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Call Girl Cheerleaders - Part 2
By Richard Bissell (address withheld)

***

A guy falls into a relationship-for-money with a high 
school cheerleader that soon grows into a group thing 
that then flowers into a romantic relationship between 
him and the girls. (M/f+teens, bi, mast, oral, anal, 
orgy, prost)

***

Author Notes: Adults only, no prudes. If you don't like 
sex stories containing teenagers engaging in weird 
perversions, or you can't separate truth from fiction, 
get lost. The author does not advocate or condone 
anything that goes on in this story. 

This story is mine. You can repost it or archive it 
only if 1) you don't change it, 2) my name and this 
disclaimer remain attached, and 3) you aren't making 
money off it. That includes posting it on some slime-
ball banner farm web site. Yes, that means you! 


CHAPTER NINETEEN
----------------

I was reading the paper and enjoying a cup of coffee 
beside the pool the next morning when the phone rang. I 
normally didn't like to be bothered on Saturday 
mornings, but lately Marianne had taken to calling me 
just to see what I was up to, so I answered it. 

"Hello?" 

"Can I speak to Steven Chandler please?" 

"Speaking. What can I do for you?" 

"Well, I'm hoping you can make my day, Steve." 

The voice was feminine, husky, throaty, and vaguely 
familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. 

"Uh, could I ask who is calling?" 

"Oh, Steve. Are you telling me you've forgotten your 
first piece of ass?" 

I gasped. 

"Oh, my God. Mary Jo?" 

"In the flesh. How are you?" 

"Stunned. To what do I owe the honor of this call?" 

"Well, I'd like to say I've been pining after you all 
these years, but I don't think my husband and children 
would appreciate that. I'm calling because I'm on the 
All Saints Reunion Committee, and I am just heartbroken 
to see that you haven't RSVP'd yet. I know you live 
just up the coast, so you can't plead distance. I was 
hoping I could talk you into coming next week." 

My 25th high school reunion was a week away, and 
although I had been getting invitations and information 
in the mail, I hadn't given much thought to going. 
These things generally struck me as little more than 
"Look How Successful I've Become" affairs, and I had 
always liked to think I was above that sort of 
nonsense, no matter how successful I *had* actually 
become. 

Of course, my high school experience also had something 
to do with it. I was largely a geek and a loner back 
then, hanging out exclusively with my pothead friends. 
Mary Jo had been about the only girl who gave me the 
time of day. Going to the first few reunions by myself 
while more and more of my former classmates showed up 
with spouses only brought back those feelings of 
alienation, even if I now dated fairly regularly. 

"So what do you say, Steve? Surely you've got something 
you want to show off?" 

Yeah, right, I thought. Look at my car, my Rolex, my 
gir-- 

No. Oh, shit. Could I really do that? Did I really have 
the balls? Could I actually show up at this thing with 
an eighteen-year-old girl on my arm? I would be 
defining every single stereotype about the middle-aged 
bachelor. Every woman at the reunion would either laugh 
at me or want to slip a knife between my ribs. But the 
men--oh, dear God. The reactions I would get would be 
priceless. 

Mary Jo was still waiting for an answer. 

"Steve?" 

"Uh, sorry. I was woolgathering for a moment." I took a 
long breath. 
"Yeah, I guess I can make it. Count me in." 

"Great. You won't regret this." 

Mary Jo probably thought she knew why I was laughing, 
but she didn't. 

Marianne appeared about an hour later. She wore jeans 
and another spandex baby tee shirt, this one in neon 
hey-check-this-shit-out orange. She carried a spiral 
notebook, and after giving me a big kiss, showed me 
what she had. 

"It's chapter one of our story." 

I opened the notebook and began to read: 

I was watching football one Saturday afternoon when the 
doorbell rang. I don't get a lot of unannounced 
visitors, so I was fairly sure that this was another 
solicitor of some sort. I peeked through the peephole 
and saw that I was probably right. It appeared to be 
some teenage girl. 

What followed was a fairly raunchy recounting of that 
first afternoon, when Marianne had come by pretending 
to sell magazines. I finished it in a few minutes, 
though I had to shift in my chair to free my stiffening 
dick. 

"What do you think?" 

"Very descriptive." 

"Do you like it?" 

"Yes. Why are you pretending to be me again?" 

"Because if I write it as me, I'll get ten thousand e-
mails from guys wanting to have sex with me." 

"What are you going to do with it now?" 

"I want to type it onto your computer and then post 
it." 

"You can't use my AOL account for something like this." 

"Oh, I know. I've already set up an anonymous account 
somewhere else. Don't worry." 

She ran upstairs, and when I went up about twenty 
minutes later to get dressed for the day, she was just 
finishing up. I watched her log on to some web site, 
copy the story onto a form, and then post it. 

"There. All done." 

She lifted out of the chair and pecked me on the lips. 

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a computer geek. If 
that's the term they use these days." 

Her forehead creased in amusement. 

"It's nothing geeky. Everybody knows how to do stuff 
like this now. We use computers in about half our 
classes at school. " 

She continued playing around with my computer while I 
got dressed. When I came out of the dressing area, I 
found her lying on her back on my bed inspecting her 
hair for split ends. 

"Anything happen with Tiffany?" I asked. 

"I left a message for her before I came over here. Her 
mom said she was out at her little sister's soccer 
game." 

"What did you say?" 

"I told her I wanted to tie her daughter up and fuck 
her." She giggled. 
"What do you think I said? I just asked her to call 
me." 

I lay down beside her. 

"I've got a favor to ask you. I'll understand 
completely if you don't want to do this, because I know 
you're a little sensitive about this issue." 

She rolled on her side and looked at me. 

"What?" 

"My 25th high school reunion is next weekend. I got a 
call from a woman I used to know this morning trying to 
talk me into going." 

Her eyes widened a little, and I could see the wheels 
turning behind them. 

"And you want me to go?" 

"If you're okay with it. If not, fine." 

She looked down at the bed. She didn't say anything for 
a few moments. 

"If I go... it's going to attract a lot of attention, 
isn't it?" 

"Yes. No point in trying to pretend it won't." 

She looked up at me now, and a tinge of resentment 
colored her face. 

"I am not going to make a spectacle of myself. I 
really, really, hope you don't want to do this just to 
show me off. Randy used to like to do that, and it 
hurt, okay? It really hurt sometimes. If that's all you 
want, you can buy yourself a blow-up doll and take 
her." 

I pulled her to me, hugging her. 

"I don't. That's not it. I don't care what they think. 
I haven't even gone to the last three or four reunions 
because it's always like that. I think most people go 
just to show something off, like how rich they've 
gotten or how thin they've kept themselves. But I was 
thinking we could have some fun with this. If I show up 
with you, it will upstage everything. No one will care 
about anything else, and everyone who showed up to show 
off will be out of luck." 

Her face took on a pensive expression, but she didn't 
say anything. 

"Look. I kind of would like to go, and if I do, I'd 
like to take you. But if you go, it *will* create a 
spectacle. Nothing either of us can do will change 
that. So we might as well milk it for some 
entertainment value." 

She stared hard into my eyes. 

"Tell me that you don't want to do this to show me off 
to your friends." 

"I don't want to do this to show you off. And these 
people are not my friends. I haven't kept in touch with 
any of them." 

"So why do you want to go?" 

"Curiosity. Nostalgia. I don't know. Maybe because the 
woman who called this morning was the girl I lost my 
virginity to." 

Her eyes lit up. 

"Really? The one you told me about before? The Led 
Zeppelin concert?" 

"Yes. And she's married with kids, so don't worry about 
her carrying a torch for me." 

She bit her lip. 

"That might be interesting, meeting her. I don't know. 
What would you want me to do?" 

"Only what you were comfortable with." 

She sighed and thought for a moment. 

"I want to go with you. And, I guess, if I do, I 
shouldn't act like I have anything to be ashamed of." 

"No." 

"I think I see what you're saying. I could go and act 
all embarrassed, which would just confirm all the nasty 
things people would be thinking. Or I could go and 
dress up and have fun and show them I don't care what 
they think. That I know what they're thinking, and I 
don't give a shit." 

"Right." 

A smile spread across her face. 

"I like this idea." 

She sat up, and the grin got wider. I watched her eyes 
losing their focus as she gave it more thought. 

"You know, I think this could be cool. Really, really, 
really cool." 

She giggled. 

"Uh-oh," I said. 

She giggled again and then rolled over to pin me down. 

"I am going to turn myself into the most outrageous 
piece of arm candy you have ever seen. They will never 
know what hit them." 

"Oh, Jesus." 

"No, don't you see? If we hold back at all, it's just 
bowing to all their prejudices and bullshit. I'm going 
to throw all that right back in their faces." 

"But classy, okay? This is a coat-and-tie reception." 

"Right. I won't dress like a hooker. But I'm going to 
show off as much as I can without breaking the law." 

She dropped down and kissed me vigorously, pressing her 
big tits against my chest. 

"Now let me go see if Tiff is home so we can get ready 
for tonight." 

She hopped off the bed and ran out the front door. I 
lay there wondering what I had just precipitated. 

Marianne returned about fifteen minutes later and 
informed me that Tiffany had, in fact, agreed to show 
up and submit to her for one night. And she apparently 
hadn't required a lot of convincing, either. 

So the two of us set about straightening up the house 
and gathering the things Marianne thought she would 
need. We went out and bought a few dozen scented 
candles ("I want to put them all over the house and 
then shut off the lights."), some silk scarves, a 
blindfold, a pair of novelty handcuffs, and (this one 
surprised me, which made Marianne laugh), a set of 
nipple clips, which we got in a store near the 
University. 

Marianne went home for a few hours after that so as not 
to be gone the entire day, then returned around eight, 
having told her parents she was going out with Tiffany. 
Which, of course, she was, in a way. She arrived 
carrying a gym bag on her shoulder. 

"What's in there?" 

"I want to dress up a little for this. Plus I have a 
couple of things for Tiff." 

The bag contained a rolled-up dress bag and two pairs 
of hold-up stockings, one white and one black. The 
dress bag held an off-white silk cocktail dress, a sort 
of kimono-like wrap with a deep neckline. She smiled at 
my raised eyebrows. 

"I saw it one day and liked it. I figured I would wear 
it the next time we went out." 

"I like it." 

"You have to dress up, too. Then we'll have Tiff be our 
slave." 

I set up the candles around the house while she got 
dressed. The doorbell rang about ten minutes later. I 
went to get it, but it wasn't Tiffany. 

Instead, it was a delivery boy from a service that 
handled take-out orders from a lot of the local 
restaurants. And he had arrived with a complete dinner 
from Bernardo's. I brought it into the kitchen just as 
Marianne reappeared in her dress. She grinned at me. 

"That's for us. Tiff is going to serve us a romantic 
dinner." 

I laughed. 

"This should be interesting." 

"Yep. Now go get ready." 

I went upstairs, and just as I was finishing with my 
tie, I heard the doorbell ring again. From the voices I 
heard down below, it was apparently Tiffany. 

When I descended to the first floor, I didn't 
immediately see them. All the lights were off, and the 
house was lit entirely by candlelight. I heard their 
voices behind the door of the first floor guestroom, so 
I found a bottle of Chianti in my wine closet and 
opened it. 

The girls came out after a few minutes. Tiffany was 
naked except for the black stockings and the nipple 
clips that hung from her pretty breasts, a nice 
accompaniment to the studs in her navel and clit. I 
noticed a moment later, for it was hard to see at first 
in the dim candlelight, that she had also shaved her 
pubic hair. 

Marianne smiled. 

"You see it?" 

"Yes." 

"I told her to do it. She's not blonde or red-haired, 
so I thought you would like it." 

"I do." 

She turned to Tiffany. 

"All right, slave, serve us our dinner." 

Marianne and I sat down as Tiffany unpacked the 
delivery order. She organized everything carefully and 
then set it on the table in front of us. Then she 
poured the wine and stepped back. 

"Kneel on the floor in case we need you," Marianne 
said. 

Tiffany dropped to her knees, keeping her eyes down. 
Her breathing was heavier than it should have been, and 
her chest was flushed deep red. Her hands kept 
squirming in her lap. I couldn't tell if she was turned 
on or just embarrassed. Or both. 

I felt Marianne's foot caressing my leg. 

"Don't worry. She's enjoying this. Aren't you, slave?" 

Tiffany nodded, but said nothing. We ate slowly, and 
the food was quite good. Throughout the meal, Marianne 
kept giving Tiffany little instructions and directions, 
with which Tiffany complied without a peep of protest. 
When we were done, she cleared the dishes and piled 
them in the sink. She fetched the dessert Marianne had 
ordered out of the refrigerator, but when she went for 
the plates, Marianne stopped her. 

"No. Serve us yourself, slave. Come here." 

Tiffany glanced at the two of us in confusion, but 
brought the little container of tiramisu over to the 
table. Marianne plucked the nipple clips from Tiffany's 
breasts and dug a scoop of the pastry out with her 
finger. She placed it on Tiffany's left tit, which was 
just full and upturned enough to hold it. 

"Serve him." 

Tiffany approached me, offering her breast. I took it 
in my mouth, sucking the dessert off and licking her 
nipple until it was clean. 

"Now me," Marianne said. 

Tiffany placed another serving of tiramisu on her other 
breast, then presented it to Marianne. She licked it 
off slowly, watching my reaction and Tiffany's. We 
finished the dessert like that, making a gooey mess of 
Tiffany's breasts. I could see her fighting a grin at 
this, and relaxed a little. However she was acting, she 
appeared to be having fun here. 

Marianne licked her fingers clean when we were done. 

"Clean yourself up, slave, then present yourself 
upstairs." 

She stood and led me up to the bedroom. She slipped out 
of her cocktail dress, and she had apparently worn 
nothing under it but the white stockings. She helped me 
out of my suit just as Tiffany appeared in the doorway. 

"Kneel, slave." 

She did. Marianne produced and applied the blindfold, 
then replaced the nipple clips and cuffed Tiffany's 
hands in front of her. 

"All right slave, there are two things you have to do 
tonight before we release you. Remember?" 

Tiffany answered hesitantly, and her voice quavered as 
she spoke. 

"Yes. I'm going to eat your pussy." 

"And?" 

She took a deep breath. 

"Get fucked in the ass." 

I grinned at Marianne, and she smiled at me 
triumphantly. 

"Let's begin, then. Come here, slave." 

Tiffany crawled toward her, and Marianne pulled her 
into place. Tiffany reached up with her bound hands, 
finding Marianne's twat, and rose up to her knees. She 
extended her tongue and began to lick slowly. Marianne 
arched her back, shaking her long blonde hair back 
behind her head. She pulled Tiffany closer, and Tiffany 
forced her head further between Marianne's stockinged 
thighs. 

I sat on the end of the bed to watch them. With her 
hands cuffed together, Tiffany had nothing to grab on 
to, and she finally rested them in her lap. Her head 
was leaned most of the way back now, and Marianne stood 
with her legs on either side of Tiffany as the other 
girl licked up at her. Marianne's hands were writhing 
in Tiffany's hair, holding her close. Her teeth were 
clenched, and I could hear her breath beginning to 
whistle between them. 

The reluctance I had seen in Tiffany that night after 
the football game was nowhere to be seen now. She 
licked and sucked at Marianne eagerly, probing into her 
with her tongue. I wondered if Tiffany's earlier 
hesitation had just been the vestiges of some 
conservative socialization--a stern superego, if you 
wanted to get Freudian--and only by submitting like 
this could she let her lesbian inclinations out. 

Marianne was getting close now, rocking her hips back 
and forth over Tiffany's mouth. Tiffany attacked her 
more aggressively, almost seeming to want to swallow 
Marianne's pussy. Marianne kept her hands tight on 
Tiffany's head, even though Tiffany showed no 
intentions of withdrawing. Finally, Marianne's legs 
began to shake, she cried out against Tiffany's lingual 
assault, and then came in a rush. 

Tiffany continued licking until Marianne withdrew, 
staggering toward the bed. She crawled up beside me 
into my arms. I held her, feeling her body still 
quivering gently in the aftermath of her climax. 

"Good?" 

"Great," she gasped. 

Tiffany had dropped back onto her feet, waiting further 
instructions. 
Marianne recovered after a minute or so and sat up. 

"Tiffany. Come here." 

She crawled to the end of the bed, and Marianne had me 
sit in front of her. 

"Suck his cock. You know what he likes." 

Tiffany sat up again and bent to work. She brought her 
hands up to play with my balls as she bobbed slowly 
over my erection. Marianne sat beside us, watching her, 
occasionally reaching out to brush Tiffany's hair back 
from her face. Tiffany kept up a steady massage with 
her lips and tongue, and I closed my eyes to 
concentrate on what she was doing. As she went on, she 
forced my dick further and further into her mouth until 
her nose was almost in my pubes. She couldn't quite 
deep throat me, though she appeared to be trying, and 
each time I felt myself probing at her throat until her 
gag reflex forced me out. 

Marianne crawled up to kneel behind me, hugging me and 
pressing her tits against my back. She rested her chin 
on my shoulder and licked at my ear. 

"I want you to fuck her in the ass," she moaned. "Hard. 
While she's eating me. I want to watch you do it while 
she gets me off again." 

I twisted around to kiss her, and she responded 
eagerly, sucking on my tongue and reaching around to 
tweak my left nipple. Tiffany continued to bob rapidly 
over me. 

Marianne climbed off the bed and found the massage oil. 

"Tiffany, get up on the bed. On all fours." 

Tiffany rose from my lap and climbed up into position. 
She moaned softly as Marianne lubricated her. Her 
breasts hung down under her, and the chain from the 
nipple clips swung back and forth over the bed. I saw 
the stud in her clit peeking out from between her 
shaved labia, and I reached in to tweak it as Marianne 
worked on her. Tiffany was dripping wet by now, fluids 
almost running down her stockinged thighs. Marianne 
oiled up my dick and then returned to the bed, lying in 
front of Tiffany and spreading her legs. 

Tiffany let out a little squeak when I placed my dick 
at her sphincter, but she spread her butt cheeks and 
pushed back at me. I forced myself in, pushing her face 
forward into Marianne's pussy. I couldn't see from my 
angle what she was doing there, but from Marianne's 
reaction, she had started to work already. Marianne 
grinned at me and caressed Tiffany's head. 

I slid slowly into Tiffany's butt, bottoming out 
against her tight cheerleader ass. She groaned and 
convulsed briefly, but Marianne held her head down. 

"Don't stop... let him do it... let him fuck you... let 
him fuck you in the ass." 

Tiffany whimpered softly, but tried to open herself 
even further. I slid slowly in and out of her oiled 
butt, feeling her sphincter pinching me spasmodically. 
She had taken me a long way by blowing me first, and I 
had to control my movements to keep from coming 
immediately. In front of us, Marianne was writhing 
under Tiffany's attentions, moaning and gripping 
Tiffany's hair. 

Marianne and I watched each other closely, trying to 
synch our arousal. She licked her lips at me 
lasciviously, and I felt my cum surging in my balls. 

"Fuck her, Steve. Come in her ass. I want to see it." 

I groaned, thrusting faster, thumping against Tiffany's 
tight butt. Tiffany continued to moan and whimper 
softly, but I knew she was getting off on this, because 
each time I bottomed out, my balls would slap against 
her twat, so wet and hot that it almost scalded. 

Marianne began to grunt and hump herself up at Tiffany 
as she neared her second orgasm. I lost control at that 
point, fucking Tiffany for all I was worth. Suddenly 
she began shuddering under me, somehow coming before 
both of us, and that was enough to do it. I thrust into 
her up to root, groaned out loud, and hosed down her 
bowels with my cum. 

Marianne's shrieks of orgasm barely penetrated my 
consciousness, and I held tightly onto Tiffany's hips. 
Only when Tiffany slid forward--Marianne was pulling 
her up to kiss her--did I finally withdraw. 

I staggered into the bathroom to clean myself up, and 
when I returned, Tiffany was still on all fours over 
Marianne, who held Tiffany's head closely, kissing her. 
I saw Marianne's hand up between Tiffany's legs, 
masturbating her furiously. Tiffany began to shake, and 
stopped kissing Marianne, dropping her head to 
Marianne's shoulder. 

I walked up to the end of the bed, watching them, 
looking at my cum streaked across Tiffany's buttocks 
and the juices running down the insides of her thighs. 
She let out a cry, coming again, and her body thrashed 
over Marianne. Her arms and legs finally collapsed as 
it peaked, and she fell forward onto her friend. 

I crawled up to lie beside them. Marianne held Tiffany 
tenderly, then pushed the blindfold off her face. 

"Okay. You're officially part of the gang again." 

Tiffany giggled. 

"Fuck. That was fun. I'd like to do that again some 
time." 

Marianne looked at me, grinning. 

"Me too. What do you think?" 

I laughed weakly. 

"Be my guest." 


CHAPTER TWENTY 
--------------

For the next week, though she teased and hinted and 
giggled about it, Marianne refused to give me any clear 
idea about what she was planning for the reunion. About 
all I could gather was that she was searching all over 
town for the perfect dress to wear. But beyond that, 
all I could get out of her was, "You'll see on Saturday 
night." She came over a few times that week to fool 
around (bringing Hayley with her on Wednesday), but 
otherwise I was occupied with work for another week. 

The reunion committee had also organized a tailgate 
party at the school football game that Friday, but I 
had no interest in spending the entire weekend down 
there. I didn't really care to watch All Saints lose 
again anyway, having seen it happen too many times when 
I was still a student. 

We would be spending Saturday night at the hotel since 
the party would run too late to come back that night. 
Marianne had worked out some cover story with her 
parents to explain her absence. It felt like a bigger 
risk than was necessary, but she insisted it would be 
safe. 

On Saturday afternoon at about three o'clock, Marianne 
appeared at my door with a dress bag in one hand and a 
little overnight bag in the other. She gave me a quick 
kiss and went upstairs to get ready. She took a shower 
(I was sorely tempted to climb in there with her, but 
it would have made us late) then went out to the 
dressing area to primp herself. I showered myself and 
shaved as Marianne did her hair and cosmetics, still 
naked except for a towel. 

"What did you tell your folks about tonight?" 

"That I was spending the night at Ashley's." 

"They never seem to question these charades." 

She shrugged. 

"I don't know about you," I said. "But I'm getting sick 
of this routine. You said you wanted to tell your 
parents about us eventually. I think that time is 
approaching." 

She glanced at me briefly. 

"I don't want to talk about that now." 

"Okay. But think about it." 

She finished with her hair and went out to the bedroom 
for her dress. I was about half-dressed myself by then, 
but I stayed in the back to let her put it on and 
surprise me. 

She returned in a few minutes with a big grin on her 
face. 

"What do you think?" 

The dress -- what there was of it -- was made from some 
soft, clingy grey-blue fabric (rayon or lycra, maybe, 
though I didn't know enough about clothes to be sure). 
It began about mid-thigh, and over her midsection there 
was an oval cut-out, exposing her belly ring. The neck 
was not particularly low-cut, but the fabric was very 
loose over her body--bending over would be dangerous 
tonight. The dress swept up over her shoulders and down 
her back. 

"You like it?" 

"Very hot." 

She grinned. "Wait until you see the rest of it." 

She turned slowly, and I gasped. It was cut--that 
wasn't really the proper word because there was nothing 
there to cut--*all* the way down. The shoulder straps 
didn't come back together until they got below the 
small of her back. The fabric was bunched up in soft 
waves at the bottom, and the split of her pretty 
buttocks was just barely visible. She essentially had a 
big sign on her back that said, "I have nothing on 
under this dress." 

She completed the turn, smiling at me. 

"Is this outrageous enough?" 

I tried to catch my breath. "You're going to give some 
of those men coronaries." 

She giggled. 

"No bra, either?" I asked. 

"Nope. I was going to wear stick-ons, but this fabric 
is just too clingy. You could see them through the 
dress and it looked awful. I'll be bouncing around a 
lot tonight, but I don't care." 

"Jesus." 

I looked down at her, and I realized that each time she 
inhaled, the front of her dress below the cutout opened 
enough to see right down into her crotch. The kitten 
tat was easily visible if you looked for it, and with 
the right lighting, you could probably see everything 
else, too. 

Her eyes twinkled. 

"Think this will do?" 

I swallowed against my suddenly dry mouth. 

"Yes." 

"You don't know how long it took me to find this thing. 
But as soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one." 

I exhaled slowly. 

"Let's go." 

She completed her look for the night with a matching 
wrap and little purse and high-heeled grey sandals. The 
wrap rendered her halfway decent for the trip south, at 
least. We got to the hotel about ninety minutes later. 
The valet took my Mercedes, and we went inside. 

I stopped at the front desk briefly to check in and get 
the key to our room. 
The bellboy took our bags, and we headed off to the 
party. 

I didn't immediately see anyone I recognized, which was 
not surprising since I had not seen any of these people 
in at least fifteen years, if not twenty-five. Marianne 
had my arm, and I felt her squeezing it more tightly as 
we crossed the lobby. 

"Are you okay?" 

She nodded quickly. 

"I'll be all right. But none of these people are your 
friends, right? You don't do business with them or 
anything?" 

"No." 

"So it doesn't matter what happens tonight? I'm just 
trying to get my bearings." 

"No, it doesn't. Just enjoy yourself." 

She nodded again, straightening her back as we 
approached the ballroom. Up ahead, I could see a table 
covered with nametags being manned by two women I 
didn't recognize at all. About half a dozen guests 
milled around outside. 

"Hi, good evening," one of the women said. Her nametag 
said "Phoebe Collins," but I still didn't remember her. 

"Hi. Steve Chandler." 

"Well, hi, Steve." 

Phoebe searched for my nametag and then handed it to 
me. Then she looked at Marianne, and I watched her 
smile cracking slightly. 

"Can I get you a nametag?" 

"Sure. Marianne Mulcahey." 

Phoebe filled out a nametag and handed it her. Her 
smile was entirely forced by this point. 

"Enjoy yourselves." 

We walked into the ballroom, and I glanced at Marianne, 
who was fighting a grin. 

"It's going to be like that all night, isn't it?" 

"Probably." 

I surveyed the room, still not seeing anyone I 
recognized, but seeing a lot of people doing double 
takes when they got a good look at Marianne. They had a 
coat check room in one corner, where she surrendered 
the wrap. She gave me a nervous grin. 

"Here we go." 

She took my arm again, squeezing it tightly. We made 
our way toward the bar, and I tried not to pay too much 
attention to the numerous cases of male whiplash 
Marianne was inducing as she passed. When we got to the 
bar, I half-turned to look behind us, seeing at least 
three or four men staring incredulously at Marianne's 
butt. Most of them had dates or spouses, and I saw one 
woman subtly jab her husband in the ribs when she saw 
what he was looking at. Then she gave me a dirty look 
and turned away. 

I ordered a pair of drinks and led Marianne back into 
the crowd. After a few sips of wine, she seemed to be 
calming down. 

"How are we doing?" she asked. 

"There are going to be a lot of men here with stiff 
necks tomorrow." 

She giggled. I spotted someone I knew, a guy named Jim 
Pederson, whom I had shared a bong-load or two with 
during my senior year. His hair had once been as long 
as Marianne's but it was now clipped short and heavily 
receding. He saw me a moment later and headed toward 
us. 

"Holy shit! Steve!" 

"Jim. How's it going?" 

He shook my hand vigorously, and then took in Marianne. 
Though his eyes widened slightly, he said nothing. 

"This is Marianne." 

She extended her hand, and he shook it. 

"Nice to meet you." 

Jim and I spent a few minutes catching up, during which 
I discovered that he was now an Assistant United States 
Attorney in San Francisco ("Quite a change from the old 
days, eh?" he asked, laughing). He gave Marianne some 
repeated glances but otherwise behaved himself. 

"So, um, what do you do, Marianne?" he finally asked. 

"I'm still in school." 

"What are you thinking of doing?" 

"I haven't really made up my mind." 

A heavyset man I didn't recognize came up to us, and 
only after reading his nametag, did I realize who it 
was--Mike Taylor, who had been the quarterback on the 
football team, though he was now several decades out of 
his playing form. He glanced at me as he approached, 
but most of his attention was on Marianne. 

"Steve. How you doing?" 

"Mike. Not bad." 

He looked at Marianne, who gave him a flirty smile. A 
little tremor ran over his face. 

"This is Marianne." 

He seemed to want to shake her hand, but she kept it at 
her side. I watched his eyes going up and down, up and 
down, from her breasts to her face and back again. 

"What... uh..." he managed, "what are you up to these 
days, Steve?" 

"I'm a stock trader. I live up the coast about two 
hours. What about you?" 

"I'm an Assistant Sales Manager at a big Chevy 
dealership near the beach. I, uh..." His eyes got stuck 
on Marianne's breasts again. "I've been there a few 
years." 

A brown-haired woman came up next to him, glancing at 
me, then Marianne, then back at me with disbelief 
filling her eyes. She nudged Mike, and he started. 

"Um, honey, this is Steve Chandler. We were friends 
back then." 

That was a lie, but I was feeling magnanimous enough 
not to call him out on it, especially as I watched the 
anger filling his wife's eyes. Like a nebula being 
pulled into a black hole, Mike's attention was being 
drawn inexorably back toward my girlfriend's chest. She 
gave his wife a sly look. 

The poor woman stood it for only a second or two before 
pinching Mike's side. He squirmed in her grip, but she 
refused to let go of him. Giving the two of us a steely 
glare, she took Mike's arm in hers. 

"Can we go sit down now, honey?" 

He gave me a conflicted look as she dragged him off. I 
glanced at Jim, who was fighting a grin. Marianne just 
smiled innocently. 

We repeated that scene a few more times, mostly with 
men I had hardly known--if at all--during high school. 
Though I hadn't said anything to Marianne and didn't 
intend to, there was one person I really did not want 
to see tonight, if she even remembered who I was or why 
I would care. Another cheerleader in another, far less 
pleasant, life. I kept glancing around, looking for her 
but not seeing her. After we had been there about an 
hour, I let myself decide that she hadn't come. 

More and more of the women I saw gave me nasty looks 
when our eyes met. I had been looking for Mary Jo, but 
I didn't see her until we had been there almost an 
hour. She stood with a tall, thin man with graying 
blonde hair. She was a bit rounder than I remembered 
but still pretty. 

She spotted me a minute later and came straight over. 

"Steve!" 

She gave me a big hug and then withdrew to check me 
out. 

"Look at you! You haven't aged a bit." 

Now she noticed Marianne, and I could see her eyes 
widening. Her smile wavered for a moment. 

"This is Marianne." 

They shook hands, and I introduced Mary Jo. 

"He's told me a lot about you," Marianne said, and that 
was sufficient to disrupt Mary Jo's mild case of shock. 
She laughed. 

"Oh, no. Well, I hope it was nothing indecent." 

"It was all good." 

Mary Jo's husband appeared at her side, and she 
introduced him. We made casual small talk for a few 
minutes. 

"So, how did you two meet?" 

"I live just down the street from him," Marianne said. 
"So we've sort of known each other a while." 

Mary Jo tried to smile, but I could tell it was 
difficult. 

"How long have you been going out?" 

"Just a few months, really." 

Mary Jo had always been on the shy side, and I could 
tell that this was as far as she could bear to take the 
conversation. We spent some time talking about what she 
had been up to, and about her two kids. Marianne went 
to the ladies' room a few minutes later, and when she 
was out of earshot, I leaned toward Mary Jo and lowered 
my voice. 

"Do you know if Beth Dunbar is here tonight?" 

A knowing look passed across her face. 

"As far as I know, she's not here. She hasn't come to 
the last few. We've lost track of her, to be honest. 
You don't really want to see her again, do you?" 

"No. That's why I'm asking." 

She nodded, but said nothing else. When Marianne 
reappeared, we split up with Mary Jo and her husband 
and headed back toward the bar. 

"Are you enjoying this?" she asked me. 

"Yes. You?" 

"I'm fine. It's not as difficult as I thought it would 
be. I'm having fun." 

"Good." 

We got to the bar and ordered another round of drinks. 
After I paid the tab, I leaned in to peck her on the 
cheek. 

"I have to hit the bathroom myself. Will you survive on 
your own for a few minutes?" 

She grinned. 

"I think I'll make it. Go." 

I went toward the men's room to take a leak. When I was 
standing in front of the urinal draining my bladder, 
Patrick Getzels, another guy I had barely known, came 
up to use the one next to me. 

"Steve." 

"Pat. How's it been?" 

"Not bad. That, uh, that girl with you..." 

"Marianne." 

"Your girlfriend?" 

"Yep." 

"How old is she?" 

I grinned and zipped up my slacks. 

"Legal." 

He laughed in disbelief. 

"Oh, Jesus." 

When I returned to the bar, Marianne had no less than 
four men around her trying to get her attention, and, 
none-too-subtlety, peer into the gaps in her dress. She 
seemed to be enjoying herself, and when I approached, 
she gave me a big kiss. The men around her backed away, 
various looks of embarrassment and jealousy on their 
faces. I recognized only one of them, Bart Creagler, 
another ex-football player. 

Marianne hugged my arm and smiled up at me. Bart pried 
his eyes off Marianne's butt and extended his hand. 

"Steve, how you doing?" 

"Not bad. You?" 

I watched the other men staring forlornly at Marianne 
and resisted the urge to grin at them. 

"Pretty good," Bart said. "What have you been up to?" 

Before I could answer him, a tall, thin woman with a 
barely restrained look of fury on her face appeared at 
Bart's side. I recognized her as (the former?) Marcy 
Conrad, who had been a cheerleader at All Saints and 
had dated Bart off and on during high school. She gave 
me an icy glare before taking Bart's arm. Bart shrunk 
into himself as he realized who it was. 

"Hello, Steve." 

"Marcy." 

The other men around us had dispersed into the crowd at 
Marcy's approach. 
She turned her eyes on Marianne, a razor-thin smile 
spreading over her face. 

"And this must be your daughter." 

Bart's eyes goggled, and I had to pause a moment to 
formulate a response. 
But Marianne beat me to it. 

"No, actually, I'm his fuck toy." 

Marcy's jaw dropped about six inches. 

"Although," Marianne went on, "sometimes I'll pretend 
to be his daughter, you know, yell out 'Fuck me, Daddy' 
when we're having sex. He likes me to do that." 

Marcy stared at her, then me, utterly speechless. I 
gave her a small grin. 

"She's kidding." 

She pulled herself closer to her husband and took a 
ragged breath. 

"Um, I think I see someone I need to talk to. I have to 
go over there." 

"It was nice to meet you," Marianne said sweetly. 

Marcy just straightened herself and dragged Bart off 
into the crowd. 
Marianne grinned up at me. 

"That was deft." 

"She asked for it." 

"I guess so." 

The dinner began shortly after that, and if the people 
we sat with were uncomfortable about Marianne's 
presence, they did their best not to show it. I still 
saw a lot of people pointing in our direction and 
whispering to each other. 

After dinner, Marianne dragged me out to the dance 
floor, where the DJ was playing a succession of late-
70's disco tunes. Her braless breasts bounced freely 
around in her dress while she danced, and nearly every 
male eye in range was fixed on her, to the 
consternation of most of the women present. As near as 
I could tell, she noticed and seemed to be enjoying it. 

The music changed to a KISS ballad, and we came 
together. I linked my hands at the base of her back, 
and she slid her arms around my waist and laid her head 
on my chest. The fabric of her dress was so loose and 
clingy that she almost felt naked. 

"Were you into disco in high school?" 

"No. I hated it. I was in the anti-disco crowd from the 
beginning." 

Over her shoulder, I saw a man nearby staring at 
Marianne's butt. 

"What did you like?" 

"Led Zeppelin. Foghat. Black Sabbath. KISS. That kind 
of stuff." 

She pressed herself closer to me, purring and rubbing 
her breasts against my chest. Then she rose up on her 
toes and leaned toward my ear. 

"How much longer do you want to stay here?" 

"Why?" 

"Because, I'm very fucking horny right now." I laughed 
softly. 

"Let's go then." 

We stopped dancing, and she pulled me toward the exit. 
We paused only to retrieve her wrap from the coat check 
before heading toward the elevator. I gave the room one 
final glance on the way out, seeing at least a dozen 
men dejectedly watching Marianne's exit. I allowed 
myself a small smile of triumph as we left. 

I had gotten a suite, and our room was on the top 
floor. The bellboy had left our bags on the bed, and 
the bottle of champagne I had ordered when I made the 
reservation had apparently just arrived. Marianne 
giggled when she saw it. 

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" 

"Do I need to?" 

She gave me a sly glance but said nothing, drifting out 
to the balcony as I opened the champagne. I poured two 
glasses and joined her outside. She leaned against the 
railing, looking down at the city around us. A light 
wind was blowing, and her blonde hair fluttered around 
her face. She took her glass and took a sip. 

"It's pretty." 

"Nothing like you." 

She turned around to face me, smiling. 

"Did you enjoy that tonight? All those men drooling 
over me?" 

"It was fun to watch. But you're more to me than that. 
Much more." 

"I know. I wouldn't have done this otherwise." 

She set her glass on the railing and reached between 
us, unzipping my slacks. 
 Her hand slipped inside, through the fly of my boxers, 
and found my dick. 

I bent to kiss her as she began to stroke me. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Nothing." 

She quickly had me erect, and she pulled my dick out 
into the night air. She reached for one of the balcony 
chairs and sat down, bending forward to take me into 
her mouth. I felt her swirling her tongue around the 
head a few times before withdrawing. Then she took a 
swig of champagne and bent back down. 

I grunted, grabbing at her head when the champagne 
bubbles bit at my dick. She swished it around her 
mouth, making the sensations even worse. She swallowed 
the champagne and bobbed rapidly over me. I looked 
around us, seeing only the lights of downtown. We were 
back lit, and anyone looking up here could see this. 

"The lights," I gasped. 

She withdrew far enough to answer me. 

"I don't care. Let them watch." 

She took another mouthful of champagne and resumed her 
attentions. I groaned, swaying on my feet at what she 
was doing. Then suddenly she stood up, hiked her dress 
up to her waist, and turned away from me, presenting 
her ass for my enjoyment as she braced herself against 
the railing. 

I didn't need any further encouragement. I fitted my 
erection between her buttocks, and I felt her reaching 
between her legs to guide me in. She was almost 
searingly hot after the cold champagne, and thoroughly 
wet and ready. I pushed myself into her up to the root, 
pressing against her tight cheerleader butt. She pushed 
back against me, moaning. 

I gave in to the experience, looking past Marianne to 
the darkened city below us. I thrust at her rapidly, 
feeling her fingers brushing against my balls as she 
played with herself. I kept my hands tight on her 
waist, guiding her movements. The musky scent of her 
sex rose up between us, hot and thick. 

She let out a soft cry, arching her back to open 
herself further to me. I continued plundering her 
wonderful ass, lost in the sensations. The hand between 
her legs suddenly came up over her neck, and she was 
pulling her dress over her head and letting it fall to 
the balcony floor. In a moment, she was naked except 
for her heels, completely exposed to anyone who wanted 
to look. And I was fully clothed except for the 
erection jutting out of my pants. 

"Fuck me!" she groaned. "Fuck me!" 

I redoubled my efforts, hammering her butt as she went 
back to playing with herself furiously. She cried out 
once, twice, and her legs buckled under her. I stabbed 
forward, almost lifting her in the air, and came like 
an out-of-control fire hose. I kept thrusting at her 
until she was hanging half over the balcony, big tits 
exposed to the entire city. 

She sank toward the ground, and I bent to pick her up. 
I carried her inside and laid her on the bed. I 
stripped out of my clothes as quickly as I could and 
joined her. She rolled against me, and I could feel her 
legs still quivering in the last vestiges of her 
climax. 

She giggled. 

"That was fun." 

"You have no shame, girl." 

"If you've got it, flaunt it." 

"I've noticed." 

She snuggled against me, and we lay together for a few 
minutes before she began kissing her way down my chest. 
She took my deflated dick in her mouth and set about 
restoring my erection. In about five minutes, she had 
succeeded, and I pulled her up above me. She planted 
her knees on either side of my waist and impaled 
herself on my dick. 

She spread herself open, trying to bottom out and get 
every bit of me into her. I thrust upwards, causing her 
to grind her sex against the base of my cock. She let 
out a throaty groan. I looked down, seeing her blonde 
twat split apart on my dick and the kitten tattoo 
watching us with a grin. Her belly ring twitched back 
and forth as she rode me, moving as her abdomen heaved. 

I was a long way from coming, so I concentrated on 
helping her along. When she got within range, I leaned 
up to suck on her nipples, nibbling and biting at her 
as best I could. I soon had them as wet and swollen as 
her pussy, which was doing its best to swallow me 
whole. 

Marianne began to move faster, shuddering and gripping 
my shoulders with tight claws. Her long blonde hair 
fell down around our heads, but she scarcely seemed to 
notice. She was lost in the agonizing climb toward 
orgasm, eyes shut tightly, jaw clenched, face twisted 
in effort. She rocked rapidly back and forth over me in 
an animal rhythm, as if she had surrendered all control 
of her body to her primal instincts. 

Her movements grew more rapid and spasmodic, and little 
feline cries, increasing in volume, escaped her mouth. 
Finally, with a piercing shriek, she dug her nails into 
my shoulders, and slammed herself down on me three or 
four times. She shuddered above me for a good five or 
ten seconds before collapsing into a quivering mass of 
flesh. 

I rolled her on her side, remaining inside her. She 
curled into my arms, still shaking and shuddering. I 
pulled a thigh up to my waist and moved slowly in and 
out of her. She whimpered, nuzzling my chin. 

"Nice?" 

"Nice?" she gasped. "My God, nice." 

I kissed her. 

"Mmm." 

"Don't stop," she whispered. "Make love to me all 
night. I'll sleep when we get back." 

I laughed softly. 

"I'll try." 

She rolled on her back, pulling me above her. I 
continued my slow, steady movements, just enjoying the 
sensations of being inside her. She wrapped herself 
around me, licking my ear and nibbling my earlobe. 

"Think of all those guys looking at me tonight," she 
moaned, "drooling over me. Think of them. I bet they're 
all fucking their wives now, or beating off, thinking 
about me. Thinking about my ass... about my tits... 
about my pussy. The one you're fucking right now. 
You're where they all want to be. You're fucking me... 
oh God, you're fucking me." She whimpered again, biting 
my ear. "Don't stop. Fuck me. Oh God, fuck me--" 

She shuddered under me, whimpering through her nose, 
clawing at my back. With a sharp cry, she thrust 
herself up at me, heaving in orgasm. I slowed down as 
she coasted to the end of it, kissing her softly, 
licking the sweat at her brow. She hugged me tightly to 
her. 

"I love you." 

"I love you too, Kitten." 

We made love on into the night, insatiable and 
inexhaustible. We did it a third time past midnight, 
going at it until we were both too sore to continue. 
When we finally ran out of gas at about one-thirty, we 
returned to the balcony and lay together under a 
blanket, enjoying one last glass of champagne. 

"Why can't we do this more often?" Marianne asked. 

"Make love until neither of us can stand up?" 

She giggled. 

"No. Go out alone together. Like a normal couple." 

"I can think of two reasons, both of which think you're 
at Ashley's right now." 

I felt her tense up next to me. 

"Steve?" 

"What?" 

"What if I told you that they don't know where I am?" 

I froze. 

"What?" 

She was silent for a few moments. 

"You said it was time. You're right. I've been trying 
to tell them for a few days. I couldn't bring myself to 
do it. So I just decided to force the issue. I didn't 
tell them where I was going tonight. When we get back 
tomorrow, then I'll have no choice but to tell them." 

Oh, shit. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
------------------

Although I thought about driving straight back that 
night, I knew it would be pointless. I could have 
gotten Marianne home by three a.m. at the soonest, 
which was still far too late. And deep in my heart, I 
knew she was right. It was time to face the music. 

Marianne insisted that we make love again before 
leaving that morning, since, as she told me, "It might 
be a while before we can do it again." So we did, and I 
tried not to dwell on the distinct possibility that it 
might be the last time, period. 

We drove back in silence. She held my hand most of the 
drive. I dropped her off at her house just after nine 
and went home. 

As the reality of this development sank in, I tried to 
get my bearings. Was I about to get busted? Did the 
fact that Marianne was eighteen now make everything 
that went on before irrelevant? 

I had an MBA from Stanford, and I had taken a few 
elective law courses during B-school, but that was a 
good fifteen years ago, and I had forgotten 95% of it. 
I didn't think they had covered statutory rape anyway. 
I had no idea what the truth of the matter was, but I 
knew someone who would. 

I went up to my office and found his number. He 
answered on the third ring. 

"Hey, Brian, it's Steve. I'm sorry to bother you on a 
Sunday, but I'm in a bit of a bind." 

"No sweat. I was up. What's wrong?" 

"Before I tell you, this is attorney-client privilege." 

He laughed. 

"What happened? You rob a bank or something?" 

"No, but I may be in some trouble." 

"Okay. Shoot. What's the problem?" 

I took a deep breath. 

"I have been seeing a certain girl for about three 
months. The problem, basically, is that she only just 
turned eighteen." 

Silence. Then the sound of a chair creaking as Brian 
sat down. 

"Oh." 

"Right." 

"What I need to know is what this means." 

"You've been screwing her, I gather?" 

"Yes." 

"Who else knows?" 

"A couple of her friends, and her sister. But as far as 
I know, not her parents." 

"When did she turn eighteen?" 

"About three weeks ago." 

"Christ." He took a long breath. "What it means is that 
you're on the hook for statutory rape. But I gather you 
know that already." 

"It doesn't matter that she's eighteen now?" 

"She was seventeen when you fucked her?" 

"Yes." 

"No, it doesn't. But her parents don't know about 
this?" 

"Not yet. But they may figure it out as of this 
morning." 

Another long groan. 

"Okay. Until they find out, you may be all right, 
assuming this girl doesn't decide to get you busted 
herself." 

"She won't." 

"You don't know that, but let's not get into that now. 
In order to prosecute you, the DA has to establish 
somehow that you had sex with her when she was 
underage. Usually that's with the girl's testimony, but 
even if she won't cooperate, they may find a way to get 
you anyway. They might just serve a search warrant on 
your house and look for evidence that you slept with 
her. Now, I'm not advising that you do anything, mind 
you, since it would be unethical to suggest that you 
destroy evidence, but you should give that some 
thought." 

"Understood." 

"Is there anyone else who can testify that you had sex 
with this girl?" 

Shit. 

"Yes." 

He groaned again. 

"Are they likely to?" 

"I don't know. Probably not." 

"Okay. Right now, we're in limbo until something else 
happens. Ordinarily, I would suggest you get as far 
away from this girl as possible, but since she's 
eighteen now, that's not really an issue anymore. My 
advice is that you do whatever it takes to keep her on 
your side. That, and you think about that thing I just 
told you." 

"Okay. Thanks." 

"Call me the instant anything happens." 

As soon as I was off the phone, I set about sanitizing 
the house. What I hadn't bothered to tell Brian was 
that a police search might well turn up evidence of all 
the dope we had smoked, and I knew that if that 
happened, I would be in much deeper shit. 

Marianne had left a few odds and ends around the house, 
so I gathered those up and shoved them in the trash. 
All the sheets and towels went into the wash. I 
vacuumed the whole house repeatedly and furiously, then 
hosed off the patio. I found an empty bag of marijuana 
under the couch in the den and burned it in the 
barbecue. 

I was dragging a bag of trash into the garage when I 
realized someone was pounding on the front door. I 
briefly contemplated pretending I wasn't home, then 
decided I had best get this over with. 

I looked through the peephole. On the porch were 
Marianne and a beefy, heavyset man I took to be her 
father. Coming up the front walk behind them was a 
blonde-haired woman in her forties. 

I opened the door. Marianne had changed into jeans and 
a sweatshirt. Her arms were crossed under her breasts, 
and she looked up at me fearfully, face lined with 
tension. Her father seemed about to erupt like a 
volcano, and he took one look at me before lurching 
through the door for my throat. 

I jumped back, and Marianne leapt to intercept him. 

"No! Daddy, stop it!" 

He was a lot bigger than she was, but her interference 
was still enough to stop him in the doorway. Marianne's 
mother ran up behind him, grabbing his arm. 

"Charles, grow up! That isn't going to solve anything!" 

Charles and I glared at each other. His face was 
flushed bright red, and he panted through his nostrils. 
His wife pulled him back onto the porch, and he went, 
reluctantly. She got him behind her and finally looked 
at me. She looked me up and down once. 

"Just how old are you?" 

"Forty-one." 

She shook her head in disgust. 

"And you take advantage of a seventeen-year-old girl?" 

"Mom, I'm eighteen now, and I can do what I want!" 

She glanced at Marianne once before looking back at me. 

"You just stay away from my daughter, do you hear? I 
have half a mind to call the police right now." 

"If you call the police," Marianne snarled, "I will 
never speak to you again." 

I looked past the three of them, seeing that Hayley had 
come up the street with this delegation as well, and 
she watched us from the bottom of the driveway. 
Marianne's mother followed my gaze and blew up 
immediately. 

"Hayley, get back to the house right now! Get your butt 
inside before I have to thrash it!" 

Hayley turned and ran back down the street. Her mother 
glared at Marianne, and then looked back at me, shaking 
her head again. 

"You've got her wrapped right around your finger, don't 
you? Got her snowed into thinking she's a grown woman 
who doesn't have to mind anyone." 

"I never told her anything I didn't mean." 

"Mom, I love him. There's nothing you can do about this 
anymore." 

Her mother's eyes flared in outrage, and she slapped 
Marianne across the face. I jumped out the door to stop 
her, and for a moment, the four of us were struggling 
chaotically with each other until her mother extricated 
herself and her husband. 

Marianne had backed away from them, against me. She 
held her cheek and glared murderously at her mother. 
Marianne's parents glared back at us, and her mother 
finally caught her breath and spoke. 

"All right. If you don't think you need us anymore, 
then you go on and stay here. Let him take care of you 
for a change. See how you like it without a family." 

She backed up the front walk, pulling Marianne's father 
with her. He resisted for a few seconds, but then they 
were leaving. Marianne turned inside the house and 
stood in the foyer, rubbing her forehead. 

"Oh, God." 

I watched her parents leave and shut the door. Then I 
hugged Marianne, and she leaned against me. 

"Give them some time to calm down. When people are that 
upset, they sometimes say things they don't mean." 

She began to cry against my shoulder. I let her. There 
wasn't much else to do. 

Marianne went to lie down when she stopped crying, and 
I called Brian back to update him on the crisis. He 
grilled me on what I thought her parents would do, and 
I told him that--for now--it didn't seem like they 
would call the police. I felt a bit guilty hoping, and 
suspecting, that they were unsophisticated enough to 
think they had nothing on me now that Marianne was 
eighteen. Were that the case, I wasn't about to 
disabuse them of the misconception. 

At about noon, with Marianne still lying down in the 
bedroom, the doorbell rang. I looked out the peephole 
and nearly had a heart attack. 

I tore open the door. 

"Jesus Christ, Hayley, what are you doing here?" 

I looked past her up and down the street. No one was 
there. She stood nervously on the stoop. 

"I wanted to see Marianne." 

"Your folks don't know you're here?" 

"No. They think I don't know anything about you. I told 
them I didn't know what she was doing. So, can I come 
in?" 

I looked up the street again and then pulled her 
inside. 

"This is not the best time for you to be here. Marianne 
is eighteen; you are not." 

"I know, I don't want to do it or anything. I just want 
to see if she's okay." 

"I'm all right." 

Both of us spun around. Marianne stood halfway down the 
stairs, looking wrung out. She brushed her hair back 
over her head as she dropped down another few steps. 

"How are Mom and Dad?" 

"Postal. Totally. They've been screaming at each other 
all morning." 

"How did you get out?" 

"I told them I was going over to Brianna's. I think 
they kind of wanted me gone anyway." 

"Do you think they're going to do anything?" 

"I don't know. They were mostly arguing about whose 
fault it is." 

Marianne sat on the stairs, and Hayley went over to sit 
on the step below her. Marianne put her arms around 
Hayley and hugged her. Hayley hugged her back, though 
she still seemed flustered by all this. 

"Are you going to stay here now?" 

"Mom and Dad want me out. What else can I do?" 

"I don't know if they really want you out. They didn't 
sound like it was settled or anything." 

"I need to stay here for the time being. At least until 
they chill out." 

"What about your stuff?" 

"I don't know. I can't think about that now." 

"I could bring some stuff over." 

"I don't want you to get in the middle of this." 

"It's okay. I don't mind." 

"Don't get yourself in trouble because of me, short 
stuff." 

"I won't. I'll be careful." 

I looked at Hayley. 

"You'd better go. Don't push your luck any further." 

"Okay." She glanced at her sister. "I'll get some stuff 
together. I'll try to bring it over later." 

"Thanks." 

She gave Marianne another hug and left. When she was 
gone, I sat down next to Marianne and put my arm around 
her. 

"How you doing, Kitten?" 

"Shitty. But it's not your fault. I'll get through it." 

"Why don't you go lie down again?" 

"Only if you come with me." 

I led her back up to the bedroom, and we lay down 
together. She lay under my arm for a long time while I 
tried to think of what to do. 

Marianne propped herself up on my chest after we had 
been there about twenty minutes. 

"You know, if you look past the fact that we've only 
been going out a couple of months, and that that's 
pretty fast to be moving in together, there isn't 
anything wrong with this. We're both adults, right?" 

"You still have to go to school." 

"So I go to school. What are my folks going to do? Try 
to stop me from graduating? What *can* they do?" 

"They can call the police." 

"But I'm eighteen now." 

I explained about my conversation with Brian. 

"Oh. Well, I bet they won't. You heard what I told my 
mom. And I'd never do anything to get you in trouble. 
I'll just tell the police we didn't do it until my 
eighteenth birthday. That we knew what the law was and 
waited." 

"I don't know if they'll believe that." 

"But they won't *know,* right? If I refuse to help 
them, what can they do?" 

I thought about that for a moment. 

"Maybe nothing." 

She lay back down and hugged me. 

"So we're fine. Everything will be okay. Just let my 
parents calm down, and it will all go back to normal in 
a week or so." 

I wasn't so sure of that, but I didn't see what else to 
do. 

I made Marianne something to eat a bit later, but she 
stayed in the bedroom. Having nothing else to do, I 
went down to the den to watch Stanford and Notre Dame 
playing South Bend. 

At around three o'clock, the doorbell rang again. 
Thinking it was Hayley with a delivery of Marianne's 
things, I went straight to the door. 

It wasn't Hayley. 

Marianne's mother stood on the doorstep with her arms 
crossed. She still seemed upset, but she appeared to 
have collected herself somewhat. 

"Where is my daughter?" 

"Upstairs." She said nothing for a few seconds. "Would 
you like to come in?" 

She stepped into the living room, still radiating 
hostility. With the tension down a few notches from our 
earlier confrontation, I got a better look at her. I 
could see where Marianne got her looks, for her mother 
was still a very attractive woman. If Marianne looked 
this good at forty, she would be doing pretty well. 

And, the more I looked at her, the more something about 
her looked familiar, and it wasn't her resemblance to 
her daughters. It tickled the back of my brain like a 
word you want to use but can't quite place, the feeling 
vague enough that you're not sure it even exists. 

She looked around the room briefly, then brushed her 
blonde hair back from her face, over her head. The 
action gave me another sense of deja vu, though a 
different one--it was the sort of thing Marianne was 
always doing. She had probably picked the habit up from 
her mother. 

Before either of us said anything else, I saw Marianne 
coming down the stairs. Her mother straightened her 
back and faced her. 

"Honey, I want to tell you that I am sorry for slapping 
you. I am still very upset with you, but that was not 
acceptable behavior." 

"It's all right." 

"I would like you to come home now." 

Marianne glanced at me. 

"I'm not going to stop seeing Steve." 

"I realize that. But, given a choice between having you 
in the house and putting a stop to this relationship, I 
would prefer to have you home. I'm not ready to have 
you leave yet." 

Marianne appeared to think for a few seconds. 

"This isn't going to be one of those things where you 
pretend to let me do what I want but make me sorry for 
doing it?" 

Her mother sniffed. 

"I'm not going to pretend that I approve of this 
situation. What kind of example do you think you're 
setting for your sister?" 

A chill shot down my spine, and I resisted the urge to 
exchange a nervous look with Marianne. Whatever 
Marianne was thinking, she kept her eyes on her mother. 

"I'm not coming back if you're going to make a lot of 
nasty remarks about me all the time." 

Her mother looked down at the floor, shaking her head. 

"I don't know how I missed all of this. Why it didn't 
occur to me to wonder where all those new clothes were 
coming from." She looked up at me. "You bought her that 
car, didn't you? That didn't even occur to me until 
this afternoon." 

I didn't see any point in denying it. 

"Yes." 

"Who do you think you are, buying a car like that for a 
girl her age?" 

"It was a birthday present." 

"Well, she's giving it back." 

"Hey!" Marianne squawked. "No way! That car is mine!" 

"The car is legally hers," I said. "All the papers are 
in her name. I'm not sure there's anything to 'give 
back' now." 

Her mother pursed her lips tightly. 

"Convenient." She shook her head again. "All right. I 
guess you're keeping the car. But Marianne, I want you 
to come home now." 

"What about Dad?" 

"This isn't up to him. He's going to find a way to deal 
with it." 

"But he's going to glare at me a lot and give me the 
silent treatment, right?" 

Her mother began to snort through her nostrils. 

"Marianne, what do you want from us? You are sleeping 
with a man who is older than I am and behaving like his 
pampered mistress. You think I don't know what he's in 
this for?" 

Marianne screeched in outrage, but I was the first one 
to get out a coherent reaction. 

"Mrs. Mulcahey, I know you may find this hard to 
believe, but I do care about your daughter. I am not 
exploiting her." 

She glared right back at me. 

"Do I look stupid to you? Do I look blind? I know what 
my daughter looks like, dammit. You think I didn't go 
through the same thing at her age? I've spent the last 
four years chasing off a succession of boys who only 
wanted one thing from her, and damned if they weren't 
going to get it." 

Marianne came down the rest of the stairs and stepped 
up to her mother. 

"Mom, you can't spend the rest of your life trying to 
protect me. You have to start letting me make my own 
decisions." 

"I realize that. This is just not the decision I would 
prefer to have you start with." She took several long 
breaths. "However, it appears I have no choice here. If 
you come home, your father and I will do our best to be 
civil about this." 

Marianne looked at me. I nodded. 

"Go home. It's the best for everyone right now." 

She reached out and squeezed my hand. 

"Thanks." 

Her mother gave me a final, frustrated, look and 
stepped toward the door. Marianne ran upstairs to get 
her shoes. She gave me a kiss on the way out, and I saw 
her mother close her eyes and grit her teeth at the 
sight of it. 

Then they were gone. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
------------------

As Marianne had predicted, things slowly went back to 
normal, at least at first. Her parents (especially her 
father) were not happy about our relationship, but 
appeared to have resigned themselves to it. Since they 
weren't happy, neither was Marianne, and as a result, 
she spent more and more time over at my place. 

The biggest victim in this confrontation, ironically, 
was not Marianne but Hayley. Her parents continued to 
think she knew nothing about the situation, and they 
appeared determined to keep it that way, instructing 
her that she was to have no contact with me whatsoever. 
They had only just allowed her to start dating, and she 
was now suffering under the discipline they were unable 
to direct at Marianne. 

"She's pissed at the entire world," Marianne told me 
one afternoon a few weeks later. "Me especially. She 
keeps bitching at Mom and Dad about how they're 
punishing her for what I did. Which is true. They're 
being totally unfair, but they're not interested in 
anyone else's opinions." 

We were lying in bed together after making love, her 
with her head on my chest, staring up at the ceiling 
and picking at her hair for split ends. I looked down 
the smooth length of her body, between her breasts, to 
the belly ring and kitten tattoo. 

"I can understand it. It sucks, but I can understand 
where they're coming from." 

"I know. I feel bad about this, but what I can do?" 

"Nothing. What do you think Hayley will do?" 

"She's not going to rat us out, about your sleeping 
with her. Not as far as I know. She keeps asking me how 
I could tell them and ruin everything. She cries about 
it all the time. I know she really misses you." 

I had been thinking that I should be grateful about 
Hayley being under house arrest, since it reduced my 
potential liability, but I was feeling worse and worse 
about what she was going through, since it was 
essentially my fault. Or at least a large chunk of it 
was. 

"Do you think you could you sneak her over here 
somehow? Would that help?" 

"Maybe. I don't know how. Mom and Dad want to know 
where she is like every second of every day. She has to 
call them whenever she goes anywhere." 

I brainstormed for a few moments. 

"I'm assuming they know nothing about the other girls 
on the squad." 

She scoffed. 

"As if. Jeez." 

"Hayley's a sophomore, right? She'll be eligible to try 
out for the varsity squad next spring?" 

"Right." 

"So if some of the other girls on the varsity squad 
invited her over, to practice or something, would your 
folks suspect anything?" 

She rolled over onto her chest, eyes lighting up. 

"No. Not a thing. Mom's so into our being cheerleaders. 
She was one herself. I bet she'd go along with that 
easy. Especially if I stayed home to distract them." 

"Would she check up on her?" 

"Maybe, but they'll play along. That should work 
great." 

"Okay. But, you know, we can't make a habit of this. We 
have to ease her out of this situation eventually, 
sooner rather than later, I think. It's a lot more 
risky now with us out in the open." 

Her face tightened up, and she looked down. She didn't 
say anything for a few moments. 

"There isn't any way we can keep her part of this? 
Somehow?" 

"Is that what you want?" 

She nodded slowly. 

"It's what I'd like. I don't know how, but could you 
try to think of something?" 

"When is her sixteenth birthday?" 

"March." 

"Until she turns eighteen, I don't know what we can 
do." 

She looked up at me forlornly. 

"There has to be something. There just has to be." 

Marianne called me the next day at work and explained 
what she and Hayley had set up. Giselle and Ashley had 
called Marianne's mother to ask if Hayley could come 
over to talk about trying out for varsity that spring, 
and she had agreed. They were going to hang around 
Ashley's in case Mrs. Mulcahey called to check on 
Hayley. Marianne would stay home, and Hayley would come 
over to my house. 

She arrived just after I got home, coming straight into 
my arms to hug me. I held her, caressing her back 
slowly. 

"I missed you." 

"I missed you too, Little Kit." 

"This sucks so hard. Please tell me I can keep seeing 
you. Please. I'll die if you won't let me keep seeing 
you." 

"It's going to be hard. You know this is against the 
law." 

"I don't care. I love you." 

"Unfortunately, that doesn't help us." 

"Can't you think of something?" 

"Marianne and I are working on it." 

She squeezed me tightly, whimpering in distress. I 
reached down and picked her up, carrying her up to the 
bedroom. She lay quietly as I undressed her, removing 
her jeans and baby tee shirt. When I had her down to 
bra and panties, I sat back to look at her. She was as 
beautiful as her sister was, just slightly less 
developed. They were alike enough that I had a hard 
time separating what I felt for them, and if I wasn't 
completely sure I loved Hayley too, I knew I cared 
about her happiness and did not want her to get hurt, 
whatever happened with the rest of this. 

She pulled me down to kiss her, and we necked and 
fondled each other for a few minutes. When she was 
naked, I rolled her on her stomach to inspect the cat 
tattoo on her butt, now largely healed. 

"Do you like it?" 

"It's very cute. Just like you." 

"A little kit." 

"Yep." 

She rolled back over and slipped her arms around my 
neck. 

"Marianne's your kitten. I'm your little kitten." 

I kissed her softly. 

"Right." 

"I love you so much." 

I looked down into her pretty blue eyes, only a shade 
or two lighter than that lapis bracelet she still wore 
all the time. I brushed the blonde hair back from her 
face. 

"I love you, too, Little Kit." 

I went back to kissing her slowly, playing with her 
firm breasts until I had her nipples standing straight 
out from her chest. I slid down and took one in my 
mouth, reaching down with my left hand to stroke 
between her thighs. She squirmed as I explored her sex, 
caressing her gently as I suckled her breasts. She 
writhed on the bed under me, making those little 
whimpering noises she always made. 

When I felt her getting wet, felt a little squirt of 
moisture emerge onto my fingers, I lowered myself the 
rest of the way. She reached down for my hands, and I 
opened her up with a gentle lick. I felt the little bud 
of her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, wiggling 
back and forth over it. I dipped down, wetting myself 
with her fluids, tasting her. I kept up that slow, 
steady, circular motion until she was rolling her sex 
at my face, moaning softly as if she were in pain. I 
sped my movements now, matching each roll of her hips. 
Her abdomen began to twitch, her hands clamped down on 
mine, and a moment later she was shivering in orgasm 
under me. I kept up my attentions until she let out a 
sharp cry and pushed me away. 

I crawled up beside her, taking her in my arms, feeling 
the tremors of climax still coursing through her body. 
She came back to life a few moments later, descending 
toward my erection and taking it deeply into her mouth. 
She gripped the base tightly and bobbed over me, 
swirling her tongue around and around the head. I 
gripped her blonde hair in my hands, closing my eyes, 
concentrating on what she was doing. 

I could stand it for only a few minutes, and I finally 
pulled her off. She lay on her back beside me, opening 
herself for my invasion. I was inside her in a moment, 
and she rose off the bed, wrapping herself around me, 
pulling herself up to make fulcrum of her sex as she 
often did. We rocked together, grinding against one 
another. She bit at my shoulder, whimpering softly. 

She clung to me, pressing her firm little body against 
me. Her hips rocked with my thrusts, and I struggled to 
hold myself off the bed with my arms. Finally, I leaned 
back, kneeling and sitting on my feet, bringing her up 
into my lap. She pulled my mouth to hers, kissing me 
deeply. She began shudder as she hung suspended on my 
erection. She bit my tongue involuntarily, and another 
orgasm shivered through her body. 

We thrashed around on the bed like that for a good ten 
minutes. I held myself off, knowing that she had 
several weeks of denial to make up for, and only when 
she had come half a dozen times probably, and lay back 
exhausted on the bed, surrendering to me, did I allow 
myself to come inside her. A few deliberate thrusts 
were all it took, and she held me on top of her, not 
letting me roll off for nearly a minute. 

We lay quietly together afterward. I played with her 
hair, inspecting the various shades of blonde from her 
neck to her ears. She let out one of her contended 
little giggles and hugged me. 

"How you doing?" 

"Great." 

"When are you supposed to be back?" 

She glanced at the clock. 

"Maybe an hour. So we have plenty of time." 

She sat up beside me and pulled her hair around behind 
her shoulders. 

"Steve, I don't want to get you in trouble. I know this 
is dangerous. But I can't help that I love you." 

"I know." 

"If there's anything we can do to keep seeing each 
other, will you promise me you'll do it?" 

"I'll do my best. That's all I can tell you. I don't 
want to hurt you and Marianne. That's all I really care 
about." 

She smiled. 

"Thanks." 

We made love a second time, and she went home around 
seven. Marianne came over about half an hour later, and 
we lay together on the couch in the den. 

"Thanks. That really helped." 

"How is she?" 

"A lot happier than she's been since we came out. When 
I left, she was lying on her bed with a big smile on 
her face. A real post-you-know-what glow." 

"I'm glad she's happy. But I don't know where we go 
from here." 

Marianne hugged me. 

"I had an idea. It's... it's an extreme idea, but it's 
the only thing I can think of." 

"What?" 

"I'm thinking you may not want to know the details of 
this. At least until I get a few things ironed out. And 
maybe not even then." 

"Uh-oh. It's nothing illegal?" 

"I don't think so." 

"You don't *think* so?" 

"It's more ugly than illegal." 

I struggled with myself for a moment or two. 

"But it might be illegal?" 

"I'm not a lawyer. I don't know." 

"Marianne--" 

She sat up next to me, looking hard into my eyes. 

"Steve, do you trust me?" 

Good God, what a question. 

"Yes." 

"Do you believe that I would never do anything to hurt 
you or Hayley? That I would never do anything that 
would put us in danger of being separated?" 

"Yes, but--" 

"Then let me do this. It's the only way." 

"Are people going to get hurt?" 

"People will get hurt if we do nothing. Hayley will be 
devastated if she has to stop seeing you. And I don't 
want to boot her out of this just for our own 
convenience. You do recognize that she's getting hurt 
because we came out of the closet for our own sakes, 
don't you? She's worse off now that we're safe. We're 
hurting her to benefit ourselves. We owe it to her to 
do what we can to help her." 

I gritted my teeth. She had a point. 

She took my face in her hands. 

"Steve, I'll ask you again. Do you trust me?" 

I sighed. 

"Yes. Do what you have to, I guess." 

She kissed me. 

"Thank you. This won't be easy, but we'll be better off 
afterwards." 

I didn't see either of them for a couple of days, 
during which I stewed over the situation and tried to 
fathom what on earth Marianne was up to. It wasn't that 
I didn't trust her; I just wasn't sure she knew what 
she was doing. No matter how many times I turned the 
problem over in my head, I could not see a solution. 
How in God's name was she going to get her parents to 
consent to my sleeping with Hayley, if indeed that was 
what she was doing? 

Maybe she wasn't trying to secure their consent, but 
just trying to get them to back off? But she had talked 
about it like it was a permanent solution to the 
problem, as if we could go back to being one happy trio 
afterwards with no worries about the legalities of it. 
None of it made sense. 

Marianne and I went out for dinner on Friday night, and 
I could sense the tension in her as soon as she walked 
through the door. 

"Anything you want to talk about?" I asked her once we 
were on our way to the restaurant. 

"No. I'm sorry, babe, but I think you have to wait 
until it's over." 

"But it's happening?" 

"Yes. This weekend probably." 

"Do I need to call my lawyer to make sure he's on 
call?" 

She shook her head. 

"No. This won't involve you no matter what happens. It 
will either work or it won't, but if it doesn't, it 
won't implicate you at all." 

"What about you?" 

"No. I'm not the one doing this. You'll see. Please be 
patient." 

We ate a slow, quiet dinner together and tried to avoid 
the issue hanging over our heads. We returned to the 
house around ten o'clock and drifted toward the 
bedroom. This had been a casual night out, and Marianne 
wore only jeans and one of her cropped spaghetti-strap 
T-shirts. I took her in my arms and kissed her, then 
picked her up and carried her to the bed. 

She kept her arms around my neck and pulled me down on 
top of her. We necked and fondled each other for a few 
minutes, losing most of our clothes in the process. I 
began by kissing and nibbling most of her sensitive 
spots, licking around the underside of her breasts, 
running my tongue down to her navel, giving the kitten 
tat a quick kiss before descending between her thighs. 
She was already quite wet when I got there, and I had 
to lick at her vigorously before I could generate much 
friction. I brought her to two quick orgasms before she 
pushed me off. 

When she had caught her breath, she slid down to take 
me in her mouth. She sucked on me slowly, licking and 
kissing the shaft and head. She ran the tip of her 
tongue around the head a few times before taking most 
of it into her mouth, pushing it to the back of her 
throat until her gag reflex forced it out. She did that 
a few times, then began bobbing rapidly over me. She 
kept up this steady suction, and I stopped her after 
few minutes when I was getting close. 

"Could I get you off like this?" 

"You don't want to have sex?" 

"It's just like I like doing it, and I haven't done it 
in a while. We could make love later." 

"Okay. Go for it." 

She went back to work, sucking rapidly on the head with 
her lips and tongue. Under such eager attentions, I 
reached the brink rather quickly. Marianne gave my 
balls a gentle squeeze when she felt me beginning to 
come, then pushed me to the back of her mouth to 
swallow up my cum as it spurted forth. She continued 
sucking on me until my erection began to subside, then 
climbed up to lie beside me. 

"Happy?" I managed. 

She giggled, hugging me. 

"Yep. You?" 

I nodded weakly, returning the hug. 

We made love in earnest about half an hour later. 
Afterward, Marianne lay beside me for a few minutes 
before sitting back and pushing her hair over her head. 

"You need to go?" 

"No. I can spend the night. It's not a problem." 

"Your mother doesn't care?" 

"It's more that she didn't really object when I told 
her I was going to do it." 

"Have they noticed your belly ring yet?" 

"Yes. But under the circumstances, it's not their 
biggest concern." 

"And what is?" 

"That their little girl has finally discovered sex." 

That gave me pause. 

"You mean they think--" 

She grinned, nodding. 

"Mom did. At first. She was like, 'I wanted your first 
time to be something more special than this,' and I had 
to go, 'Um, Mom, Steve wasn't my first.' She got kind 
of miffed about that." 

"How much did you tell her?" 

"Nothing. She didn't want to know any more." 

"She never figured out what you were doing before?" 

"No. Like I told you, they didn't pay that much 
attention to what I did, never mind what she said about 
having to beat the boys off with a stick. That's is why 
she's being so hard on Hayley. I think she wants to 
correct her 'mistakes' with me." 

I pulled her back, and she crawled above me, letting 
her hair and big tits hang down in my face. I kissed 
each nipple once and then pulled her mouth to mine. 

"I wouldn't characterize you as a mistake." 

She giggled, but I stifled it with a tongue. 

We slept in, and I didn't really wake up until the 
phone rang at about nine-thirty. I fumbled for it on 
the nightstand, knocking a few things over before 
getting a good grip on the handset. 

"Hello?" 

"Steve? It's Tiffany." 

"Oh. Hi. What's up?" 

"Not much. Marianne is there, right?" 

"Yeah." 

"Can I talk to her?" 

"Hold on." 

Marianne had awoken beside me, and sat up against the 
headboard. She took the phone and listened, running her 
fingers through her hair as Tiffany told her something. 
I could hear Tiffany's voice but not what she was 
saying, and whatever it was she had called about took 
several minutes to explain. Marianne just nodded, and 
said "okay" a few times, and I slowly realized what 
this probably involved. 

Marianne finally said, "Okay. Let me know if anything 
else happens," and hung up. She dropped the phone and 
stared blankly at the opposite wall until I nudged her. 

"Kitten?" 

She looked over at me slowly. 

"It's done. I may burn in Hell for this, but it's 
done." 


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
--------------------

I was too stunned to say anything, and I lay there 
staring at her until she was ready to explain what had 
happened. 

She rolled over toward me, taking my hand in hers. 

"I need to tell you a story first, so you understand." 

"Okay." 

"This happened about five years ago, when I was 
thirteen and Hayley was ten. Our parents have never 
really been happy together, at least not as long as I 
can remember. I didn't really understand everything 
until recently, until I got some perspective by 
watching my friends' parents and seeing how different 
things were with them. I don't think my folks have 
loved each other for a long time. I know they're 
staying together for my sake and Hayley's. But five 
years ago, they almost got divorced." 

She paused, sighing and looking down at the bed. 

"This isn't easy to talk about. I'm sorry." 

"It's all right. Take your time." 

"My folks were fighting a lot back then. Every dinner 
seemed to end in an argument and with me and Hayley 
hiding in our room together. I spent a lot of time 
holding Hayley while she cried and asked me what was 
going on. I didn't know what to tell her. I mean, I was 
only thirteen. I had no idea why our folks were 
fighting so much. 

"Very slowly, it dawned on me that my mother was 
accusing my dad of cheating on her. He had been gone a 
lot, always working late. I thought I understood it, 
but at the same time, I didn't. I didn't know anything 
about sex beyond the basics then, and this book my Mom 
gave me about 'the facts of life,' you know, always 
talked about husbands and wives. As if only married 
people had sex. So I didn't know how my dad could be 
doing it with another woman. I guess I thought that 
only happened on TV. 

"Anyway. One day, everything blew up. My mom had gone 
to the grocery store and caught my dad screwing some 
sixteen-year-old checkout girl in his office. 

Everyone was screaming at each other, and Hayley and I 
hid in our closet crying. My dad left and moved into an 
apartment, but all my Mom would say was that he 
couldn't live with us right now. She wouldn't tell me 
what had happened, even though she had to know that I 
had heard her yelling at him, you know 'I caught you 
fucking her' and all. The neighbors probably heard her. 
But she just acted like me and Hayley didn't know what 
was going on. She sighed again and didn't say anything 
for nearly a minute. 

"One afternoon, about a month after my Dad moved out, 
we got excused early from school because of a fire in 
the cafeteria. It wasn't anything big, but they sent 
everyone home early just to be safe. So Hayley and I 
get home at about two o'clock, when we usually got back 
around three-thirty. And when we get back, there's this 
strange car in the driveway. We go inside, and I can 
hear something going on in my parent's bedroom." 

"Oh, jeez." 

"Yeah. Right. But wait. See, I heard it first, but 
Hayley was right there with me. I knew somehow, I was 
old enough by then to know what must be going on, you 
know, because I could hear my mother moaning and 
talking to someone. But Hayley is just ten, and she 
thinks Mom is hurt or something. So she goes running 
for the bedroom before I can stop her. And we both 
burst in there together." 

"Oh, my God. And she was in bed with someone?" 

"Yes. But, you see, this is the thing." She paused 
again, looking up from the bed. "It wasn't another man. 
It was a woman she worked with." 

My jaw dropped. 

"Oh, Jesus. What happened?" 

"All of us freaked out at once. My mom and her friend 
flew apart and pulled the sheets over themselves. 
Hayley starts crying. She doesn't even know what is 
going on, but she starts crying anyway. I grab her and 
pull her out, back to our room. 

"I'm probably the only one who is halfway stable, and I 
try to calm her down, but she's just going crazy, you 
know? Wanting to know why Mom is naked with this other 
woman and why Dad is gone. Mom comes in a few seconds 
later gone completely postal about why we're home so 
early and that we don't understand what was going on. I 
don't even remember much of what happened after that. 
Just that we were all crying and yelling at each 
other." 

"What happened?" 

"When Mom finally calms down, she tries to tell us that 
we can't tell Dad about what we saw. I think now she 
was worried about the custody issues if they got 
divorced, you know? She tried to make us swear to keep 
it a secret. But I wouldn't. I told her I was going to 
tell Dad unless they got back together." 

"And they did?" 

"I don't know if it was because of what I said, but 
yeah. They were in counseling for a while, and Hayley 
and I went along. The counselor got us to talk about 
what had happened, and gradually I think we found a way 
to deal with it. We just don't talk about those days 
now, and I think my folks are in this kind of armed 
truce. I have a feeling that they're still cheating on 
each other, but they decided to stay together for the 
sake of me and Hayley." 

"Your mother is a lesbian?" 

She nodded. 

"I don't know if I inherited that, or what. I wonder 
about it sometimes. Not that it really matters, I 
guess. But, yeah, she is. I pretty much know that for 
sure now." 

As this story gradually sank in, I suddenly remembered 
how we had gotten to this point. 

"Okay. I'm glad you can share all this with me. But 
what's the point here?" 

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. 

"Steve, you know I love you." 

"Yes." 

"And I want you to know I did this because I love you. 
Because I love you, and I love Hayley, and this was the 
only way I could think of to make it work." 

I swallowed hard. 

"Go on." 

"At various times in the last year or so, I have 
noticed both my father and my mother giving Tiffany a 
certain amount of a certain type of attention." 

Everything dawned on me in a flood. 

"Oh, my God." 

"And, since that night last month, Tiffany has gotten 
seriously into being my fuck toy. Even if we haven't 
done anything since then. Just little things she says 
and does around me. When I was thinking about what to 
do, somehow this idea came to me. I asked Tiffany if 
she would do it for me, and she said she would." 

All I could do was lie there and listen to her, aghast. 

"Wednesday afternoon, when Hayley and I were at 
cheerleading practice, Tiffany skipped out and came 
over here to my house. She pretended she was dropping 
something off for me, but she stayed to talk to my Mom. 
She acted like she had been jonesing for her for a 
while, and my Mom bought it. She did the same thing 
with my Dad last night at work. That was what she just 
called about." 

"Why?" I gasped. 

"Because Tiffany is only seventeen. That means that my 
Mom and Dad are now just as guilty as you are. They 
can't do anything about Hayley because they could get 
busted too." 

"Did she *tell* them this?" 

"No. But she did joke around with them about it being 
statutory rape. Just so they get the point. She said my 
Dad kind of freaked afterward, wanting to know if she 
was going to say anything to anyone. She said she might 
tell me if he got weird about it." 

I stared blankly across the room as the full scope of 
what Marianne had done unfolded in my head. She reached 
out and hugged me. 

"I did it for us. It was the only way." 

I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling. 

"I need to think about this." 

She sat up, jaw vibrating softly. 

"Are you mad?" 

"I'm in shock. I don't know what I am." 

"But everything is okay now. They can't stop Hayley 
from seeing you now." 

"You would really do that? Blackmail your own parents?" 

"Only because they're trying to break us all up. I'll 
only do it if they make me." 

She threw herself across my chest, beginning to cry. 

"Steve, please! Don't be mad at me. Think about how it 
was. Hayley was going to cut out of this completely. 
Now she can come back like it was before." 

"I can't be a party to this." 

"You aren't! You don't have to do anything! This is 
between me and Tiffany and my folks." 

I closed my eyes and sighed, listening to Marianne 
sobbing against my shoulder. I put my arms around her 
and held her. She continued crying for several minutes. 

"Kitten. Listen." 

She withdrew a little, eyes red, and looked up at me. I 
brushed the tears from her cheeks and kissed her nose. 

"I love you. That has not changed. But you need to give 
me some time to deal with this." 

"Okay." 

"You said yourself that this was an extreme solution. 
You can't expect me to swallow all of this in one 
gulp." 

She nodded weakly. 

"I know. Should I go?" 

"That might be best. Just for now." 

She sat up, pushing her hair back over her head and 
wiping her nose. Then she looked back down at me sadly. 

"Are we breaking up?" 

That sent a stab through my gut, and I pulled her back 
down to me. 

"No. We are not breaking up. I just need a little time 
to absorb all this." 

"Okay. I love you." 

"I love you too, Kitten." 

She got up and got dressed. We gave each other a final 
hug, and she left. 

I don't know how long I lay in bed staring at the 
ceiling. If I had been walking a tightrope with 
Marianne and Hayley before, I now on a knife-edge. I 
just shook my head at what Marianne had done. However 
much she tried to act like an adult around me, she was 
still only eighteen. Only a teenager could have come up 
with a scheme like this and thought it would work. What 
did she expect to have to do? Tell her parents, "Let 
Hayley keep screwing Steve or I'll tell everyone you 
screwed my friend?" She would be tossing a lit match 
into a barrel of gasoline. *Anything* could happen. 

I didn't see any of them for a few days while I tried 
to get my mind around this. By the middle of the next 
week, I still didn't know what to do, but I began to 
feel as if the time for ruminating over this was coming 
to an end. I realized that I needed to know more about 
this. I wanted to talk to Marianne, but my emotions 
were still in too much turmoil. She would probably 
start crying again, or want to go straight to bed, 
neither of which would go very far toward clearing my 
thought processes. 

So I called someone else. It took some work to track 
down her number, but I found her Thursday afternoon. 
After a brief conversation, she agreed to come over 
that night. 

I was just finishing dinner when she showed up. 

"Hi." 

"Thanks for coming over." 

"I'm guessing this isn't another sex slave session you 
have in mind here." 

"No. I need to talk to you about a few things." 

I showed Tiffany into the den, and she sat on the 
couch. I took the spot at the far end. 

"Marianne's folks, right?" 

"Right. I'm not passing judgment on any of what 
happened, okay? I know you had your own reasons for 
going along with the idea. I'm just trying to get a 
handle on it." 

She nodded. 

"Okay. What do you want to know?" 

"You don't have to go into a lot of detail, but I'd 
just like to know what happened." 

She pulled her feet up under her butt and leaned 
against the back of the couch, facing me. 

"Well, there's not much to tell. Marianne called me 
last week telling me she needed to ask me a big favor. 
I sort of flirted with her about it, you know, 'Are you 
asking me as your friend or ordering me as your slave?' 
So she told me what she had in mind. I thought it 
sounded pretty crazy, but I told her that if she wanted 
me to do it, I would. So, last week, I went by her 
house like I was coming over to see her. I spent some 
time talking to her mom and kind of flirting with her. 

"She tried to play it cool at first, but once I touched 
her the first time, I was sort of pretending to arrange 
her hair like I was suggesting she change it somehow, 
she pretty much lost it. And afterward, she got all 
guilty and upset, telling me I couldn't tell Marianne 
and that it could never happen again and that I had to 
understand that she had a 'special understanding' with 
her husband. All that kind of shit, you know?" 

"But that clearly wasn't her first time?" 

"Oh, no. She really knew what she was doing. I mean, 
the sex was great. When it came to, you know, eating 
me, she was the best I've had by far. No offense." 

"None taken." 

"It was only afterward that she got all weird about 
it." 

"What about her father?" 

She laughed. 

"I told you how he grabbed my butt once, right?" 

"Yes." 

"He took a lot less work than she did. I just went by 
the store where he works, flirted with him a little, 
then asked to see his office. And he came on to me 
before I did anything else." 

"How was it?" 

"Shit. I mean it. Worse than the first guy I slept 
with, which I didn't think could possibly have been any 
worse. It was over in less than a minute, you know? I 
hardly had time to get wet enough to do it. I teased 
him about it afterward, and he completely freaked out, 
saying he never did stuff like this before and I 
couldn't tell anybody and all, especially Marianne. I 
made fun of him, and turned into this little boy 
almost, getting all red and embarrassed. I had a good 
laugh about it when I got home." 

"And neither of them had a clue what you were really 
doing?" 

"Not as far as I know. Her dad, shit, I have no problem 
with fucking with him over this. He's a toad. But her 
Mom..." 

She sighed. 

"I do feel bad about her. There was something weird 
going on in her head while we were doing it. I don't 
know what it was, but it was something. I would have a 
tough time getting her busted over what we did. I do 
like her. She can be pretty cool when she's not gone 
all mother-y." 

"Huh." 

"So what are you going to do now?" 

"I don't know. I need to think about this some more." 

Tiffany went home, and I tried to digest what she had 
told me. No solutions presented themselves that night. 
But the next day at work, I decided that I could not 
let this situation fester any longer. I had to shoulder 
my responsibility to unravel this mess. And I could see 
only one way of doing it. 

I knew, from having seen a little office notepad 
Marianne had had with her once, where her mother 
worked. I got the number from information, and after 
gathering my courage for a few minutes, made the call. 

"Elizabeth Mulcahey." 

"Mrs. Mulcahey, this is Steve Chandler." 

She didn't respond for a few seconds. 

"What do you want?" she asked icily. 

"I would like to have lunch with you this afternoon. 
There are some things we need to say to each other." 

"I have nothing to say to you." 

"Well, I have a great deal I need to say to you. And I 
think you will want to hear this once you see what it 
is." 

"Which is what?" 

"It's not something we can discuss over the phone." 

"I am a busy woman, Mr. Chandler. I do not have time to 
listen to whatever snow job you want to put over on 
me." 

"This isn't a snow job. There are just certain things I 
think you need to know about." 

I could almost hear her fuming over the phone. 

"All right. I suppose I have no choice. Do you know 
where I am?" 

"Yes. I've been over to that office park a few times." 

"There is a little sandwich shop on the first floor of 
my building. I will be there at noon." 

"Fine." 

She hung up. 

I got to the sandwich shop at eleven-fifty and ordered 
a turkey and swiss on rye. I sat down in the corner of 
the patio to wait. At a few minutes before twelve, I 
saw Elizabeth Mulcahey coming around the building from 
the main entrance. She gave me a steely glare as she 
approached. Again, there was that odd twinge of 
familiarity about her, though I was still unable to 
place it. 

"Hello." 

"Hello," I said. "Why don't you get your lunch first?" 

She nodded and went inside, returning a few minutes 
later with a salad and an iced tea. 

"All right. Say what you have to say." 

I took a deep breath and began. 

"What I'm about to tell you is not going to make you 
happy. It will probably make you very, very unhappy, 
but I have been put into a situation where I see no 
other choice but to tell you. The alternative is too 
precarious and ugly for me to be comfortable about 
allowing it to continue." 

I had to look away from her for a moment. 

"I know about you and Tiffany. What happened between 
the two of you was part of a prearranged plan between 
her and Marianne." I looked back at her now, seeing her 
face gone white. "I did not find out about it until 
afterward. Tiffany has also slept with your husband. 
Marianne thought this would provide her with something 
to hold over your heads." 

Elizabeth turned away from me, closing her eyes 
tightly. I watched her swallow hard and try to compose 
herself. She took a ragged breath. 

"Why? She had you. What else did she want?" 

I couldn't answer her for a few seconds, and I had to 
force the words out of my mouth. 

"Because she was afraid of what would happen if you 
found out about Hayley." 

Her jaw dropped and her eyes bulged in their sockets. 
She stared at me in horror, looking for anything that 
would deny the picture I had just put in her head. I 
just looked back at her. 

Then she slapped me, hard enough to make the other 
customers turn and stare at us. She did it again, and I 
grabbed her hand. She struggled with me, trying to pull 
free, and I let go of her after a second or two. She 
fell back into her chair, pushing it away from the 
table as she gasped for breath. 

"You... you... how could you?" 

I had to tear my eyes away from her. 

"It's not something I'm particularly proud of. Marianne 
brought her into this, and she wants her to continue 
being a part of it. When she told you about us, I 
thought it would be enough to ease Hayley out. But 
apparently neither of them wanted that. I don't know 
whether it's just adolescent infatuation, but Hayley 
has convinced herself that she loves me, and Marianne 
does not want to force her out. I know about your 
husband's history, and I know that may have something 
to do with this." 

"And now you're going to blackmail me with what I did 
with that girl so you can continue doing this?" 

"I'm not trying to blackmail you. I'm trying to get you 
to see the situation that Marianne has created." 

I looked back at her now, seeing her wiping tears out 
of her eyes. She looked away from me, across the front 
lawn of the office park. 

"Does she know you're here?" 

"No. She thought she could just set this up and then 
dump it on you if you ever found out about Hayley. But 
I decided I could not let her try to blackmail her own 
parents." 

She laughed bitterly. 

"Oh, you're just a wellspring of morality and ethics, 
aren't you?" 

Something about the sneer she shot at me, the precise 
angle to the curve of her lips, stabbed through my gut 
with a twinge of long-forgotten adolescent angst. I had 
seen that look before (On her? On someone else?), but 
it was just out of reach. The memory was like a puff of 
smoke, too intangible to grasp. 

"I don't pretend to be perfect. I'm just trying to 
straighten this out with the fewest number of people 
getting hurt." 

"And what do you want me to do?" 

"Think about where we are. If Hayley has a fit about 
this and tells someone, or you turn me in, what you and 
your husband did will probably come out too. I don't 
think that the county Department of Child Services will 
look very kindly on this situation. I don't think 
Marianne has thought this through, but *all* of us 
could get busted for this, including her. She's 
eighteen now, and they might just charge her with 
aiding and abetting statutory rape. So all of us get 
arrested, and Hayley gets taken out of your house and 
put in foster care. That is not an improvement on this 
situation." 

She swallowed hard. 

"You are asking me... to allow--" and she shot these 
words at me like daggers "--my fifteen-year-old 
daughter... to continue sleeping with a man who is 
older than I am." 

"I'm not asking you to do anything. I just want you to 
appreciate the reality of it." 

"So I do nothing, and you get to go on screwing my 
daughters." 

"And you get to continue having a halfway-normal 
relationship with them, and you get to continue 
whatever arrangement it is you've worked out with your 
husband." 

"Very nice for you." 

I took a sip of my drink to clear my throat. 

"I would like you to recognize something. Before you 
showed up here, you knew about none of this. I could 
have let it continue the way it had, sneaking around 
and pretending Hayley hardly knew me. I could have 
tried some other method to end this thing with her and 
risk having Marianne dump what she had done on your 
heads. 

"Instead, I came here and confessed to having sex with 
your daughter. Do you recognize how far out my neck is 
here? What a risk I am taking with this conversation? I 
am doing it because I care about Hayley and Marianne. I 
care about their emotional and mental health. I could 
not allow Marianne to do something she would regret the 
rest of her life." 

"You act as if she forced you into doing what you did 
with Hayley." 

"No. She didn't. But no one forced you to sleep with 
Tiffany either." 

She closed her eyes and shook her head. 

"I know why Marianne picked her for this. She couldn't 
have been blind to how I was acting around her. But she 
doesn't know everything. Tiffany... when I was 
Marianne's age, long before I truly realized who I was, 
there was a girl I knew who was a lot like her. I had 
an enormous crush on her for a long time. It wasn't 
anything I understood until later. 

"She was straight, so there was no chance of anything 
happening even if I had understood what I was really 
feeling. And when Marianne became friends with Tiffany, 
all this baggage from my childhood came welling back 
up, all the uncertainty and misery I had struggled 
with, all the unrequited emotions I had had for this 
girl. Everything I thought I had dealt with in the past 
few years. I'm sure Marianne sensed some of this, since 
she knows enough about me. So when Tiffany came on to 
me last week, it was a like a dam broke. I don't think 
I could have stopped had there been a gun to my head." 

I nodded slowly. 

"For what it's worth, I've talked to Tiffany about 
this. It wasn't a callous seduction on her part. She 
feels bad about it. I think she does like you on some 
level." 

"For what little that's worth now," she said angrily. 

"I want to tell you something that I have never told 
Marianne. I was never sure how she would react to it. 
It was something similar to what you've just told me. 
When I was in high school, there was a girl I knew, a 
beautiful blonde cheerleader like Marianne. For 
whatever reason, I developed a crush on her like you 
did with that girl. But I was a nobody, a random 
pothead who hung out with the other losers.

"So instead of just ignoring me, she toyed with me for 
nearly a month, pretending to flirt with me and then 
embarrassing me. The one time I got up enough courage 
to ask her out, she pretended to agree. And when I 
showed up that night, she had gotten the football team 
to lie in wait for me. They beat the crap out of me and 
then threw me in a dumpster behind the local grocery 
store, full of rotting garbage. I had to limp all the 
way home smelling like an open grave." 

For some reason Elizabeth's face had gone completely 
white, and she stared at me as if she had seen a ghost. 
But I went on with my story. 

"And when I met Marianne, that whole awful experience 
came back to me. Except that she's nothing like that 
girl beyond the way she looks. I won't pretend that the 
age difference isn't some level of turn-on for me. But 
that is why. Because girls like Marianne treated me 
like shit when I was her age." 

The shock on Elizabeth's face finally penetrated my 
retrospection. She gasped for breath as she stared at 
me. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Where did you go to high school?" 

That was it, the one little trigger I needed. Something 
snapped in my head, and everything rushed back into me 
in a flood. I suddenly realized why she seemed so 
damned familiar. 

The two us stared at each other as if we had never met. 
Except, of course, we had. 

"My maiden name was Dunbar," she said slowly. "And you 
used to have long hair, didn't you?" 

"Jesus fucking Christ." 

"That was me. The cheerleader who got you beaten up." 

"Yes." 

"My God. I am so sorry. I felt so bad about that 
afterwards. I never meant for them to take it that 
far." 

I struggled against my shock, and Elizabeth looked away 
from me, still shaking her head in amazement. After a 
few moments, I finally regained enough composure to 
make some sense of this incredible coincidence. 

"You know, I sometimes think that human beings aren't 
half as rational and intelligent as we think we are. 
That we're really nothing more than disorganized 
bundles of experiences and neuroses, just waiting for 
other people to come along and push our buttons. People 
like Marianne and Tiffany. I know this relationship is 
distasteful for you. But I do love your daughter. I 
would never do anything to hurt her, or Hayley. I am 
sincerely here to resolve this dilemma without their 
getting hurt." 

She nodded slowly, sighing. 

"So what do we do?" 

"Nothing. We go on the way we have been. Hopefully this 
thing of Hayley's, whatever it is, will run its course 
in a few months. She's too young to know what she's 
really feeling. You can go on with whatever you've been 
doing. If you were to call Tiffany and want to see her 
again, I really think she would be receptive. She said 
some very nice things about you. And your husband can 
continue doing whatever it is he's been doing." 

She laughed softly. 

"Screwing the checkout girls." She shook her head. "How 
much did Marianne 
tell you about us?" 

"Just that you nearly got divorced five years ago 
because you caught him with one of his employees. And 
that she caught you with a friend of yours." 

She nodded. 

"That period was when I finally realized who I was. But 
I realized also that I did not want to get divorced, 
for Marianne and Hayley's sake. We agreed that we would 
simply live together as roommates and conduct our own 
business, as long as we did it discreetly. I think now 
that I underestimated the effect it would have on the 
girls. I think we could have handled this better, not 
set that sort of example for them. I shouldn't have 
pretended they wouldn't notice. But that's water under 
the bridge." 

She looked away from me again, staring off into the 
sky. 

"I know Marianne cares about you very much. That is 
what has made this so hard. That I was losing her 
because of the mistakes I had made." 

She exhaled slowly. 

"I'll go along with this. For their sakes. But if you 
ever, *ever,* hurt either one of them, no force on 
Earth will prevent me from making you pay for it. No 
matter what they do to me." 

"I know that. That's why I'm here." 

"Don't worry about my husband. He pays no attention to 
what we do unless something forces the issue. I think 
he's already decided that he's going to ignore what 
Marianne does. Because it only makes him feel guilty 
about these girls he exploits at work." 

She turned back toward me and leaned forward over the 
table. 

"I want to say one last thing. If you were somewhat 
younger, maybe twenty-five or so, I would have no 
objection to this relationship. I've always thought 
Marianne needed someone older and more responsible than 
she is, to give her the sort of support and guidance 
she's never gotten from her father. I just wish you 
were younger. I just wish she didn't feel like she had 
to go looking for a surrogate father. But I guess you 
can't have everything you want." 

"I don't know that that's the sort of relationship we 
have." 

"It's how it looks to me. But that's neither here nor 
there at this point. 
She's an adult now. I can't really stop her from seeing 
you." 

She stood up. 

"I need to get back to work. I'll speak to Marianne and 
Hayley this afternoon." 

"Thank you. I mean that." 

She nodded once, and then she was gone. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
-------------------

I wasn't sure what to expect when I got home that 
night, but Marianne's Bug was parked in my driveway. 
When I entered the garage and shut off the engine, I 
could hear the stereo in the den playing at high 
volume, blasting out my old copy of "Dressed to Kill." 
Gene Simmons and the crew were chanting: 

 I want to rock and roll all nite 
 and party every day! 
 I want to rock and roll all nite 
 and party every day! 


I came into the house, and there I found Marianne and 
Hayley dancing around together in the den. They danced 
up to me, arms in the air and bodies jerking with the 
music, and hugged me. Marianne gave me a big kiss, and 
Hayley did likewise. 

"I love you," Marianne said over the stereo. 

"Me too," her sister said immediately. 

"You're not mad?" 

"No," Marianne said. "I love you more than ever. 
Because you took such a risk for us. I know now that 
idea was insane. I could never have had my parents 
thrown in jail. My mom and I talked about going back 
into therapy, to deal with all these issues we've been 
ignoring. But she also said she thinks she finally 
understands what I see in you. That she thinks she can 
trust you not to hurt us." 

"I hope so." 

I held them both and began dancing with them. They 
giggled and squirmed in my arms, pressing themselves 
against me. I kissed one, then the other, groping at 
random breasts and buttocks. When I tried to shove a 
hand up Hayley's baby tee, she pulled it over her head. 
Her bra hit the floor a moment later. 

Marianne pushed me back toward the couch, and I sat 
down with a girl straddling each leg. Marianne was 
topless in a few seconds, and I contented myself with 
kissing them and playing with their big tits for a 
little while. Hayley, if I was not mistaken, had grown 
a bit since I had first met her. She was still as firm 
as she had been, but I suspected she would be moving up 
to D-cup bras fairly soon at this rate. 

Marianne withdrew a little while I was in the middle of 
tweaking two pairs of nipples. 

"I feel like something different." 

"Like what, Kitten?" 

"Something we haven't done before." 

Hayley giggled. 

"We've done a lot." 

"I know. So I'm trying to think of something new." 

"Whatever happened with your English teacher?" I asked 
Hayley. 

She giggled again. 

"I don't know if she ever figured out what it was, but 
we left a big stain on the wood. I saw her rubbing her 
desk with a paper towel and sniffing the stain that 
Monday morning. I had to run away to keep from laughing 
at her." 

"Oh, God. The poor woman." 

I could see from the look in Marianne's eye that she 
had come up with an idea. 

"What would you think of going down to the beach?" 

"And doing it there?" 

"Yeah. In the dunes. There's a lot of places that would 
work. I used to go there with the boyfriend I had 
before Randy." 

"That would be cool," Hayley said. 

"You two would have to get dressed." 

Marianne grinned. 

"No, see, what I was thinking was that we could go down 
there nude." 

Hayley's eyebrows shot up. 

"What?" 

"I can't drive my car around naked," I said. 

"No. You wouldn't. Just me and Hayley will go nude. If 
we go in the Jeep, the back windows are tinted enough 
to hide us. You could drive us off the lot into the 
sand, then we could jump out when it was clear." 

Hayley giggled nervously. 

"What if someone saw us or something?" 

"That's the point. The risk, you know? Come on." 

She poked Hayley in the stomach. 

"Don't be a wuss. You were cheerleading commando right 
after you fucked Steve that night." 

That was enough peer pressure to convince her. They 
both stripped out of their clothes while I searched for 
a beach blanket. Then, giggling nervously, they ran 
naked into the garage and jumped into the back seat of 
my Grand Cherokee. I climbed into the driver's seat, 
sparing a brief glance at the nude, nubile flesh behind 
me before starting the engine. 

Luckily, Daylight Savings Time had ended a few weeks 
earlier, so by the time I got to the beach, it was 
already quite dark. Hayley and Marianne had been 
giggling and looking around at the other traffic during 
the entire trip. 

I drove to the end of the public parking lot, seeing no 
one around (but then, it was 8 o'clock on a weeknight), 
then drove the Jeep over the curb into the sand. This 
was only about the fourth time I had used the 4WD since 
buying the thing two years before, but the Jeep handled 
it well enough. I took us about a hundred yards down 
the beach and parked between a couple of high dunes. 
There were houses up on the cliffs above us, but they 
were a good two hundred yards away, and with a new moon 
out, it was far too dark to see anything down here. 

When I shut off the engine and the headlights, Marianne 
opened the door nearest the ocean. She looked around, 
then hopped out onto the sand. She stretched her arms 
above her and did a pirouette. 

"Woo!" 

Hayley hesitated for a few seconds before joining her. 
Marianne took her arms and tried to get her to dance in 
a circle. Instead, she squealed in nervous excitement 
and ran over to me, pressing herself against me. 

Marianne walked up to us, blithely unconcerned about 
her nudity. In the darkness, her blonde hair was almost 
silver, and she looked like a sylph descended from the 
sky. 

She pulled Hayley away from me. 

"Come on. Relax. There's no one to see you." 

I scanned the cliffside above us, seeing nothing. 
Marianne let out a whoop and ran down the beach toward 
the water. I watched her naked form cavorting at the 
edge of the surf. Hayley remained next to me, though 
she appeared to be growing used to the situation. 

I stripped out of my clothes, then took her hand. She 
followed me down toward the ocean, and Marianne ran up 
to us. 

"This is so cool! I feel so free." 

She took Hayley's hand again, and this time Hayley went 
with her, laughing excitedly, as she ran around on the 
beach. I watched them as they played together, all long 
legs and tight buttocks, full breasts bouncing around, 
silver hair fluttering in the wind. The two people I 
cared about most in the world--and they had come from 
the person I had once despised more than anything on 
Earth. I would probably never tell them about my 
history with their mother. It would serve no point now. 
Ancient history, water under the bridge, whatever you 
wanted to call it. It would do nothing but confuse 
them. 

I realized I had an erection long after it must have 
happened. They bounced back toward me, and Marianne 
laughed. 

"Is that for us?" 

"If you're looking for one." 

Hayley glanced nervously around. 

"We can't do it all the way out here." 

"I know," her sister said, "we'll go back to the car." 

Marianne took my hand and pulled us both back toward 
the Jeep. She got the beach blanket out of the car and 
we spread it out in a hollow between a pair of dunes. 

I lay on my back and they lay across me, kissing me and 
pushing their breasts in my face. I sucked on four 
nipples alternately for a few minutes before Marianne 
descended to take my erection in her mouth. Hayley 
tried to join her, but I instead guided her above me, 
getting her to squat over my head. I extended my tongue 
and began to eat her as Marianne sucked on me. 

The night was cool, though not uncomfortably so, and 
the contrast between the night air and Marianne's hot 
mouth was almost painful. I had to concentrate entirely 
on licking up at Hayley to keep from coming 
immediately. Hayley rode my tongue slowly, rocking her 
hips back and forth. I took her firm cheerleading butt 
in my hands, caressing her and holding her close to me. 

Marianne withdrew, and I felt her straddling me. A 
moment later, I was sinking into her tight wetness. 
Hayley reversed herself to lean against her sister, and 
we were soon all pleasuring each other. I sucked 
Hayley's clit and lips into my mouth, rolling her clit 
around with my tongue. Marianne rode me steadily, 
grinding herself against the base of my cock, keeping 
me deeply within her. Hayley and Marianne leaned 
against each other's shoulders, gently caressing each 
other's breasts. 

Hayley came first, well before Marianne or me. She 
shuddered over my mouth, letting out a soft cry as her 
thighs battered my ears. I kept up my attentions, and 
she came again about a minute later, throwing herself 
to the side. Marianne dropped all the way down onto me 
once the way was clear. I put my arms around her, 
kissing her deeply. 

We rolled over next to Hayley, who lay there quietly 
watching us. Marianne pulled her legs up to my sides, 
and I pushed the last bit of myself into her. She bit 
at my ear, whispering obscenities that I hoped Hayley 
couldn't hear. She urged me on, moaning at me, and 
suddenly spiked up off the blanket at me, digging her 
nails in to my butt. She squealed once, quickly, before 
the sound was lost in the night breeze. Her climactic 
thrashings were enough to finish me off, and I joined 
her a moment or two later, heaving my cum into her. 

I rolled off Marianne to lie between them when I had 
recovered. They snuggled against me, seeking the shared 
warmth of our bodies. My cock, damp with cum and 
Marianne's fluids, soon grew cold and limp in the sea 
air. I sat up, looking around us, but seeing nothing. 
The noise of the surf had been more than enough to mask 
the sounds of our lovemaking, but I wasn't going to 
take any chances. 

"This is pretty neat," Hayley said. 

"What did I tell you?" Marianne said. "Never doubt an 
older sister. We know about stuff like this." 

Hayley smirked at her, and I lay back down between 
them. We soon fell into another joint grope. Marianne 
slid down my chest and went to work on restoring my 
erection. Hayley stayed up top, and we kissed and 
fondled each other for a few minutes. I pulled her 
beautiful breasts up to my mouth and suckled both until 
her nipples were hard and tight. 

Marianne pulled back and got her sister's attention. 

"Your turn." 

Hayley giggled, straddling me, and I slipped into her, 
moving from the cool night air into the damp furnace 
inside her. She pulled her legs up, letting me bottom 
out as Marianne lay down beside us. She laid her head 
on my arm and caressed my chest as Hayley rode my cock. 

Only a minute into it, she rolled to one side and 
pulled me on top of her. I positioned myself between 
her thighs and began making love to her in earnest. 
Marianne lay still, watching us and smiling at me. 
Hayley wrapped her legs around my butt, pulling me in 
further. Both of us were growing tired, and we took our 
time with it, moving slowly and letting the sensations 
build. Her release, when it came, was deep and quiet, a 
tense shudder underneath me. She bit lightly at my 
shoulder and let out a soft whimper. I loosened the 
brakes and sped my thrusts. 

Marianne suddenly sat up and reached behind me, finding 
my balls. She began playing with them gently, but the 
effect was dramatic. My legs thrashed uncontrollably, 
and I drove roughly into her sister. Hayley cried out, 
holding me tightly. I groaned, and as Hayley shook in 
orgasm under me, I spurted off violently into her 
loins. Marianne giggled at what she had done and lay 
back down beside us. 

I took them home around ten. Hayley got dressed and 
went back to her house, and Marianne and I went to bed. 
We lay down together, holding each other. 

"What exactly did your mother tell you?" 

"She sat us both down in the family room and told us 
how she had talked with you and that she knew what was 
going on. I almost had a heart attack. I thought she 
was about to tell us that she had you arrested or 
something, except that she wasn't acting mad or upset." 

"How did she seem?" 

"Sad. Tired. I don't know. That actually scared me 
more, because I had no idea what could have happened. I 
mean, I hadn't talked to you in almost a week, and I 
was getting really worried. Really, really worried. 
Then my mom just says, 'I know what you did.' I almost 
died." 

"I'm sorry. I needed some time to work through all 
this." 

She hugged me. 

"I know. I wasn't mad at you. I was mad at myself for 
being so dumb. I thought I had lost you because of it." 

I returned the hug, stroking her head. 

"So what did she say?" 

"She told us how you guys had talked and how you had 
decided just to let things be for now. I was scared to 
death because she obviously knew what I had done to her 
with Tiffany. I felt so bad about it that I started 
crying. But Mom told me she just didn't want to talk 
about it, that what was done was done, you know. She 
told me how she had done some stupid things in the past 
because she was in love with someone." 

"What about your dad?" 

"He doesn't know. Mom said we would just leave him out 
of it. So I guess we will." 

"You don't think he'll notice?" 

"No. God... Steve, this will sound so awful, but I'm 
closer to you than I've ever been to him. He just, it 
seems like he tries to avoid us, me and Hayley. There's 
always been like some sort of wall between us. He'll 
get mad at us when we do something wrong, but he's 
never been very affectionate or friendly." 

"I'm sorry." 

She nuzzled my neck. 

"It's okay. I have you. That's all that matters." 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 
-------------------

Marianne and I went out on our usual Friday evening 
date that weekend, though Hayley came along with us. 
Far from being jealous of Hayley's increasingly 
frequent presence, as I had once feared, Marianne 
seemed to be adjusting quite well to having her around. 
Granted, the usual sisterly teasing and jibes were 
always there, but it was never anything that struck at 
the heart of our relationship, whatever it was. As long 
as Marianne had her share of private time with me 
(something I was careful about), she didn't seem to 
mind much at all about bringing Hayley along. 

We went to dinner down by the beach and then walked 
through the neighborhood outside the University. We 
window-shopped for about half an hour, drifting 
randomly around, before passing the tattoo parlor. 
Hayley slowed down and lingered in front of the window. 

"Steve?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Could I...?" she glanced at Marianne, "could I get a 
belly ring?" 

Marianne laughed out loud. 

"Go for it," she said. "I don't care." 

Hayley smiled nervously at her, then looked back to me. 

"Can I?" 

"I guess so. Sure." 

"It's going to hurt worse than that tattoo," Marianne 
said. "It's not like getting your ears pierced." 

Hayley fidgeted for a few seconds. 

"I wanna do it." 

"Okay," I said, "let's go." 

We went inside, and while Hayley lay on her back 
awaiting her operation, Marianne and I leaned against 
the counter and watched. 

"Do you like that clit stud Tiffany has?" 

I gave her a wary look. 

"Not on you." 

She grinned. 

"You don't think it would look good?" 

"I'd have to think about it." 

She giggled. 

"I'm kidding. There's no way I'm letting anyone shove 
needle through my clit. But I was maybe thinking of 
getting a tongue stud like Ashley's." 

She licked her lips. 

"You know what those are good for, right? I'd think 
you'd enjoy that one, at least." 

A frisson of anticipation ran down my spine, and my 
teeth went on edge. 

"Yeah." 

She giggled and nuzzled my shoulder. A few minutes 
later, Hayley reappeared with her belly ring. 

"It didn't hurt that much. What do you think?" 

She held up her baby tee so we could get a good look at 
it. She had gotten a little gold ring just like 
Marianne's. 

"I like it." 

"It looks good on you, short stuff." 

"Thanks." 

I paid the bill, and we resumed our window shopping. 
Hayley kept checking out her navel about every five 
seconds until Marianne laughed at her for doing it. 

Not far down the street was a trendy sex toy/video 
store that seemed to cater to the same crowd I had seen 
hanging around the tattoo parlor. Both Marianne and 
Hayley laughed and leaned against the window to look 
inside. 

"Can we go in there?" Hayley asked. 

I glanced toward the door, where I saw the expected "No 
One Under 18 Admitted" sign. 

"You may have to stay out here, Little Kit." 

She pouted, but she didn't argue. Marianne took my hand 
and led me into the store. We spent a few minutes 
browsing the adult videos and bondage gear before 
Marianne suddenly shrieked in excited embarrassment. 
She ran down the aisle and grabbed something off the 
shelf. As I approached, I saw what she had found: a 
strap-on dildo. 

"Have you ever used one of these?" 

I laughed. 

"Me? I don't exactly need one, I think." 

"No, I mean like with another girl." 

"No." 

"Can we get it?" 

"Seriously?" 

"Yeah." 

"What for?" 

"I don't know, like to use with Tiffany or Ashley." 

"You want to use it?" 

Her excitement dropped a notch or two. 

"Does that weird you out or something?" 

"Not really. It's just a surprise." 

"Oh. So can we?" 

"I guess so." 

She took my hand and led me to the counter. The 
salesman was jaded enough not to give either of us a 
second glance as he bagged it up. We found Hayley 
waiting dejectedly on a bench outside, but she jumped 
up as we came out of the store. 

"What did you get?" 

Marianne opened the bag to let her see. Hayley's 
forehead creased in confusion. 

"What... what is it?" 

Marianne giggled and leaned in to whisper something to 
her. Hayley's eyes swelled after a few seconds, and she 
looked at Marianne in amazement. 

"No way." 

"Way." 

Hayley looked back in the bag, then back up at the two 
of us. 

"Wow. Jeez." 

She remained in a state of dazed shock for several 
minutes as we walked back to the car. Marianne had 
opened the box to examine the thing on the drive home 
when Hayley suddenly spoke up. 

"Are we going to use that tonight?" 

Marianne looked up in surprise, glancing at me, then at 
her sister. 

"Uh... I don't know. Do you want to?" 

"What did you get it for, then?" 

"For like, with the other girls." 

"But not me?" 

Marianne glanced at me again. 

"Why? Do you want to try it out?" 

"Could we?" 

Marianne shrugged. 

"I guess so. Why not?" 

My head spun momentarily -- but no, that's not really 
it, I thought a split-second later. They wouldn't 
really be having sex. It wouldn't be much different 
than playing with each other's tits when we all made 
love together. Less than that, right? They wouldn't 
even really be touching each other. 
Not much, anyway. 

The girls seemed intrigued by this idea, so I kept my 
thoughts to myself. We drove the rest of the way in 
silence. 

Once we were inside, Hayley and Marianne went straight 
upstairs. They sat on my bed, and examined the dildo 
together. Hayley turned it over in her hands while 
Marianne read the little instruction book that came 
with it. The dildo was one of those thick, veined, 
silicone rubber pseudo-penises, not just a hard rod of 
plastic. I saw Hayley wrinkle her nose and sniff the 
thing briefly as I hung up my sport jacket. 

"How does it work?" Hayley asked. 

Marianne showed her something in the manual. 

"I think it's kind of like a jockstrap." 

"Huh." 

"What have you got in mind here?" I asked. 

Marianne giggled, then took the dildo from Hayley and 
hopped off the bed. 

"I'm going to go put it on. You guys get undressed." 

Hayley and I helped each other out of the remainder of 
our clothes, then lay down on the bed. She lay on her 
back, proppi