim light from pre-cum that had oozed from the tip and been spread when she moved her back against him. She reached out and took his cock in her hand, marveling at its beauty and thickness. It was not terribly long, maybe seven or so inches, but thick like the man himself.
"Oh, shit," she said and then giggled. Seeing his cock reminded her that she had no condom. She told Gene of her need and saw his face cloud with doubt.
"I don't... think I have any, Clarice."
"So much for spontaneity," she said.
He laughed and said, "Well, there are other ways to make love, as you've so beautifully demonstrated."
Clarice smiled but she wanted him inside her, badly. "You could pull out, y'know, before..."
"Not in my current sate, Clarice. You've got me as excited as a sixteen year-old virgin. I wouldn't trust myself."
"Then the second time," she said, scooting over on the bed and urging him on. She positioned him on his back and knelt next to his hips, her ass resting on her heels. She took his cock in her hand and stroked it, feeling the weight and hardness with her fingers.
"I'd like to suck you off," she said, keeping her blue eyes on his as she lowered her head and licked the head of his cock.
"Oh, yes, babe," he said.
She kissed the head several times before taking it past her lips and into her mouth. Gene moaned as he felt the warmth and wetness of her mouth envelop him. She brought him along slowly for several minutes, licking and kissing his cock, and sucking gently when she took him deep in her mouth. Her free hand went to his balls and cupped the heavy sacs as she intensified her sucking, bobbing her head up and down, her cheeks hollowing out to provide the maximum pressure on his rod.
"Ohhhh," he moaned and she felt his shaft jerk in her mouth and the first jet of cum splash against her throat. She swallowed as quickly as she could and continued bobbing up and down as jet after jet of hot cum blasted into her mouth.

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Message-ID: <092326Z20081996@anon.penet.fi> Path: bull.hkstar.net!imci3!newsfeed.internetmci.com!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories From: an226968@anon.penet.fi X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous forwarding service Reply-To: an226968@anon.penet.fi Date: Tue, 20 Aug 1996 09:21:45 UTC Subject: Repost: (4/9) Southern Hospitality (Crime Drama, nc, not pc) Lines: 586

by Rhett Dreams (c. 1996)

Authors note: This story borrows characters from two novels by Thomas Harris: "Red Dragon" and "Silence of the Lambs". It is highly recommended that you read this particular story in order; otherwise, you miss important elements of the plot.

Warning: This fictitious story is decidedly NOT politically correct and is intended for mature readers.

Chapter Four

"If I make you as excited as a sixteen year-old virgin, it shouldn't take more than five minutes for you to recover, right?"
Starling felt his chest vibrate beneath her as he laughed. She was laying on top of him, her fingers playing with the curly hair on his chest.
"Those were the days," he said.
She lifted herself up and kissed his chin, then his lips, then his eyelids.
"This may be an impertinent question to ask a father, but... might Nora have a condom that we could use."
His eyes opened, and he looked at her for a moment, before rolling her over and lying on top of her, but with most of his considerable weight on his elbows and knees.
"You are an impertinent little thing, Starling." he said, his eyes laughing.
"And a shameless hussy, Myers," she said.
"That too," he said and kissed her.
"But I want you inside me," she said. "I want you to fuck me, Gene."
They kissed again, and she could feel the first stirrings of his cock pressed against her thigh.
"Maybe I should flip you over and take your ass," he said, his eyebrows arched, humor in his eyes. He noticed her face register surprise.
"Forget I mentioned that," he said, quickly, kicking himself mentally for breaking the lovely mood.
"Have you, um, ever done that," asked Starling. "Anal, I mean."
Gene let out a breath and said, "Yeah, but I wasn't really sugg---"
"No, I'm curious," she said and blushed. "With your wife?"
"Yes," he said. "It may surprise you to know that you're only the second woman I've ever made love to. You and Chris."
He kissed her softly, then rolled the two of them sideways so she wasn't crushed under his weight. Their faces were six inches apart.
"Chris was, well, a wonderful lady. Two years into our marriage, this was before Nora, she noticed that we we're making love as often. She went out and bought "Joy of Sex" and bullied me into trying new things. It was like being a newlywed again. Over the years she'd be the one to introduce new things... sexy lingerie, role-playing... lots of beautiful things that kept our marriage young. I had no imagination compared to Chris."
"Me either, I'm afraid," she said. "Did you... did she, like anal sex."
"Uh huh," he said.
"That's it, "uh huh"," complained Clarice.
"Uh huh," he said.
Clarice laughed and rolled away from him and off the bed, and he watched her walk over to where his robe had dropped earlier.
"Why don't you make us a drink," she said, pulling his robe on and chuckling at the size of the garment on her much smaller body.
She went upstairs and found the light still on under the door of what she figured must be Nora's room. She knocked softly and entered when she heard Nora's voice. Nora was in bed, two pillows behind her back, reading. Her face broke into a huge smile when she saw Clarice enter and cross the room dressed in her father's robe.
"Oh, boy," she said.
"You said that I'd have to take the initiative," said Clarice, sitting on the edge of Nora's bed.
Nora smiled and said, "I'm really glad... for both of you but 'specially dad."
"I've got a weird favor to ask you... I didn't pack any condoms, not expecting.. y'know... and your dad doesn't have any."
"Oh!" said Nora, giggling. She motioned for Clarice to get up, then slid out of bed and led the her across the room to her dresser, her arm around the older girl's waist. She opened her top draw and pushed aside a bunch of lacy lingerie. At the bottom of the drawer were several books, several dildos and vibrators, a box of condoms and, to Clarices surprise, a tube of K-Y jelly and an enema bag. She noticed that one of the books was, "Nine and a half Weeks." Clarice remembered reading that erotic story several years back, disturbed at her body's reaction to the escalating scenes of dominance and submission.
"You're welcome to anything," said Nora.
"My goodness," said Clarice, blushing slightly as her hand passed over a foot-long black dildo and retrieved the box of condoms.
"This'll sound strange to you but most of this stuff was a gift from my mom, in a box that she'd left for me to open after she'd passed away." Nora retrieved a small notebook from the drawer. Clarice noted that it was filled with neatly penned writing, and the girl's voice broke as she explained the notebook to Clarice.
"She wrote me this... her thought and ideas about sex... about letting your body and mind stay open to new experiences... it's really beautiful."
Tears were running down one cheek and Clarice hugged her.
"If your father doesn't kick me out after tonight, maybe you can help me with some of this," said Clarice, indicating with a wave of her hand the contents of the drawer. "I'm not very experienced, and I don't have your mom's wonderful imagination."
Nora wiped away her tears, smiled and hugged Clarice.
Clarice pulled a condom from the box, thought again, and took a second. She said goodnight to Nora and turned toward the door.
"Wait... wait a sec, Clarice. What size are you?"
"Six," she said.
"Bra?"
"Thirty-four."
Nora smiled and rummaged through her lingerie. "Take off that ugly robe, Agent Starling. We're gonna give ol' dad a surprise."
She pulled out two lacy things in a fuchsia color, and held them up for Clarice to see. The bra was tiny, the cups not meant to cover more than the bottom third of the breasts, leaving the nipples exposed. The panties were cut severely up the sides, showing almost all of the thighs, and fastened at the crotch.
"Were these your mom's?" said Clarice, intrigued by the sexy lingerie but certain that it would be too bizarre if she showed up in his late wife's things.
"Mine," said Nora.
Clarice threw off the robe and quickly slipped on the bra and panties. When she stood in front of the mirror, with Nora standing behind her also examining her father's new lover in the reflection, she felt and looked sexier than she ever had before.
"I look like a total slut," said Clarice, smiling at Nora's reflection in the mirror.
"Uh huh," said her coconspirator, smiling back. "He'll go nuts."

At the foot of the grand staircase, Starling removed the robe and hung it over the edge of the railing. A smile on her face, she strolled down the hall to her bedroom. She was about to enter through the half open door when she heard a voice behind her.
"Over here, Clarice."
She turned and looked into the family room, now dimly lit by candles, and saw the large shape of Gene Myers in one of the easy chairs. She entered the room, her hips swaying a bit more than normal, her breasts held up and together by the half- bra, her stiff nipples leading the way like beacons.
"My goodness," she heard him say as she approached and entered the range of the candle's light.
"Hi, lover," she said, noticing now that she was a couple of feet from where he sat that he was still nude. The sight of his strong male body caused her sex to tingle in anticipation.
"I was worried that you'd switch partners," he said, handing her a glass containing a generous portion of amber liquid.
"Cognac?" she said, swirling the glass under her nose.
"Armanac, actually," he said.
Clarice took a seat in an easy chair that diagonally faced his. She put her legs up on the coffee table, next to the bottle of Armanac, and crossed them at the ankles. She took a small swallow of her drink, watching Gene over the edge of the glass, and felt the liquid burn slightly as it went down her throat.
"Nora is sweet, but she's not my type, Myers."
"I'm glad to hear that, Starling. I want you to myself tonight."
"You got me... oh, and my journey was a success." She held up two foil-wrapped condom packages.
"In more ways than one. You look incredibly sexy."
"You can thank your daughter for this little number," she said, emphasizing the word little, and chuckling happily. It was strange, she thought, and a totally new experience for her, to be sitting like this with a man, wearing lingerie that made her feel more exposed and sexy than if she was nude. "Hell," she thought, "it was also unheard of for straight-laced Clarice Starling to be sleeping with a man she just met."
Gene leaned forward and poured himself another drink. "Normally," he drawled after he had finished pouring his drink, and capping the bottle, "I don't let guests put their feet on the furniture." He ran the back of his fingers up her slender leg.
"Will you make an exception for me, an uncouth West Virginia girl barely a generation out of the coal mines?"
"Only 'cause your legs are so fine," he said.
Clarice uncrossed her legs and slid forward in her seat, sipping her drink while his huge hand caressed up to the inside of her thighs, then back down, slowly, to her ankles.
"You don't think they're too muscular?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Jogging?"
"Uh huh," she said, "and swimming, and martial arts."
"Rank?"
"Black, second degree."
"And I've heard you're probably the best shot in the Bureau, with either hand."
"Brigham's much better," she said, remembering her gunnery instructor at the Academy.
"Nevertheless," he said, "I've got to remember never to piss you off."
She laughed and widened her legs as his hand made its way up her thigh, only to stop maddeningly short of her sex. She sighed and took another swallow of her drink.
"You're pissing me off now, Myers" she said, lifting one leg off the coffee table and draping it over the edge of the hair, the invitation clear. He chuckled and dropped to his knees, pushing the coffee table away to give him the space he needed in front of her chair. This time it was his lips and tongue that traced a path up her leg. When he reached the small triangle of silk covering her panties he heard her whisper about the snap he could use to open them. He ignored her and continued to make love to each of her thighs, then rose from his haunches to position himself so he could flick his tongue back and forth over one long, stiff nipple then the next. She moaned when he took a nipple between his teeth and chewed it gently. Her free hand combed through his mass of hair, pressing him to her breast, enjoying the exquisite feelings coming from her hard nubs.
When his mouth left her breasts and slipped down her flat stomach, she pushed his head down, urging him lower. He complied, and was soon kissing and mouthing her sex through the thin fabric that covered it. He lifted her other leg off the table and draped it over the other arm of the chair, then slid his massive hands between her ass and the seat of the chair. Lifting her ass off the chair, his mouth returned to her sex.
"Lick me!" she cried, her passions enflamed. "Put your tongue in me."
He used his teeth to pop the small snaps at the crotch of her panties.
"Ohhh," she cried when his tongue found her erect clit. He carefully avoided the sensitive nub and drove his tongue as deep as it would go into her hole, pressing his face up against her sex. He proceeded to tongue her for several minutes, avoiding her clit because he knew she'd climax before he wanted her to.
"Oh, God, Gene," she cried, "make me cum!"
He withdrew his long tongue from her sex and lifted her further off the chair. Clarice cried out in surprise when she felt his tongue slid back to her rosette and flick back and forth over the virgin hole.
"Oh my... Oh my!" she said as his tongue teased her rosette, the new and incredibly edge. She moaned in disappointment when his tongue finally ended its assault. Looking down past her heaving breasts she saw his eyes reappear at the vee between her spread thighs, watching her. She felt his mouth cover her sex and waited, desperate, for his tongue to enter her again and give her the release she sought. Instead, she felt his fingers shift beneath her and one digit rotate in small circles over her now-slick anus.
"Oh, Jesus!" she cried when she felt the finger force its way inside her ass. "Ohhh," she moaned as the new feelings added to her already overheated senses.
Then she felt his tongue return to her clit, flicking quickly over the sensitive nub, driving her very quickly to the edge and beyond. The orgasm that followed was the best of her life, continuing for what seemed like an eternity, the dual assault on her virgin ass and clit sending her body into convulsion after convulsion.

- o -

"You okay, babe?" he asked after returning from the bathroom off her room, where he'd washed up, to find her in the same position he'd left her, her legs spread over each arm and her head thrown back, her eyes closed.
Her mouth curved into a smile. "I'll live."
He gently unhooked her legs and set them down. Placing his knees on either side of her thighs, he eased himself on her chair and took her head between his hands. He kissed her gently, her lips, cheeks, forehead, eyelids, then her lips again.
"I'd forgotten how good it could be," he whispered.
Her eyes opened and she smiled into his face. "It's never been this good, not for me," she said. They kissed again, this one long and wet. Clarice's hand found his cock, hard and very thick, and circled the shaft. When Clarice broke the kiss she circled his waist with her free hand and gripped his ass, urging him up and forward. He moaned as his cock entered her mouth and she sucked him hard.
"I want to fuck you, Clarice," he said after a minute, his voice deep with desire.
Clarice pulled her mouth off his cock and looked up, past his massive chest and into his face. "My ass?" she asked, then took his cock back into her mouth, watching his face as she teased his cock with her tongue.
"It would be my honor, Clarice... some other night, when we have time to do it right."
He reached over and found a condom, unwrapping the foil while he watched her suck his cock into her mouth, taking him deep until his cock hit the back of her throat.
"Better stop, babe... mmmm... or I'll cum again." When she continued to suck him he added, "I don't think I could manage a third."
She pulled her mouth off and smiled at him. Taking the condom from him she stretched it over the head of his cock and worked it down the shaft. He got up from the chair and pulled her to her feet, kissing her hard with his cock pressed up against her belly.
"How 'bout I lie down on the carpet and you get on top?" he suggested.
"Hmmm," she said. "I've a better idea."
She let go of him and walked behind the chair they'd been using. She bent herself over the back of the chair, resting her hands on the arms.
"Come behind me, Gene, and fuck me."
He moved quickly to obey, and soon had her split panties out of the way and his cock positioned at her wet sex. As he entered her and felt his cock stretched the walls of her tight passage, he was in awe of the sensations. It had been nearly two years since he'd last had sex with his wife, before the cancer ravaged her body. It was many years before when his late wife felt as tight as the girl as was now inside, and this thought caused a pang of guilt.
"Oh, yes, Gene!" he heard from Clarice as his cock bottomed out in her wet cunt.
He withdrew and entered her again, faster this time, luxuriating in the wondrous feeling of her tight pussy gripping onto his rod. His hands slid forward to her narrow waist as his thrusts continued, then around her body to grab hold of her firm tits. Holding her beasts for leverage he quickened his pace until he was slapping his hips into her ass with every forward stroke.
"Oh, yes... Oh, yes," chanted Clarice as he fucked her. She had never felt anything so big inside her, so filling, so wonderful. The feeling of his thick cock rubbing up against her clit, and stretching her passage as never before, and his meaty paws squeezing her breasts against her chest, had her quickly approaching another orgasm.
"Fuck me... harder... oh, Gene!" she cried before the release of her climax made her incoherent. Gene groaned and came at the same time, sent over the edge my the pulsating tightness of her pussy on his fast driving cock.

- o -

The four teams of agents were on the Interstate heading toward Mississippi by ten the next morning. Starling and Myers had already been into the office and collected their files before the caravan of four vehicles went to the airport to meet Agent Quinn's flight. Quinn drove in Starling's rental car while Myers and one of the junior agents on his team took his Explorer. Each team was equip with pictures of all the MPs, Walters and Burns, and photos of the same make, model year and color of the cars driven by the MPs when they disappeared.
Starling and Quinn took Interstate 10 while Myers and the three other teams took the busier, more commercial Route 90. As they drove, she updated her friend and colleague on Myers' data and their opinion that these MPs were very likely the result of carefully planned abductions. They stopped at every rest stop, truck stop, filling station and restaurant along the way. It was very slow going. At each stop they collected as many of the workers as possible and went through the pictures in pairs, the car and the missing driver. Each stop was at least twenty minutes and many took much longer as the waitresses or attendees switched off between serving their customers and accommodating the agents.
Two and a half days later, after driving four cars all the way past Mobile and back, the task force had almost no new information. It was Friday evening when all eight of them sat around the conference room table in N'Orleans, reviewing what little they had.
"We're missing something," said Quinn, staring at the large map on the wall, and at the multiple colored lines leading along the routes they had just checked.
"No shit?" said Myers, with just the right tone, and smiles broke out on many of the exhausted and disappointed faces.
"Even during the off season," continued Quinn, "or at night, or at night during the fuckin' off season... it's hard to imagine a successful and unseen abduction along these major routes, much less nine of them. And it's been my experience that perps involved in slavery, if that's what we have here, are exceedingly careful. I just can't imagine an abduction team hiding behind a Denny's or a Mobil Oil, hoping to nab someone in the parking lot."
This brought nods from many around the table.
"I know your map shows the most probable routes the MPs took, the logical routes, but think about this. Over the twelve or thirteen month period of these MPs, the total number of cars traveling east or west along the major Gulf routes must total in the hundreds of thousands, maybe well over a million."
"Yeah, I'll buy that," offered Starling, seeing where her colleague was going. "Let's assume a million, a nice round number."
"If only one in twenty of these cars, for whatever reason, leaves the obvious route and takes a rural highway across Southern Mississippi, that's fifty thousand cars. And if one in five hundred of these cars fit our profile, nice car, young girl, that's... one hundred potentials."
"Todd," said Myers, turning to one of his junior agents, "check with the State Police, or the Department of Transportation, and see if you can find good estimates for car traffic. Susan, could you get us a blown-up map of Southern Mississippi and mark all reasonable alternate routes along the coast or further inland. Our MPs may have gotten off the highway to get cheaper gas or to find a better restaurant than Mickey Dee's or just to break up the monotony of the trip. We'll start again Monday morning."
The room got noisy as everyone packed up their files and headed off to their offices before heading home. Myers told Starling that he'd drop Quinn off to the airport so he could catch his flight back to Quantico, and that he'd meet her at home.

- o -

Trent took the call from Reverend Washington on Friday, as afternoon was turning into evening. Trent had never heard Washington preach, his parish being black and Trent not being much of a church-goer anyway. But he had heard the minister speak at a county fair and he enjoyed listening to his booming, rolling voice. They were casual acquaintances.
"It's my daughter, Trent. Sarah never made it home from her friend's house today."
Trent asked a series of questions of the black minister until he felt he had the story. The Reverend and his family lived in a small house next to the Baptist Church over in the largely black area near Argicola. His sixteen year-old daughter had left a friend's house at three and should have completed the two mile trek to her house an hour later. She was at least ninety minutes overdo.
"It's awfully hot out there, Reverend, and my guess is she took it easy, maybe stopped for a swim in a pond or something. But I'll send a car and a couple of officers over and see if they can't find trace Sarah's route, and get her home."

- o -

"Well, hello there" said Nora Myers, answering the door bell.
"Hiya," said Clarice. Nora helped her with her bags and they went into the guest room.
"Your dad will be home in about hour, he thought," said Clarice. "He's dropping an agent off at the airport, and said he had to run an errand."
"Did you guys get a chance to---"
"No. Gene bunked with Quinn while we were on the road. Me with a female agent. I really haven't talked to your dad, privately, since we left."
"Kind of a reunion tonight, then. Say... what's that," said Nora, pointing to a Victoria Secrets bag.
"I stopped off at a mall on the way here. Picked up a little something."
"Lemme see," said Nora, grinning.
"Let me shower and change into them, and I'll come out and show you. By the way, I picked up some condoms so we don't have to... exhaust your supply.
"Exhaust is probably the right choice of words," teased Nora. "Based on what I heard the night you were here."
"Oh," said Clarice, blushing slightly. "Were we that noisy?"
"Uh huh. So noisy that I felt I had to come down and check on you two."
"No!"
She nodded and grinned. "It was so dark down here you couldn't have noticed me. You were bent over the chair and dad was doing you from behind. It was very sexy to watch."
"I'm so embarrassed!"
"Don't be, Clarice. It got me so excited I wore out the batteries in my vibrator that night, and arranged for a date tonight, an old flame from high school. You and dad will have the house to yourselves, probably until tomorrow morning if I get lucky."
Clarice showered and dressed in the clothes she had bought. Despite the warmth of the southern summer, she decided to buy stockings that went to mid-thigh, a rose-colored garter belt, sexy panties that were little more than a g-string, and a strapless wonder bra that held her breasts together and up. She admired herself in the mirror before slipping into the black silk cocktail dress, low cut in front and back, with thin spaghetti straps over her otherwise-bare shoulders. She made up her face, perfumed herself, and donned pearl earrings and a matching necklace. Slipping her feet into new black pumps, she left in search of Nora.
"Oh, my God," squealed Nora when Clarice strolled into the kitchen, posed then turned around quickly but gracefully, allowing the bottom of the dress to fly out and up before settling back down onto her thighs. Nora got a brief glance at the garters half-way up her thighs.
"You look delicious. What's underneath?"
Clarice suppressed a blush and slid the straps off her shoulders. The dress slid into a heap on the floor, and she stepped out of it, turning again for the girl.
"You look great! Do you shave down there?" she asked, looking at the narrow triangle of her panties and the bare white skin on either side of the one-inch strip that covered her sex. "I noticed the other night how small your patch of hair is. I've got such a bush that I'd look silly wearing something like that."
"Yeah," said Clarice, pulling the dress back up. "I don't know why I started, but I've always kept my hair trimmed neatly."
Nora was dressed casually for her date in shorts that hugged her ass perfectly, a blue short-sleeved blouse, and sandals. Her bare legs looked incredibly long. Starling noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra, and that her nipples were stiff, tenting the fabric.
Clarice opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass, sipping it as Nora explained what she had for their dinner. Lettuce was washed and chilling in the fridge. Potatoes were already baking in the gas grill outside, keeping the house as cool as possible. They could grill the steaks any time after the potatoes were done.
"That must be Lou," she said when the doorbell rang. She was about to go let him in when she thought better of it.
"Clarice," she said hurriedly. "Why don't you let him in while I get my things. Be sexy, would you? I want him as horny as possible tonight."
Clarice smiled and waited a moment for Nora to reach the stairs before going to the door. When she opened the door she found a tall young man waiting, and saw his eyes widen and glance over her body before returning to her face.
"You must be Lou," she said, extending her hand and shaking his as she stepped aside and let him in.
"Yeah."
"I'm Clarice Starling, a friend of Nora's dad." She took his arm and led him into the kitchen. The guy could feel her breast pressed up against his arm as they walked, and the sexy smell of her perfume affected him too.
"Nora will be just a few minutes, Lou. Can I get you something?"
"Sure... um, a coke would be great."
She could feel his eyes on her ass when he opened the fridge and bent over, looking for a coke. He was staring, in fact, and could just see the garters holding up her stockings as the dress rode up to above mid-thigh.
"Here we are," she said, pulling out the can. She turned and saw his head turn quickly away, a slight blush on his face. She got a glass and poured the soda into it, and handed it to him. She got her glass of wine and stood facing him at the counter, knowing that he had a nice view of the tops of her breasts, maybe more considering his height.
"What do you and Nora have planned tonight?"
"I thought we'd catch a movie, then maybe grab some take-out and hang at my place."
"You have your own place?"
"I lucked into a studio apartment for the summer, not far from here. It's really just a big room over a garage. The landlady gave me a special rent in exchange for helping her out around the house, and tending the yard." As he talked she busied herself with folding cloth napkins, her eyes lowered to the task, knowing that his were looking down the front of her dress.
"Sounds nice," said Clarice. They heard Nora's footsteps come down the stars and Clarice smiled to herself as Lou took a step away from her. Nora breezed in and said hi before pressing herself into Lou and kissing him a greeting.
"You look great Lou," she said, feeling his hardness pressing into her.
"Yeah, thanks... you, too," he managed.
Nora gave Clarice a wink and a grin behind his back, and Clarice gave her the thumbs up sign in response.
She would learn from Nora the next day that Lou had suggested a change in plans as soon as they got to his car. Instead of a movie, he suggested she might want to see his new place, and she readily agreed. Within twenty minutes of leaving home, Nora was naked on Lou's bed and he was tonguing her through an orgasm. After a fuck that had both of them cumming in minutes, they ordered Chinese food delivered. Lou got the first of many surprises that night when Nora came out from her shower nude, and sat down to eat. He enjoyed his view of her tits as they ate and talked, and his cock recovered in no time.
"Why don't you find a video store and rent us something sexy," she said when they'd finished eating. She pressed her naked body up against him when he rose, and pulled his hands behind her and onto her ass. "I'll clean up the dishes while you're out. Whatever you decide to rent, let's see if we can try the same things, if you know what I mean."
Lou returned in fifteen minutes with an XXX-rated move, "Three Holed Honeys" and they spent the rest of the night watching, then doing, watching, then doing. Before they fell asleep Nora had taken his cum in her mouth, again in her pussy, then finally up her ass after greasing his pole with the K- Y jelly she had brought in her purse.

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Last modified (12/24/96 14:06:28) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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