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 ï>¿The Vow byCyboticÂ(C)

   Mercy took the razor and removed the last bit of stubble the wax had
missed.  Her vulva was now smooth and soft.  Kissable, according to La
Femme magazine.  Her sex had not been so visible since puberty.

   The lips were so naked, Mercy was embarrassed.  She was the only one
looking, but her face was red and she felt a strong urge to close her legs
and shut her eyes.

   That was taking modesty much too far, she decided.  If there was
anything Mercy was really good at, it was neurotic behavior.  Mercy's
therapist was constantly advising her to break free of her inhibitions.

   She had once been thoroughly humiliated because she'd been caught
talking to her cat.  And it had been the cat who caught her.  He was a very
judgy cat, with definite opinions regarding women who talk to dumb animals.
The inherent contradiction in that view is what had sent her to the
therapist in the first place.

   She was making definite progress.  The secret, as she figured it, was to
take each inhibition one at a time, and force herself to do exactly what
she was afraid of.  She had spent three hours speaking to her cat, reading
to him from The Great Gatsby.  She had pulled her smartphone out of the
drawer it had been in for six months and learned how to use it.  She had
even stood up to her boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend.

   Today, she would tackle this self-conscious discomfort with her own
body. She didn't have to work today.  No visitors were expected.  She would
spend the rest of this day completely nude.  It was National Nude Day,
according to her trivia calendar, so this was a good day for it.

   Mercy felt proud about her decision.  And the timing was perfect.  The
apartment was becoming uncomfortably warm.  The air conditioning had been
struggling for weeks.  Today, it had apparently given up entirely.  It was
as hot as an oven.  Reducing the layers would increase the comfort.

   And it was a good day to stay inside.  The city was being particularly
aggressive.  There seemed to be a lot of people on the street.  And they
were making a hell of a lot of noise.  Mercy was on the fourth floor, but
the shouts and yells were still reaching her.  There were also more sirens
than usual, uncomfortably close and loud.  It almost sounded as if one of
the ambulances or police cars had parked in the hallway right outside the
apartment.  Clearly, this was good time to be indoors.

   Which meant it was a perfect day for Mary to get comfortable with her
own body.  "I just might try masturbation," she said aloud.  She would take
this day to be her own.  No phone, no television, no answering the door.

   Mercy spun in circles, enjoying the freedom of being naked in her own
space, while avoiding looking at her reflection in the darkened television
screen.  "Solemn vow," she said to the cat.  "I will not put on a single
stitch of clothing until midnight at the very earliest."

   Mercy jumped in startled alarm as something struck the front door
violently.  A second thud actually cracked the wood.  A glint of metal,
shaped suspiciously like a murderer's axe, had poked through the door next
to the knob.

   Mercy scolded herself for her fanciful imagination, as if there was some
special feature that made an ordinary woodworking tool into an axe designed
for murderers.

   However, she argued, the murderer himself, holding the axe and currently
chopping through her front door, might qualify as the special feature.

   She was starting to scold herself again for having this silly debate
rather than running and screaming, but then the now-weakened front door was
kicked in.

   It wasn't a murderer after all, but a firefighter.  Smoke and flames
filled the hallway.  One of those sirens had apparently been the hallway
smoke alarm.  "Oh, this is just perfect," Mercy said, as the firefighter
ran toward her.

   She suddenly found herself thrown over his shoulder.  Mercy was annoyed
to feel his hand on her butt, but since he was saving her life, she
supposed it was forgivable.  He was holding her in place so he wouldn't
drop her.  The hand on her butt was saving her from falling on her ass.

   He kicked open the balcony door and started down the fire escape.  The
cat, she was relieved to see, was already on his way down.  She should
probably get around to naming that cat one of these days, she thought.

   As she rode the firefighter's shoulder, Mercy started listing the things
she needed to tell her therapist.  Her decision to shave and wax her pussy,
just to see what it looked like.  Her decision to stay naked all day in
honor of National Nude Day.  Her decision to name her cat, now that she'd
been feeding him for two years.  And probably something about the fire.

   She was carried down four flights and then through the crowd of first
responders.  Mercy was acutely aware that her bald sex was probably visible
to anybody who wanted to look.  Mercy's face was red with embarrassment. 
She hated people noticing when she was embarrassed, but she was fairly
confident that nobody was looking at her face.  Unless, it occurred to her,
maybe her pussy was just not attractive.  That was a mental journey she
thought it best not to take.

   The firefighter set her down behind an ambulance.  Two EMTs tried to
cover her with a blanket, but she refused them.  As much as she wanted that
blanket, she could not accept.  "I made a vow," she told them.  "A solemn
vow."

   "She's in shock," the firefighter said.  He was being treated for a leg
injury and a burn on his arm.  "She doesn't know what she's saying."

   "I absolutely know what I'm saying.  I am Mercy Alice Watkins.  I live
at 413 Monroe Avenue, which seems to be burning down right now.  Apartment
17.  Fourth floor.  I am completely in my right mind.  If anybody covers me
without my consent, I will throw an hysterical fit and then sue you all to
bits and pieces.  My sort of a boyfriend is kind of a lawyer.  He will drag
you into court, kicking and screaming, to face my wrath.  Probably. 
Eventually."

   The firefighter chuckled.  "Quite a threat.  Your ex-boyfriend, who is
not exactly a lawyer, might get around to suing us one of these days."

   "He never officially broke up with me," Mercy said.  He'd have to be
speaking to her for that to happen.

   "Do you live with him?"

   "I keep my own apartment," she said.  Then she looked up at the burning
building.  "Kept, I guess."

   "Does he keep any belongings at your apartment?"

   "Ye-ess," she said doubtfully.  He hadn't picked up his things, anyway,
but he probably wanted to.

   The firefighter looked her up and down, slowly, savouring her nude body.
She blushed, but refused to reach for the blanket.  "Stop that."

   "If you insist on standing there naked, men are going to look at you."

   Mercy scowled, but his words were undeniably true.  "Shouldn't you be
putting that out?" she pointed up at the inferno.  She couldn't even make
out her apartment behind the curtain of flame.  "I just bought cookies.  It
took me two hours to pick them out.  I'd prefer they not be burnt."

   "I'm afraid the building is a loss, ma'am.  There is nothing we can do
there.  At this point, we're just trying to keep the fire from spreading.
But I'm on the injured list now.  I hurt my leg, kicking in your door.  If
I'm slow, or weak, or clumsy, I become a danger to my crew.  I'm stuck here
with you for now."

   "Stuck," she grumbled.  She was totally naked and he hated being around
her.  Her charms obviously left something to be desired.

   "Tell me why your ex would only 'probably' file your lawsuit," the
firefighter told her.  "And why 'eventually'?" He looked her over once
again and gave a low wolf whistle.  "If I had a chance to do something for
a girl who looks like you, I wouldn't hesitate."

   Okay.  That was a decent compliment.  He deserved a little honesty. 
"Howard is not entirely happy with me right now.  He has some problems."

   "If I was in a blazing building, with second degree burns on my arm and
splinters of wood embedded in my leg, I would risk my very life to save
yours.  What kind of problems does Howard have?"

   Mercy grinned at his wit.  And he had literally saved her life.  She
gave him the truth.  "Howard loves suing people.  He would jump at the
opportunity to take the fire department to court.  But he'll have to wait
until he gets out of jail.  If he manages to beat the charges.  And he'll
need to get his law license back.  And if he stops blaming me for the
mess."

   "You got your boyfriend arrested and disbarred?"

   "No," Mercy corrected him.  "I might have informed Aaron Cormichael that
his grandmother's will was a forgery.  And perhaps I called the DA and
mentioned that my boyfriend had a secret bank account and a passport in a
different name.  But he committed those acts.  I didn't.  He got himself
arrested and disbarred."

   "You're the secret weapon," the firefighter said in awe.  "You brought
down Howard Grimaldi."

   "He brought himself down."

   "He's the most notorious attorney in the city.  His fingers were in
every corrupt act for the past twenty years.  Every organized crime figure
in the country has him on speed dial." The firefighter looked at the raging
fire.  "You said he left some things at your apartment?  What kind of
things?"

   Mercy shrugged.  "Clothes.  Grooming stuff.  22 flash drives hidden in a
box of cereal."

   "Somebody's destroying evidence."

   She nodded.  "Someone's trying."

   "Trying?  Not succeeding?"

   "It's possible that I made some copies of the flash drives."

   "Grimaldi probably has dirt on hundreds of very bad people.  You're in a
lot of danger," the firefighter observed.

   Mercy frowned.  "I suppose that could be true.  But it's temporary."

   "How do you figure?"

   "A reporter at the Times might have been given a copy of the flash
drives.  A reporter at the Journal could conceivably be in possession of
another.  It is likely that the FBI and DEA have copies.  By tomorrow,
maybe the next day, everyone will know what's on those drives.  Hurting me
won't make any difference.  They would only make it worse for themselves."

   "You need to go into hiding in the meantime.  Is there anyplace you can
go where nobody could find you?"

   "I'm not very social," she admitted.  "I don't know where any of my
friends live."

   "Could you call or text them?"

   "Good idea.  Maybe you could get my phone for me?  I think I left it in
the bathroom."

   He looked up at the blaze and sighed.  "Do you have a car?"

   "I do!  It's a purple Honda.  It's in the underground garage beneath my
apartment building.  The keys are in my purse.  It's on my kitchen counter.
Could you pop up and grab it?"

   "This is looking pretty bad."

   "I'm pretty much wearing everything I own," Mercy said.

   "Well, I like your fashion sense.  But I think you're in a lot of
trouble."

   "I'll be fine," Mercy said, waving her hand at him in dismissal.  "Just
go do what you need to do.  It's a big city.  I'll wander around for
awhile. I'll figure something out."

   "You're butt-ass naked on 34th Street.  Blending in is not gonna
happen."

   "I am pretending nobody notices I'm naked.  It's rude of you to remind
me."

   "Lady, you need a therapist."

   "I have a therapist," Mercy informed him.  "She tells me it's important
to set goals and, more importantly, to see them through.  Today's goal was
to stay naked until midnight.  I did expect a bit more privacy than
standing on the street at whatever time o'clock it is, but the whole point
of setting goals is to not let adversity or obstacles stop you."

   "I don't think I've ever rescued the same person twice before," the
firefighter mused.

   "Hey!" Mercy yelled indignantly.  His hand was on her butt again and she
was once more draped over his shoulder.  He wasn't even wearing the gloves
anymore.  He'd taken off the coat, helmet, gloves, and heavy trousers so
the EMTs could treat his arm and leg.  He was dressed in cargo shorts and a
t-shirt and his bare hand was on her naked ass.

   Mercy fumed as she dangled from his shoulder, but there was little she
could do about it.  Upside down, it was hard to be certain, but it seemed
as though the firefighter had a pretty nice ass of his own.  She tried not
to think about it, but it was right there in front of her face.

   To distract herself, she carefully pulled his wallet from his back
pocket.  She'd look at that instead.  His name was Benjamin Webster.  No
photos of kids or a wife, but some men weren't sentimental.  Maybe he had a
girlfriend.

   "Benjamin, what is your girlfriend's name?"

   "Why do you want to know?"

   "I should apologize to her," Mercy explained.

   "What the hell for?"

   "You're touching my butt.  It's possible I'm starting to enjoy it."

   "No girlfriend." He set her down on the back of a motorcycle.  "I don't
have a helmet that will fit you, but if the police stop us, I suspect that
won't be their top priority."

   "Are we stealing this?"

   "No.  Give me my wallet.  I was off-duty when I heard about the fire.  I
came on my own bike and put on some gear when I arrived."

   "They just happened to have extra gear on hand?" she asked skeptically.

   "Of course," Benjamin assured her.  "Firefighters look out for one
another.  Off-duty firefighters regularly show up when there is a fire. 
There is always extra gear kept on the trucks."

   "Your last name starts with a 'W'," she remarked as he climbed on the
bike in front of her.

   "You are correct.  Well spotted."

   "So does mine.  If we got married, my initials would stay the same."

   He shook his head and started the engine.  Further conversation was
impossible.  As they pulled into traffic, Mercy was very conscious of the
other drivers on the road.  She held on tight to Benjamin and pressed her
face to his back to avoid looking around, but she knew people were staring
at her ass.  There was an inordinate amount of honking, and she was sure it
had something to do with her being naked at 40 miles an hour.

   She peeked out once and saw several expressions of admiration, shock,
and anger looking back at her.  Shutting her eyes tightly, she wondered if
her therapist was in one of those cars.

   The sunlight was hot on her back.  Mercy hoped she'd get a tan.  She
worried about getting a sunburn, though.  But they weren't in the sun long
enough for either.  The motorcycle slowed after just a few miles and the
light disappeared.

   She risked opening her eyes and found they were in a parking garage. 
Benjamin pulled up to a motorcycle area and killed the engine.

   He helped her dismount.  "This is the Carlton Hotel.  I'm going to get
you a room, ok?" Mercy nodded.

   "If we got married, would you want me to take your name?" she asked.

   "Are we still on that subject?  Does this matter right now?  Keep your
damn name.  I'm trying to save your life."

   Mercy frowned at him, but she hid between two cars when he told her to.
"Try to stay out of sight while I get the room."

   He entered the hotel.  Mercy was alone.  For the first time since she'd
made her vow, there was nobody nearby.  She was naked in a parking garage
in the middle of the city, at the mercy of a rude firefighter, but for the
moment, she was alone.

   An uncomfortable thought came into her head.  She didn't want to
masturbate in front of Benjamin.  But once she was in a hotel room, he
would probably try to stay and protect her.  She wouldn't be alone anymore.
And he might hear her if she hid in the bathroom to do it.  The thought was
mortifying.

   That meant she had to masturbate now, while she had the chance.  It
hadn't quite been a part of her solemn vow, but she had intended to try it
out while she was so conveniently naked.  The intervening events and
current situation did not alleviate her responsibility to herself.

   Mercy carefully lay down on the concrete.  She scooched in close to a
Toyota so she could share the parking curb.  It made for an overly firm
pillow but was more comfortable than lying flat.

   She wasn't sure how this was supposed to go, but she started by cupping
her breasts.  Men often played with her breasts, and according to the
things she read, women usually loved that.  But it wasn't doing much for
her.

   Maybe it only felt good when a man did it.  She didn't seem to be
enjoying this very much.  Mercy was slightly embarrassed at touching
herself like this, but that was part of the inhibition she was trying to
get past.

   Perhaps the presence of a male was required to trigger the pleasure in
females when their breasts were touched.  But that didn't make sense, Mercy
told herself.  There were lesbians out there.  As far as she was aware,
they enjoyed touching each other.  Her friend Jill was a lesbian.  If she
could get up the courage, maybe Mary could ask Jill to touch her breasts
and see how that felt.

   The mere thought of that had an effect.  Her own fingers suddenly felt a
lot better when she imagined they were Jill's fingers.  She started
stroking her breasts and that felt good too.  Mercy didn't think she was a
lesbian, but the thought of lesbian touches had turned her on.

   Perhaps her own thoughts were the trigger, and the idea of somebody else
touching her.  Mercy experimented by imagining Benjamin's fingers caressing
her.  She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure at the result.

   But they weren't breasts.  Benjamin did not have her catalog of hangups.
He probably didn't use a wimpy word like 'breasts' when he was seducing a
woman.  "'Tits'," she decided.  "That's what he would say.  "'Tits' and
'pussy'."

   Mercy moved one hand down between her legs.  Her clitoris was suddenly
very sensitive.  Or so it seemed.  She never actually touched herself here.
There was always tissue paper or a pad or a washcloth as a barrier.  Now
she explored.

   She liked it better without the hair.  It was less intimidating.  Her
pubic hair, when she had dared to sneak a peek at it, had always reminded
her of her father's beard.  Combined with her father's strict opinions
regarding the value and role of females, that part of her body had always
seemed fraught with disapproval.  The beard was gone now.  Her father was
no longer between her legs.  Her sex was newly born.  Mercy should get to
know her.

   The soft skin felt good under her fingers.  And her fingers felt good,
stroking that softness.  The lips parted easily as she rubbed them.  And
they were wet.  Moisture was leaking out from between them.  She knew what
that meant.  She had succeeded in turning herself on.  She was genuinely
aroused.  The wetness was her body preparing for a penis to penetrate. 
Mercy spread that welcoming oil around her sex, circling her clitoris and
enjoying the zing of that lovely sensation.

   It used to offend her.  The very idea that her body was designed to
accommodate a man's penis and would even lubricate to make his occupation
easier to accomplish.  Mercy had reluctantly done her duty by her
boyfriends, but the annoyance had always prevented arousal.  Sex had always
been more discomfort and duty than anything else.  She was starting to
reconsider that position.

   Mercy wondered if perhaps Benjamin would want to penetrate her.  Not
that she was going to invite him.  But it was exciting to think about.  Had
he maybe thought about sticking his penis in her vagina?

   "No," she corrected herself, testing the ease of penetration with one
finger.  "He would say 'cock' or 'dick'.  And he would stick it in my
pussy. Maybe my cunt."

   She pushed the finger into herself.  Never before had she touched
herself inside.  She liked the feeling.  Soft, but snug.  Like getting
hugged.  While she plumbed her own depths, she tried rubbing her clitoris
with her thumb.

   "Hoo boy!" she cried, sitting up in alarm.  A little too intense.  Mercy
opened her eyes to see if anybody had heard her.  It didn't seem like
anyone was coming to investigate.  The parking garage was quiet.  There
were traffic noises, but they were yards away, on the other side of a wall.

   Mercy lay back, shut her eyes, and tried again, lightly stroking the
side of her clitoris as she fingered her pussy.  It felt better on the
side. She imagined Benjamin above her, in his firefighter's coat and
helmet. It might be rude to imagine him naked and she wasn't brave enough
to do so anyway.  But she could imagine his rough voice speaking to her as
she masturbated.  "I want to put my cock in your pussy.  Cock in your
pussy. Cock in your pussy."

   Her imaginary Benjamin said it over and over again.  Mercy could feel
the orgasm building, her first ever.  She'd never had one during sex, but
maybe that's because she needed to practice first.  Guys practiced all the
time, didn't they?  She wondered if Benjamin ever practiced.  Would he let
her watch?  Do guys ever help girls masturbate?  Mercy imagined it was
Benjamin's finger in her pussy and Benjamin's thumb against her clit.  And
she could still hear his fantasy voice.  "I want to fuck you, Mercy.  My
cock in your cunt.  My cock in you, Mercy."

   The orgasm hit her like a lightning bolt, electrifying her.  Her back
arched.  She rolled her head back and forth over the concrete curb.  It was
the most glorious thing she'd ever experienced.  It was like a nuclear bomb
had gone off and obliterated everything but the exquisite sensations in her
pussy.  She heard someone whimpering and dimly realized that it was her.

   Mercy suddenly revived from a sudden faint.  The orgasm had actually
caused her to pass out.  Just for a moment, she was sure, but it had been
most refreshing.  She had successfully masturbated, she realized, proud of
the accomplishment.

   Panting, achy, and sweaty, she opened one eye, anxious to see if the
world had truly ended or if had just seemed that way.  The word Goodyear
appeared before her.  Something hard and black was pressed against her
cheek and there was a terrible taste in her mouth.  Slowly, Mercy deduced
that she was giving a an open-mouthed kiss to a tire.

   She rolled her head away from the Toyota and looked up into Benjamin's
astonished face.  He was standing by the car's bumper.  She blushed a deep
red.  Realizing that her hand was still on her sex, she tried to casually
move it to a neutral position, wiping her wet fingers on her thigh.

   "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded.  Whatever answer
he gave, it was too long.

   "You have a hotel room now.  Perfect place for this kind of thing."

   Knowing it sounded ridiculous, she explained.  "I wanted some privacy."

   He nodded as if this made perfect sense.  "Your definition of 'privacy'
might be a little different from mine."

   Mercy climbed to her feet.  Scowling, she said, "I'm still mad at you.
Show me to this room."

   "What the hell did I do?"

   "You told me I'd have to keep my name if we got married."

   "Are we getting married?" Benjamin asked in exasperation.

   "Not a chance of it."

   "Then what does it matter?"

   "It is insulting that you would not want to share your name with me,"
Mercy told him.

   "You want the name?  It's yours!  I don't care."

   She glared at him and started marching toward the entrance.  He took
hold of her shoulders, ignoring her irritated hiss, and steered her to the
left.

   "Not the lobby.  I propped open the fire door," he said.  "My boss would
have my head if he knew.  We'll go up the emergency stairs."

   She stopped dead.  "I can't do it."

   "Why not?"

   In a small voice, she said.  "I'm afraid of stairwells."

   "Are you fucking kidding me?"

   "You never know what might be lurking up above or down below, waiting
for you."

   He took a deep breath.  "There are seven people in the hotel lobby. 
You're still naked.  There is no way you'll make it to the elevator before
someone stops you.  Even if you did, the front desk can shut down the
elevator."

   "How do you know that?"

   "I did the fire inspection here."

   "I can't go in the stairwell," she insisted, folding her arms in
defiance.  "You'll just have to find somewhere else."

   For the third time, Mercy found herself dangling over his shoulder with
his hand on her butt.  "This is not civilized behaviour," she yelled at
him. But it was surprisingly comforting.  Every time she rode this
shoulder, she was moving from danger to safety.  She shrieked in panic and
beat at his back as he bolted up the steps, but she quieted the moment they
arrived at their floor and exited the stairwell.

   "Is this a nice hotel?" she asked as they emerged in an empty corridor,
pretending she hadn't just screamed her way up five flights.  She wasn't
really surprised when he didn't answer.

   The carpet was nice, she decided, looking down at her hair brushing the
floor.  Soft and blue.  It would feel good on her feet.

   "You can put me down," she said.

   "Oh, hell, no.  You'd see a spider or a shadow or a ghost and I'd just
have to pick you up again."

   "Do you believe in ghosts?  I used to see the ghost of my cousin Tim
after he was executed.  I was very frightened."

   "Why was he executed?" Benjamin asked.

   Mercy was silent for a long moment.  Eventually, she said, "When I was
sixteen, my parents sat me down and told me I never had a cousin Tim.  I
had a series of recurring nightmares.  They put me on some pills for a
while.  Still, I am curious about ghosts."

   "I should have known." Benjamin unlocked the door and entered the room.

   "This is NOT how I want to be carried over the threshold," Mercy
scolded. "If we get married."

   Benjamin set her down.  "Are we back to that?"

   "We never left it.  You have yet to satisfactorily explain why you
wouldn't want me to have your last name."

   "I said you can have it," he reminded her.

   "'You can have it' is very different from 'I want you to have it.'"

   "Don't you want to keep your own name?"

   "I don't know.  I haven't thought about it."

   "Excuse me?" Benjamin glared at her.  "Doesn't this ridiculous debate
constitute thinking about it?"

   Mercy rolled her eyes.  "Of course not.  When a man asks me to marry
him, then I'll consider the matter.  There will be lists of pros and cons.
I will have to do some research.  My therapist will be consulted.  Hyphens
will be seriously contemplated.  Children's names will have to be brought
into the equation, just in case the initials spell out rude words.  But
we're far from that point.  We are discussing whether you would want me to
take your name."

   "I would leave it up to you."

   "Of course you would.  That's a given.  That's the easy answer."

   "What's the right answer?"

   Mercy looked at him in pity.  "If I decide to keep my own name, you're
supposed to accept it manfully.  You might argue a little, try to make me
change my mind, but you'll give in.  Your stoic expression will almost hide
the hurt and disappointment in your eyes."

   "I don't believe this."

   "You're a man.  You're supposed to be territorial, possessive, and
dominant.  You will accept my choice, but you should hope that I want your
name.  You want me to belong to you and you hope I want to belong to you."

   Benjamin sighed.  "If we get married, it would be an honour and a
privilege if you would take my name for your own."

   "Was that so hard?"

   "Let me remind you that it is an enormous IF.  To tell the truth, and
don't get mad, I seem to have forgotten your first name."

   In a tiny, crushed voice, she asked, "You forgot my name?"

   "I was distracted."

   "By what?"

   "First, the burning building.  Second, painful injuries to my arm and
leg.  Third, the EMT treating said injuries, and Fourth, I was distracted
by a beautiful woman standing naked in front of me, refusing the blanket
she was offered."

   "Beautiful?" Mercy questioned.

   "Very."

   "Oh.  Ok.  You're forgiven."

   "If it makes you feel better, since I didn't remember your name, I
booked us into the hotel as Mr.  and Mrs.  Benjamin Webster.  I very
possessively gave you my name in the assumption you'd want it."

   Mercy fought it, but a grin broke out of her face, pleased with his
manly arrogance.  "You may not have noticed, but my social skills are close
to nonexistent.  When I told you before that I don't know where my friends
live, it would be more accurate to say that I have no friends."

   "How did you ever get hooked up with Howard Grimaldi?"

   "My library card got cancelled.  I wanted to hire an attorney to get it
back.  Someone mean, who knew all the dirty lawyer tricks.  Howard was
always on the news.  He seemed like the viciousest, angriest lawyer in the
city.  So I went to see him.  He took me to dinner.  Things progressed."

   "Why did you turn him in?"

   "He had a passport in some other name.  He was obviously prepared to
flee."

   "And you wanted to see him pay for his crimes?" Benjamin was doubtful.
She didn't seem like a law and order avenger.

   "No.  Or maybe yes.  But not the crimes the D.A.  was interested in."

   "There was more?  What did you want to see him punished for?"

   "He only had one passport," she said.  "He should have had two."

   "Ah." Benjamin changed the subject.  "You might want to take a shower.
There are tire marks on your face."

   Blushing as she remembered why that was, Mercy nodded.  Shyly, she
asked, "Do you want to watch me shower?"

   "Do you want me to watch?"

   She shrugged.  "Men like to look at naked women."

   "That," he said, "is an understatement."

   "And you've already seen everything."

   "And then some."

   "No man has ever seen me naked before today," Mercy said.  "But I've
kind of gotten used to you looking.  And maybe it's possible I've come to
enjoy your ogling."

   "Ogling?"

   "Yes.  Don't deny it.  You ogled, Benjamin."

   "I'm not denying the act.  But nobody uses the word 'ogle' except the
people who design crossword puzzles."

   "I like crossword puzzles.  So, if you're not busy, and if you'd like to
keep on looking at me, I don't mind."

   "I accept your offer.  How is it that no man has seen you naked?  Howard
never took you to bed?"

   "He did," Mercy said.  "And perhaps a few before him.  But always under
a blanket with the lights out.  I wear a long t-shirt to bed.  He would
lift it up for access.  I suppose that poor shirt is all burnt up now."

   "None of your exes wanted to see you naked?"

   "I suppose they probably did.  But I wasn't going to marry them."

   "You think about marriage a lot."

   "Not so much.  But I'm naked and we keep talking about me being naked.
When I was a teenager, my mama told me over and over that the only man who
should ever see me naked would be the man I was gonna marry.  It's possible
I'm superstitious.  If I had no intention of marrying a man, I wouldn't let
him see me without clothes.  Then you barged in and saw stuff only my
future husband had a right to look at."

   "Hence the kooky questions," Benjamin said in understanding.

   "Hence the perfectly reasonable questions," Mercy corrected.

   "My mistake.  Shall I start your shower, my lady?"

   "Yes, please.  Hot, please.  And a bath, if you don't mind."

   She watched as he filled the tub, content with silence as the water
level rose.  It felt like the height of luxury to have someone caring for
her like this.

   Mercy started wondering about other women in his life.  Who were they?
How did he meet them?  "Benjamin, how many lives have you saved?"

   "Just by myself, seven."

   Mercy nodded.  She liked it that he was able to answer.  The lives he'd
saved were important to him.  "How many women have you seen naked?"

   "I do not know."

   She didn't like that answer at all.  Did that mean the naked women were
unimportant?  Had there been so many that he'd lost count?  "Why don't you
remember?"

   "Several reasons.  But here's one.  When I was in France, some years
ago, I was dragged to a nude beach.  It didn't occur to me to count the
females."

   Okay, she thought.  That was an acceptable answer.  And her bath was
ready.  It was an enormous tub, but it had filled quickly.  Benjamin took
her hand and helped her step into the water.

   The warmth was glorious.  She liked hot baths at any time, but it was
especially sweet today.  The day had been pleasantly warm, but one does get
used to the blanket effect from clothing.  Mercy had been feeling a faint
chill simply based on her exposure.  But now she was literally bathed in
heat.

   Mercy's eyes were closed as she lay back in the water and let it soothe
her soul.  She opened them for just a moment to make sure Benjamin really
was looking at her.  It seemed important somehow.  Not just keeping her
company or watching over her, but looking at her nudity.

   She had never released his hand once he'd helped her into the bath. 
He'd held on as she sank down into the water.  And he held on still.  The
gentle press of his fingers was proof of his presence.  But Mercy wanted to
know that he was enjoying himself, lusting after her.

   In her brief glance, she saw him sitting beside the bathtub, facing her,
his right hand in hers.  And he was definitely looking at her.  Benjamin's
eyes were on her breasts, nipples poking up out of the water.  It was
comforting to feel his eyes on her, to share herself with him.

   "Benjamin?"

   "Yes?"

   "It's possible that I'm a bit flaky."

   "Hmm," he answered noncommittally.

   "You're not going to argue with me?"

   "Hard to argue with such an astute observation."

   Mercy smiled.  She would have felt less comfortable if he'd pretended
she was completely normal.  She was an oddball.  She knew it.  Benjamin was
okay with that.

   "Do you like looking at me?" she asked.

   "I'm ogling."

   "Why do men like looking at naked women?"

   "Are you kidding?" Benjamin asked.

   She waved her free hand in the air.  "They want sex.  Of course I know
that.  But men buy magazines or go to strip clubs.  They won't have sex
with those girls."

   "They jerk off."

   "Guys do that anyway.  They don't need to look at girls for that."

   "Even if they can't see them in person or in pictures, they use their
imagination to look at them in fantasy.  They're still looking."

   Mercy considered that.  "Have you ever gone to a strip club?"

   "I have, yes."

   "I assume that guys don't jerk off in the club.  Do they just hold the
image in mind until they get home?"

   "It's more than that," Benjamin explained.  "You get aroused when
looking at nude women.  It feels good and it builds up.  And the dancers
give lap dances, which makes you even more excited.  It's that intense
arousal you carry with you."

   "What exactly is a lap dance?  I've heard of them, but never asked for a
definition."

   "A lap dance is when a naked woman grinds her ass against a man's
crotch. I should take you to a strip club."

   "Would you really do that?" Mercy asked.  "Do they even let women in?"

   "Wouldn't be much of a strip club without a few women.  If you want to
go, I'll take you.  You're already dressed for it."

   Mercy pictured herself taking her clothes off on a stage in a room full
of men.  "A lot of people saw me naked today, didn't they?"

   "Hundreds."

   "Do you think some of the men will go home and...you know...while
remembering what they saw?"

   "No," Benjamin said.  "I don't think.  I know for certain that a lot of
men will be jerking off to thoughts of you for years to come."

   Smiling, she asked, "Did you like watching me masturbate?"

   "Lady, that's the image I'll be jerking off to."

   "For years?"

   "Decades," he assured her.

   "You still don't remember my name?"

   "Sure I do.  You're Mrs.  Benjamin Webster."

   Giggling, she said, "My name is Mercy."

   "Mercy Webster.  Good to know."

   "Did you happen to notice that I'd shaved off my pubic hair?"

   "I am a very observant fellow," Benjamin said.

   "Did you like the way it looks?"

   "I think we've established that I like looking at naked women.  That
particular region of the female anatomy is an extra special favourite.  You
made it even more naked.  I very much liked it."

   "I was reading a woman's magazine," Mercy explained.  "It said that
going bare down there would invite kisses.  I thought I might see if that
was accurate."

   "You've never had your pussy kissed?"

   "No," she said.  Mercy peeked at him through her eyelashes.  "Not yet."

   "That is a crime," he said.  "I might have to correct that error."

   She blushed and smiled.  "Do you have to pee?" she asked.

   "Not urgently."

   "But you will have to pee soon, right?"

   "I am human," Benjamin reminded her.  "Eventually, yes, I will have to
pee."

   "You can pee now if you want."

   "I can wait."

   "It won't bother me if you do it now," Mercy told him.

   "What is this conversation really about?"

   She sighed.  "Ok.  I suppose you figured me out.  You probably remember
that I had never let a man see me naked before you barged into my
apartment."

   "I object to the term 'barged', but I do recall the conversation."

   "Well, it's possible that I have never seen a naked man for the same
reasons.  I was thinking that maybe if you had to pee, I might peek."

   "It's a big tub.  You could have invited me to share the bath."

   "I was too shy for that."

   Benjamin hooted with laughter.  "You roam around naked.  You masturbate
in a parking garage.  You invite me to come watch you take a bath.  Mrs. 
Mercy Webster, I don't think 'shy' describes you."

   "Watkins," she corrected.

   "How's that?"

   "My name is Mercy Watkins.  Mercy Alice Watkins."

   "Nope.  I reject that.  We may not be really married, but for as long as
we're pretending, then you have my last name.  If you want to order room
service or get extra linens, the hotel staff is going to be responding to
Mrs.  Webster."

   She thought about that and decided to accept the scenario.  "Okay.  I'm
Mrs.  Webster."

   "I think my wife would welcome her husband into her bath."

   Mrs.  Webster, Mercy decided, was braver than Miss Watkins.  In an
attempt to live up to her new name, she pulled her knees up and scooched
back in the tub, hoping Benjamin would take that for an invitation.

   He grinned in understanding and acceptance.  He pulled off the t-shirt,
and Mercy happily ogled him.  She liked looking at men's chests, so long as
the men didn't know she was doing so.  But that was the most she'd ever
done.  As Benjamin's shorts dropped, revealing his firm erection, she
blushed and turned away.

   Reminding herself that she was shedding her inhibitions, Mercy forced
herself to face his cock.  Scolding herself for cowardice, she even opened
an eye.

   There it was, pointing straight at her.  Most of the time, Mercy didn't
appreciate it when people pointed things at her.  This, she didn't mind so
much.  She may not have actually seen one of these before, but she was not
a virgin.  She knew that when a man's cock got pointy, he liked what he was
looking at.

   Slowly, giving her plenty of time to look, Benjamin stepped into the
tub. It was a nice, large bath.  Plenty of room for two people.  He stood
in front of her for a long moment, his cock just inches from her face.  She
didn't have the courage to touch it, but she was pretty sure she wanted to.

   The women's magazines greatly encouraged handjobs and blowjobs.  There
were plenty of tips and personal accounts.  Mercy could fantasize about
taking him in her hand, but she could barely imagine taking it into her
mouth.  She hoped Benjamin didn't expect it of her.  At the same time, she
had a brief, attractive fantasy in which he forced her.  She was going to
have to discuss this with her therapist.

   But the moment passed.  Benjamin sat down in the water.  Mercy faced
him, giving him a friendly smile, trying to cover her nervousness.  "I have
a confession to make," she said.  "I'm not very good at seduction.  You
might have to give me some pointers."

   "Were you planning to seduce me?"

   "I think so.  I'm trying to be bolder," Mercy said.

   "Tell me what you think seduction is," he asked.

   Frowning, she thought about it.  "I'm pretty sure it's when one person
tries to tempt the other into having sex.  Is that not correct?"

   "By that definition, you have already succeeded.  I've been sorely
tempted by you since the moment I saw you.  If you ask, I'm yours."

   Pleased, Mercy grinned at him.  "If you were thinking about seducing me,
it's possible I would let you."

   "I think I might try ravishing rather than seducing," Benjamin told her.

   She narrowed her eyes.  "I'm not sure I like the sound of that.  What
does 'ravishing' mean?  Isn't that a little like rape?"

   "A little, but there are key differences.  Seduction is slow and subtle.
Wine and candles, soft music and dim light, advancing a little, then
retreating, then advancing again, each time bringing the subject closer to
giving in.  If she says No, I back off, but keep trying to persuade her.

   "Ravishment is quicker, just passion unleashed.  There is nothing subtle
about it and no retreating.  If she says No, then it stops completely and
does not resume.  If she's not swept up in the passion, then there is
really no point in going any further."

   "Okay," she said.  "That sounds all right.  You may proceed."

   "I will begin with a kiss."

   Mercy nodded.  That sounded reasonable.  She closed her eyes and pursed
her lips.  And eagerly waited.  But he didn't move.  The water didn't even
slosh as Benjamin remained still.

   She opened her eyes and frowned at him.  This was rude behavior, she
decided.  But he was shaking his head.  "You misunderstand," he told her.

   "You offered me a kiss," she said.  "What is there to misunderstand
about that?"

   "Why did you shave your pussy?" he asked, putting his hands on her knees
and spreading them apart to look at her bare sex under the water.

   "The magazine.  La Femme.  It said that removing the hair would invite
touches and...kisses."

   Benjamin plunged his head into the hot water and pressed his lips to her
pussy.  Mercy gasped at the sudden assault.  She clamped her thighs around
his head, protecting her vulnerable sex, but it was too late.  He was
already there.

   He was really doing it.  He was kissing her pussy.  La Femme had been
right.  And Mercy liked this activity a great deal.  His lips were pressed
to her and his tongue was searching inside her.  Mercy's finger had felt
wonderful when she'd probed herself and she would no doubt practice her
masturbation in the future, but this was so much better.

   As he tasted her and tasted her, Benjamin's was sneakily sliding his
arms under her legs and skating up her back.  Mercy hoped his hands would
find their way to her front and fondle her breasts, but he had another plan
in mind.

   In a sudden flurry of activity that her mind was too foggy to follow or
remember, Mercy found herself hoisted up, once more, onto Benjamin's
shoulders.  But this time, she wasn't hanging like a used beach towel. 
Benjamin was still sitting on the floor of the tub, holding her up.  She
was sitting upright, sitting on his shoulders, clutching his head, with
Benjamin's face still pressed to her pussy.

   It was a little chilly, being suddenly removed from the hot water, but
she strongly suspected that not all of her shivers were coming from the
temperature.

   It was difficult to concentrate on what his tongue was doing when it was
creating such incredible sensations.  Her thoughts kept dissolving.  She
was losing all control of herself.  Her muscles were tensing in response to
the tongue, and her mind was drifting with the lovely vibrations.  If
Benjamin's hands were not firmly holding her, Mercy was pretty sure she'd
fall.

   She gripped his wet hair and just rode his mouth, loving this
experience, never wanting it to end.  In the very back of her mind, she
blessed the writers at La Femme Magazine and said a little prayer for her
wonderful therapist.  For one brief instant, she wondered if her therapist
had ever had a man lick her pussy, and then the orgasm hit and her thoughts
exploded into nothingness.

   Mercy wrapped her legs around Benjamin's head and pressed her pussy hard
against his face, trying her very best to smother him between her thighs.
His tongue dipped and stroked and circled and scrubbed, showing no mercy as
he forced the orgasm to go on and on and on.

   She fainted again.  As she'd done in the garage.  Only this time, she
woke up in Benjamin's arms.  He was no longer in the bathtub, but standing
in the hotel bedroom, holding her like a baby.

   "You spend a lot of time carrying me," Mercy observed in a mumble as her
mind reassembled itself.

   "I'm getting used to it."

   "Where are we going?"

   "Right here." He put her down, then retreated quickly to the bathroom
and returned with a towel.  He vigorously dried her, rubbing the terrycloth
over every inch of her.

   Mercy enjoyed the luxury of having a man tend to her like this.  She
closed her eyes and savored the sensations of the towel massaging her.  He
was gentle, but hurried.  She sensed he was impatient with her.  Peeking
down, she saw his cock still standing erect, and she thought she understood
why he was rushing.

   She smiled when he picked her up again and was not at all surprised to
find herself essentially tossed onto the mattress.  No longer shy, she
opened her legs in welcome.  She was very ready for him to penetrate her.
Mercy didn't believe she'd ever been so ready.

   Benjamin crawled over her, kissing his way up her body, until he was
poised over her.  She had the impression of a lion standing over his kill.
She thrilled to realize she was his prey, his conquest.  Mercy was eager to
be conquered.

   He dragged his cock over her, between her legs, wetting himself in her
leaking fluids.  Mercy wanted to touch him, guide him home, but she wasn't
yet ready to take that step.  Benjamin had some talents, however.  He moved
his hips over her, positioning the head of his dick right at her entrance.

   Slowly, he pushed forward, easing into her.  Mercy sighed at the
feeling. For once, this was not uncomfortable.  It felt wonderful.  He
filled her up, somehow completing her, as no penis had ever done before. 
She even lifted her hips to meet him as he entered.

   Mercy felt his balls touch her butt.  His cock was fully seated.  It was
a wonderful, exciting knowledge.  Benjamin was actually inside her.  This
had always been an annoying experience with Howard or previous boyfriends.
She was usually offended that Mother Nature had made her to be a dick
receptacle.  But with Benjamin, it seemed just perfect.

   "Benjamin?" she asked.

   "Yes?"

   "Does it feel good to be inside me?"

   He laughed.  "It feels marvelous."

   "I'm glad I seduced you."

   He started moving in her, slowly pulling back, pushing forward, pulling
back again.  She imagined his cock, opening her pussy up, gliding inside.
Mercy closed her eyes and concentrated on the feeling of his dick moving
through her pussy lips, opening her up.  She felt empty and bereft each
time he backed away, and gloriously fulfilled when he pushed forward and
filled her.

   "You're not wearing a condom," she said suddenly.

   Benjamin stilled immediately.  "No.  I'm sorry.  I wasn't thinking. 
I'll run down to see if there's a shop that sells them."

   "No," Mercy said.  "I wasn't complaining.  I was just mentioning it. 
I've never had a penis in my vagina that wasn't wearing a condom.  I think
I like it."

   He was about to respond when she suddenly said, forcefully, "Dick. 
Cock. Pussy.  Cunt.  That's what they're called."

   "Um, yeah.  Do you want me to stop?"

   "No, why?"

   Benjamin shook his head in confusion.  "As you just pointed out, I'm not
wearing a condom."

   "I don't want you to.  I've never felt a naked cock in me before.  I
just thought it should be mentioned."

   "I might make you pregnant."

   Mercy smiled.  "You might.  I wouldn't mind."

   "Then I can keep going?"

   "Please do."

   Benjamin started moving again.  Mercy moaned in delight as his cock slid
easily in and out of her.  "That's so nice," she said.

   'Nice' wasn't quite the word in Benjamin's mind, but he was too
overwhelmed in sensation to start thinking about vocabulary.  He fucked her
hard and fast, enjoying the soft little grunts she made each time he drove
deep inside her.

   "I'm about to come," he panted.

   "Yes," she said.  "Do that.  Do it inside me," Mercy hummed.

   Two, three more thrusts would do it, he thought, but Mercy reached her
climax first.  She screamed in ecstasy as her whole body tensed and
shuddered.  And the soft, sudden squeeze of her cunt sent him over the
edge. He hollered his own joy and poured himself into her.  "Oh God, oh
God, oh God," he groaned as he pumped her full of cum.

   They clung fiercely to each other as they rode through the orgasm.  It
was the strongest Benjamin had ever experienced.  His mind was completely
erased, replaced by the sensations of sexual nirvana.  Had an earthquake
started, he would not have been aware of it.

   As it faded, he and Mercy lay in each other's arms, boneless and
exhausted.  Benjamin thought he should probably withdraw from her, but he
didn't have the energy to move.  Perhaps if someone yelled, "Fire!" he
might have been able to respond, but otherwise, he wasn't going anywhere.

   "You shouldn't blaspheme," Mercy mumbled into his shoulder.

   "Pardon?"

   "You took the Lord's name in vain when you were ejaculating," she
criticized.  "You probably shouldn't."

   Benjamin laughed.  "That's my girl," he said.  "Always ready to surprise
me.  What do you say to putting on one of the hotel robes and we go down to
the restaurant for a late lunch?"

   "I can't," she reminded him.  "I made a solemn vow.  It's National Nude
Day.  I have to stay naked until midnight."

   "Right.  Is that a real day?"

   "It's very real.  And I'm celebrating.  I shaved my pussy.  I named my
cat.  I masturbated.  I even had sex.  None of that's usual for me,
Benjamin."

   "I thoroughly enjoyed helping you out with that last part."

   She blushed.  "So did I."

   "So what do you say we order room service, then explore the hotel
balcony?  You can be naked out there, can't you?"

   "People might see me."

   "People all over the city have seen you," he told her.  "Did you notice
the reporters at your apartment fire?  You're going to be on the news, my
girl."

   She thought about that.  Finally, she nodded.  "Ok.  I'll be your girl."

   "That wasn't exactly what I...Never mind.  Balcony or no?"

   "All right.  Balcony."

   "We'll have to start thinking about getting you clothing after
midnight," he said.

   "Hours away," Mercy responded.  "And I should probably not leave this
place for a couple of days.  I can go nude for a few days, no problem.  I
think I've gotten over that particular hangup.  My therapist would be very
proud.  I should call her."

   "Is there anything you need for these few days?"

   "My cat.  He's homeless now.  He'll be worried about me."

   "I'll go look for the cat," Benjamin promised.  "What's his name?"

   "He doesn't have one yet.  I have to work on that."

   "At midnight, if you're willing to go out, we'll find you some clothes
and go hunting."

   "Are you going to stay with me until then?"

   "I was planning on it," he said.

   "Good.  I would probably enjoy it if you would fuck me again."